Catawba County’s Quiet Mosaic: Citizenship, Language, and the Burden of Belonging

Catawba County is home to a diverse but often understated set of communities. About 6.7 percent of residents—slightly more than ten thousand people—were born outside the United States¹. Within this population, many have obtained U.S. citizenship through naturalization, while others remain lawful permanent residents or are here on legal visas such as work or student permits. The precise naturalization rate varies year to year and by source, but the data shows it is significant, not universal, and well below full saturation. This discussion is about citizens and lawful residents. It does not extend to those in temporary or politically manipulated categories such as asylum or TPS, which have been abused under extreme federal policies.

This reality matters for more than legal classification. Citizenship may open doors on paper, but language access often decides whether a resident can walk through them. Approximately 13 percent of Catawba County households speak a language other than English at home². Spanish accounts for about 8.5 percent of households, while Hmong represents roughly 2.4 percent.

These numbers have tangible, daily consequences. Elderly Hmong residents in Hickory and surrounding towns often rely on younger family members to navigate SNAP applications, Medicaid forms, and other services—children who themselves may still be learning English and remain unfamiliar with government processes. In Spanish-speaking households, parents may encounter school enrollment documents with limited translation or medical facilities without bilingual staff. Without adequate language access, public systems risk reinforcing distance rather than bridging it.

Geography compounds the problem. Non-English-speaking households are concentrated in Southeast Hickory, East Newton, and Ridgeview not by chance, but because these neighborhoods offer lower-cost housing, established immigrant networks, and proximity to service-sector and industrial jobs. Yet these same areas already face higher rates of food insecurity, economic strain, and limited transit service³. In these neighborhoods, language barriers do not simply slow access to resources—they intensify existing vulnerabilities.

The question must also be asked: how did these communities arrive here in the first place? This was not accidental migration. It was a combination of federal resettlement programs and local industry recruitment. Poultry plants, furniture factories, and textile mills actively sought out low-wage labor in the 1980s and 1990s, turning to immigrant and refugee populations as a stopgap solution when domestic labor markets tightened. Federal refugee resettlement programs steered impoverished populations — including Hmong families from Southeast Asia — into western North Carolina, with little thought given to long-term integration, economic self-sufficiency, or the strain on public systems.

The most consequential demographic shift in Catawba County has been the rapid growth of the Hispanic population, which has more than doubled over the last twenty-five years. This growth did not occur during a time of expanding prosperity — it occurred as our manufacturing base was shrinking. Poultry processors, furniture subcontractors, and construction firms turned to Hispanic immigrant labor as a way to keep wages suppressed while avoiding the harder work of rebuilding a middle-class workforce. Instead of revitalizing industry or investing in skilled trades, leaders chose the short-term fix of importing impoverished labor. The result was that Catawba County lost its industrial backbone while simultaneously importing a new underclass. That was not a plan for renewal; it was a retreat from responsibility. The people who made those decisions — in Washington and in corporate offices here in the Foothills — shifted the burden onto communities, schools, and taxpayers who are still paying the price today.

Catawba County’s foreign-born residents now come from a range of backgrounds. Nearly two-fifths trace their origins to Mexico, while others hail from Laos, Vietnam, Thailand, and Colombia⁴. Some have become successful business owners and property holders, while many others work in low-wage or unstable jobs that keep families on the edge of poverty. Even when paying taxes or contributing to the economy, they may still face barriers to accessing schools, services, and healthcare because of language. Contribution does not erase vulnerability.

The path forward is clear and evidence-based. Other communities have shown that targeted, multilingual outreach—paired with culturally competent service delivery—can measurably improve health outcomes, educational engagement, and civic participation⁵. For Catawba County, this would mean mapping language data against socioeconomic indicators to identify priority zones, translating vital documents, and ensuring public notices and meetings are accessible in foreign languages.

That said, language access should not mean raising Spanish, Hmong, or any other language to the level of English in civic life. Practical solutions—such as electronic translation systems for vital documents—can ensure comprehension without requiring costly human interpreters or catering to every possible ethnos.

Such actions do not dilute services for English-speaking residents. Instead, they strengthen the county’s social and economic cohesion. A workforce communicates more effectively when all members understand critical information. A public health system functions best when everyone can navigate it. A democracy fulfills its promise when all eligible citizens and lawful residents, regardless of language, can participate fully.

Belonging is not an automatic result of arrival or naturalization. It is built through repeated, everyday interactions in which residents see themselves reflected in the public sphere. Catawba County has the demographic knowledge, the institutional infrastructure, and the civic framework to make belonging real. What remains is the commitment to ensure that language never determines whether a lawful resident or citizen can take part in the life of the community.

But accountability matters. The demographic shifts Catawba County now lives with were not the product of chance. They were the result of conscious decisions — by federal policymakers who expanded immigration pipelines without preparing communities, and by local corporate leaders in poultry, textiles, and furniture who prioritized cheap labor over stability. The costs of those decisions — in education, healthcare, housing, and social cohesion — have been borne not by those who made them, but by taxpayers, neighborhoods, and civic institutions left to absorb the strain.

And let us be honest: there has never been “political will” at the start of such crises. I am getting old, and I have lived through tobacco, opioids, concussions in football, asbestos, lead toxicity, the Ford Pinto gas tank scandal, and more. In every case, the people in charge knew the risks. They suppressed the data, ignored the warnings, and pressed forward for short-term gain. And in every case, political will only came later — after lawsuits, public campaigns, and relentless pressure forced the truth into the open.

