Vinegar Hill Magazine | Spring 2023

INSIDE

10 PROLYFYCK

Prolyfyck Run Creww builds a community through running and helps to support and heal the Charlottesville community in the process.

14 BLACK BRAZIL

Katrina Spencer discusses her recent trip to Brazil and the deep connection the country has with people from the African Diaspora

21 NIYA BATES

Contributor Dr. Channing Mathews, sits down to talk with Historian Niya Bates about Black history and how it is very much still alive in so many ways.

28 RAISED/RAZED

Jordy Yager and Lorenzo Dickerson discuss their award-winning film Raised/Razed about the demolition of the Vinegar Hill community and its long-term impact

5Jay Simple was recently appointed Executive Director of The Bridge Progressive Arts Initiative (PAI), a Charlottesville-based community arts organization.

Vinegar Hill Magazine™ is a space that is designed to support and project a more inclusive social narrative, to promote entrepreneurship, and to be a beacon for art, culture, and politics in the Central Virginia region. Editor & Content Manager Katrina Spencer Advertising and Sales Manager(s) SteppeMedia Publisher Eddie Harris COO Sarad Davenport © 2023 Vinegar Hill Magazine™. All rights reserved.

Photo Credit: Kristin Finn[/caption]

Jay Simple and The Bridge

By JeSSica harriS | phoTo By kriSTen finn

Recently appointed Executive Director of The Bridge Progressive Arts Initiative (PAI), a Charlottesville-based community arts organization, Jay is a photographer whose craft serves a twofold purpose as mirror and magnifying glass.

“As an artist,” he shared, “my goal is to find ways of communicating to an audience my experiences, and to do that not in a way that’s self-serving – but to find these throughlines that resonate in the world around us.”

“I operate in this world as a Black man, and that brings with it its own particular outlooks and experiences. So, my artistic endeavor is to contemplate, to look at, to question those experiences - to create space for others to contemplate themselves,” he said.

The Bridge PAI is “a cultural hub, offering dynamic, inclusive, and accessible opportunities for creative thinking and artistic pursuits.” The organization focuses on exhibitions, workshops, artistic production, and community partnership. These values align well with Jay’s desire to foster creativity, enthusiasm for education, and passion for connection.

Jay is no stranger to the arts, having been immersed in creative expression since a young age. He has followed his creative passions throughout his career, receiving a Bachelor’s and Master’s of Fine Arts in photography and subsequently holding teaching positions at Longwood University, Virginia Commonwealth University, and The New School in New York City. A prolific artist with a sharp eye and keen vision, he’s exhibited at numerous galleries and is well-known in the arts field. You can view his portfolios at www.jaysimple.com.

Photography may be a hobby to some, but to Jay Simple, it serves as a compass for navigating life’s terrain.

“Spook Who Sat By The Door,” an archival pigment print mounted on steel, 30x40, 2021. Artist: Jay Simple[/caption]

Yet his artistic practice is not relegated to frames and gallery walls; it extends into community organizing and advocacy. As burgeoning interest in diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) spread amongst white arts groups in the summer of 2020, they often turned to Jay and his fellow photographers of color to solicit how-tos on inclusive practices. The groups would ask “‘Hey, how do we become diverse?’” – or, even more transactionally, “Can we pay you to diversify?”

Thus, to support photographers of color navigating this world of white artists’ increasing awareness, he and his colleagues created the Photographer’s Green Book (PGB). PGB was inspired by the Negro Motorist Green Book (1936-1966) which offered a list of safe spaces for Black motorists to stop during the era of segregation in the United States.

In a similar vein, PGB provides a list of spaces across the US that are supportive of diverse

artists. It includes a list of questions on DEI work that organizations can ask themselves so artists of color are not taxed with the burden of educating. It is a resource guide for photographers filled with articles and books that utilize scholarship outside of the white lens (no pun intended). And now, the group even runs a residency program for artists of the global majority.

Jay notes how PGB, which he continues to direct, is a microcosm of the world that non-white folks charter. “Whether we know about [the Negro Motorist’s Green Book] or not…we have to create systems to navigate rough terrain every day….”

