Minority homeowners face higher climate risks
Minority homeowners are particularly vulnerable to certain major climate risks, a Zillow analysis finds.
Why it matters: The findings reflect history and a legacy of redlining and economic disparities that still shape where people live — and how they're affected by climate change.
By the numbers: Nationally, 81% of Black homeowners, 77% of Hispanic homeowners and 65% of Asian homeowners are at risk of extreme heat, compared to 52% of white homeowners, Zillow found.
Meanwhile, 60% of Black homeowners, 43% of Hispanic homeowners and 33% of Asian homeowners are vulnerable to extreme wind, compared to 32% of white homeowners.
Some 32% of Asian homeowners and 21% of Hispanic homeowners are vulnerable to poor air quality, compared to 11% of white homeowners and 9% of Black homeowners.
How it works: Zillow's analysis is based in part on climate risk data for homes listed for sale on the platform, using risk modeling techniques from First Street.
It doesn't include renters, who also face various climate risks.
See the full methodology here.
Between the lines: Some of the nationwide figures are a result of history and geography, says Zillow senior economist Kara Ng.
For example: Black homeownership rates are higher in the South, she points out, where extreme heat is more common compared to other regions.
Zoom in: Some cities have especially stark differences between groups for certain climate risks.
In New Orleans, for example, about 95% of Asian homeowners, 92% of Black homeowners and 86% of Hispanic homeowners are vulnerable to flooding, compared to 76% of white homeowners.
The bottom line: Climate risk is making homeownership more expensive due to rising insurance, energy and repair costs, Ng notes in her analysis — adding that vulnerable homes often take longer to sell and go for less money.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Chicago Tribune
2 days ago
- Chicago Tribune
Route 66: In St. Louis, a deadly twister crosses a long-standing divide
ST. LOUIS — There was no warning siren, only the sudden sound of what seemed at first like a locomotive speeding through her neighborhood a mile off Route 66. Lea Davis heard trees snapping. Glass shattering. The front door to her 122-year-old two-flat slammed open and shut. Open and shut. She thought to grab her partner, Reginald, who is blind, and run to the basement, but figured they might not make it in time. They could take shelter in the closet, she thought, or the bathtub. 'You didn't have much time to think,' Davis, 55 remembered of that May 16 afternoon. 'The only thing I could say was: Jesus, please save us. Please help us.' Three minutes later, the rising cacophony silenced. Davis walked to the front door to survey the remains of her Fountain Park neighborhood. 'As you can see, that's not very far away,' Davis said on a recent Thursday in June, pointing to a nearby pile of bricks that once formed the steeple at Centennial Christian Church, where her friend, 74-year-old Patricia Penelton, took her last breaths. 'It could have been us. Any of us.' The EF3 tornado that tore through Davis' neighborhood, its winds topping 150 miles per hour, cut a 23-mile path northeast across St. Louis and into southern Illinois. Five people in St. Louis were killed. Dozens more were injured. Thousands of buildings were destroyed or damaged. A month later, the extent of damage and slow pace of recovery have once again put a spotlight on this city's long-standing racial and socioeconomic demarcation known as the 'Delmar Divide,' named for a main east-west artery called Delmar Boulevard that closely parallels a stretch of an early Route 66 alignment. South of Delmar is largely home to white residents. Neighborhoods to the north, like Fountain Park, are largely home to Black residents. 'The great Delmar Divide has been synonymous with all of the state, local (and) federal funding going to projects, plans, development, all south of Delmar Boulevard,' said north side native Cheryl Nelson, 61. 'Under numerous administrations, the north side of St. Louis has been devastated.' Nelson's friend and co-worker, Justina Cramer, said her rental home in the O'Fallon neighborhood first sustained brick and roof damage. The initial repair estimate came in at $50,000. While she and others waited for help from the local, state and federal government, the condition of her 109-year-old home deteriorated. Twice, she said, the blue tarp meant to protect her roof blew away in severe weather. The ensuing water damage caused portions of her ceiling to collapse. Her kitchen cabinets fell from the walls. Two weeks after the tornado, President Donald Trump approved Missouri Gov. Mike Kehoe's request for federal assistance, local media reported. 'Now we're dealing with: Do FEMA or don't do FEMA?' said Cramer, 43. 'They're not paying much.' Cramer is staying with her daughter for the time being. Some of her neighbors, she said, are living in tents in their front yards, in part to guard their homes against thieves looking to swipe copper wiring or historic St. Louis red bricks. 'I'm going to stay rooted in St. Louis city,' she said. 'Where we go from here is not a monetary value. It's not a building. It's a community effort and us being there for each other because St. Louis city was not there for us.' Over in the Fountain Park neighborhood, an orange sticker on Davis' front door marks that her home has been condemned. An electric company technician recently came and asked if she wanted the lights turned back on. But with water seeping from light switches on the wall, she knew that would likely start an electrical fire. Davis and her partner moved in with her son, for now. A man who lived in her building set up a tent on the front lawn. She wants to apply for Federal Emergency Management Agency relief funds but needs to replace her identification card, which was lost in the storm. And to do that, she needs a copy of her birth certificate. 'I don't know how we come back from this one,' she said. Across the street sits the neighborhood's namesake park, with its fountain and an empty granite pedestal where a bronze statue of Martin Luther King Jr. — reportedly the only King statue in the state — was felled by the storm. The day of the tornado, members of the Party for Socialism and Liberation's St. Louis chapter came out to help with cleanup. Other nonprofit groups soon joined and have had a daily presence in the park ever since. They've provided food, water, ice, clothing, basic medical care, art therapy, acupuncture. Their effort has been renamed the 314 Oasis. On that Thursday in June, Dr. LJ Punch and another volunteer filled small vials with lavender oil — aroma therapy for care kits. Nearby, a man sat in a chair under a tent providing much-needed shade from the summer sun. About a month before the tornado, Punch's nonprofit, Power4STL, learned it lost a roughly $1 million federal Department of Justice grant as part of the Trump administration's federal funding cuts. The 314 Oasis effort is currently without funding, he said. 'This is a moment of faith, to figure this out,' Punch said. 'I just don't think you can do this and then stop.' Recently, representatives from FEMA reached out to Punch, he said, and asked if they could use one of 314 Oasis' tents to help connect neighborhood residents to aid. 'When FEMA wants to borrow one of your tents, you say 'yes' because you want them here,' he said, pausing to let the irony of the moment sink in.
