Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza

Reverse racist land grabs.

In April, the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors voted unanimously to make amends for a massive land grab rooted in white supremacy, though this remedy came almost a century too late (MSN). In the early twentieth century, Charles and Willa Bruce opened a Manhattan Beach resort that offered other Black families the opportunity to vacation under the Southern California sun. The white residents of Manhattan Beach were not pleased.

Good morning and happy Wednesday! Throughout history, communities of color have been forcibly removed from their native lands. But land disenfranchisement continues to this very day. Today, Andrew shares the history of racist land grabs and the importance of paying reparations.

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Nicole

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By Andrew Lee (he/him)

In April, the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors voted unanimously to make amends for a massive land grab rooted in white supremacy, though this remedy came almost a century too late (MSN). In the early twentieth century, Charles and Willa Bruce opened a Manhattan Beach resort that offered other Black families the opportunity to vacation under the Southern California sun. The white residents of Manhattan Beach were not pleased. The Bruce’s neighbors slashed their tires. The Ku Klux Klan set fire to the resort’s deck. These horrifying acts of white vigilantism weren’t what forced Charles and Willa to leave. In actuality, it was Manhattan Beach itself. The city government condemned the entire neighborhood around Bruce’s Beach. They then seized the resort through eminent domain. Though the city said that they did this to construct a park, this park never materialized. The Bruce family, forced from the city, was compensated only one-fifth of their asking price for the land they were forced to give up.

“This was such an injustice that was inflicted,” said LA County Supervisor Janice Hahn, “not just on Charles and Willa Bruce, but generations of their descendants” (Yahoo News). 

This isn’t just the story of one bad town. We are often taught to think about racism in American housing as only a matter of federal policy, a peculiarity of Southern states before the Civil Rights movement, or a historical injustice whose wrongs have been set right. In reality, none of these things are true. 

It was not just segregated states, but cities and towns across the country, that actively excluded Black, Chinese, or other people of color from white neighborhoods. Some allowed non-white people during the day but prohibited them from staying after dark. There were over 100 of these so-called “sundown towns” in the supposedly progressive state of California alone (Yahoo News). 

And the legacy of racist housing practices lives on. For one thing, the historical robbery of properties like Bruce’s Beach deprives the descendants of the original owners of untold amounts of familial wealth. For another, the sundown towns of the past remain overwhelmingly white to this day. They’re no longer supposed to be able to exclude people of color by law. But in practice, the prevalence of anything from racial slurs (LA Times) to police harassment to private businesses’ refusal to serve Black customers serves the same purpose for these white enclaves. 

The LA County Board of Supervisors endorsement of the return of the Bruces’ land is significant because it could open the door for other Black families’ reimbursement for the historic theft of their property as well. Community organizations recently pressured another California municipality, Glendale, to publicly apologize for its status as a former sundown town. The town of Norman, Oklahoma, did the same (News 9). Things might keep changing, but only if we support community organizations to keep up the fight. 

The fight to return Bruce’s Beach to the family isn’t over. The California State Assembly will now need to pass additional legislation to approve the act. And this fight goes well beyond Manhattan Beach. The belated apologies of other former sundown towns may be meaningful, but they do not serve to compensate those whose ancestors were deprived the right to live within them. Racist housing policies in this country run so deep that the entire state of Oregon once functioned as one large sundown town, with a constitutional provision banning Black people from living or owning property within its borders. This language remained in the state constitution under 2002 (Ballotpedia). Given the way these historical injustices bleed into present-day inequities, Oregon scholar and activist Walidah Imarishi gave the reminder that, “If you believe in freedom, if you believe in justice, if you believe in liberation – now is the time to act” (OPB).

Malcolm X once said in a speech that “land is the basis of all independence. Land is the basis of freedom, justice, and equality” (Rev). Land is not only where we put family businesses; it is the stage of our entire lives. Land is the means by which we build safety and homefulness for our future and the futures of those who will come after us. These are all of the things which white supremacy and white people have stolen from people of color in the United States and it is well past time to right these wrongs. 

We need to reverse racist land grabs.


