Category Archives: Real Estate

From Exclusion to Empowerment: How HOAs Can Protect Black Neighborhoods

“Revolution is based on land. Land is the basis of all independence. Land is the basis of freedom, justice, and equality.” – Malcolm X 

Few institutions have carried the weight of controversy in American housing like the homeowners’ association (HOA). For much of the 20th century, HOAs were weaponized as a tool of institutional racism restricting African Americans from buying into White neighborhoods through deed covenants, enforcing exclusionary zoning, and serving as gatekeepers of generational wealth accumulation. The very mechanism of neighborhood governance became one more way African America was told “you do not belong.” Yet history has a way of flipping its instruments. The very structural force once used to keep us out may be one of the few institutional levers available to keep us in. As gentrification and predatory development rapidly encroach upon historically African American communities from Houston’s Third Ward to Atlanta’s West End, from Washington D.C.’s Shaw to New Orleans’ Tremé, the need for institutional tools of land sovereignty grows urgent. Civic associations, while noble, often lack teeth. It may be time for African American neighborhoods to rethink the HOA, not as a relic of exclusion but as a shield of survival.

Most African American neighborhoods today rely on civic clubs or neighborhood associations. These bodies are typically voluntary, underfunded, and lack the legal authority to enforce community decisions. They can advocate to city councils, organize block cleanups, and serve as a cultural glue, but when it comes to confronting a developer with millions in capital and legal teams, they are simply outgunned. Civic associations cannot foreclose properties when owners ignore rules or dues, build substantial war chests because dues are voluntary and non-enforceable, or control property transfers when long-time residents sell. This means that even when a neighborhood is organized and has strong social cohesion, it remains structurally weak in the face of predatory real estate activity. Developers exploit this weakness buying distressed properties, lobbying city officials for zoning changes, and rapidly altering the fabric of communities without consent.

Unlike civic clubs, HOAs are legally binding entities. When properly designed and governed, they give communities leverage that is otherwise impossible. The ability to foreclose ensures compliance and funding. If dues are unpaid, the HOA has a mechanism to protect the community’s collective interests. Mandatory dues create a stable revenue stream. A community with 200 homes each contributing $500 annually generates $100,000. Over five years, that becomes half a million which is enough to hire lawyers, challenge city zoning, and even purchase properties outright. This institutional capital transforms neighborhoods from reactive to proactive. HOAs can also insert right-of-first-refusal clauses, allowing them to buy homes before they go to outside investors, preventing predatory acquisitions and allowing neighborhoods to decide who their neighbors will be and what developments fit the collective vision. Rules around property maintenance, density, and usage can prevent developers from converting single-family homes into high-turnover rentals or Airbnbs. These standards are not just about aesthetics they are about protecting neighborhood identity and safety.

To advocate HOAs for African American communities is not to ignore their history. For decades, HOAs were bastions of exclusion. They operated in tandem with banks, appraisers, and city planners to enforce segregation. Deed restrictions openly barred African Americans and other minorities from ownership. Even when those covenants became unenforceable after Shelley v. Kraemer (1948), HOAs found new ways to enforce segregation through indirect mechanisms. But history also shows how institutions can be repurposed. Universities once denied African Americans; now HBCUs are among our strongest institutions. Banks once denied us credit; now Black-owned banks serve as pillars of community capital. The HOA, when reimagined under African American sovereignty, can become not a wall keeping us out, but a fortress keeping us in.

Houston’s Third Ward is emblematic. A historically Black neighborhood anchored by Texas Southern University, it has been ground zero for gentrification. Developers like TPC Endeavors LLC have defied city red tags, continued illegal construction, and ignored deed restrictions designed to protect single-family character. Residents organized, called 311, attended City Council meetings but the civic tools they had were insufficient. Enforcement by the city was lax. Meanwhile, developers were renting red-tagged properties as Airbnbs. Imagine if Third Ward had a robust HOA structure. With mandatory dues, it could hire legal counsel to file injunctions. With right-of-first-refusal, it could have purchased properties neighbors wished to sell, keeping them out of speculative hands. With codified rules, it could have legally enforced single-family restrictions, protecting housing stock for families rather than transient rentals. Instead, the community is stuck fighting asymmetrical battles, people with civic will against people with institutional power. The outcome, absent intervention, is predictable: displacement.

At its core, the case for African American HOAs is about institutional economics, the accumulation of collective capital to withstand systemic pressures. The median net worth of White households is nearly eight times that of Black households. Real estate is the largest component of wealth for African American families. When neighborhoods gentrify, this wealth is not preserved; it is extracted. HOAs serve as protectors of that capital by stabilizing community land values under African American governance. They enable neighborhoods to pool financial and legal resources to resist external exploitation. They foster long-term family residence, giving children environments with consistent community standards, building social and cultural capital alongside financial wealth. HOAs also enable neighborhoods to act like firms: they can engage developers on their own terms, negotiate concessions, or even partner in development deals that align with community interests.

Of course, HOAs are not a panacea. Poorly run HOAs can become abusive or corrupt, mirroring the very forces they are meant to resist. Mandatory payments can strain low-income residents, though creative structures such as sliding scales, subsidies, or partnerships with HBCUs and community foundations can mitigate this. Forming an HOA requires legal expertise and state recognition, which many African American communities lack immediate access to, though partnerships with HBCU law schools could be a solution. Neighborhoods may resist HOAs due to historical mistrust or fear of bureaucracy. Education campaigns and transparent governance are crucial.