He’s carried this understanding with him throughout his life and artistic career. However, it is not only Jay’s artistic excellence and sociopolitical focus that seem to make him a great fit to serve as Executive Director of The Bridge. It is his passion for collaboration, representation, and connection that make him well-suited to run a nonprofit designed to “bridge diverse communities through the arts.”

“Worn Black Bodies Used To Build This Country Without A Thanks,” Wood and forged steel nails, 60 x 36 x 10 inches, 2017. Artist: Jay Simple[/ caption]

Upon his arrival in July of 2022, Jay named listening to the needs of the community as a primary focus, and The Bridge has certainly gone above and beyond in doing so. For starters, the organization recently offered a survey, asking the Charlottesville arts community to share their top needs and desires. Space to be and create art was named as a primary need. Funding resources, equipment, and professional development, as well as a more interconnected artistic community followed closely behind.

Towards that end, an exciting point on the horizon is the opening of The Bridge’s new space, planned to launch by April 2023. Soon to be positioned off the Downtown Mall at 3rd and Water St, this new studio and coworking space is designed specifically for collaboration. It will provide essential and high-tech tools needed for creative work and the opportunity to connect and collaborate with other artists.

A key theme of this space is accessibility. Rather than a high cost for studio space, which Jay says can run around hundreds of dollars a month, The Bridge will offer studio space through a membership program they are fundraising for to be free of charge to artists and creatives. And, as part of its focus on education and professional development, The Bridge will also provide accessible workshops and courses on various topics.

“We want a space where reducing the barriers of cost for a studio and a need for creating community can be brought together,” Jay stated.

Other things on The Bridge’s horizon include an artist award with Live Arts’ New Works Festival WATERWORKS in collaboration with Adrienne Oliver, Director of New Work, and the Unsettling Grounds residency with artist Marisa Willamson. In this new space, The Bridge plans to partner with over twenty community organizations

– ranging from arts groups to education nonprofits to entrepreneurs – all of whom Jay hopes can utilize The Bridge to create a “community space where we are mutually benefiting one another.”

As for the future? Jay remains humble about his position and work, sharing that we can “expect for The Bridge to continue its effort of being responsive to the needs of our community.” Jay also shared that the organization continues to expand its definition of “artist” and seeks to include communities that have not been as deeply represented in the arts world. His hope for five years from now is that the organization can pause, reflect on its progress, and ask: “what’s next?”

In the meantime, Jay will use his artistic practice and administration to support others as they move through their journeys. He hopes the Charlottesville community will continue to connect with The Bridge and with one another in the new space, and thus we all might more creatively navigate this world together.

To get involved with The Bridge, you can subscribe to their newsletter by visiting https://thebridgepai.org/newsletter, donate to help support their new creative center at https://thebridgepai.org/support, or email Jay at info@thebridgepai.org.

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Some SomeBody

“ “

By naila a . SmiTh, phd

In 2006, William “Will” Jones III moved to Charlottesville, Virginia. A barber by profession, he started cutting hair at Cavalier Barbers which was located in a predominantly Black neighborhood in Charlottesville. About two years later, he opened his own barber shop, which took him out of the area, and away from daily contact with Black Charlottesville. To regain that sense of community, he started running.

Will’s first runs included him and his Yorkshire terrier, running through historically Black neighborhoods in Charlottesville. He typically ran around 9 or 10 pm, starting at 1st Street, then to 6th street, to Garrett Square, then Main Street, connecting to Westhaven over 10th Street, into the Prospect area, and finally back on to 1st street. During his runs he shouted greetings to people on the block to show respect as a visitor in their neighborhood. As a C’Ville transplant, Will didn’t know the history of these communities at the time, but he felt that running through these communities was a way to connect with “his people, to see them and to be seen by them.”