Key Takeaways

  • Many American cities and towns excluded people of color through laws and intimidation. 

  • The Bruce family is fighting for the return of land a California city once legally stole from their ancestors. 

  • Land theft not only affected its victims but their present-day descendants who lost the familial wealth that land would have helped create. 

  • People of color in the U.S. have been systemically denied access to the security and resources that the land provides.

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Andrea Plaid Nicole Cardoza Andrea Plaid Nicole Cardoza

Support Black farmers.

155 years. 64 trillion dollars.

That’s how long the families of 4 million enslaved Black people have been waiting for their 40 acres and a mule since stewarding land in the antebellum U.S. That’s how much money this property is worth. A promise often cited but never fulfilled.

As society reckons with compensating this missing generational wealth, today’s Black farmers still struggle to get and maintain their acreages. Black farmers “were a major agricultural force in the 19th and 20th centuries” (Modern Farmer). Ironically, this height of Black husbandry occurred in what Black historian Rayford Logan coined “The Nadir,” the period between 1890 and 1918 – some African American scholars extend the era to 1930 – when progress toward racial equity reached its lowest point.

Happy Sunday. Today we're joined by Andrea to look at the history of Black farmers in the U.S. I really enjoyed diving into the history of our migration across the country, and understanding the nuances of land ownership. I used to live on a farm, and miss that relationship to the earth. I hope you enjoy!

Are you following us on Instagram? We'll be hosting a conversation with Deepa Iyer on finding your role in movement work on Tuesday, January 19 at 1p EST. We're gathering questions in advance over on the ARD community. 

And thank you all for your support. This newsletter is made possible by our subscribers. Consider making a monthly or annual subscription on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). 

Nicole

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By Andrea Plaid (she/her)

155 years. 64 trillion dollars.

That’s how long the families of 4 million enslaved Black people have been waiting for their 40 acres and a mule since stewarding land in the antebellum U.S. That’s how much money this property is worth. A promise often cited but never fulfilled. 

 

As society reckons with compensating this missing generational wealth, today’s Black farmers still struggle to get and maintain their acreages. Black farmers “were a major agricultural force in the 19th and 20th centuries” (Modern Farmer). Ironically, this height of Black husbandry occurred in what Black historian Rayford Logan coined “The Nadir,”  the period between 1890 and 1918 – some African American scholars extend the era to 1930 – when progress toward racial equity reached its lowest point. 

 

The U.S. government signed the Homestead Act of 1862 and the Civil Rights Act of 1866, which solidified the citizenship of newly emancipated Black people. These two laws gave Black people legal rights to claim 160 acres for a nominal fee, a deed, and if they stayed on the land for five years (Aeon). Most of them staked their claims on Southern lands under a corollary to the Homestead Act called the Southern Homestead Act (SHA) of 1866. This “land hunger,” as W.E.B. DuBois called it, drove approximately 200,000 Black people to own 20 million acres of land in the South and the West by the 1910s, in the midst of the Nadir (Mother Jones). 14% of that land was in Mississippi (The Atlantic). 

Some of the manumitted Black folks did not stay in the South. Instead, they sought their literal and figurative 40 acres in what’s referred to as “the American West,” but is actually where the government stole Indigenous people’s lands in its expansionist efforts. Famously known as the Exodusters, approximately 3,500 Black people – out of the millions who were freed and several thousand who moved west – were able to claim 650,000 acres of this land. Including their families, about 15,000 Black people lived in these homesteads (National Park Service). By the 1920s, the number of Black farmers peaked at 949,889, with their owning 15 million acres across the U.S (The Guardian). 

 

In response, white supremacy redoubled its efforts to divest these farmers of their acreage and their livelihoods. 

 
In practice, the Homestead Act and the SHA were insufficient to support freed African Americans through the bureaucratic process. It also often provided unfarmable land and never included the money to pay the filing fee (PBS). A few of the newly freed Black people, particularly Black men, ended up sharecropping or in chain gangs. According to The Atlantic, “even the most enterprising black landowners found themselves fighting a war of attrition, often fraught with legal obstacles that made passing title to future generations difficult.”