The HBCU ecosystem has a unique role to play. Many HBCUs are surrounded by historically Black neighborhoods now under siege from gentrification. These institutions could provide the technical, legal, and financial scaffolding for community HOAs. Law schools could draft HOA charters and litigate against predatory developers. Business schools could train HOA boards in financial management. Architecture and urban planning programs could design neighborhood development standards. University endowments could provide seed capital to help HOAs acquire distressed properties. If HBCUs become the backbone of HOA development, they transform from being passive neighbors to active protectors of Black land sovereignty.

Imagine a network of African American HOAs across the country, each tied to local HBCUs, each building collective war chests, each controlling neighborhood development. Together, they form a patchwork of institutional sovereignty one block at a time, one neighborhood at a time. This is not just about resisting gentrification. It is about reclaiming agency over land, the foundational asset of all wealth and power. Without land sovereignty, African American communities will forever be tenants in someone else’s design. With HOAs, we have the chance to rewrite that story.

While HOAs have been historically tainted by their role in exclusion, African America must confront a hard truth: institutional problems require institutional solutions. Civic will, without institutional teeth, cannot withstand predatory capital. HOAs, properly structured and governed, give our neighborhoods enforcement power, financial capacity, and development control. Land sovereignty is not optional; it is existential. Gentrification is not just about higher rents or new coffee shops, it is about the slow erasure of African American communities from the map. If we are to remain, to build intergenerational wealth, and to strengthen our institutional power, then we must be willing to use every tool available. The HOA may have once been a weapon against us. It can now be the fortress that protects us.

Model HOA Framework for African American Communities


1. Charter Outline

A. Name and Purpose

  • Name: [Neighborhood Name] Community Land Trust HOA
  • Mission: To preserve and protect African American homeownership, stabilize property values, and foster community-driven development.
  • Objectives:
    1. Protect neighborhood land from predatory acquisition and gentrification.
    2. Maintain architectural and cultural integrity of the neighborhood.
    3. Build collective financial resources for legal, development, and maintenance initiatives.
    4. Empower residents with decision-making authority over neighborhood development.

B. Membership

  • All property owners within the HOA boundary are automatically members.
  • Membership is determined by the community.
  • Voting rights are proportional to ownership, with one vote per property.

C. Governance Structure

  • Board of Directors: 5–9 elected members serving staggered three-year terms.
  • Committees:
    • Finance & Investment Committee
    • Architectural & Community Standards Committee
    • Legal & Advocacy Committee
    • Outreach & Education Committee
  • Decision-making: Major decisions (property acquisition, legal action, development approvals) require a 2/3 majority vote of the board and approval by 50%+1 of voting members.

D. Covenants and Bylaws

  • Rules governing property use, maintenance, and modifications.
  • Right-of-first-refusal on property sales to maintain African American ownership and prevent predatory acquisitions.
  • Restrictions on commercial rental operations (e.g., short-term rentals like Airbnb) unless approved by the board.
  • Enforcement of community standards through fines, liens, and, if necessary, foreclosure.

2. Funding Structure

A. Mandatory Dues

  • Base dues calculated per household (example: $500–$1,000/year depending on neighborhood size and needs).
  • Sliding scale or hardship exemptions for low-income homeowners, with supplemental funding from foundations or HBCUs.

B. Special Assessments

  • Imposed for extraordinary needs such as legal battles, property acquisition, or infrastructure repairs.
  • Must be approved by majority vote of HOA members.

C. Reserve Fund / War Chest

  • 25–30% of annual dues set aside into a reserve fund for long-term projects or emergency legal needs.
  • Goal: Maintain liquidity to purchase at-risk properties and fund legal actions without delay.

D. Partnerships & Grants

  • Collaborate with HBCUs, local Black-owned banks, and philanthropic foundations for technical and financial support.
  • Seek grants specifically for community land trusts, anti-gentrification initiatives, or neighborhood revitalization.

E. The HOA Investment Fund

  • Neighborhood Endowment: A portion of dues is invested to build a long-term community fund. This endowment can invest in local African American businesses, the stock market, or other vetted opportunities. Returns are used to subsidize senior citizens and low-income residents, provide relief during emergencies, and strengthen the HOA’s financial independence.
  • Emergency Fund: A dedicated reserve for disasters, legal challenges, or community emergencies.
  • Special Assessments: Levied for large projects (legal defense, infrastructure, property acquisition).

3. Enforcement Mechanisms

A. Fines and Liens

  • Fines for non-compliance with HOA rules (maintenance, property use, etc.).
  • Unpaid fines converted into liens that attach to the property.

B. Legal Authority

  • Covenants provide authority to take legal action against violators, including:
    • Enforcing property use restrictions
    • Preventing unauthorized sales or rentals
    • Challenging predatory development through court injunctions

C. Foreclosure

  • In extreme cases of non-payment or serious violations, the HOA has the right to foreclose on the property to protect collective community interests.
  • Requires board approval and due process, with transparency to all members.

D. Right-of-First-Refusal

  • The HOA can purchase homes before they are sold to external buyers.
  • Maintains neighborhood ownership continuity and allows control over development aligned with community goals.

4. Community Engagement and Education

  • Regular town halls and workshops on:
    • Financial literacy and collective wealth building
    • Understanding HOA powers and responsibilities
    • Recognizing predatory developers and speculative practices
  • Partnerships with local HBCUs to provide pro bono legal clinics, urban planning advice, and leadership development for HOA board members.
  • Volunteer committees for property upkeep, neighborhood beautification, and cultural preservation.