So why should this be different? Industries and policymakers that recruited vulnerable populations, suppressed wages, and shifted the burden of their choices onto local communities should face the same principle of responsibility that Big Tobacco, Purdue Pharma, the NFL, and others were forced to accept. Accountability is meaningless if it does not carry consequence.

The people of North Carolina and Catawba County deserve more than recognition — they deserve restitution for the costs imposed upon them. That requires building a model to ensure restitution is actually made, and that we never again allow a “Wild West” form of integration in this country where laws exist but are willfully ignored. After all, what is the point of having immigration statutes if they can be disregarded whenever it suits the political class or corporate bottom line?

 

 Catawba County’s Quiet Mosaic References and Footnotes

Disconnected Commutes: The Transportation Divide in Catawba County

Catawba County’s transportation system tells a story far deeper than average commute times and road use. On the surface, a mean travel-to-work time of approximately 22.7 minutes suggests a region where jobs and homes align in relative balance¹. Beneath that smooth veneer, however, lies a fractured network that leaves too many residents behind.

For more than six percent of workers, the daily trip exceeds one hour each way²—a reality that reflects “super-commutes” rather than suburban comfort. The region’s reliance on private vehicles is near total: over 80 percent of workers drive alone, 7.7 percent carpool, just 0.5 percent use public transit, and roughly 4.3 percent work from home³.

Public transit is provided by Greenway Public Transportation, which operates fixed bus routes through Hickory, Conover, and Newton, supplemented by countywide demand-response vans⁴. While the fixed routes serve select urban corridors, demand-response service requires at least three business days’ notice for in-county travel, and even longer for out-of-county trips⁵. Same-day requests are not accommodated, and many rural and low-income neighborhoods remain unserved.

The geography of these “transit deserts” often overlaps with areas of higher vulnerability—seniors on fixed incomes, students without reliable transport, and low-wage workers⁶. This is not the result of chance. Decades of planning assumed universal car ownership, with public transit treated as a marginal service⁷. The result is a quiet but measurable loss in access: missed job interviews, delayed medical care, and forgone educational opportunities⁸.

The pandemic exposed these weaknesses with clarity. In small-scale transit systems like Greenway, reduced routes, irregular schedules, and unpredictable service changes fell hardest on those least able to adapt⁹.

The stakes are both economic and civic. A community that cannot move freely begins to fragment. Parents miss school functions. Nurses arrive late to shifts. Students drop out of extracurricular programs. Over time, trust erodes, opportunity narrows, and shared belonging frays.

Models from Charlotte and Chattanooga demonstrate viable alternatives: aligning transit with housing and job corridors, expanding service hours and coverage, and integrating flexible, on-demand services¹⁰. For Catawba County, transit must be treated not as a welfare amenity but as essential infrastructure—an enabler of workforce participation, healthcare access, and community stability. Strategic planning must integrate transportation with housing, healthcare, and education investments¹¹.

Without such reforms, Catawba County is becoming a two-tiered county: one where opportunity drives toward those with access, and drifts away from those without¹². The physical roads may still connect towns—but the social roads lie in disrepair. Rebuilding transit with intent, and aligning it with where people live and work, will not just shorten commutes; it will reconnect people to possibility and close the widening gap between the well-served and the underserved.

Disconnected Commutes References, Citations, and Footnotes

Under the Surface: Catawba County’s Economic Crossroads

Catawba County presents a contradiction common to many post-industrial Southern communities: an outwardly steady economy that masks the weakening of public education, access to government, the health system, community cohesion, and other structures meant to hold a healthy social fabric together.

Median household income hovers in the low $60,000s, labor-force participation remains above 61 percent, and per-capita income outpaces surrounding counties. These markers suggest a stable county on paper. Yet across Catawba County’s neighborhoods, a very different story unfolds—one shaped by stark disparities in race, income, and geography.

At the heart of the issue lies the Gini coefficient, a national measure of income inequality. At 0.4636, Catawba’s Gini score ranks just below the North Carolina average, suggesting moderate inequality. But this figure conceals deep divides. In tracts such as Southeast Hickory and East Newton, the Gini rises above 0.50—levels more commonly associated with major metropolitan cores with heavy poverty than with suburban or semi-rural communities. Here, households with vastly different resources share public infrastructure—schools, parks, bus routes—while living in fundamentally different realities.

These disparities are racial as well as economic. Median income data reveals a racial hierarchy embedded within the county’s broader economic profile. Asian households earn nearly $99,000 annually—45 percent more than White households, and more than double the income of other minority households, who report median earnings near $40,000. Over the past decade, Asian incomes in the region have doubled, while those of White and Black residents have increased by only 10 to 11 percent—not keeping pace with inflation. The result is a deepening inequality not just between classes, but between racial and ethnic groups.

Geography compounds this imbalance. Census tract analysis reveals that the wealthiest areas of the county—such as tracts 105.01, 105.02, and 115.03—report median incomes above $98,000. In contrast, tracts with high concentrations of Black and Hispanic residents report median incomes as low as $25,000. These gaps are not abstract; they shape access to health care, child care, housing, transportation, and the daily experience of living in Catawba County. They determine who thrives, who struggles, and who slips beneath the surface unnoticed.

The transformation of the local economy offers important context. Catawba County has seen a shift away from manufacturing—a once-reliable source of middle-class employment for residents—toward service-oriented and professional sectors such as finance, utilities, and management. These industries offer some jobs with higher wages but come with barriers to entry: advanced credentials, licensing, and social capital often inherited or imported. Workers without access to those gateways are effectively locked out, reinforcing existing inequalities and weakening economic mobility.

