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A new study found that majority Black neighborhoods faced higher solar costs.

Higher-income people are more likely to have solar panels on their roofs. This fact has underlined the nature of home solar adoption and is responsible for any number of state, local, and now federal programs to give lower-income people access to solar power, either through subsidizing their own solar panels or letting them “subscribe” to solar power generated elsewhere.
While this seems like an obviously sensible solution — the upfront cost of solar can be around $15,000 to $20,000, and you typically need to own a single family home to get it — it’s not quite as simple as those with more money are more likely to get solar. When the University of Texas economist Jackson Dorsey and Derek Wolfson looked at data provide by the solar marketplace EnergySage, they found that, yes, those with higher incomes are more likely to buy solar — but also that what solar installers offered them and what they paid for it varied depending on the demographics of the surrounding area.
“Econ 101, there’s usually two possible reasons why you might have lower quantities in a market. One would be demand is lower, and the other would be supply is lower,” Dorsey told me when I asked what had motivated his research. While the data about high-income demand for energy transition products like solar panels or electric vehicles is plentiful, there had been less attention paid to supply-side reasons for the disparities.
Dorsey and Wolfson looked at hundreds of thousands of bids for solar installation placed in EnergySage’s 15 largest markets, including much of urban California, New York City, Washington, D.C. and metro areas in Florida, where prospective solar buyers are able to pick among bids from installers. Unsurprisingly, lower-income buyers were less likely to purchase home solar, received fewer bids overall, and, because they were likely seeking smaller systems, paid more per watt than wealthier buyers. (The researchers were able to match data from EnergySage with census data to extract demographic information about potential customers along with their location.)
What did stand out, however, is that Black households in particular got fewer bids and paid notably higher prices, a disparity that could not be explained entirely by differences in income. Low-income households were more likely to be in an area with a lower cost of living, and therefore didn’t necessarily face higher overall project costs because prices for everything tended to be lower.
Black households, on the other hand, received fewer bids and then face higher prices. “If you look at Black vs. white households, Black households get about 8% higher prices,” Dorsey told me. “On a $20,000 system, that would be $1,600.”
The reason, he determined, is not so much that installers don’t want to serve people they know are Black. It’s that they don’t want to serve neighborhoods they know are majority Black.
Dorsey put the difference down to “some kind of perceived higher cost of doing business.” Part of it could be explained by installers setting up shop in areas where they think they’ll find higher demand for their services — high-income ones — and so Black neighborhoods, which are more likely to be low-income, may be literally farther away and more expensive to serve. According to the data Dorsey and Wolfson collected, there are three installers within 10 miles of white households on average, compared to two installers on average for Black households.
There could also, Dorsey said, “be some implicit preference that they don’t want to go to those neighborhoods.” In the paper, Dorsey and Wolfson write that “some sellers may prefer to serve certain households or neighborhoods either because of intolerant views, crime rates, or other variables correlated with household demographic characteristics.”
While the study didn’t get into remediation, fixing the income side of things should be fairly straightforward, Dorsey told me. “Just making prices lower or financing terms more comparable [to high income households] should be fairly effective,” he said.
The sociogeographic side of things will be trickier to address. “That might suggest a supply side policy might be effective,” Dorsey said, “like giving installers incentives to locate in or serve communities that are getting fewer bids and facing higher prices.”
Policymakers and solar advocates are very aware of the income and race disparities in solar adoptions and have come up with a slew of policies to try and narrow them. California, which has long been the epicenter of rooftop solar (with the most attendant controversy over how its incentives are designed), has a program that subsidizes low-income households that want to install solar and incentives for affordable multifamily buildings to install solar.
The Environmental Protection Agency’s $7 billion Solar For All program also supports states, tribes, and non-profits with programs to reach low-income households. “The program will help unlock new markets for residential solar in areas that have never seen this kind of investment before,” an EPA spokesperson told Heatmap in an emailed statement. “Much of the program will fund solar projects to benefit multi-family and affordable housing, as well as community solar projects, bringing the benefits of clean energy to households that may not have had access to it before.”
Another favored solution for getting solar access to those who wouldn’t otherwise have it is community solar, where households “subscribe” to small-scale solar installations and then get credits on their utility bill as if they had physically installed solar in their homes.
The share of community solar capacity that serves low-to-moderate income consumers has grown from 2% in 2022 to 12% this year, according to data from Wood Mackenzie and the Coalition for Community Solar Access, and they project it will continue to grow to 25% in 2025.