Soon Will’s friends and people from his barber shop would join him on these runs. The group slowly grew to about 5-6 people, mostly young Black men. And by summer 2018, they became a

Photo provided by Prolyfyck. Will Jones, James Dowell, and Soso

running community, eventually named the Prolyfyck Run Crew–a name inspired by a lyric in late rapper Nipsey Hussle’s song “Victory Lap:” “I’m prolific, so gifted. I’m the type that’s gon’ go get it.”

Not long after the crew resumed running after a brief winter hiatus, a 25-year old Black man, Ahmaud Arbery, was shot to death while jogging in Satilla Shores in Glynn County Georgia on February 23, 2020. Ahmaud, though similar in age to many of Prolyfyck’s runners, ran alone in a mostly white neighborhood. His death, followed soon after by the murders of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd, unleashed a “racial awakening” in the United States.

Soon thereafter Prolyfyck found itself with an influx of new people from the community looking to run. Given the historical and contemporary instances of racial violence in Charlottesville’s past, no doubt these high profile acts of racial violence reopened these old wounds.

Will believes that during this time of “racial awakening,” something about a Black-led running crew, intentionally running through Black Charlottesville neighborhoods felt like a safe space for Black people in the community. White Charlottesville residents also joined the running group, seeking ways to show racial solidarity. According to Will, running in community is “a way to get through something hard with somebody.” And during 2020, with the COVID-19 pandemic and racial violence, Prolyfyck became a space to get through these hard things with others.

The group’s main purpose is to work for the empowerment of marginalized Black and Brown communities. They seek to shed light on the impact of racism, reject those who would suppress or co-opt the talent of Black and Brown people, and encourage everyone to find their gifts, tap into their passion and create a world where everyone can be Prolyfyck.

In many ways, Prolyfyck is unique in the national running landscape. In the U.S., recreational running for exercise tends to be an overwhelmingly white sport. For instance, in the 2022 Annual Global Survey by Running USA, only 7% of respondents were Black. There are several reasons for this. For instance, many Black Americans have legitimate concerns about safety outdoors. But Prolyfyck is defying stereotypes and changing the face of running through radical community building.

For example, the group continues the tradition of greeting community members and encouraging them as they run. They also mobilize to help community members as needs arise and a monthly men’s meeting has emerged from the group in partnership with Anthony Hill of Kicks Unlimited. As a barber, Will has always been an advocate for Black men having a space to process a variety of difficulties. The COVID-19 pandemic heightened this need and people in the running community stepped up and helped facilitate this space, once again demonstrating a commitment to helping others get through hard things.

Today the group has over 400 active members in the Prolyfyck groupme, and over 50 men and women completing their first 5k, 8k, half, and full marathons each year. They run about 4.5 miles through Black Charlottesville every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, beginning and ending at the Jefferson School African American Heritage Center. Walkers start at 5:45 am, sexy pacers at 6:00 am, and runners at 6:10am. At the end of the run, they might take a group picture, make community announcements, or members are given space to share a few words. Participation is free, no registration is needed and all activities are funded by crew members or sales from Prolyfyck merchandise online.

To find out more about Prolyfyck and to participate and support visit their website, or subscribe to their Instagram or Facebook pages.

https://prolyfyck.com

e xploring Black Brazil

By kaTrina Spencer

Days before thousands of Brazilians stormed the National Congress in the capital of Brasília, protesting the beginning of President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva’s third yet non-consecutive term, an event closely mirroring the January 6, 2021 insurrection in the United States, I was in Brazil having a look around. I was doing a little tourism. Having spent almost 10 years studying Portuguese, I figured it was time to test and see if I could survive an experience in a real Lusophone context. I made it through, and, like Prometheus toting fire, I’ve brought knowledge back just for you. In a brief phrasing, the election of Lula represents a point of friction for significant portions of the Brazilian populace and a rejection of stagnant ways, values, paradigms, and hierarchies. Let me give you a tiny primer that speaks specifically to the Black history of this Portuguese-speaking nation in case you’re interested in making a visit and can benefit from some concrete and historical entry points. The figures and institutions I foreground will reveal some of the identifying structures that speak to the shape of Brazil’s history and what may be destabilized with Lula’s arrival anew to power.

