“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:
- Protect neighborhood land from predatory acquisition and gentrification.
- Maintain architectural and cultural integrity of the neighborhood.
- Build collective financial resources for legal, development, and maintenance initiatives.
- 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
- 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.
- Legal Defense Fund
- Maintain a portion of the war chest specifically for litigation against predatory developers and enforcement of zoning codes.
- 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.
- 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.




Charlamagne Tha God & Jemele Hill: The Debate They Both Got Right and Wrong
“If you don’t own anything, you don’t have any power.” — Dr. Claud Anderson
When Charlamagne Tha God proclaimed, “Wake your ass up and get to trade school!” after NVIDIA’s CEO Jensen Huang suggested that the next wave of American millionaires will come from plumbers and electricians, he was not simply shouting into the void. He was echoing a national frustration, one rooted in the rising irrelevance of a degree-driven economy that no longer guarantees stability or wealth. Student debt has grown into a generational shackle, corporate loyalty is dead, and a working class once promised a middle-class life for earning a degree has found itself boxed out of the very prosperity it was told to chase. Charlamagne’s message resonated because trades feel like a lifeboat in an economy where white-collar work has become overcrowded, uncertain, and increasingly automated. But Jemele Hill’s response, “There’s nothing wrong with getting a trade, but the people in the billionaire and millionaire class aren’t sending their kids to trade schools” was the kind of truth that punctures illusions. She was not critiquing the trades; she was critiquing the belief that skill, in isolation from ownership, can produce power.
Her point hits harder within African America because our community has historically been guided into labor paths whether trade or degree that position us as workers within someone else’s institutions. It is not a coincidence. As HBCU Money examined in “Washington Was The Horse And DuBois Was The Cart”, the historical tension between industrial education and classical higher learning was never about choosing one or the other. It was about sequencing. Booker T. Washington understood that African America first needed an economic base, a foundation of labor mastery and enterprise capacity. W.E.B. DuBois emphasized intellectual development and leadership cultivation. But Washington was right about one thing: without an economic foundation, intellectual prowess has no institutional home. And without institutional homes, neither the trade nor the degree can produce freedom. African America today is suffering because we abandoned Washington’s base-building and misinterpreted DuBois’s talent development as permission to serve institutions built by others.
Charlamagne’s trade-school enthusiasm fits neatly into Washington’s horse, the practical skill that generates economic usefulness. But Hill’s critique reflects DuBois’s cart understanding how society actually distributes power. The mistake is that neither Washington nor DuBois ever argued that skill alone, or schooling alone, was enough. Both ultimately pointed toward institutional ownership. Neither wanted African Americans to remain permanently in the labor class. The trades were supposed to evolve into construction companies, electrical firms, cooperatives, and land-based enterprises. The degrees were supposed to evolve into banks, research centers, hospitals, and political institutions. What we actually did was pursue skills and credentials not power. We mistook competence for control.
This is why the trades-versus-degrees debate is meaningless without ownership. Becoming a plumber or an electrician provides income, but not institutional leverage. Becoming a lawyer or an accountant provides upward mobility, but not institutional control. A community with thousands of tradespeople and thousands of degreed professionals but without banks, construction firms, land ownership, hospitals, newspapers, media companies, sovereign endowments, or venture capital funds is still a community of laborers no matter how educated or skilled.
This structural truth becomes even clearer when viewed through the lens of how the wealthiest Americans use education. HBCU Money’s analysis, “Does Graduate School Matter? America’s 100 Wealthiest: 44 Percent Have Graduate Degrees”, observes that while nearly half of America’s wealthiest individuals do hold graduate degrees, the degrees themselves are not the source of wealth. They are tools of amplification. They work because the individuals earning them already have ownership pathways through family offices, endowments, corporations, foundations, and networks that translate education into power. Graduate school matters when you have an institution to run. It matters far less when your degree leads you into institutions owned by others.