 

Ultimately, out of the 28,000 that filed for land patents, only about 5,500 Black people actually received them (Aeon). In contrast, the Homestead Act and the SHA ultimately gave away 270 million acres to 1.6 million U.S.-born and immigrant white people. As of 2000, 46 million of these people – about a quarter of the U.S. population – are descendants of these landowners  (Aeon).

White nationalist organizations like the Ku Klux Klan – some of whom were on city councils and law enforcement – forced many Black farmers off their land because, in some cases, the farmers’ growing wealth from their work offended the white townspeople’s sense of racial superiority. In other cases, the white people wanted the land itself. (Los Angeles Times)

The U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) aided and abetted in further depriving Black farmers of land and livelihood. The all-white department, which fortified its efforts to bolster American agriculture under the New Deal’s Farm Bill of 1933, routinely excluded the farmers by denying them loans or colluding with banks and land developers to steal the land (Modern Farmer). They also forced farmers off their rightful property and treated the farmers with openly disdainful hostility when they sought their services (The Counter). Between 1930 and 1950, Black husbandry “declined by 37%...and black tenants and [sharecroppers] declined by 32%” as this new iteration of the USDA and its policies favored corporate farming. This drove Black farmers out of business and off their lands, which accelerated the Great Migration, where Black communities moved into urban communities (Rosenberg and Wilson Stucki).

However, Black farmers resisted. The National Black Farmers Association and other African American agricultural landowners organized and sued the USDA in 1999 for racial discrimination, stating that “the department denied them access to federal farm-operating loans, disaster payments, information on farm programs, technical assistance, and other support that the agency is mandated by law to provide low-income farmers” (Yes Magazine). The USDA settled that case, known as Pigford v. Glickman, that year for $1 billion, with Congress appropriating more money to compensate for the farmers who filed late. This action, called Pigford II, brought the total to $1.25 billion in 2010 (Yes Magazine). However, The Counter investigated that this victory was, at best, a hollow one.
 

Even with these actions, only 45,508 Black farmers remain as of 2019. They own only 0.52 percent of U.S. agricultural acres and earn, on average, $40,000 per year, compared to their white counterparts’ average yearly income of over $190,000 (The Guardian). The old towns and homesteads settled by the Exodusters are fading away (Washington Post). Today’s reality is, according to NPR, “farmland is expensive, and farm real estate prices have been on the rise since 1969.” This means “young Black farmers with student debt or low credit scores face more challenges accessing the credit needed to put a down payment on viable land for farming” (NPR). The coronavirus pandemic is further devastating this population; many Black farmers, who tend to have smaller operations, have been left out of the billions of dollars in relief funds (100 Days in Appalachia).

 

Still, some African Americans, including younger people, find their way back to agricultural stewardship and find a way to give back to their communities. In the 1990s, Chicago media mentioned The Black Farmers Markets, which explicitly connected this segment of land cultivators with Black customers in the face of white hostility in the “traditional” farmers markets. (The Counter) This organization works in coalition with a vibrant network of other food-justice, racial-justice, and farm-justice groups such as the National Black Food & Justice Alliance, Soil Generation, and Community Food Lab and agricultural communities such as Soul Fire Farms and Black Dirt Farm Collective. 

 

The U.S. government – through the USDA – wants another chance to rectify its devastation. Senators Cory Booker, Elizabeth Warren, and Kirsten Gillibrand co-sponsored the Justice for Black Farmers Act released on November 30 (Mother Jones). The new bill will allot $8 billion to buy land to give to Black farmers. It will also give money to “agriculturally based” historically Black colleges and universities (HBCUs) and other nonprofits to help them assist the USDA in finding land to purchase for the farmers, and provide the resources to support new Black farmers and Black agricultural collectives. 

Black lives matter – including the lives and livelihoods of the Black farmers who literally feed us. We need to return the favor.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

  • Black farmers in the United States have a long, proud, and devastating history of landownership and in starting and maintaining a sustainable livelihood. 