The Inflation Reduction Act also includes an “adder” for community solar projects that serve lower income consumers that boosts existing subsidies by 10 to 20 percentage points. These community solar projects are “already seeing impact and projects on the ground,” Molly Knoll, vice president of policy for CCSA, told me.
EnergySage’s chief executive, Charlie Hadlow, said in a statement that the company is “working diligently to ensure every eligible shopper gets three to seven quotes on our platform,” and that “we welcome more installers to sign up on our platform and are actively seeking them out, with a deliberate focus on underserved areas.” He said consumers typically save 20% using EnergySage compared to what they might get on their own, and that the company also has a marketplace for community solar.
All that said, Dorsey is skeptical that “installing panels at individual rooftop” is even the best way to decarbonize. "If you want to cost-effectively reduce emissions, it’s not clear to me rooftop solar is the way to do it as opposed to utility-scale or community solar,” he said.
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A new PowerLines report puts the total requested increases at $31 billion — more than double the number from 2024.
Utilities asked regulators for permission to extract a lot more money from ratepayers last year.
Electric and gas utilities requested almost $31 billion worth of rate increases in 2025, according to an analysis by the energy policy nonprofit PowerLines released Thursday morning, compared to $15 billion worth of rate increases in 2024. In case you haven’t already done the math: That’s more than double what utilities asked for just a year earlier.
Utilities go to state regulators with its spending and investment plans, and those regulators decide how much of a return the utility is allowed to glean from its ratepayers on those investments. (Costs for fuel — like natural gas for a power plant — are typically passed through to customers without utilities earning a profit.) Just because a utility requests a certain level of spending does not mean that regulators will approve it. But the volume and magnitude of the increases likely means that many ratepayers will see higher bills in the coming year.
“These increases, a lot of them have not actually hit people's wallets yet,” PowerLines executive director Charles Hua told a group of reporters Wednesday afternoon. “So that shows that in 2026, the utility bills are likely to continue to rise, barring some major, sweeping action.” Those could affect some 81 million consumers, he said.
Electricity prices have gone up 6.7% in the past year, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, outpacing overall prices, which have risen 2.7%. Electricity is 37% more expensive today than it was just five years ago, a trend researchers have attributed to geographically specific factors such as costs arising from wildfires attributed to faulty utility equipment, as well as rising costs for maintaining and building out the grid itself.
These rising costs have become increasingly politically contentious, with state and local politicians using electricity markets and utilities as punching bags. Newly elected New Jersey Governor Mikie Sherrill’s first two actions in office, for instance, were both aimed at effecting a rate freeze proposal that was at the center of her campaign.
But some of the biggest rate increase requests from last year were not in the markets best known for high and rising prices: the Northeast and California. The Florida utility Florida Power and Light received permission from state regulators for $7 billion worth of rate increases, the largest such increase among the group PowerLines tracked. That figure was negotiated down from about $10 billion.
The PowerLines data is telling many consumers something they already know. Electricity is getting more expensive, and they’re not happy about it.
“In a moment where affordability concerns and pocketbook concerns remain top of mind for American consumers, electricity and gas are the two fastest drivers,” Hua said. “That is creating this sense of public and consumer frustration that we're seeing.”
The battery recycling company announced a $425 million Series E round after pivoting to power data centers.
Amidst a two year-long slump in lithium prices, the Nevada-based battery recycling company Redwood Materials announced last summer that it had begun a new venture focused on grid-scale energy storage. Today, it’s clear just how much that bet has paid off.
The company announced a $425 million round of Series E funding for the new venture, known as Redwood Energy. That came from some big names in artificial intelligence, including Google and Nvidia’s venture capital arm, NVentures. This marks the final close of the funding round, increasing the total from $350 million announced in October.
Redwood Energy adapts the company’s original mission — breaking down spent batteries to recover, refine, and resell critical minerals — to suit the data center revolution. Instead of merely extracting battery materials, the company can now also repurpose electric vehicle batteries that still have some life left in them as energy storage solutions for AI data centers, allowing Redwood to get value from the battery throughout its lifecycle.
“Regardless of where lithium prices are, if we can put [a lithium-ion battery] in a large-scale energy storage system, it can have a lot more value before we break it down into critical materials,” Claire McConnell, Redwood’s new VP of business development for energy storage, told me.
Over the past 12 to 18 months, she explained that the company had started to receive more and more used electric vehicle battery packs “in better condition than we initially anticipated.” Given the substantial electricity load growth underway, McConnell said the company saw it as “perfect moment” to “develop something that could be really unique for that market.”