5. Oversight and Accountability

  • Annual audits of finances by independent accountants.
  • Mandatory annual reporting to members detailing:
    • Income and expenses
    • Property acquisitions
    • Enforcement actions taken
    • Development approvals or denials
  • Board elections conducted transparently with all members notified in advance.

6. Strategic Objectives for Anti-Gentrification

  1. Property Acquisition Strategy
    • Identify at-risk properties before they are sold to outside investors.
    • Use reserve funds or special assessments to purchase and hold properties for resale to qualified African American buyers.
  2. Legal Defense Fund
    • Maintain a portion of the war chest specifically for litigation against predatory developers and enforcement of zoning codes.
  3. Cultural and Architectural Preservation
    • Set clear standards for renovations and new construction that reflect neighborhood heritage.
    • Ensure that new development aligns with the neighborhood’s long-term vision and identity.
  4. Economic Empowerment
    • Encourage local entrepreneurship and small business ownership within the HOA’s commercial spaces.
    • Partner with HBCUs and Black-owned banks to provide financing, mentorship, and business support.

Disclaimer: This article was assisted by ChatGPT.

Revisiting Red Summer: Bloodshed, Black Land, and the Battle for America’s Soil

“I had crossed the line. I was free; but there was no one to welcome me to the land of freedom. I was a stranger in a strange land.” – Harriet Tubman

Race riots or rural reckoning? The answer lies beneath the surface—and often beneath the soil itself.

Was Red Summer Of 1919 Really About African America’s Land Ownership? In the blistering summer of 1919, the United States erupted in racial violence. From Washington, D.C. to Chicago, from Norfolk to Omaha, more than three dozen cities and rural towns across America were sites of bloodshed as white mobs attacked African Americans. Historians dubbed it the Red Summer, invoking both the color of blood and the communist fears of the era. To many, it was the culmination of racial tensions stoked by the Great Migration, post-war competition for jobs, and white anxiety over African American assertiveness. But a century later, a question lingers uncomfortably beneath the textbook explanations: was Red Summer not merely about urban unrest or racial animus but about land?

That question has returned with renewed urgency amid a growing reexamination of Black land ownership and its deliberate erosion over the past century. As calls for reparations echo louder, so too does the need to reassess the forces that helped decimate Black wealth and autonomy. In doing so, Red Summer becomes not merely a narrative of racist rage, but potentially the most violent chapter in a longer, quieter war – a war over land.

A Nation Within a Nation

Virginia-born coachman Thomas A. Dillon and his wife, Margaret, a domestic servant and native of Newton, Massachusetts, pose in the parlor of their home at 4 Dewey Street with children Thomas, Margaret, and Mary in 1904.

The idea that African Americans were only victims of economic exclusion in early 20th-century America is misleading. By 1910, African Americans owned more than 15 million acres of land, largely in the South. Black farmers, most of them formerly enslaved or their descendants, had managed to accumulate land under crushing odds frequently purchasing it collectively, through cooperatives, or from white landowners seeking to offload marginal plots. These holdings were not just symbolic. They were strategic.

Land ownership among Black Americans was more than a pathway to wealth; it was a bulwark against white supremacy. Land meant food security, political leverage, and a modicum of independence in a nation otherwise defined by dependency and domination. In some areas, land ownership translated into Black-majority townships or counties, Black-controlled economies, and the possibility however remote of a parallel sovereignty.

In other words, African Americans were not simply asking for equality; in some places, they were building it. And that may have been the greatest threat of all.

Elaine and the Sharecropper’s Revolt

Few episodes more clearly illustrate the link between land and lethal violence than the massacre in Elaine, Arkansas, one of the deadliest incidents of Red Summer. On September 30, 1919, African American sharecroppers organized a meeting in a church to form a union that would advocate for fair prices for their cotton crops. They were met with gunfire and a reign of terror. White mobs, backed by federal troops, killed an estimated 100 to 200 Black men, women, and children though official counts suggested only a few dozen.

The cause, according to white newspapers, was a Black uprising. But in reality, it was about economic control. The sharecroppers wanted transparency in accounting, freedom from rigged ledgers, and the ability to sell their cotton independently. The plantation economy, tightly controlled by white landowners, depended on the opposite. The fear was not Black rebellion it was Black negotiation.

The Elaine massacre exposed a hidden economic architecture. If Black farmers could collectively organize and access fair markets, they might become landowners themselves. And in the Delta, as elsewhere in the South, land was power.

Urban Unrest, Rural Intent

Though most Red Summer clashes are framed through an urban lens of riots in Washington, Chicago, and Knoxville, but the violence cannot be disentangled from broader efforts to confine Black advancement. Indeed, many urban migrants were themselves displaced farmers or sharecroppers whose land ownership efforts had been stymied, swindled, or burned out.

Take Chicago, where in July 1919, violence erupted after a Black teenager, Eugene Williams, accidentally drifted into a whites-only beach on Lake Michigan. What followed was a week of brutal violence that left 38 dead and hundreds injured. On the surface, the riot was sparked by a beach dispute. But deeper currents were at play. African Americans had begun moving into white neighborhoods, asserting their rights to live and invest in the North.

Property rights were again at the center. Black homeowners were increasingly seen as invaders. Redlining had not yet been formalized, but informal violence was already its precursor. The right of African Americans to own homes, build wealth, and control property even outside the South was met with hostility. In both city and countryside, Red Summer was a coordinated rejection of Black sovereignty, however modestly asserted.