  • Black farmers played a significant role in U.S. agriculture in the 19th and 20th centuries, especially during The Nadir, the lowest point in U.S. race relations.

  • Black farmers resisted land-grabs and racial discrimination on the federal and local levels.

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Shayna Conde Nicole Cardoza Shayna Conde Nicole Cardoza

Rest against capitalism this holiday season.

Because the United States of America has an unofficially Christian foundation, the Christmas holiday has always been front and center in winter holiday celebrations. Although the gift-giving aspect of the holiday stems from the story of the three wise men who bestowed gifts upon the newborn Jesus, the tradition has morphed into a modern-day capitalist monster. For most of history, this time of year was about spending time with one’s family. Still, after the publications of The Night Before Christmas (in 1823) and, especially, A Christmas Carol (in 1843), the idea of “Christmas shopping” flooded the Western marketplaces and changed the way we experience the holiday season forever (Bustle).

Happy Friday! As I reflect on the last few days of 2020, I'm making rest a priority. The holiday season often brings immense pressure, and the last days of the year often stress us to be more productive. Rest might feel like a selfish indulgence, but it's actually a revolutionary way to reclaim our sense of self and identity in a capitalistic society.

I appreciate how Shayna, the author of today's piece, draws the correlation between holiday expectations and the relationship between productivity and capitalism. Her words center the Black experience, but remind all of us that grace and ease is the greatest gift we can give ourselves and each other. 

Tomorrow is our weekly Study Hall where we answer questions and share insights from the community. I'll have an exciting update about our community growing, too! As always, you can support our work by making a one-time gift on our website or PayPal, or subscribe for $7/month on Patreon. You can also Venmo (@nicoleacardoza).


Nicole

TAKE ACTION

  • Be honest with yourself and your loved ones this season: What is your financial situation this year? Is your spending linked to your idea of self-worth? Does this stem from racism?

  • Find communal ways to celebrate the holiday season, like volunteering at a food bank, gathering on a family Zoom call, having a holiday game night, or making gifts together.

  • If you can spend money on gifts this season, buy from Black and Indigenous-owned small businesses instead of Amazon or Wal-mart. Follow hashtags like #Blackownbusiness, #indigenousownedbusiness, #buyBlack, and #buyindigenous for ideas.

  • Follow @decolonizingtherapy and @thenapministry for practical ways to support BIPOC self-care this season.

GET EDUCATED

By Shayna Conde (she/her)

The capitalist history of modern Christmas

Because the United States of America has an unofficially Christian foundation, the Christmas holiday has always been front and center in winter holiday celebrations. Although the gift-giving aspect of the holiday stems from the story of the three wise men who bestowed gifts upon the newborn Jesus, the tradition has morphed into a modern-day capitalist monster.  For most of history, this time of year was about spending time with one’s family. Still, after the publications of The Night Before Christmas (in 1823) and, especially, A Christmas Carol (in 1843), the idea of “Christmas shopping” flooded the Western marketplaces and changed the way we experience the holiday season forever (Bustle).

The toxic relationship between holiday capitalism and the intergenerational trauma of slavery

Intergenerational (also known as transgenerational) trauma is defined as a form of trauma whose “effects are not only psychological but familial, social, cultural, neurobiological and possibly even genetic” (American Psychological Association). The effects of the traumatic experience of transatlantic slavery are long-lasting and constantly being unearthed by those of us in the diaspora. 

One way intergenerational trauma shows up is in the need to constantly work and produce as a means of identity. During slavery times, the monetary value of an enslaved African’s life was based upon what and how much they could produce (Measuring Worth). Although the time of transatlantic slavery is over, our current oppressive systems further instill in us that if we are not working until we drop (and can show proof of that labor), then we are worth less than others.  The relationship between the ever-hungry capitalistic beast of modern-day Christmas and the ever-working, generationally traumatized Black person can be a dangerous one.

“Because the holiday season often requires us to keep track of and pay attention to a greater number of responsibilities than usual, the brain’s prefrontal cortex goes into overdrive. Over time, a high level of demand can decrease memory, halt production of new brain cells, and cause existing brain cells to die,” explains psychology professor Dr. Ellen Braaten (Harvard Medical School).