At the time of Redwood Energy’s launch last June, the company announced that it had stockpiled over a gigawatt-hour of used EV batteries, with an additional 5 gigawatt-hours expected over the following year. Its first microgrid pilot is already live and generating revenue in Sparks, Nevada, operating in partnership with the data center owner and operator Crusoe Energy. That project is off-grid, supplying solar-generated electricity directly to Crusoe’s data center. Future projects could be grid-connected though, storing energy when prices are low and dispatching it when there are spikes in demand.
The company also isn’t limiting itself to used battery packs, McConnell told me. Plenty of manufacturers, she said, are sitting on a surplus of new batteries that they’re willing to offload to Redwood. The potential reasons for that glut are easy to see: already-slower-than-expected EV adoption compounded by Trump’s rollback of incentives has left many automakers with lower than projected EV sales. And even in the best of times, automakers routinely retool their product lines, which could leave them with excess inventory from an older model.
While McConnell wouldn’t reveal what percent of packs are new, she did tell me they make up a “pretty meaningful percentage of our inventory right now,” pointing to a recently announced partnership with General Motors meant to accelerate deployment of both new and used battery packs for energy storage.
While Redwood isn’t abandoning its battery recycling roots, this shift in priorities toward data center energy storage comes after a tough few years for the battery recycling sector overall. By last June, lithium prices had fallen precipitously from their record highs in 2022, making mineral recycling far less competitive. Then came Trump’s cuts to consumer electric vehicle incentives, further weakening demand. On top of that, the rise of lithium-iron phosphate batteries — which now dominate the battery storage sector and are increasingly common in EVs — have reduced the need for nickel and cobalt in particular, as they’re not a part of this cheaper battery chemistry.
All this helped create the conditions for the bankruptcy of one of Redwood’s main competitors, Li-Cycle, in May 2025. The company went public via a SPAC merger in 2021, aiming to commercialize its proprietary technique for shredding whole lithium-ion battery packs at once. But it ultimately couldn’t secure the funds to finish building out its recycling hub in Rochester, New York, and it was acquired by the commodities trading and mining company Glencore last summer.
“We started really early, and in a way we started Redwood almost too early,” JB Straubel, Redwood’s founder and Tesla’s co-founder, told TechCrunch last summer. He was alluding to the fact that in 2017, when Redwood was founded, there just weren’t that many aging EVs on the road — nor are there yet today. So while an influx of used EV batteries is eventually expected, slower than anticipated EV adoption means there just may not be enough supply yet to sustain a company like Redwood on that business model alone.
In the meantime, Redwood has also worked to recycle and refine critical minerals from battery manufacturing scrap and used lithium-ion from consumer electronics. Partnerships with automakers such as Toyota, Volkswagen, and General Motors, as well as global battery manufacturer Panasonic, have helped bolster both its EV battery recycling business and new storage endeavor. The goal of building a domestic supply chain for battery materials such as lithium, nickel, cobalt, and copper also remains as bipartisan as ever, meaning Redwood certainly isn’t dropping the recycling and refining arm of its business, even as it shifts focus toward energy storage.
For instance, it’s also still working on the buildout of a recycling and battery component production facility in Charleston, South Carolina. While three years ago the company announced that this plant would eventually produce over 100 gigawatt-hours of cathode and anode battery components annually, operations on this front appear to be delayed. When Redwood announced that recycling and refining operations had begun in Charleston late last year, it made no mention of when battery component production would start up.
It’s possible that this could be taking a backburner to the company’s big plans to expand its storage business. While the initial Crusoe facility offers 63 megawatt-hours of battery energy storage, McConnell told me that Redwood is now working on projects “in the hundreds of megawatt-hours, looking to gigawatt-hour scale” that it hopes to announce soon.
The market potential is larger than any of us might realize. Over the next five or so years, McConnell said, “We expect that repurposed electric vehicle battery packs could make up 50% of the energy storage market.”
Fossil fuel companies colluded to stifle competition from clean energy, the state argues.
A new kind of climate lawsuit just dropped.
Last week the state of Michigan joined the parade of governments at all levels suing fossil fuel companies for climate change-related damages. But it’s testing a decidedly different strategy: Rather than allege that Big Oil deceived the public about the dangers of its products, Michigan is bringing an antitrust case, arguing that the industry worked as a cartel to stifle competition from non-fossil fuel resources.
Starting in the 1980s, the complaint says, ExxonMobil, Chevron, Shell, BP, and their trade association, the American Petroleum Institute, conspired “to delay the transition from fossil fuels to renewable energy” and “unlawfully colluded to reduce innovation” in Michigan’s transportation and energy markets. This, it alleges, is a key driver of Michigan’s (and the country’s) present-day struggles with energy affordability. If the companies had not suppressed renewable energy and electric vehicles, the argument goes, these technologies would have become competitive sooner and resulted in lower transportation and energy costs.
