Episode 2: Fairfield

In the early 20th century, Baltimore became the “birthplace of American Apartheid,” where the city’s segregationist policies later served as a model for institutionalized zoning discrimination nationwide (Brown 2019). Racial zoning ordinances that institutionalized segregation and spatial containment created a modern South Baltimore that remains largely inhabited by people of color whose industrial proximity jeopardizes their health, among much else.

During World War II, additional residential buildings were constructed in Fairfield to accommodate the industrial boom in the area and the unprecedented influx of workers, both White and Black, drawn by the rise of shipyards. Fairfield’s housing outlived the shipyards, becoming segregated, all-Black public housing after White residents moved out postwar, leaving the area without the basic necessary infrastructure for long-term residence. Basic provisions such as streetlights and sewage proved to be a major point of friction between the residents of Fairfield and Baltimore city officials. For example, large portions of the neighborhood never received streetlights or sidewalks and were not connected to the municipal sewage system until the 1970s (Diamond 127-37). Fairfield residents often demanded improved public utilities, but were met with resistance from city officials, who were apprehensive about upgrading an area that was formally classed as industrial.

In addition to inadequate infrastructure and basic services, Fairfield was marked by frequent industrial accidents and severe environmental degradation. Repeated fires and a major chlorine leak in 1986 reflected the dangers posed by nearby factories, which also contributed to poor air quality and exceptionally high cancer rates. These conditions, driven by labor exploitation, weak oversight, and high-risk industrial production, fueled sustained demands for relocation. After years of organizing by residents of Fairfield and neighboring Wagner’s Point, the city ultimately agreed: by 2000, all Fairfield residents had been relocated, and by 2011, the last house was demolished, effectively erasing the community (Environmental Integrity Project, 2012). The fate of Fairfield illustrates how environmental neglect and infrastructural abandonment reflected the city’s treatment of the neighborhood as disposable.

Our documentary tells the story of Fairfield’s erasure and significance. Rather than centering a single protagonist, our film grounds its narrative in an integrated collective memory, pulling from public and personal sources. Voices from those who experienced old Fairfield—like resident Michael Middleton and Victory Elementary crossing guard Ms. Jane—guide viewers through the lived experience of Fairfield: the segregation that shaped schooling and opportunity, the constant presence of industrial odors and pollution, and the gradual displacement fueled by escalating toxic spills and industrial accidents. All of these community-borne, environmentally and politically imbued injustices eventually led to residents’ displacement.

We draw on expert perspectives and archival records to lay the basis for this great loss, to illustrate how Fairfield was rapidly developed into a highly industrialized zone and how this progression influenced its inhabitants, eventually leading to the forced displacement of these residents. Organizers Carlos Sanchez and Shashawnda Campbell pull the viewer into the present by grounding Fairfield’s history in current environmental justice struggles, highlighting organizing work by a youth group called Free Your Voice and the broader movement in South Baltimore. Their advocacy serves as a call to action. The film concludes with residents envisioning what Fairfield has the potential to become, because a future where Fairfield remains forgotten is a future that leaves other communities vulnerable to following the same footsteps.

Through recounting the memories of its past residents and synthesizing expert opinions, Fairfield’s storied and complex identity emerges, acting as a cautionary tale and lesson for other South Baltimore communities, to ensure its fate is never repeated. We hope to reveal how systemic racism and industrial priorities reshaped—and ultimately erased—an entire community.