But must the holidays be such a stressful time, especially for communities that were struggling long before COVID became a pandemic? Consider this. 42% of Black people in the United States had hypertension between 2015-2016 (Center for Disease Control).  As of 2015,  over 46% of non-Spanish speaking Black US citizens had cardiovascular disease (American Heart Association). A 2014 study of Black women in a primary care setting found that 49% had symptoms of depression, and 10% experienced suicidal thoughts (Medical News Today). 18.8% of African Americans fell below the poverty line in 2019 (Poverty Talk). And all of these stats were taken before the coronavirus pandemic, and the economic crisis of 2020 even took place. 

Self-care and rest are two means of self-motivated wellness that have not been widely encouraged in the Black community until recently. For much of my childhood years, I would hear that “If you had time to rest, you had time to work,” or other means of conflating rest with laziness. @thenapministry is an IG account that is changing the narrative of rest and recharge for Black people, specifically Black women, since we are afflicted with the “strong Black woman” stereotype (Healthline). Therapy is another form of self-care that has been highly stigmatized within the Black community. The account @decolonizingtherapy is fighting back to get more BIPOCs talking about mental health without focusing on the white perspective. @soyouwanttotalkabout is my means of staying up-to-date with what is happening in the world and the BLM movement without the risk of accidentally traumatizing myself with the mass of trauma porn on major news cycles. The end of this calendar year should be about growth, reflection and unashamed restfulness, especially for my fellow BIPOCs. 

This November, I asked my grandmother, a 76-year old Black Jamaican woman: if she weren’t sick and if the world weren’t sick, what would she want to do with her life? I was expecting her to say that she would go on vacation or start baking with her grandkids or visit an old friend in Sedbergh, but instead, she replied, “I want to work again. It’s what I do best.” It can be difficult for all of us in the Black community to realize that we are more than what we produce when the world keeps telling us otherwise. If we do not know our worth, we will unintentionally pass these pains down to the next generation. Remember that you are not defined by your labor or what that labor can buy this holiday season.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

  • You are not defined by your labor or what that labor can buy. 

  • Our oppressive systems instill in Black communities that if we are not working until we drop (and show proof of that labor), we are worth less than others. 

  • The Black community’s intergenerational trauma and stress have direct links to serious health concerns that can be exacerbated during the holiday season. 42% of all Black US citizens between 2015 and 2016 had hypertension, and 1 in 2 Black women in primary caregiver roles had symptoms of depression. These numbers have undoubtedly grown during the pandemic.

  • This year has been particularly hard, so take a break without apologizing for it.

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Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

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Isiah Magsino Nicole Cardoza Isiah Magsino Nicole Cardoza

Respect Hawaii’s sacred land.

To the average American, Hawaii elicits a fantasy. Palm trees swaying in the light wind. Hot white sands reflect a radiant sun and kiss a crystal clear ocean. Hula dancers wait at the doorsteps to a hotel overlooking the vast Pacific. But this fantasy is just that, and to many Native Hawaiians, their reality is quite the opposite. This continued exploitation of Hawaiian lands and culture to visitors, many of whom fail to appreciate its deep culture and culture, contributes to the systemic colonization of the Hawaiian islands.

Happy Thursday! Today we're joined by Isiah to acknowledge the impact of colonization on Hawaii, and more importantly, respect and revere its lands. I appreciate how this piece speaks to how pervasive systemic oppression is – how so many issues, both past and present, only exacerbate the challenges we face today.

Looking for a last-minute holiday present? Gift the Anti-Racism Daily to a friend. Or, simply share it with your community to unlock cool swag.

Our newsletter is free and made possible by generous contributions from our community – no advertising or sponsorships. Join in by making a one-time gift on our website or PayPal, or subscribe for $7/month on Patreon. You can also Venmo (@nicoleacardoza).