White Fear of Black Autonomy

While land ownership by African Americans peaked around 1910, it was already declining by 1919. The reasons were manifold: discriminatory lending, racial violence, predatory legal schemes, and state-sanctioned dispossession. But Red Summer represents a psychological inflection point, the moment when white America responded not just to Black presence, but to Black self-determination.

The threat, as seen by many whites, was not just that Black people wanted civil rights. It was that they were seizing the mechanisms of wealth: land, capital, and cooperative enterprise. African Americans were not waiting for inclusion; they were building economic foundations outside the reach of white control.

This was especially threatening in the South, where many white families were still reeling from the Civil War, the collapse of slavery, and the erosion of the planter class. Black economic success particularly land ownership stood as both a rebuke and a warning. In this sense, Red Summer was not simply a racial backlash; it was a political counterinsurgency.

The Legal Infrastructure of Dispossession

What followed Red Summer was not a mere return to Jim Crow norms, but an intensification of efforts to eliminate Black landholding. A key tool was legal dispossession. Heirs’ property laws, in which land passed down without a will became jointly owned by all descendants, made Black land vulnerable to partition sales. White developers and speculators exploited these loopholes, often buying one family member’s share and forcing a sale of the entire property.

According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, African Americans lost 90% of their farmland between 1910 and 1997. Much of that was not merely through economic decline, but through coercive legal and extra-legal mechanisms: arson, lynching, and fraud.

Red Summer thus marked a gateway to systemic dispossession. In the decades that followed, the same violence that exploded in 1919 became bureaucratized: through zoning, lending discrimination, eminent domain, and legal chicanery.

Reparations and the Return to the Land

The lingering effects are visible in the data. Today, Black Americans own less than 1% of rural land in the United States. That figure stands in stark contrast to the 14% of the U.S. population that is Black. The wealth gap between Black and white families remains yawning, much of it attributable to the intergenerational transfer of property, land and home equity.

Reparations proposals have increasingly focused on this disparity. But to properly assess the scale of restitution, history must be rewritten to acknowledge not just the loss of life, but the loss of land. If Red Summer is reframed as a land war not only a race war, then it demands a different response.

Programs such as the Black Farmers Fund, the Federation of Southern Cooperatives, and the work of legal nonprofits like the Land Loss Prevention Project have begun to claw back some ground. Yet without a federal reckoning one that links racial violence to economic theft the narrative remains incomplete.

A Matter of Sovereignty

Land, as Malcolm X once noted, is the basis of all independence. Red Summer was not simply a spasm of postwar bigotry, but a calculated assertion of dominance over a people on the cusp of transformation. African Americans were not merely aspiring to equality; they were building sovereignty through land, labor, and law. The backlash was predictably violent. But violence, in this case, masked a deeper agenda: the eradication of a Black landowning class that threatened the racial and economic hierarchy. In the end, Red Summer may be remembered not only for its flames but for the fertile ground those flames sought to burn. It was not only a summer of blood. It was a war over soil.

📅 Visual Timeline: The Red Summer of 1919

April 13, 1919 – Jenkins County, Georgia

A violent confrontation erupts in Millen, Georgia, resulting in the deaths of six individuals and the destruction of African American churches and lodges.

May 10, 1919 – Charleston, South Carolina

White sailors initiate a riot, leading to the deaths of three African Americans and injuries to numerous others. Martial law is declared in response.

July 19–24, 1919 – Washington, D.C.

Racial violence breaks out as white mobs attack Black neighborhoods. African American residents organize self-defense efforts.

July 27–August 3, 1919 – Chicago, Illinois

The Chicago Race Riot begins after a Black teenager is killed for swimming in a “whites-only” area. The violence results in 38 deaths and over 500 injuries.

September 30–October 1, 1919 – Elaine, Arkansas

African American sharecroppers meeting to discuss fair compensation are attacked, leading to a massacre where estimates of Black fatalities range from 100 to 800.

October 4, 1919 – Gary, Indiana

Racial tensions escalate amid a steel strike, resulting in clashes between Black and white workers.

November 2, 1919 – Macon, Georgia

A Black man is lynched, highlighting the ongoing racial terror during this period.

Disclaimer: This article was assisted by ChatGPT.

A Second Wind for Old Strips: Why HBCU Alumni Should Rethink Vintage Retail Centers

“We don’t need to break ground to build power. Sometimes we just need to reclaim it.” – HBCU Money

In the 1990s and early 2000s, no suburban corner in America seemed complete without a modest retail strip: a nail salon, dry cleaner, small grocer, and maybe a local pizza joint. These seemingly unremarkable centers were the backbone of everyday commerce. Then came e-commerce, big box expansions, and shifting consumer behavior. The strip center fell out of fashion until now.

Today, those vintage retail strip centers are experiencing a renaissance. Commercial real estate investors, faced with skyrocketing construction costs and restrictive lending environments, are rediscovering the power and profitability of renovating existing assets. For HBCU alumni investors looking to blend stable returns with community impact, this moment presents a rare convergence of opportunity, efficiency, and cultural relevancy.

The Math Behind the Momentum

Construction costs for new retail buildings are ballooning. Estimates now range from $250 to $300 per square foot for ground-up construction sometimes higher in urban markets. At those prices, generating attractive returns is difficult unless you’re building luxury, destination retail with national anchor tenants. That’s not where the market is heading.