A statue of historic Brazilian figure Zumbi dos Palmares by Márcia Magno in the Museu Afro Brasil in São Paulo

The first stop I made was to São Paulo, the most populous city in the Southern hemisphere with 12.5 million people. And following that, I went up to Salvador, a beach city with a large Black population. Like the United States, the vast majority of Black Brazilians tie their ancestry back to the Transatlantic Slave Trade which forcibly brought millions of Africans to the New World in the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries. While millions of the African peoples were distributed to the United States and the Caribbean, some estimate that 40% of Africans were transported to Brazil. As was the case in the U.S.’ colonial times, these African peoples brought with them rich histories of agriculture, craftsmanship, culinary practices, faith, language, professional skills, and style. And upon contact with local cultures in the Americas, new, hybrid cultures emerged. Moreover, historic figures, descendants of the enslaved, came to be known. Like Nat Turner of Virginia or Toussaint Louverture of Haiti whose names go down in history as enslaved men who

resisted oppression, Zumbi dos Palmares from Brazil is another historical figure who refused subordination. In the 17th century, Zumbi lived in a community known as a “quilombo,” a community of people who lived independently having escaped enslavement on Brazilian plantations, and resisted the Portuguese’s assaults and attempts to subjugate the free Black community.

The statue pictured above by Márcia Magno is found at the Museu Afro Brasil (Afro-Brazilian Museum) in São Paulo’s Ibirapuera Park where visitors can see a variety of works that hold Black Brazilian history in contemporary light. The exhibits, artifacts, and art reveal the intimate bonds between the enslaved Black Brazilians and their enslavers, as seen in the second image of a mammylike figure and her charge. The two people depicted were close enough to embrace with some degree of affection in the child’s youth. But they were worlds apart in terms of freedom, privilege, and class hierarchy. Brazil remains a society today with a very staunch resistance to class mobility, and the former president, Jair Bolsonaro, appeared to adhere to an older world structure that resisted diversity and upheld long-outdated, damaging, and discriminatory supremacies.

A picture of an enlarged photograph taken at the Museu Afro Brasil in São Paulo of a Black enslaved woman and the white child she presumably cared for.

A photograph of an exhibit dedicated to Carolina Maria De Jesus at the Museu Afro Brasil in São Paulo

Amongst the museum’s exhibits is a tribute to a Black Brazilian woman who rose to fame in the mid and late 1950s, Carolina Maria de Jesus, an author and memoirist who lived in a São Paulo community formerly known as a “favela.” Across the world, translations of “favela” include “slum” or “shantytown” and refer to residential communities where many impoverished people live within close proximity to one another and lack public services like indoor plumbing and sewage maintenance. These communities remain throughout Brazil today. De Jesus earned a living by trading in recyclable materials for money and distinguished herself by using her literacy-- a rare skill in her neighborhood-- to document the culture and lifestyle surrounding her. Through her autobiographical recounting in Quarto de Despejo, or Child of the Dark in its English translation, countless Brazilians and global citizens all over the world came to learn about housing inequity and the precarity poverty imposed on people as her work was translated into several languages worldwide. The enduring prevalence and ubiquity of these communities underscore a certain rigidity of class structures throughout Brazil.

A picture taken at dusk of the Pelourinho neighborhood

After I left São Paulo, I took a short flight northeast to Salvador and stayed in an area known as Pelourinho. The term “pelourinho” refers to a pillory or a public space with stocks where violent and humiliating punishment was meted out to enslaved Black people. Now, the pillory, of course, is inactive, since slavery was abolished in Brazil in 1888, but somehow the name still remains. The region’s brightly colored colonial façades, numerous tourism vendors, and literal dancing in the streets belie a bloody past. Today in Pelourinho, you can walk the steep, cobble stone landscape to visit the church where enslaved Africans and their descendants were allowed to worship, Igreja da Ordem Terceira de Nossa Senhora do Rosário dos Pretos (Church of the Third Order of Our Lady of the Rosary of the Black People), taste foods prepared with palm oil, locally known as azeite de dendê, or visit with local artists whose vibrant productions bring new interpretations to a historic city. It was here that Michael Jackson filmed portions of his music video for “They Don’t Care About Us,” a song of political resistance, with hundreds of members of the local musical, largely percussionist, and Bahian group Olodum in the late 1990s. While Brazil’s history recounts a strict and normalized segregation of classes, as noted in places of worship in Pelourinho, President Lula’s inauguration made overt and intentional gestures towards inclusion, signaling that Brazil’s identity and aspirations towards equality went beyond the longstanding chromatocracy and overwhelming whiteness represented in its seats of power.