When compared with peer counties in the region—Burke, Caldwell, Alexander, McDowell—Catawba appears better off. Yet it is precisely this relative affluence that makes its fragmentation more acute. The county has succeeded in attracting capital and growing select industries, but it has failed to distribute the benefits across the economic and social spectrum. In doing so, it has created a bifurcated economy: one that flourishes for some while stagnating for many.

This divide is not merely statistical. It erodes the shared foundation of a quality community life. Public institutions—especially schools—bear the brunt of inequality’s downstream effects. Schools in wealthier tracts are better equipped, while those in lower-income areas operate with fewer resources and greater challenges. Civic obligations, from voting to volunteering, weaken when residents feel excluded from the larger project of shared prosperity.

Addressing these divides will require more than conventional growth. It demands a deliberate, equity-driven strategy. Public and private investment should be oriented toward inclusion. Workforce development should assist minority populations to rise up and equip them with training tied to sectors with real upward mobility. Economic incentives should prioritize job creation within neglected areas that have been left behind, not just business expansion in already-successful zones. Affordable housing policy should shift towards integration—placing opportunity near where people live, and not displacing them in efforts that lead to gentrification.

Education remains critical. If credential-based economies reward some residents disproportionately, then early-childhood programs, college access initiatives, and community support structures should be expanded in areas that consistently underproduce people having successful careers. A free school lunch may appear modest, but it can also symbolize a community that cares about its citizenry and their personal well being. We must signal that we value each child’s future, regardless of where they live.

Transportation, zoning, and entrepreneurial policy should evolve to fit modern realities. Reliable transit that links workforce to employers is not just a service—it is an economic equalizer. Mixed-income zoning should replace the segregated practices of the past. Incubators that invest in Black and Hispanic entrepreneurs and their communities can build generational wealth for families and provide jobs in communities, while adding vitality to the entire local economy.

Catawba County does not lack resources. It lacks cohesion. The metrics of inequality should not be interpreted as fate. They are warnings. They are opportunities for reorientation. They are symptoms of an unsound overall economy. The decisions ahead will lead to a more wholesome economy or allow two-tiered circumstances to proliferate into a further divided community.

True prosperity is never achieved through the public relations of slogans and appearances. It requires political acknowledgment, social courage, institutional coordination, and honest clarity. Growth can’t be measured by individual projects associated with already affluent areas and their circumstances. If Catawba County intends to move forward, it must do so with everyone in mind. If it continues on its current course, then it will continue to be a county of progress for some with everyone else continuing to drift without the economic and social opportunity we all deserve that defines true progress.

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📝 SEO Summary:
This in-depth analysis explores how Catawba County’s outward economic stability conceals deep disparities in race, income, geography, and access to opportunity. It calls for a new path forward—one rooted in integration, economic inclusion, and long-term investment in the social fabric of the region.

🔍 Key Topics Covered:
• Income inequality and the Gini coefficient
• Racial and geographic income disparities
• Decline of manufacturing and labor market barriers
• Educational and institutional stressors
• Inclusive workforce and housing strategies
• Regional comparisons and bifurcated growth
• Policy proposals for integration and upward mobility
• The need for cohesion, clarity, and honest local leadership

🏷️ Hashtags:
#CatawbaCounty #HickoryNC #NorthCarolina #EconomicDevelopment #FoothillsCorridor
#OpportunityGaps #IncomeInequality #SocialFabric #StrategicPlanning #TheHickoryHound
#TheHoundsSignal #ShellCooperative #WorkforceEquity #RegionalAnalysis #PostIndustrialSouth

Sustenance in Catawba County: Food Security and Language Access at the County’s Edge

The truth is unmistakable and urgent: within Catawba County’s suburbs and small towns lie investment deserts—places where residents struggle daily to access healthy food, where language is a barrier to basic services, and where opportunity evaporates behind an invisible wall. The surface shows pockets of relative prosperity and quiet streets lined with stores. Beneath, a more troubling narrative unfolds.

Across the county, the overall food insecurity rate—11.8 percent—hovers above North Carolina’s average. Yet this statistic obscures far deeper disparities. In census tracts like Southeast Hickory, Long View, East Newton, and Ridgeview, between fifteen and twenty percent of residents cannot dependably procure nutritious meals. In those same neighborhoods, supplemental nutrition participation rates range from 23 to 30 percent. These are not anomalies. They are indicators of a structural failure, concentrated in communities where ZIP codes and race overlap with abandonment.

Adjacent to this crisis is the rise of convenience-store culture. Dollar General has proliferated precisely in these food deserts—a trend mirrored nationally. While more than five thousand of its locations now carry fresh produce—monitored by a “Food First” initiative—it primarily stocks shelf-stable, processed goods, offering only a small selection of fresh items. Moreover, studies show that for every grocery store that closes, three dollar stores typically open—shifting the retail landscape toward ‘food swamps,’ not food security. (Allrecipes)

For families reliant on public transit—or with no grocery store within reach—Dollar General becomes the default, not a solution. In many of these tracts, households live more than a mile from a supermarket, with few alternatives. This arrangement exacts a heavy toll. Limited fresh food, sporadic access to essential supplements, and a culture of survival shopping undermine physical health, stunt childhood development, and corrode civic dignity. (Health.com)

Language compounds these challenges. Hispanic residents represent around 11 percent of the population, and households that speak Spanish or Hmong at home comprise roughly 8.5 percent and 2.4 percent of the county’s total, respectively. Although foreign-born residents have a high naturalization rate, the power of citizenship means little when public information, nutrition programs, and clinic services are presented almost exclusively in English. The hidden reality: families who have lived here for years still cannot access basic services. Community health assessments confirm that language misalignment obstructs school enrollment, healthcare navigation, and SNAP participation. The data tell us that food insecurity among Black and Latino residents—22 percent and 20 percent, respectively—exceeds county averages.