Instead, investors are realizing they can acquire and renovate vintage strip centers typically 20 to 40 years old for far less than the cost of new construction. Many are structurally sound but aesthetically dated or functionally obsolete. These properties often sit on prime real estate near transportation corridors, residential growth areas, or college campuses including HBCUs.

When repositioned with the right tenants, lighting, signage, and facades, vintage centers can achieve competitive rents without incurring the deep capital exposure of new construction. They offer a rent-to-cost ratio that works, especially in secondary and tertiary markets where demand for accessible neighborhood retail remains strong.

A Platform for Black Wealth Creation

For HBCU alumni who have traditionally been boxed out of Class A urban development deals, vintage strip centers represent an asset class that is:

  • Financially accessible
  • Culturally significant
  • Commercially viable

Most importantly, these assets can serve as anchors for Black-owned businesses, co-ops, and cultural hubs. While institutional investors often chase high-profile multifamily or office deals, retail strip centers in historically Black communities or near HBCUs are often overlooked providing a wedge for local or regional investors to step in.

A well-structured renovation project led by an HBCU graduate could transform a decaying strip into a vibrant ecosystem of barbershops, cafés, health providers, financial institutions, and coworking spaces all backed by the community, for the community.

Deferred Maintenance as Opportunity, Not Obstacle

Critics of strip centers often cite “deferred maintenance” as a red flag. And it’s true—many of these assets come with leaky roofs, outdated HVAC systems, and non-compliant ADA access. But that doesn’t make them unviable. It makes them undervalued.

Roof replacements, ADA compliance upgrades, lighting retrofits, parking lot resurfacing—these are all predictable costs that can be priced and phased. Investors willing to do their homework (or partner with experienced contractors) can use these improvements to negotiate purchase price reductions while still bringing total project costs well below new-build levels.

The essential formula is: fix what’s failing, elevate what’s usable, reimagine what’s tired. A fresh coat of paint and new signage can do wonders. Add in a few placemaking enhancements—like patio seating, bike racks, or public art and you’ve turned an afterthought into a destination.

The Tenant Mix Advantage

Unlike enclosed malls or big-box centers, strip malls thrive on tenant diversity and flexibility. This is where Black investors especially HBCU alumni with deep community ties—can bring unique vision.

Think beyond the nail salon and dry cleaner. Consider:

  • Black-owned coffee shops sourcing from Black farmers
  • Culinary incubators for emerging chefs and caterers
  • Financial coaching centers led by HBCU grads
  • Community health or dental clinics with wellness services
  • Retail cooperatives selling goods from multiple local makers

HBCU alumni investors can fill these strips not just with tenants, but with mission-aligned entrepreneurs. Lease agreements can include mentorship opportunities, cooperative ownership structures, or tenant improvement allowances tied to hiring local workers.

With a thoughtful mix, even a 20,000–30,000 square foot strip center can become an engine of neighborhood stability, economic inclusion, and generational wealth transfer.

Location, Location, Relevance

Vintage strip centers often sit on some of the most undervalued land in America. Many were built decades ago when zoning was looser, and land was cheaper. As communities grow outward and younger generations seek walkable, mixed-use environments those same centers are suddenly back in the middle of activity.

For HBCU alumni, the opportunity is even more focused. There are dozens of strip centers within walking or driving distance of HBCU campuses. Whether it’s off-campus student housing, faculty neighborhoods, or alumni communities, there is demand for:

  • Local dining and services
  • Affordable, accessible retail
  • Safe, well-lit gathering places
  • Commercial space for alumni-owned businesses

These are not Class A trophy assets, but they don’t need to be. They need to be functional, familiar, and forward-looking.

Risk and Repositioning

Of course, this isn’t a silver bullet. Not every vintage strip is a diamond in the rough. Investors must do real due diligence:

  • Structural Integrity – Always get a full building condition report. It’s the difference between a renovation and a rebuild.
  • Zoning Compliance – Changing use (i.e., turning part of a center into residential or entertainment space) may trigger zoning complications or code upgrades.
  • Environmental Reviews – Gas stations, dry cleaners, and auto shops may have left behind soil contamination. Budget for testing and potential remediation.
  • Tenant Rollover – Inheriting a strip with long-term leases at below-market rents may limit your flexibility.

But with risk comes return. A well-executed repositioning can yield cap rates of 7–9%, with additional upside through refinancing or disposition within 5–10 years.

Financing the Vision

Vintage retail projects are easier to finance than new builds but only if you approach the right lenders. Here’s where HBCU alumni can get creative:

  • CDFIs – Community Development Financial Institutions are often more flexible when the project has community benefits.
  • Opportunity Zones – Many vintage retail corridors are located in federally designated OZs, allowing access to tax-advantaged equity.
  • Historic Preservation Tax Credits – If the building qualifies, you may be eligible for 10–20% of renovation costs back in tax relief.
  • Municipal Partnerships – City economic development departments may offer grants, façade improvement programs, or forgivable loans.
  • Alumni Co-Investment Funds – Organize real estate investment clubs or syndicates among HBCU alumni. Use shared mission as shared capital.

A New Generation of Ownership

The big question isn’t whether vintage strip centers are viable. The question is: who will own them?

Will they be scooped up by private equity firms chasing yield? Or will HBCU alumni seize the chance to claim, restore, and transform these assets into hubs of Black entrepreneurship and economic mobility?

Real estate has always been about timing and this is the moment.