And this article would not justly represent Brazil if it didn’t mention, in some way, futebol and AfroBrazilian soccer god Edson Arantes do Nascimento, otherwise and popularly known as “Pelé.” Often considered the best soccer player to walk the Earth, Pelé wowed crowds by winning three World Cups in the mid-20th century. His sports career was followed by political appointment and ambassadorship, and there is no proper history of soccer without the inclusion of Pelé. He was what

our Michael Jordan has been to basketball, what our Tiger Woods has been to golf, and what our Serena Williams has been to tennis. At the end of the year on December 29, 2022, Pelé breathed his last. While some issues are more divisive than others, Pelé’s extraordinary athletic performance has often unified the Brazilian people and one of Jair Bolsonaro’s last directives as the sun set on his term was the declaration of three days of national mourning as Brazilians lamented the loss of one of its heroes.

You now have a handful of entry points for learning about Black Brazil and why President Lula’s rejection of old ways may be unsettling for practitioners of old paradigms. If you decide to venture south following the beats of bossa nova and samba or the calls of caipirinhas and cachaça, carry these useful phrases, pronunciations, and tips below with you as they are certain to open new doors for you as the new presidency will for its people.

Useful Phrases and Translations

• Bom dia! (bohm- jee-uh)

Good morning!

• Boa tarde! (bo-ah tah-jee)

Good afternoon!

• Boa noite! (bo-ah noy-chee)

Good night!

• Tudo bem? (too-doh behm)

How’s it going?

• O meu nome é… (o may-oo noh-mee eh)

My name is…

• Quanto custa? (kwan-toh kooshta)

How much does this cost?

• Estou perdido (eh-stow pehr-jee-doh)

I’m lost (for men)

• Estou perdida (eh-stow pehr-jee-dah)

I’m lost (for women)

• Disculpe (jee-skool-pee)

Excuse me/ Sorry

• Pode me ajudar? (poh-jee mee ah-zhoodahr) Can you help me?

• Obrigado (oh-bree-gah-doh)

Thank you (for men)

• Obrigada (oh-bree-gah-dah)

Thank you (for women)

Top Travel Tips

• Pack a change of clothes, including a few pairs of underwear, in your carry-on just in case the arrival of your luggage is delayed.

• Make copies of your passport to carry with you wherever you go.

• Secure your international calling plan for roaming and wifi in advance of your departure and download the Citymapper app, which is of great aid!

• Purchase appropriate voltage converters for your electronics well in advance. They are a worthwhile investment for a lifetime. And remember your charging cables!

• Be certain you have access to enough funds to purchase a new flight home in the event that you miss your originally planned itinerary.

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU REALLY LISTENED TO A PERSON WHO DOESN’T SEE THE WORLD LIKE YOU DO?

THE UVA DEMOCRACY INITIATIVE INVITES YOU TO TAKE ONE SMALL STEP…

We are seeking people of all backgrounds and beliefs from the Charlottesville area to take part in One Small Step, a collaboration between UVA and StoryCorps. It’s a chance to meet someone new with a different political view and get to know their story.

onesmallstep.virginia.edu

SIGN UP for a ONE SMALL STEP conversation! We are dedicated to supporting sustained dialogue between members of our community.

