Notes From The Desk of Someone Doing the Scary Part, Part 1

For the sake of transparency and hopefully inspiration, I want to bring you all into the process of restoring Pop’s shop, known lovingly as Woodard’s. Above is a clip of the shop, on the side that will someday host the supper club. Obviously this is before cleanup, and there is a version of myself that would be ashamed to show you this without a quick cut to the new, beautiful “after” shots with polished cement floors and ceilings that don’t have holes and hanging insolation.

However, I’ve been saying goodbye to her this year. Because, I deserve to start from scratch, to learn along side my community, and to show the beauty in every stage of this marathon even, when it’s ugly.

This level of transparency also feels important because my dreams for reimagining dormant space that belonged to my grandparents are not unique to me. It’s something lots of Black folk want to do, and can’t. Generally speaking, we can’t because it can be overwhelming, or because of heirs property or because we just don’t have access to the necessary resources.

We need easier access to the right information, grants, funding, etc. and as I learn, I plan to share. Something maybe obvious, but worth saying, is that Black owned land, homes and buildings have been historically appraised and valued for less money than those of our white counterparts. Our neighborhoods are more at risk of blighting and eminent domain which are tools that have been used for as long as Black people have been “free” in this country. We know this impacts all of us, but especially non-white, “poor” and rural communities.

In my own neighborhood, as many of you know, some of my relatives and neighbors were displaced in their 70’s and 80’s, and forced to start over in unfamiliar spaces outside of the proximity of some of their life-saving systems. These are people who worked tirelessly their whole lives to have the security and pride that comes with home ownership. These homes also remind us that they existed, even long after they’ve gone.

My elder cousin Barbara Anne, standing in the doorway of her parent’s home. One of many demolished in 2019.

The impact that a move like this has on people can not be quantified, however I can say that based on my own experience with this, my quality of life has forever been impacted in this neighborhood.

My point is this, things do change but who has a say in that change matters. This project is an opportunity for me and my family, and my community to have our voices heard and our ideas around “progress” and our inclusion honored.

As I continue to pursue this dream, here are a few valuable takeaways so far:

Get clear on your own relationship to these systems, by learning more about the history of Black land access in this Country (and in your own family). I suggest reading Brea Baker’s book ‘Rooted’, as well as Freedom Farmers by Dr. Monica White. There are so many amazing books and articles that help put this into perspective for us so that we can counter the disruptive tools and systems perpetuated by our towns, counties, states, and this country.