If we don’t buy the land, we don’t control the future. But if we do—wisely, collectively, strategically—then a strip center in the shadow of an HBCU can become the foundation of a Black economic dynasty.

Bottom Line

Old retail centers aren’t just retail they are real estate that still works. And right now, they’re one of the most underrated opportunities in commercial real estate.

With vision, planning, and mission-driven capital, HBCU alumni can turn tired retail into thriving centers of community wealth. Not every asset class allows you to be both landlord and legacy builder. But this one does.

The future isn’t always new. Sometimes, it’s renovated.

Disclaimer: This article was assisted by ChatGPT.

Powell’s Precarious Position: What HBCU Real Estate Investors Must Prepare For

“Real estate power does not wait on political peace—it plans around it.”HBCU Money

In commercial real estate, calm markets are often a prerequisite for aggressive growth. When volatility creeps in—especially from policy uncertainty—wise investors do not panic, but they do reposition. As rumors swirl that Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell may be removed from office before the end of his term, the CRE market is already baking in disruption. For HBCU alumni who invest in real estate, this moment demands attention, strategy, and foresight.

Although Powell’s official term runs through May 2026, and he can technically serve until 2028, market insiders are moving as if his exit could happen sooner—possibly under a second Trump administration. On July 17, GlobeSt.com reported that commercial real estate markets are increasingly factoring in political risk, with deal structures, loan pricing, and capital flows tightening ahead of any actual policy change.

For HBCU alumni who have spent years assembling rental portfolios, developing mixed-use properties, or backing Opportunity Zone projects near campuses, this isn’t abstract economic theory. This is cash flow, cap rates, and leverage dynamics in real time.

The Federal Reserve controls interest rates, liquidity, and lending standards—the lifeblood of commercial real estate. But the Chair also shapes expectations. Even the perception of instability at the Fed causes lenders to pull back and investors to reprice assets.

Jerome Powell has been seen as a steady hand, even when unpopular. His cautious rate policy—especially amid post-pandemic inflation—kept CRE markets from overheating or crashing. But if he’s ousted or disempowered, markets may expect more aggressive rate cuts under political pressure, a weakening dollar complicating international investment and supply chain costs, and a loss of institutional independence introducing a political lens into every Fed decision.

For HBCU alumni real estate investors, it means more volatile borrowing costs, reduced predictability in returns, and a need to re-evaluate how aggressively to pursue expansion or refinance.

Lenders are tightening up—and they are doing so before Powell is removed. That should concern anyone whose real estate model is sensitive to capital cost.

Bridge and construction loans are becoming harder to secure without pristine credit and higher equity injections. Cash-out refinances—especially for small portfolios—are being capped or delayed altogether. Development deals in low-income communities (where many HBCU graduates invest as a mission) are being scrutinized harder or shelved entirely.

As one investment banker told GlobeSt, “We’re seeing deals priced as if Powell’s out in six months, and we’re living in a very different rate environment.” It’s not a prediction—it’s a hedge. And HBCU alumni need to do the same.

If you’re invested in—or considering entering—any of the following CRE asset classes, Powell’s fate may shape your returns:

CRE SectorRisk From Fed Instability
MultifamilyRising rates hurt acquisitions and refinancing; rent growth may not keep up with cost of capital
RetailAlready under pressure from e-commerce; volatile rates shrink tenant pool and landlord leverage
HospitalityHeavily exposed to economic cycles; refinancing becomes challenging if Fed turmoil hits
Industrial/LogisticsGenerally stable, but price compression expected if Fed credibility drops
Development ProjectsMost vulnerable—cost of capital, input inflation, and credit availability all in flux

HBCU alumni often favor multifamily and mixed-use in urban corridors. That makes preparation even more critical.

Let’s be clear: instability in the Fed disproportionately hurts Black real estate investors.

Less institutional capital backing Black developers means higher reliance on bank debt. Lower net worth and liquidity reserves can make it harder to endure tightened credit cycles. Projects in historically Black neighborhoods—often underinvested already—face greater scrutiny from conservative lenders during uncertain times. And Black investors are more likely to reinvest locally, meaning pullbacks hit community wealth and revitalization efforts harder.

If you’re financing student housing near Howard, renovating a historic property near Southern, or redeveloping land near Fort Valley State, you may suddenly find banks “reassessing” your application—not because of your deal, but because of Washington.

HBCU alumni have a legacy of building through adversity. This moment demands no less. Key investor moves right now include:

Renegotiate your debt terms while rates are still predictable. If your loans mature in 2026 or 2027, the window to lock in current rates or secure extensions is closing. Powell’s tenure—and potential replacement—will shape forward rate curves. Beat the volatility while you still can.

Shift to fixed-rate debt. Adjustable-rate debt was cheap two years ago. Now it’s a ticking time bomb. Consider refinancing into fixed-rate debt, even at a slight premium, to gain stability and prevent future cash flow disruptions.

Expand your lender relationships. Do not depend on one or two institutions. Build ties with Black-owned banks, CDFIs, and credit unions aligned with HBCU values. These institutions may have more mission-aligned flexibility if traditional banks tighten up.

Build a liquidity cushion. Discipline now prevents desperation later. Liquidity is the real hedge during economic uncertainty—especially if tenants default, contractors raise costs, or refinance windows close.

Delay discretionary projects. This is the time to tighten pro formas, not push for maximum leverage. If a deal still pencils at 9% debt, proceed. If it only works at 6%, wait.