WE ARE PROUD TO PARTNER WITH THESE LOCAL ORGANIZATIONS

living Black hiSTorieS wiTh niya BaTeS

By channing maThewS, phd

This month I have the honor of introducing our newest contributor to Vinegar Hill Magazine, the soon-to-be Dr. Niya Bates. Niya is a public historian working to preserve the stories of the rural African American community in Central Virginia (VA). She directed the Getting Word African American Oral History Project at Monticello, and her work is featured in several news outlets. However, you might be most familiar with her from her recent stint in episode 3 of the Netflix series High on the Hog, which details how African American cuisine is embedded within the American story. Niya expertly describes the conditions under which Thomas Jefferson’s enslaved chef, James Hemings (brother of Sally Hemings), came to Monticello and merged the techniques of Virginian and French cuisine to delight the many guests Jefferson hosted in his home.

Stephen Satterfield (left) with Niya Bates (right) on Mulberry Row at Monticello. 2020. Photo Credit: Netflix[

My interests in Black food histories led me to Niya, and she enthralled me with the story of her career journey. I learned of her work as a public historian dedicated to preserving the collective memory of African American residents in Central VA—including that of her own family. As a Charlottesville native, Niya has traced six generations of her family across Albemarle, Orange, Louisa, and Fluvanna counties in Virginia. Her journey as a double Hoo (i.e., she holds both a bachelor’s and master’s degree from the University of Virginia) is a story of return to her roots and finding her place within the communities that most nurtured her.

As I sat down to interview Niya, her joy and brilliant smile lit up the cozy coffee room at the Jefferson School African American Heritage Center as she shared with me her public history journey. We laughed together as we connected on our academic journeys, with me assuring her that this too (i.e., doctoral grind struggles) shall pass. It is here where I leave it to Niya to take you on the brilliant adventure that is her journey to becoming a public historian.

Channing Mathews (CM): {Laughter} A learn-ed person who just wanted more learning. I love it. So, tell me, how did you get your start as a historian?

Niya Bates (NB): Oh, man, I wouldn’t say being a historian was my first calling. When I went into school, I thought I was going to work in advertising. In high school, I had been pretty artsy and I thought, “Okay, let’s continue this.” And that’s what we want to do professionally. But after matriculating at UVA, I took a class that was an intro to African American studies that was taught by [Dr.] Claudrena Harold and I was pretty much hooked from there forward… It definitely shaped my career path. It was actually a year spent serving in AmeriCorps that got me thinking about how identity and place are interconnected. The kids that I was working with also grew up here in the Charlottesville community. Those kids had such a different worldview than my own. I couldn’t process why at the time, but it made me want to think more about place and people. That

led me to architectural history, which really was a godsend, pulling together all the things that I’m interested in: Black communities, rural landscapes, and thinking about these ideas about how spaces shape our beliefs. So, I kind of stumbled into this career and I’ve really enjoyed it.

CM: So you describe yourself as public historian. Could you tell us what that means? What made you want to be a public historian versus any other type of historian?

NB: Yes, I also stumbled all the way into public history. In grad school, I interned at Monticello in the Restoration Department. At the time, they were researching how to restore the landscape of slavery and that meant restoring Mulberry Row, which was the plantation main

street where the bulk of the activity of the enslaved laborers took place. I interned there for a year and I absolutely loved it. I’ve never wanted an office job and I’ve never wanted a job that would be the same every day. That internship showed me how I could use that academic study of buildings and landscapes and apply it in very real world, public facing conditions that would allow people to see a different aspect of the history they weren’t familiar with. So, we traveled all around the state that year doing documentations of slave quarters, kitchens, different details like door moldings and window moldings— the kind of bricks and sticks things that architectural historians are interested in.

But that’s when I kind of knew that I wanted that to be my career. After I graduated, I worked at Montpelier for a year, where I was a founding member of the Preservation Department there. They were in the process of restoring their slave quarter and a slave yard at the South Yard at Montpelier. While there, I was doing more traditional architectural history. I enjoyed that because I enjoyed bricks and sticks and buildings and decorative little things, right? But I wasn’t working with people. And I really love people. So, I jumped at the position that came open at Monticello to be their public historian and to lead the Getting Word African American Oral History Project. And it’s been probably the honor of my lifetime so far to serve those descendants, and to be able to reconnect them with their ancestral landscapes and knowledge and the communities.