Nicole

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By Isiah Magsino (he/him)

To the average American, Hawaii elicits a fantasy. Palm trees swaying in the light wind. Hot white sands reflect a radiant sun and kiss a crystal clear ocean. Hula dancers wait at the doorsteps to a hotel overlooking the vast Pacific. But this fantasy is just that, and to many Native Hawaiians, their reality is quite the opposite. This continued exploitation of Hawaiian lands and culture to visitors, many of whom fail to appreciate its deep culture and culture, contributes to the systemic colonization of the Hawaiian islands.

“First and foremost, we don’t reject tourists,” begins Kayana Kamoku, a Native Hawaiian who currently resides on the Big Island. “But when our land is treated as a commodity or item of wealth, that’s an issue.” Last year, Kamoku joined hundreds of other protestors to march on Mauna Kea. The development of a 30-meter telescope continues to threaten more than Mauna Kea’s peak (Science Magazine). The telescope is slated to replace what happens to be one of the most sacred realms for the Hawaiian people: a revered place synonymous with a godly shrine (Oha). 

Although this is a groundbreaking development currently affecting Native Hawaiians, it is certainly not the only one. Mark Zuckerberg continues to sue Native Hawaiians for pockets of land within, or nearby, his estate forcing a small family to have to bid for their land (The Guardian). On the island of Kauai, at a development site called Keonaloa, a well-known ancient Hawaiian burial ground was excavated to make way for luxury condominiums (MP Hawaii). On a more subtle level, as people from Asia and the mainland continue to immigrate to Hawaii, the cost of living continues to soar, pushing Native Hawaiians out of their very own island because it is no longer affordable (Cultural Survival). “Native Hawaiians who leave the islands for college dream of coming home. It’s a dream to live in the place our ancestors are from,” says Kamoku. 

As Covid-19 continues to devastate the United States, Native Hawaiians face another issue: is tourism being put above their health and well-being? Since reopening in October, Hawaii has allowed tourists to bypass the 14-day quarantine if they proved a negative test that was taken prior (Washington Post). And although tourism plays a large part in Hawaii’s economy, Native Hawaiians are one of the ethnic groups hit hardest by COVID-19 (Star Advertiser).

The well-being of Native Hawaiians has been placed on the back burner. Locals receive citations for violating coronavirus regulations, while tourists are encouraged to flout them (NYTimes).

Together, these issues illustrate the umbrella effects of the systemic oppression of Native Hawaiians by American imperialism. Native Hawaiians continue to be pushed around and out of their own homes for the sake of catering to travelers (Cultural Survival). Investigate the motives behind Zuckerberg, the telescope, COVID travel, and the development of sacred burial grounds, and you get one common denominator: money from outside of Hawaii. This contributes to the growing wealth disparity between non-Native Hawaiians and Native Hawaiians, as Native Hawaiians have the highest poverty rate in Hawaii, nearing 13-percent (Maui Time). 

Such outside business interests have long interfered in Hawaii. Since the late 1800s, Hawaii has suffered from imperialism. Hawaii’s sovereignty was stolen even though it was a sustainable nation recognized internationally. In 1893, 13 white businessmen staged a coup with the United States to get Hawaii annexed, disguised as a treaty. The coup led to the dissolving of the Kingdom of Hawaii, and in 1898, Hawaii was formally annexed by the United States. (Nisei).

A century later, we need to remember that the mountains and other natural elements that seem to illuminate the photos shared on social media are more than that. As Kayana Kamoku explains, “Our land is more than land. We hold it close to us. It is a cultural identity and community.” Hawaii’s sovereignty deserves to be recognized and respected.


If you are a Native Hawaiian involved in the sovereignty movement, please contact us at submissions@antiracismdaily.com — we’d love to share your story.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

  • Native Hawaiians have strong ties to their land. Their land is an integral part of their identity and affects them physically, emotionally, and spiritually (Kanaÿiaupuni and Malone).

  • White colonizers stole Hawaii in correspondence with the United States. This racial scarring still runs deep with young Native Hawaiians (NEA). 

  • Many Native Hawaiians suffer from poverty and are pushed out of their homes as residential prices rise (Ka Wai Ola).

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Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza

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