Morgan Hill’s Mayor has discovered blight. Someone alert the shoe department.
Of all the things Morgan Hill’s mayor could have highlighted as his FIRST accomplishments, this is apparently the one he wants us to admire: “Introduced blight-reduction standards to address neglected residential and commercial properties and strengthen neighborhood pride.”
Stop the presses. Alert the Chamber of Commerce, polish the mayoral shoes, celebrate a visionary at work. Nothing says leadership quite like announcing plans to address ugly properties.
Forget building public trust, fostering civic engagement and respecting those who disagree with you. Let’s start with appearances, because if our mayor understands anything, it’s presentation.
The clothes, the carefully assembled image and, of course, the shoe game, nobody begrudges our mayor a well-dressed moment. Wear the shoes, coordinate the outfit, give those loafers their due.
But there’s delicious irony in a man seemingly so invested in appearances choosing neighborhood blight as one of his first advertised accomplishments.
Apparently, appearances matter, the question remains whether substance makes the final outfit. To be clear, neglected properties are legitimate concerns. Blight affects property values, public safety and quality of life. Reasonable, consistently enforced standards serve a purpose. Nobody is arguing that derelict buildings deserve diplomatic immunity.
But what, precisely, has been accomplished? Were standards introduced or adopted? Which properties are affected? What resources will help owners who cannot afford repairs?
Will enforcement be consistent, regardless of economic circumstances or political connections? How will success be measured?
Announcing standards isn’t demonstrating results and a declaration of intent isn’t evidence of effectiveness. A city isn’t a showroom where the mayor rearranges the furniture until everything looks good in photographs.
Which brings us to my favorite part: “Strengthen neighborhood pride.” Oh, Mayor, Pride. Such a lovely, powerful word, deserving more thought than apparently went into this sentence.
Neighborhood pride should mean more than tidy yards and freshly painted storefronts. It should mean residents feel welcome, heard, respected and safe being themselves. It should mean local government serves everyone, including LGBTQIA+ residents, not just those who fit comfortably within the mayor’s personal worldview.
I would hate for anyone to get carried away by this newfound enthusiasm for pride. We wouldn’t want the mayor’s more theologically enthusiastic followers mistaking this announcement for a sudden softening of his evangelical stance toward the LGBTQIA+ community.
Imagine the confusion. All this talk of neighborhood pride, and someone might think pride is something to celebrate in people, not just cultivate in property values. Heavens, a municipal misunderstanding.
Perhaps neighborhood pride could mean something more than making things look nicer, perhaps it could include the radical notion that people deserve dignity even when their identities, beliefs, or appearances don’t conform to someone else’s preferred aesthetic. Perhaps leadership requires more than looking the part.
Here’s the thing about blight: it’s visible. Photograph a neglected building, announce a new standard and declare progress. It’s a tidy accomplishment, easily packaged for the political highlight reel.
The less photogenic work of leadership is harder: listening to critics, respecting opposing viewpoints, being transparent when answers are uncomfortable and earning the trust of people who didn’t vote for you. It’s demonstrating through conduct, not curated messaging, that you represent everyone in Morgan Hill.
Those accomplishments can’t be fixed with fresh paint or handsome shoes. So, by all means, Mayor, address the blight, enforce reasonable standards and help property owners improve neglected spaces. Make Morgan Hill better.
Mr. Mayor, consider expanding your definition of neighborhood pride, too. A city can have immaculate storefronts, manicured lawns and a mayor whose shoes are camera-ready while suffering a serious deficit of civic trust, inclusion and respect.
You can polish a city’s exterior all day without improving what’s happening inside. A mayor’s real measure isn’t whether he can make a city look better, it’s whether he can make it be better for all of us.
Now that would be an accomplishment worth putting at the top of the list.
Karen Fitch
Morgan Hill