The framing may enable Michigan to sidestep some of the challenges other climate lawsuits have faced. Ten states have attempted to hold Big Oil accountable for climate impacts, mostly by arguing that the industry concealed the harms their products would cause. One suit filed by the City of New York has been dismissed, and many others have been delayed due to arguments over whether the proceedings belong in state or federal court, and haven’t yet gotten to the substance of the claims. Michigan’s tactic “maybe speeds up getting to the merits of the case,” Margaret Barry, a climate litigation fellow at Columbia University’s Sabin Center for Climate Change Law, told me, “because those jurisdictional issues aren’t going to be part of the court’s review.”
The fossil fuel industry’s primary defense in these suits has been that cities and states cannot fault oil companies for greenhouse gas emissions because regulating those emissions is the job of the federal government, per the Clean Air Act. Making the case about competition may “avoid arguments about whether this lawsuit is really about regulation,” Rachel Rothschild, an assistant professor of law at the University of Michigan, told me.
The biggest hurdle Michigan will face is proving the existence of a coordinated plot. Geoffrey Kozen, a partner at the law firm Robins Kaplan who works on antitrust cases, told me that companies in these kinds of suits tend to argue that they were simply reacting independently to the same market pressures and responding as any rational market actor would.
There are two main ways for a plaintiff to overcome that kind of argument, Kozen explained. In rare cases, there is a smoking gun — a memo that all of the parties signed saying they were going to act together, for example. More often, attorneys attempt to demonstrate a combination of “parallel conduct,” i.e., showing that all of the parties did the same thing, and “plus factors,” or layers of evidence that make it more likely that there was some kind of underlying agreement.
According to Michigan’s lawsuit, the collusion story in this case goes like this. In 1979, the American Petroleum Institute started a group called the CO2 and Climate Task Force. By that time, Exxon had come to understand that fossil fuel consumption was warming the planet and would cause devastation costing trillions of dollars. The company’s scientists had concluded that cleaner alternatives to fossil fuels would have to make up an increasing amount of the world’s energy if such effects were to be avoided.
“A self-interested and law-abiding rational firm would have used this insight to innovate and compete in the energy market by offering superior and cheaper energy products to consumers,” the complaint says. Michigan alleges that instead, Exxon shared its findings with the other companies in the task force and conspired with them to suppress clean alternatives to fossil fuels. They worked together to “synchronize assessments of climate risks, monitor each other’s scientific and industry outlooks, align their responses to competitive threats, and coordinate their efforts to suppress technologies likely to displace gasoline or other fossil fuels through collusion rather than competition,” according to the complaint.
Michigan’s lawyers point to evidence showing that the named companies shut down internal research programs, withheld products from the market, and used their control of patents to stifle progress away from fossil fuels. The companies were all early leaders in developing clean technologies — with innovations in rechargeable batteries, hybrid cars, and solar panels — but began to sabotage or abandon those efforts after the formation of the task force, the lawsuit alleges.
The case will likely turn on whether the judge finds it credible that these actions would have been against the companies’ self-interest had they not known their peers would be doing the same thing, Kozen told me.
“The actions differ between defendants. They are over a wide range of time periods. And so the question is, is that pursuant to an actual agreement? Or is it pursuant to a bunch of oil executives who are all thinking in similar ways?” he said. “I think that’s going to be the number one point where success or failure is probably going to tip.”
Another challenge for Michigan will be to prove what the world would have looked like had this collusion not taken place. In the parlance of antitrust, this is known as the “but-for world.” Without the Big Oil conspiracy, the lawsuit says, electric vehicles would be “a common sight in every neighborhood,” there would be ubiquitous “reliable and fast chargers,” and renewable energy would be “supplied at scale.” It argues that economic models show that Michigan’s energy prices would also have been significantly lower. While such arguments are common in antitrust cases, it’s a lot more difficult to quantify the effects of stifled innovation than something more straightforward like price fixing.
The companies, of course, reject Michigan’s narrative. A spokeswoman for Exxon told the New York Times it was “yet another legally incoherent effort to regulate by lawsuit.”
If the state can gather enough plausible evidence of harm, however, it may be able to get past the companies’ inevitable motion to dismiss the case and on to discovery. While the case is built on heaps of internal emails and leaked memos that have been made public over the years through congressional investigations, who knows how much of the story has yet to be revealed.
“It’s, in my experience, almost impossible, if someone is actually a member of a cartel, to hide all the evidence,” said Kozen. “Whatever it is, it always comes out.”