CM: So, tell us what does your day-to-day work look like since you don’t have a typical office job?

NB: I would say when I worked for Monticello a day could look like regular administrative stuff in the morning and maybe an afternoon spent interviewing a descendant. Or it could be a morning spent doing archival research and an afternoon spent walking around with descendants in the landscape and getting their advice on what they want to see in the interpretation, or what stories they want us to share in the exhibits. It could also just be a full day of giving tours… or it could be visiting other historic sites and seeing how they interpret slavery. So, my days were very different at Monticello. Now, I’m a grad student, and my days look pretty much the same. I crack open a book, do some reading, take some notes, and then I’m writing. So, my days are pretty basic now {Laughter}. This too shall pass?

CM: Yes, that too shall pass…eventually. {Laughter} As a public historian from Charlottesville, what does it mean for you to study Black history from this context and being from here?

NB: I think in many instances, as you know, the academy prioritizes distance from your topics, right? That there’s this “objective” perspective where you could be outside of a story. And you really can’t. Every writer, and every person who presents stories brings who they are into it, which for me has been so interesting. The more that I studied this area’s history, the more

I learned about myself, my family, their contributions to this area. You know? The more I study this place’s past, the more I learn about opportunities and possibilities for our future, if that makes sense. So, I do this work, because in my mind it is very future oriented, because I think we can actually make this community better for everybody. But that involves being honest about our past and reckoning with some very ugly things: racial violence, slavery, toxic development, all sorts of things. But we have to do that in order to know how to fix those problems. And to make it better.

CM: Yeah. Holding all of us accountable to understanding and the true history.

NB: Yeah, I mean, if you need somebody with receipts, right?

CM: Exactly. You got all the receipts! I love it. I love historical receipts. Yeah. So, in thinking about this work, what’s the greatest challenge around it?

NB: I think in the time that we’re living in where people feel like they are lied to about the past. No matter how they approach that history, it’s challenging to present facts and have people understand that those

things are, in fact, facts, and not speculation. It’s not “woke history,” it is just history. Like, these are just the stories that have been either omitted from the archive or forcefully suppressed through years of white supremacist perspectives about this nation, about this city, and about our history. And so, I think the hardest thing for me is trying to figure out how to communicate the truth, as we see it through the archival sources, through research and through landscapes, and to get people to receive it openly. And not to call it “woke”, or whatever, to label it that way.

CM: Yeah. I love it. I love it. And as a soon-to-be contributor to Vinegar Hill Magazine, tell us a little bit about your column.

NB: Yeah, I’m really hoping the column will make history something people love again. You know? I think so often because our history is presented in such negative ways, it’s overly focused on the negative. I hope my column can

highlight resilience, resistance, joy, what people did for fun, like those upbeat elements of Black history. Because I think we need more of those stories. We need more of the stories about what sustained us and what kept us, and less of the stories about what attempted to break us. Because the attempt to break Black people was never successful. So, we have to talk about what keeps us here and what keeps us going and what makes Black culture and Black history so great.

CM: Absolutely.

Niya and I hug goodbye like two old friends who just caught up over a few cocktails, eager for the next meeting. I’m excited to share space with her as a columnist here at Vinegar Hill Magazine, and I hope that our shared space helps you to feel the same. Be on the lookout for Niya’s column entitled “(re)Reflector” to hit the magazine very soon.

raiSed/razed: a documenTary film on vinegar hill

By naila a . SmiTh, phd

“Raised/Razed” is an hour-long documentary film produced by the VPM Media Corporation and written and directed by Lorenzo Dickerson and Jordy Yager–natives of Charlottesville, Virginia. Made over the course of the pandemic and first released on April 30, 2022, the film tells the story of two Black neighborhoods, Vinegar Hill in Charlottesville and Hayti in Durham, North Carolina, where homes, businesses, and public institutions were intentionally demolished (i.e., razed) in the 1960s as part of the Urban Renewal program.