The civic stakes are unmistakable. In a county balanced between suburban growth and rural decline, those tracts most at risk are those where race, geography, and language intersect. They are fault lines of invisibility—communities where children don't receive school lunches allocated to them, where seniors skip produce to afford their extra pills, and where an entire demographic learns early that the system does not speak their language.

Solutions demand more than aid—they require infrastructure. The county must map food deserts alongside transit networks and linguistic pockets, revealing where mobile pantries, multilingual outreach, and grocery investment are most needed. Dollar General’s footprint should be leveraged—its growing produce aisles could serve as micro-retail hubs, but only if partnered with local health plans, SNAP education, and culturally competent engagement. Community-supported agriculture partnerships and multilingual library programs can serve as remediation sites for systemic deficit. Public health clinics, schools, and libraries must translate their signage, forms, and outreach into Spanish and Hmong at scale.

This is not charity writing; it is civic strategy. Food equity is not a separate silo—it is a moment of convergence for public policy, urban planning, health, and immigration. It is where the material condition of neighborhood life meets the moral condition of public will.

Catawba County has made progress—its baseline food insecurity is lower than state and national averages. But halfway measures allow inequity to calcify. With nearly a fifth of families in some neighborhoods facing daily hunger, and nearly one in ten relying on public transport to reach distant food centers, more assertive frameworks are required. This is a moment that demands foresight, coordination, and clear-eyed moral commitment.

The path forward is clear: connect produce to transit, connect outreach to language, connect grocery access to civic commitment. Without that, the county’s rising home values, expanding roads, and glimmering promise will rest on fragile ground. But with diligence, equity becomes “infrastructure that works.” That is the civic challenge Catawba County must meet—and meet now.

📝 SEO Summary:
This is part of the Demographics series. This investigative article unveils how food insecurity, linguistic isolation, and limited retail infrastructure intersect across Catawba County’s most vulnerable tracts—showing that high rates of hunger among Hispanic and Hmong families stem not from scarcity of need, but scarcity of access and translation. It outlines a civic imperative: build inclusive food systems responsive to language and place.

🔍 Key Topics Covered:
• Neighborhood food insecurity rates (15–20%) vs. county average (11.8%)
• USDA-identified food deserts and transit-poor zones
• Hispanic, Spanish-speaking, and Hmong-speaking household demographics
• Language barriers in public health, education, and food assistance
• The rise of Dollar General in food deserts and its limits on produce access
• Dollar stores' role in transforming grocery ecosystems (“food swamp” effect)
• Produce access disparity—frozen staples vs fresh nutrition
• Multilingual outreach strategies and infrastructure investments needed

🏷️ Hashtags:
#CatawbaCounty #FoodSecurity #LanguageAccess #HispanicNC #HmongNC #FoodDeserts #TransitEquity #DollarGeneral #PublicHealth #CivicPlanning #TheHickoryHound #SubstackArticle #NCPolicy #EquityInAction

Food Security in Hickory and the Foothills: A Growing Public Health Crisis

Deep Dive: Health Security in Hickory and Catawba County: Access, Aging, and the Health System

The High Cost of Home: Catawba County’s Quiet Crisis

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Catawba County’s Housing Reckoning: Affordability, Equity, & the Path Forward

A quiet tension underlies Catawba County’s residential landscape. On its surface, homeownership remains a central pillar of local life—nearly three in four households hold the title to their residence. Beneath that stability lies a mounting crisis: housing values have surged, and with them, the everyday cost of keeping a roof overhead. This escalation is not simply a matter of market dynamics; it has become a moral reckoning, threatening the foundation of community cohesion.

At present, the typical Catawba County home is valued near $289,000—a figure that has inched upward at a modest 1.4 percent over the past year, realigning historical perceptions of value. That relatively gentle shift belies a broader and more dramatic change. Listings across the market are now averaging roughly $335,600, nearly 20 percent higher than in 2019. Indeed, while official transaction data—hovering around $322,500—suggests a subtle softening, the trajectory is unmistakable: rising costs are squeezing households in every demographic bracket and income band. (Habitat Catawba Valley)

This ascent in home values has profound implications. Over 22 percent of Catawba County households now allocate more than 30 percent of their income to housing—a threshold widely recognized as the boundary between secure and precarious housing. Even more striking is the impact on renters: nearly 39 percent of renting households exceed that critical threshold. Homeowners, too, are affected—16 percent now contend with similar burdens. (North Carolina Housing Coalition)

These figures are not abstractions; they represent real families choosing rent over groceries, postponing doctor visits, or abandoning job prospects to keep a home. The heaviest burdens fall on households earning under $50,000 annually: nearly two-thirds of those families face cost burdens that stifle health, education, and opportunity.

Catawba County’s unfolding housing crisis does not impact all communities equally. Racial disparities persist. Black and Hispanic households are disproportionately burdened—between 32 and 38 percent face housing costs consuming more than 30 percent of their income, statistics that mirror the most troubling statewide patterns. In practice, these gaps mean that families of color are twice as likely as their white neighbors to sacrifice basic needs on housing. (North Carolina Housing Coalition)

This inequity is rooted in systemic factors: lower average incomes, persistent wealth gaps, and limited access to homeownership, historically tied to redlining and disinvestment. Today, those inequities compound, manifesting in evictions, utility insecurity, and the deterioration of once-stable neighborhoods.