Yahoo
2 days ago
- Yahoo
New study warns that one type of US home foreclosures could surge by staggering 380%: 'Hidden risks'
Weather-related foreclosures across the United States could jump 380% over the next 10 years, reported CBS MoneyWatch. By 2035, weather-driven events could account for up to 30% of all foreclosures, compared with roughly 7% today. The research from First Street, a climate impact analysis firm, shows how rising repair costs and insurance premiums are creating a perfect storm for American homeowners. Weather-driven foreclosures happen when extreme conditions damage homes so badly that owners can't afford the repairs or insurance costs. Unlike traditional foreclosures caused by job loss or financial hardship, these stem directly from floods, hurricanes, wildfires, and other weather disasters. The problem hits families with low and moderate incomes the hardest since most of their wealth is tied up in their homes. When a storm destroys your house and insurance doesn't cover the full cost, foreclosure often becomes the only option. These foreclosures are a concealed financial risk that most lenders don't consider when approving mortgages, per the report. Banks typically look at your income, debt, and credit score but not whether your future home sits in a flood zone or wildfire path. First Street projects lenders will lose $1.2 billion this year alone, with losses climbing to $5.4 billion annually by 2035. For every 1% increase in insurance costs, it estimates foreclosure rates jump by roughly 1% nationwide. "Such losses represent the 'hidden risks' of climate change that lenders often fail to account for in their underwriting practices," CBS MoneyWatch wrote while paraphrasing Jeremy Porter, head of climate implications at First Street. This oversight leaves both homeowners and banks vulnerable when disaster strikes. Florida faces the biggest risk, with eight of the top 10 counties for the highest projected credit losses. Duval County alone could experience $60 million in losses from 900 foreclosures in a severe weather year. Do you think America is in a housing crisis? Definitely Not sure No way Only in some cities Click your choice to see results and speak your mind. However, the impact goes beyond coastal areas. Heavy rainfall and river flooding threaten inland communities too, especially where flood insurance coverage remains spotty. The real problem lies in insurance gaps. The Federal Emergency Management Agency's flood maps cover just under 8 million properties, but First Street estimates nearly 18 million homes face flood risk. That leaves millions of homeowners without proper coverage. "About half the people with significant flood risk aren't mapped into [FEMA's] Special Flood Hazard Area," Porter explained. "So it leads to a state where we have a lot of underinsurance across the country." Properties outside official flood zones saw foreclosure rates 52% higher than those inside protected areas when flooding occurred from 2002 to 2019. "If you don't protect yourselves, then when the event does occur it's completely on you. You end up having to pay out of pocket and you may go into foreclosure," Porter said. When buying a home, ask about flood risk even if you're not in an official flood zone. Consider flood insurance regardless of requirements, and factor potential weather-related costs into your budget. Join our free newsletter for good news and useful tips, and don't miss this cool list of easy ways to help yourself while helping the planet.
Axios
4 days ago
- Axios
New Orleans' minority homeowners at greater risk of flooding
Virtually all New Orleans metro homeowners are at "major risk" from heat- and wind-related natural disasters, a Zillow analysis finds. Why it matters: That seems ... uh, pretty bad. Between the lines: Most homeowners are also at "major risk" for flooding-related disasters, too, though that's where the findings begin to reflect a reality that minority homeowners are particularly vulnerable to climate change. More than 90% of Black and Asian homeowners in the New Orleans metro are at "major risk" for flooding, compared to 85.8% of Hispanic and 75.9% of white homeowners, the data show. The big picture: The disparities loom larger within the national data, which indicate that 81% of Black homeowners, 77% of Hispanic homeowners and 65% of Asian homeowners are at risk of extreme heat, compared to 52% of white homeowners. Meanwhile, 60% of Black homeowners, 43% of Hispanic homeowners and 33% of Asian homeowners are vulnerable to extreme wind, compared to 32% of white homeowners. Some 32% of Asian homeowners and 21% of Hispanic homeowners are vulnerable to poor air quality, compared to 11% of white homeowners and 9% of Black homeowners. How it works: Zillow's analysis is based in part on climate risk data for homes listed for sale on the platform, using risk modeling techniques from First Street.