Pool capital. Use alumni associations and real estate clubs to form investment syndicates. One investor may get denied a $5M deal. Five alumni together might get approved for $25M. Leverage unity, scale, and relationships.

Crisis also presents acquisition opportunities. There will be distressed sellers needing to offload assets quickly, developers unable to complete projects, and landlords who can’t refinance expiring loans. HBCU alumni, especially those with capital or credit, should keep an eye out. Joint ventures among alumni can create scale and deploy capital when others retreat. Use this time to buy smart, not fast.

Beyond Powell himself, it’s the Fed’s credibility that gives investors confidence to commit capital to 10–30 year projects. If a new Chair appears beholden to political pressure, markets may price in new risks to long-term bonds, accelerate inflation fears, and depress asset values. That would slow not just your next project—but the next generation’s.

That is why HBCU alumni must take this seriously, not just as investors—but as stewards of intergenerational wealth.

HBCU institutions also have a role to play. They can create alumni investment syndicates that provide deal flow and capital. They can offer discounted land or property near campus to alumni developers. They can develop relationships with mission-driven lenders and introduce alumni projects for financing. And they can host economic briefings and real estate strategy sessions to keep their alumni sharp and agile in rapidly changing markets.

Colleges like Tuskegee, Texas Southern, and FAMU have alumni who are reshaping skylines. These institutions must recognize this as an extension of their impact—and protect it.

The Federal Reserve Chair is not a figurehead. Powell’s potential removal would represent a seismic shift in economic planning—especially for real estate. For HBCU alumni, many of whom have built their portfolios in the shadows of systemic exclusion, the message is clear: this is not a time to panic—but it is time to prepare.

Build alliances, lock in rates, stockpile liquidity, and be ready. The future of our neighborhoods, our campuses, and our financial independence will be shaped by how we respond to this moment.

And if the rest of the market goes quiet, remember: Black investors have never needed perfect conditions to build power—we’ve just needed a plan and each other.

Disclaimer: This article was assisted by ChatGPT.

Why 1890 HBCUs Must Develop A Joint Tree Nursery: Sowing Legacy, Profit, and Power

“Since new developments are the products of a creative mind, we must therefore stimulate and encourage that type of mind in every way possible.” – George Washington Carver

The 1890 Land-Grant HBCUs were created not out of generosity but from segregation. And yet, over 130 years later, these institutions have carved out vital roles in agricultural education, food systems innovation, and land stewardship within the African American community. With the ever-growing climate crisis, shrinking agricultural landholdings for African Americans, and a glaring need for sustainable economic engines, the case for a joint tree nursery among the 1890 HBCUs is less an idea and more an imperative. The time for silos is over. A joint nursery would allow the 1890s to consolidate resources, amplify research, and plant the seeds—literally and economically—of a new generational legacy.

The Decline of African American Landownership and Ongoing Discrimination

In 1910, African Americans owned between 16–19 million acres of farmland. The years around this period would also see the Red Summer of 1919, when African Americans were violently targeted and lynched—many as punishment for owning land and asserting agency. Today, that number has dwindled to just 5.3 million acres as of 2022, according to the USDA’s Census of Agriculture, representing less than 0.6% of all U.S. farmland.

The decline is not just the result of economic shifts—it is the result of orchestrated policies and racially motivated practices. From the USDA’s long-standing discriminatory loan denials to heirs’ property laws that have gutted intergenerational land transfer, the path of African American landownership has been riddled with legal landmines. The Pigford v. Glickman settlement acknowledged this in part, but much of the damage remains.

The 2022 USDA Census also shows that Black producers make up just 1.4% of all U.S. farmers and generate only 0.5% of all farm-related income. These are not just agricultural figures—they are a ledger of institutional neglect.

A tree nursery jointly stewarded by the 1890 HBCUs could serve as a bulwark against further erosion. It would offer seedlings, training, and enterprise development that support African American landowners, reinforcing land retention, sustainable usage, and intergenerational economic viability.

Political Hostilities Facing HBCUs

Despite their vital role in education, research, and community development, HBCUs—especially 1890 land-grant institutions—have faced persistent political and financial challenges. These institutions continue to experience disparities in state and federal funding compared to predominantly white institutions (PWIs). Some of the key political hostilities facing HBCUs include:

  • Underfunding and Resource Disparities: Many 1890 HBCUs receive significantly less funding than their 1862 land-grant counterparts. Studies have shown that some states fail to allocate matching funds as required by federal law, putting HBCUs at a financial disadvantage.
  • Legislative Attacks on DEI Initiatives: In recent years, political efforts to limit diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programs have targeted HBCUs and other minority-serving institutions. These measures threaten scholarship opportunities, faculty recruitment, and student support services.
  • Land-Grant Inequities: Unlike 1862 land-grant universities, 1890 HBCUs were historically excluded from receiving direct land allocations, resulting in fewer resources to develop agricultural research and extension programs. This inequity continues to hinder the growth of HBCU-led agricultural initiatives.
  • Institutional Wealth Gap: A stark difference exists between the endowments of 1890 HBCUs and their 1862 counterparts. Many 1862 land-grant universities have endowments in the billions, while 1890 HBCUs often operate with significantly smaller financial reserves. This gap limits their ability to invest in infrastructure, research, and large-scale agricultural projects. By collaborating, 1890 HBCUs can leverage collective resources to overcome these financial disparities.
  • Bureaucratic Challenges in Federal Funding: While the federal government provides grants and research funding for HBCUs, bureaucratic red tape often delays disbursement, limiting their ability to expand programs and infrastructure.
  • Hostile Political Climates in Some States: Certain state governments have attempted to merge or close HBCUs under the guise of budget cuts, despite the institutions’ strong academic contributions. These efforts undermine the historical and cultural significance of HBCUs in providing equitable education.