And yet, Catawba County retains policy tools to intervene—if leaders seize them. North Carolina’s 2025 inclusionary zoning laws empower cities and counties to require developers to include affordable units within market-rate projects. In Catawba County, a density incentive already permits greater housing volume in exchange for commitments to affordability. These mechanisms could finally yield homes affordable at incomes below $50,000—targeted to where need is greatest.

Fiscal strategies also offer a path forward. Property tax deferrals and rebates can ease the burden on long-term homeowners, while down-payment assistance programs can unlock entry for first-time buyers. Equally, local ordinances could relax single-family zoning in favor of “missing middle” design—allowing duplexes, cottages, and townhouses that balance scale and affordability. Such options, if implemented systematically, could rebuild the stocks of attainable housing disrupted over decades of suburban development.

But policy, by itself, is insufficient. Those measures must be wedded to intentionality—prioritizing equity from the start. That means setting quotas tied to local demographic data, not market assumptions. It means ensuring that down-payment aid is available where cost burden is most acute—typically in Hispanic and Black neighborhoods. It means confronting opposition with facts, moral clarity, and a depth of empathy rooted in lived experience.

As prices grow, so does civic urgency. Housing will increasingly define whether Catawba County is a place of upward mobility—or entrapment; a home for families of all backgrounds—or an exclusive enclave. The cost-burden rates today—39 percent among renters, 16 percent among owners—demonstrate that even the dream of stability has shifted beyond reach for many. Interventions must address both supply and assistance, affordability and equity.

The case is not theoretical: it is urgent. A family shouldn’t have to choose between rent and medication. A caregiver should not fear eviction. A child should not be waitlisted because of outdated zoning. Housing policy is not philanthropy—it is civic infrastructure.

Catawba County stands poised at a decisive moment. The tools exist: density incentives, inclusive zoning, tax relief, targeted subsidies. The data are vivid: housing values at historical highs, cost burdens affecting one in five households, racial disparities undermining equality. The choice ahead is clear: allow these trends to calcify, or invest with intention to restore housing as a foundation for prosperity.

This narrative if left unattended, quietly erodes the promise of community. If Catawba County chooses instead to act—with courage and clarity—it could become a model for suburban resilience, one that safeguards dignity and opens opportunity for every neighbor.

 

📝 SEO Summary:
This investigative essay examines the rising housing costs in Catawba County, revealing how escalating prices and systemic inequality are destabilizing families—especially renters and households of color—and outlines policy tools like inclusive zoning and targeted aid that can restore housing as a foundation for shared prosperity.

🔍 Key Topics Covered:

·         Recent home value trends: Zestimate vs. listing prices and market dynamics

·         The prevalence of cost-burdened households—renters and owners alike

·         Racial equity disparities impacting Black and Hispanic families

·         The growing rent burden among low-income renters

·         Inclusionary zoning as a strategic lever for affordable housing

·         Tax relief programs and down-payment assistance strategies

·         Embracing “missing middle” housing models for affordability

·         The ethical imperative of equitable growth and civic responsibility

🏷️ Hashtags:
#CatawbaCounty #HousingAffordability #HousingEquity #AffordableHousing #InclusionaryZoning #RentBurden #HousingPolicy #SuburbanResilience #CivicPlanning #RacialEquity #TheHickoryHound #SubstackNews #NCPolicy #LiveWithDignity

Bridging Hickory’s Digital Divide: Broadband Gaps, Education, and Community Efforts

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Hickory’s Digital Landscape in Context

Why Digital and Technological Access Is a Necessity in Hickory

Hickory, North Carolina is a city with a proud industrial heritage and an unexpected claim to fame in the tech world: it’s a major hub for fiber-optic cable manufacturing. Nearly 40% of all U.S.-made fiber-optic cable comes from the Hickory area, thanks to local companies like CommScope and (Corningprospect.org) (broadbandbreakfast.com). This industry provides thousands of jobs and has attracted big investments – for example, CommScope and Corning recently announced $550 million combined in factory expansions, adding hundreds of jobs in Catawba County (broadbandbreakfast.com). Ironically, even as Hickory helps “connect America” with all that fiber, not every home in Hickory is connected to high-speed internet. Like many communities its size, Hickory faces a digital divide: gaps in broadband access and adoption that impact education and opportunity.

Broadband internet today is “as essential as running water and electricity,” touching everything from school and job applications to healthcare (wfae.org). The COVID-19 pandemic drove this point home, when daily life moved online and having (or lacking) reliable internet became a defining factor in whether students could learn and businesses could operate. In Hickory and similar communities, this raised urgent questions: Who still doesn’t have internet access? How are our schools and local leaders addressing these gaps? And what is being done – or not done – by business and government to bring everyone into the digital age?

Broadband Gaps: Hickory vs. Region and State

When it comes to home internet, Hickory has made progress but still has notable gaps. In Catawba County (where Hickory is the largest city), about 87% of households have an internet subscription, meaning roughly 1 in 8 households still lack home internet service (ispreports.org). Practically 100% of the county’s homes have at least some level of internet available (as providers report), yet availability doesn’t always equal quality or affordability (catawbacountync.gov) (ispreports.org). Only about 72% of households have access to a wired broadband option like cable, DSL, or fiber at their address – the remainder must rely on expensive or slower technologies (6% use satellite, for instance) (ispreports.org). Even more striking, true fiber-optic connectivity is limited: just 22% of Catawba County households can get fiber service, compared to about 65% statewide (ispreports.org). In short, many Hickory-area residents are still on older infrastructure.