Urban Renewal was a federal program from 1949 to 1974 that seized and destroyed private and public properties in over 600 municipalities, across the U.S., such as Atlanta, Georgia, Chicago, Illinois, and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, to make way for modernization to spur economic progress. The film highlights the disproportionate effects of Urban Renewal on the African American community: despite being only 10% of the U.S. population at the time, over 50% of the people affected by the program were African American.

Though much of the documentary focuses on Vinegar Hill, Dickerson and Yager included Hayti to highlight that Urban Renewal impacted both large and small African American communities.

The first half of the film focuses on daily life in Vinegar Hill before it was razed in 1964. Dickerson, who grew up hearing stories of Vinegar Hill, noted how these childhood stories of a vibrant community were erased by narratives of Vinegar Hill that focused only on its destruction.

Through contemporary and oral history interviews, historical records, geographical maps, and photographs, the film paints a vivid picture of the Vinegar Hill community as a hub of Black social, economic, and cultural life in its heyday. For about 100 years, over 500 of its residents gave birth, raised children, lived, died, and left legacies there. Captured in the first half of its name, Raised, the documentary film deeply underscores the neighborhood’s humanity and rich cultural legacy, and takes its time to tell these stories.

Notably, there were interviews with the mother and daughter duo, Verlease Bell and Deborah Bell Burks, who ran Quality Retail Store, marked by a large RC Cola signage, where children often lingered after school to get candy. There was also the local hall where adults congregated to play pool and drink. Also featured was the Jefferson School, the first school for free African American children.

The film transports viewers to key spaces in Vinegar Hill by seamlessly transitioning from historical maps and photos of Vinegar Hill to contemporary images by fading one image to the next. Two transitions are particularly striking. First, there is a superimposition of the building where Mr. Inge’s grocery store used to be, the building today looks largely unchanged from the outside. Second, there is a superimposition of the University of Virginia Hospital on top of an old map of the Vinegar Hill boundaries. The image fits like a perfect puzzle piece. These moments in the film underscore the reality that Vinegar Hill’s past is more recent than it may seem.

The second half of the film, Razed, focuses on the movement to tear down Vinegar Hill. Through a flurry of footage of newspaper clippings, photographs, and audio recordings, Dickerson and Yager lead the audience through a tense, high stakes retelling of the political movement by white politicians and residents of Charlottesville to destroy the historically Black community. We learn about smear campaigns labeling Vinegar Hill as a slum and how voting laws restricted Black Vinegar Hill residents’ ability to save their neighborhood.

Also highlighted are the multiple historical movements occurring during this time. Critically, the film notes the rise of the Charlottesville chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), the ongoing Civil Rights movement, and school desegregation. These movements provide important context for establishing the heated historical contentions surrounding the area and its future. This context is exemplified by the inserted James Baldwin interview clip in which he critiques Urban Renewal as “Negro removal.” Collectively, this sequence explicitly names Urban Renewal as yet another racist policy to oppress Black people in the United States.

Compelling documentation of the social, cultural, and economic loss of the destruction of Vinegar Hill brings the film to its final conclusion. Images of property valuations and incisive commentary by Dr. Andrea Douglas, Executive Director for The Jefferson School African American Heritage Center, outlined the tremendous economic loss caused by the leveling of Vinegar Hill: many businesses shut down permanently, losing hundreds of thousands of dollars, if not millions, in current and future earnings. Further, Black-owned homes destroyed were never used to build equity, send a child to college, or passed down to the next generation.

Despite an official apology by the city of

Charlottesville, according to Dickerson and Yager, the general consensus by everyone interviewed was that the razing of Vinegar Hill was an injustice that remains in need of repair. The film closes by hinting at recent movements and efforts to redress these wrongs such as the return of Bruce’s Beach, a thriving Blackowned resort in Southern California for Black families, to its rightful owners, and Yvonne Garrett Patterson of Hayti in Durham, NC plan to introduce a reparations bill.

No firm conclusions about the road to reparations are drawn by the end of the film, but it makes one thing clear: Vinegar Hill’s former residents and their descendants are alive in Charlottesville today and deserve to have their humanity seen, heard, and valued.

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