By establishing a joint tree nursery, 1890 HBCUs can leverage collective power to secure funding, build partnerships, and showcase the tangible benefits of investing in Black-led agricultural and environmental initiatives.

Benefits of Developing a Joint 1890 HBCU Tree Nursery

Environmental Sustainability and Climate Change Mitigation

Deforestation and land degradation disproportionately affect African American communities, contributing to environmental injustices such as poor air quality and increased vulnerability to natural disasters. A joint tree nursery among all 1890 HBCUs would:

  • Provide seedlings for reforestation projects in Black-owned lands and underserved communities
  • Help mitigate climate change by sequestering carbon dioxide through afforestation and agroforestry initiatives
  • Promote soil conservation and reduce erosion, particularly in the South, where agricultural practices have historically led to soil depletion

Economic Empowerment and Job Creation

A tree nursery initiative would not only benefit HBCU students and faculty but also offer economic opportunities to local landowners. Potential benefits include:

  • Revenue Generation: HBCUs can sell tree seedlings to farmers, municipalities, and reforestation programs, creating an additional income stream
  • Employment Opportunities: These nurseries can provide jobs for students, alumni, and community members in nursery management, forestry, and agribusiness sectors
  • Support for Black Farmers: Providing affordable seedlings and training on agroforestry practices can help African American landowners diversify their income and maximize land productivity

The Economic Benefits of the Timber Industry

The timber industry presents a lucrative opportunity for African American landowners and HBCUs. A joint tree nursery can serve as a foundation for engaging in sustainable forestry and timber production. Some key economic benefits include:

  • High Market Demand: The U.S. timber industry generates over $300 billion annually, with growing demand for sustainable wood products in construction, paper, and bioenergy sectors
  • Long-Term Investment: Timberland is a valuable asset that appreciates over time, providing generational wealth-building opportunities for Black landowners
  • Carbon Credit Market: African American landowners can participate in carbon credit programs by managing timberlands for carbon sequestration, receiving financial incentives for maintaining forests
  • HBCU Forestry Programs: Expanding forestry education at HBCUs can produce a new generation of Black professionals in timber management, conservation, and agribusiness
  • Sustainable Agroforestry: Integrating tree farming with traditional agriculture can enhance soil health, improve biodiversity, and create additional revenue streams for small-scale farmers

Enhancing Agricultural Education and Research

Many 1890 HBCUs already have robust agricultural programs. Establishing a joint tree nursery would further enrich their curricula by:

  • Offering hands-on training in silviculture, agroforestry, and nursery management
  • Creating research opportunities in sustainable land management, biodiversity conservation, and climate resilience
  • Facilitating collaborations with government agencies, non-profits, and private sector partners in reforestation and urban greening initiatives

Cross-Institutional Leverage: Strength in Numbers

A joint venture allows for economies of scale. Rather than every 1890 HBCU creating a small, under-resourced nursery, a consortium-based model allows for regional specialization and centralized management. One school could lead genetic research, another logistics, and another economic modeling. By specializing within the larger system, each institution contributes to a whole far greater than its parts.

Shared governance would also model cooperative economics for students and landowners alike—an important lesson in collective power for African American institutions that have long been made to compete rather than collaborate.

Community Wealth Building

The ultimate beneficiaries of this nursery aren’t just students or the HBCUs themselves—but the millions of African American families with access to underutilized or at-risk land. With the right training, seedlings, and partnerships, that land can be revitalized. It can produce not only timber but herbs, fruits, shade, and carbon credits.

The nursery becomes the beginning of a longer story—of community land trusts, green business corridors, and intergenerational financial literacy built around land-based wealth.

Seeding Sovereignty: A Strategic Call to Action

Developing a joint tree nursery among all 1890 HBCUs is more than an agricultural endeavor. It is an act of economic strategy, cultural restoration, environmental justice, and institutional collaboration. It’s about controlling the seed, the soil, and the story.

HBCUs have always been tasked with doing more with less. The joint nursery is an opportunity to do more—together—and build an enduring institutional asset rooted in cooperation, conservation, and community wealth.

Moreover, this initiative holds symbolic power. In the act of planting trees, 1890 HBCUs will be planting legacy—sending a signal that African American institutions are prepared not only to survive hostile economic climates, but to thrive through collective will. Trees are not short-term investments; they require long-term vision, care, and commitment—just like the kind of intergenerational institution-building African America must embrace.

The nursery would also be an anchor institution for Black innovation in climate tech, agroforestry finance, and regional ecosystem services. The act of growing trees connects economics with ecology, and by anchoring that process within the halls and lands of 1890 HBCUs, we bring knowledge production, carbon markets, and green workforce development under African American institutional ownership.

This is more than sustainability—it is sovereignty. The type of sovereignty that rewrites narratives around Black land loss, economic disempowerment, and environmental marginalization. In a future where climate, capital, and culture will increasingly intersect, the 1890 HBCUs must see a joint tree nursery not as a boutique project but as a national imperative rooted in Pan-African strategy and local resilience.

The seeds of sovereignty are ready. The land is waiting. The only question is whether the institutions tasked with leading our communities into the future will plant now, or later—when the cost of delay may be too great to bear.