These numbers show a clear broadband gap. An Internet “availability vs. usage” analysis finds that while 99%+ of local homes could connect at basic speeds (25 Mbps or more), only ~87% actually do – suggesting issues like cost or digital skills are barriers for the remaining 12-13% (ispreports.org). The good news is Hickory’s adoption rate is only slightly below the North Carolina average (88-89%), but closing that last gap is important. Statewide, at least 1.1 million NC households lack high-speed internet access, can’t afford it, or don’t have the skills to use it – a disparity Governor Roy Cooper has highlighted in efforts to achieve “digital equity for all North Carolinians” (broadbandusa.ntia.doc.gov).

Hickory’s situation reflects a broader pattern in North Carolina. In urban Mecklenburg County (Charlotte), for example, about 21% of households have no home broadband (14% with no internet at all, plus 7% relying only on cell phones or dial-up) (wfae.org) – often due to affordability in low-income neighborhoods. In more rural counties west of Hickory, the challenge is even more about infrastructure: large swaths of rural NC still have “broadband” only in the loosest sense, sometimes just a slow 25/3 Mbps connection that struggles with Zoom classes (wfae.org). On state maps, Charlotte shows up relatively well-connected, while the foothills and mountain regions around Hickory used to be a sea of “red” and “orange” indicating unserved areas (wfae.org). The digital divide is both an urban affordability issue and a rural access issue. Hickory sits somewhere in the middle – a small city with both city and rural fringe challenges.

Crucially, efforts are underway to bridge these gaps. Private investment is starting to make a dent: Brightspeed (a telecom provider) announced in 2024 a multi-million dollar project to extend fiber-optic internet to nearly 35,000 homes and businesses in Hickory and surrounding Catawba County (brightspeed.com). Construction crews will be laying new fiber in neighborhoods that “have lacked quality internet service,” giving residents a new high-speed option beyond the old phone or satellite lines (brightspeed.com). Likewise, MetroNet, an Indiana-based fiber company, partnered with the City of Hickory in recent years on a $36 million fiber build-out, aiming to make gigabit (1,000 Mbps) speeds available citywide. These investments mean that in the next couple of years, many more Hickory-area households should see truly fast, reliable internet become available.

At the same time, public programs are filling in the hardest-to-reach pockets. North Carolina has leveraged federal funds (from the American Rescue Plan and infrastructure bills) to create the GREAT Grants and new “Stop Gap Solutions” program targeting remaining unserved homes. In January 2024, the White House announced $82 million for the Stop Gap program to connect 16,000 additional NC homes and businesses – focused on those small clusters of houses that previous big grants missed (broadbandbreakfast.com). The state’s broadband office will work county-by-county, including in the Hickory metro area, to identify these last “dead zones” and fund solutions (broadbandbreakfast.com). The goal, as President Biden said in Raleigh, is to “finish the job” of reaching all homes, schools, and businesses by the end of the decade (broadbandbreakfast.com). Between these new investments and existing programs, over 300,000 North Carolina homes and businesses are slated to gain affordable high-speed internet access in the coming years (broadbandbreakfast.com) – a significant step toward closing the divide.

Education Outcomes and the Digital Divide

Broadband access isn’t just a tech issue; it directly impacts education, especially in a community like Hickory. The Hickory Public Schools have faced academic challenges in recent years, and local educators know that a lack of internet or devices at home can put students further behind. Recent data on education outcomes in Hickory are sobering. In 2024, only 25.5% of Hickory’s 3rd–8th graders achieved “college-and-career ready” scores in reading, and only 31.0% did so in math (dashboard.myfuturenc.org). In other words, roughly three-quarters of Hickory’s middle-grade students are not meeting that higher proficiency bar in core subjects. (Even by the more modest grade-level standard, fewer than half may be on track – for example, an external report noted about 48% of Hickory elementary students test proficient in reading (usnews.com)). These rates fall far below the state’s long-term goals (North Carolina hopes to reach ~73% proficiency in reading eventually) (dashboard.myfuturenc.org).

There are of course many factors behind test scores, but the digital divide doesn’t help. During the COVID-19 remote learning period, students without reliable internet or a computer at home had a much harder time keeping up. Hickory’s schools serve a diverse and high-need population – about 65% of students come from economically disadvantaged families (projects.propublica.org), and the district is 56% nonwhite (projects.propublica.org). These students are the most likely to lack home internet or devices. Imagine trying to join a Zoom class or submit online homework from a household with no broadband – it’s a recipe for falling behind. In fact, Hickory City Schools saw chronic absenteeism spike to 27% in 2023 (dashboard.myfuturenc.org), and educators noted that some absences were effectively caused by connectivity issues (students simply couldn’t log on for remote classes).

Local officials and nonprofits have recognized this and taken action. One innovative response was the “Wi-Fi for All” initiative led by the Catawba County Library during the pandemic. County officials saw the internet gap becoming a chasm for many families, so the library used a state CARES grant to quickly install free Wi-Fi access points at seven community locations (govlaunch.com). They wired up places like the Hickory Soup Kitchen and Plaza Latina (a local community hub) with external Wi-Fi that reaches into the parking lots, so people without home internet could still get online easily, even from their cars (govlaunch.com). For students, this meant a safe place to go get a free connection to do schoolwork. The library also deployed 118 tablet computers on loan to residents who lacked a device (govlaunch.com). This effort earned a statewide innovation award in 2022 and saw heavy use (around 15,000 monthly Wi-Fi sessions within the first year) (govlaunch.com). It’s a powerful example of a community stepping up to ensure that kids’ education isn’t halted by something as basic as not having Wi-Fi at home.