African American graduates rarely inherit institutions; they inherit responsibility to institutions that do not belong to them. So the degree becomes a ladder into someone else’s building. And trades, stripped of the communal ownership networks they once fed, become a ladder into someone else’s factory, subcontracting chain, or municipal maintenance operation. We are always climbing into structures that someone else owns.
This cycle was not always our trajectory. The tragedy is that HBCUs once created institutional ecosystems where skill and knowledge were used to build African American economic capacity—not merely transfer it outward. As HBCU Money argued in “HBCU Construction: Revisiting Work-Study Trade Training”, many HBCUs historically operated construction, carpentry, and trade programs that literally built the campuses themselves. Students learned trades while constructing residence halls, dining facilities, barns, academic buildings, and infrastructure that the institution would own for generations. That model kept money circulating internally, built hard assets, created institutional wealth, and established capacity for African American contracting firms. It produced not just skilled laborers it produced apprentices, foremen, entrepreneurs, and business owners. It produced Washington’s economic foundation.
The abandonment of these models created a void. Trades became disconnected from institutional development. Degrees became pathways to external employment. And HBCUs which once trained students to build institutions were transformed into pipelines feeding corporate America and federal agencies that rarely reinvest into African American institutions at scale. This is why the trade-school-versus-college debate is hollow. Both are simply skill paths. Without ownership, both lead to dependence.
Charlamagne’s sense of urgency comes from watching African American millennials and Gen Z face an economy with fewer footholds than their parents had. But urgency alone cannot produce strategy. Hill, consciously or unconsciously, pointed out that the wealthy understand something we have not fully grasped: the ultimate purpose of skill, whether manual or intellectual, is to strengthen one’s own institutional ecosystem not someone else’s. The wealthy do not send their children to college to find jobs; they send them to college to learn to oversee family enterprises, influence policy, govern philanthropic endowments, and maintain social capital networks. A wealthy family’s electrician child does not go into electrical maintenance he goes into managing the electrical firm the family owns.
This is the distinction African America must confront. We keep choosing roles instead of building infrastructure. We choose jobs. We do not choose institutions. We chase wages. We do not chase ownership. This is not because African Americans lack talent or ambition. It is because integration disconnected African America from its economic development logic. In the push to integrate into white institutions, we abandoned the very institutions that anchored our communities—banks, hospitals, insurance companies, manufacturing cooperatives, and HBCU-based work-study and trade ecosystems.
The future requires rebuilding a Washington-first, DuBois-second model. The horse that is the economic base must return. The cart that is the intellectual class must attach to institutions that the community owns. Trades should feed African American contracting firms, electrical cooperatives, and infrastructure companies that service Black communities and employ Black workers. Degrees should feed African American financial institutions, research centers, HBCU endowments, political think tanks, and venture funds. Every skill, trade, or degree must be tied to institutional expansion.
Otherwise, we will continue mistaking income for empowerment, education for sovereignty, and representation for ownership. Trade or degree, individual success means little when the community remains institutionally dependent. Wealth that dies with individuals is not power; it is a temporary advantage. Power is continuity. Power is structure. Power is ownership.
The choice before African America is not between trade and degree. It is between labor and ownership. No skill, not plumbing, not engineering, not medicine, not law creates power without institutions. We are not lacking talented individuals; we are lacking the institutional architecture that turns talent into sovereignty.
Charlamagne spoke to survival. Hill spoke to structure. Washington spoke to foundation. DuBois spoke to leadership. The synthesis of all four is the path forward. Without institutions, African America will always remain the labor in someone else’s empire even when the labor is highly paid, well-trained, and excellently credentialed. Only ownership transforms skill into power, and without rebuilding our institutional ecosystem, we will continue to debate trades and degrees while owning neither the companies nor the universities.
Ownership is the only path. Without it, neither the horse nor the cart will ever move.
Disclaimer: This article was assisted by ChatGPT.
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