The long-term impact of the digital divide on education is something Hickory’s leaders are keeping an eye on. While the high school graduation rate is relatively solid at ~88% (ednc.org), there remain stark achievement gaps. For instance, Black students in Hickory are, on average, about 3 grade levels behind their white peers academically (projects.propublica.org) – a gap influenced by socioeconomic disparities and access to resources (including technology). Bridging the digital divide is seen as one piece of the puzzle in closing these gaps. When every student can reliably get online to research, do homework, or take enrichment courses, it levels the playing field just a bit more. As one national study put it during the pandemic, what was a gap became a chasm – but Hickory is working to build bridges across that chasm.

Community Leadership and Responses in Tech

Addressing digital and technology issues in Hickory has truly been a community-wide effort. Business leaders, local government, and nonprofits have each played a role – some in enthusiastic support, others historically with constraints or skepticism. Overall, Hickory’s civic spirit leans towards pragmatic support for expanding connectivity and tech infrastructure, seeing it as key to the area’s future.

Local businesses and industry have generally been strong allies in pushing Hickory forward technologically. A standout example is CommScope, the fiber-optic cable manufacturer that is one of Hickory’s largest employers. CommScope not only ramped up production to meet national broadband goals, but also invested locally: in 2021, the company donated $275,000 to equip downtown Hickory’s Union Square with free public Wi-Fi (prospect.org). Now anyone in the heart of the city – students, shoppers, tourists – can hop online, thanks to this partnership. The stage on the square is even named the “CommScope Stage” in recognition of their contribution (prospect.org). Company leaders have spoken out about their commitment to connectivity; as CommScope’s communications director put it, “We believe everyone should have reliable access to broadband.” (prospect.org) This kind of vocal support matters in a community – it signals that the business community sees digital infrastructure as foundational, not optional.

Hickory’s tech industry presence also includes big names like Apple and Microsoft, which have established data centers in the area. In 2021 Apple announced a $500 million expansion of its data center in Catawba County, and in 2022 Microsoft, together with county officials, unveiled a $1 billion investment over ten years for more data storage facilities (prospect.org). These projects don’t create as many jobs as manufacturing, but they reinforce the region’s identity as a growing tech hub. Local leaders have welcomed these investments, often coordinating on infrastructure needs (like fiber routes and power) to accommodate them. The presence of such companies also underscores to elected officials that high-speed connectivity is now critical infrastructure if we want to attract and keep employers.

Non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and community groups have been key on the digital inclusion front. Beyond the library system’s Wi-Fi initiative mentioned earlier, organizations like the Center for Digital Equity (based in nearby Charlotte) have provided guidance and programs that extend into the region. In affordable housing complexes not far from Hickory, outreach events have distributed refurbished laptops and taught digital skills (wfae.org) – strategies that could be replicated in Hickory’s public housing communities. Local churches and charities have also chipped in, some by setting up “homework hotpots” or lending out mobile hotspots to families. While Hickory might not have a large tech-focused NGO scene of its own, it certainly benefits from regional efforts and the dedication of local community volunteers who understand that internet access = opportunity in today’s world.

Elected officials and governance in North Carolina present a mixed picture of support and roadblocks on broadband issues. Locally, Hickory’s city and Catawba County officials have been generally supportive of expanding internet access. The City of Hickory has demonstrated openness to public-private partnerships – the deal with MetroNet to build fiber is one example, where the city eased the path for the company in exchange for citywide coverage promises. Catawba County commissioners have likewise made broadband a strategic priority, incorporating it into economic development plans (catawbacountync.gov). They recognize that internet connectivity is a “means to an end” for attracting businesses and supporting education (catawbacountync.gov). In fact, the county has pursued state Completing Access to Broadband (CAB) grants to fund service in rural corners of the county, and the region secured part of that $82 million Stop Gap funding in 2024 to wire up remaining homes (broadbandbreakfast.com).

However, at the state governance level, North Carolina has had some notorious hurdles. In 2011, the state passed one of the nation’s most restrictive laws against municipal broadband networks (communitynets.org). This law essentially barred cities and counties from creating their own internet services or expanding existing ones beyond their county lines (communitynets.org). Hickory, therefore, could not choose to follow in the footsteps of Wilson, NC – a similarly sized city (pop. ~50,000) which built its own renowned Greenlight fiber network. Wilson’s Greenlight network, launched in 2008, turned that city into North Carolina’s first Gigabit City and is credited with boosting Wilson’s economic revitalization and even improving educational connectivity (all schools there were linked to fiber by 2012) (communitynets.org). But after Wilson proved municipal broadband could succeed, the state effectively slammed the door so that no other city could do the same (communitynets.org). The law was justified at the time by claims that city-run networks would fail or were unfair competition – yet Wilson’s didn’t fail, and citizens in places like Hickory have been left wondering what might have been if such local solutions were allowed (communitynets.org). Local elected leaders in Hickory have generally voiced frustration with these constraints. They’ve had to work indirectly – by lobbying state officials for more grants and by partnering with private ISPs – rather than having the option to invest directly in a community network.

The good news is that momentum is shifting. State leaders (on a bipartisan basis) now talk openly about closing the digital divide and have put significant funding behind it (broadbandusa.ntia.doc.gov). Governor Cooper’s broadband initiatives and the creation of a Division of Broadband and Digital Equity show a strong official commitment. And Hickory’s representatives in Raleigh have supported recent budgets that fund rural broadband expansion. While the 2011 municipal broadband restrictions still stand as of 2025, there’s increasing pressure to loosen those rules given the lessons of the pandemic and federal push for universal access. For Hickory’s part, the city has found ways to “make it work” within the rules – leveraging private capital (e.g. Metronet, Brightspeed) and using public facilities like libraries to extend connectivity. It may not be as straightforward as Wilson’s path, but the level of support among business, government, and community stakeholders in Hickory is largely aligned: everyone wants to see the gaps filled.

Looking Ahead: Opportunities for Hickory and Similar Communities

Hickory isn’t alone in this journey. Across North Carolina, communities of similar size – from Wilson to Salisbury to Morganton – have grappled with the same digital challenges. Some have pioneered innovative solutions. Wilson, as mentioned, took the bold step of a city-owned network and is now cited as a model (its Greenlight service offers some of the fastest speeds in the state and even provides low-cost $10/month plans for public housing residents) (communitynets.org). Salisbury (population ~34,000) built a municipal fiber network (“Fibrant”) that, despite early financial struggles, eventually brought gigabit internet to residents and was later commercialized via a private partner. Other towns have leaned on electric cooperatives to deliver broadband – for instance, co-ops in the NC foothills have started running fiber lines along their grids to reach farm communities. These examples show that where there’s a will, there’s a way: communities are finding different ways to get their people connected, whether through public infrastructure or creative partnerships.

For Hickory, the path forward likely involves a bit of everything: continued private sector expansion, smart use of state/federal funds, and community-driven programs to ensure no one is left out. The influx of federal broadband dollars (North Carolina is receiving over $1 billion from recent legislation) is a once-in-a-generation opportunity. Hickory’s manufacturers are even benefiting from that indirectly – since the broadband buildout uses “Buy America” materials, the local fiber cable factories are booming (prospect.org). This is a great example of industrial policy meeting local needs: Hickory’s fiber plants expand jobs, which produce the cable, which in turn will bring broadband to rural areas and urban neighborhoods in need (prospect.org). It’s a full circle that residents can appreciate both economically and in quality of life.

Local leaders, including business owners and elected officials, continue to stress that connectivity is tied to community vitality. As one small business owner in downtown Hickory observed, the city has been investing in making the community more livable and attractive – and part of that is having modern amenities like public Wi-Fi, tech incubators, and training programs for the workforce (prospect.org) (communitynets.org). There is a real sense that Hickory, a former furniture manufacturing capital that was hit hard by offshoring, has a chance at a tech-driven revival. Bringing world-class internet to every corner of the city and surrounding counties is seen as foundational to that revival. It enables remote work opportunities, tech startups, online education, telehealth for rural residents – all pieces of a vibrant, modern community.

Of course, challenges remain. Affordability will still be a concern even after broadband is technically available everywhere. Programs like the federal Affordable Connectivity Program (ACP) provide $30/month subsidies to low-income families for internet service, and about 2% of Catawba households are already using such subsidies (ispreports.org). Spreading awareness of these programs and digital skills training will be important so that new infrastructure actually translates into higher adoption. Hickory’s stakeholders understand that inclusion is the end goal – it’s not just about laying fiber optic cable, but about making sure people can and do use it to improve their lives.

In summary, the Hickory area’s experience with the digital divide illustrates both the difficulties and the hopeful momentum in bridging that divide. On one hand, we see the reality of broadband gaps – a significant minority of households without access, students struggling to get online, and a city that until recently had less fiber service than many places. On the other hand, we see a community pulling together: companies donating Wi-Fi and expanding networks, libraries and nonprofits innovating to get people connected, and officials at all levels prioritizing the issue. For a passionate community like Hickory, which cares deeply about its future, these efforts are not just tech upgrades – they are investments in education, economic opportunity, and quality of life. Every new home that gets a high-speed connection, every child who gains internet access for their homework, is a small victory for the community as a whole.

As Hickory and similar communities in North Carolina continue on this path, their residents can look forward to a day when the term “digital divide” is a relic of the past – when everyone in the Hickory area, from the city center to the rural edges, truly has the broadband they need to thrive in the modern world. It’s an ambitious goal, but with the broad support seen from business, government, and grassroots citizens alike, it’s one that feels more achievable than ever.

CommScope’s headquarters in Hickory. The city is home to major fiber-optic cable manufacturers, and these companies have become key players in local broadband initiatives (prospect.org).

Sources

• Catawba County Digital Connectivity Profile – ISP Reports / American Community Survey dataispreports.orgispreports.org

• myFutureNC Hickory Attainment Profile 2024 – Hickory City Schools education outcomesdashboard.myfuturenc.org

• ProPublica “Miseducation” Project – Hickory City Schools demographics and gapsprojects.propublica.orgprojects.propublica.org

• WFAE (Charlotte NPR) – “Who’s on the wrong side of the digital divide in NC” (Jul 2023) (wfae.org)

• The American Prospect – “The Small Town That’s Connecting America” (Aug 2023) (prospect.org)

• BroadbandBreakfast.com – “Biden Unveils $82M for NC Internet Access” (Jan 2024) (broadbandbreakfast.com)

• GovLaunch Case Study – “Catawba County Wi-Fi for All” project (2021) (govlaunch.com)

• Institute for Local Self-Reliance – “Wilson Greenlight Municipal Broadband Case Study” (2020) (communitynets.org)

• Brightspeed Press Release – “Ultra-Fast Fiber Connectivity to Hickory” (Apr 2024) (brightspeed.com)

• North Carolina DIT/Broadband Office – Digital Divide statistics and initiatives (broadbandusa.ntia.doc.gov)