The phone never stops ringing at Gloria Johnson's house. This is the third call she has received in the past hour. All three of her callers want her to buy her house, but her answer is always the same.
“No, ma'am. This property is not for sale.”
Johnson's home is in one of Dallas' hottest real estate settings – Gilbert Emory's West Dallas District. This name was named after her two black families at Emory, Nathan and Margaret Gilbert, and Cecil and Helen. Her two black families owned a grocery store, helping to feed local residents at a time when racial discrimination prevented them from shopping in white neighborhoods.
Black neighborhoods in West Dallas are disappearing as new townhomes are built
The rapid rate of gentrification, now the fastest-growing in Dallas, has already wiped out many of the older homes in once redlined neighborhoods. Johnson feels like developers stole the identity of the historically black neighborhood.
“We actually feel like we're in a place that we forgot about,” Johnson says. “It's not important. It's not important. They don't care.”
Ten years ago, a 600-square-foot shotgun house would have been worth about $11,000. Now it's overshadowed by his $600,000 three-story townhome, which overlooks the downtown skyline from its balcony. Over the past year, new townhomes have been built and Johnson's block has become a dead end.
It's a one-way street and there are no exits.
“They're building around us, and for me they're motivating me, frustrating me, pushing me to act faster because, 'We're going to get this community.' We’re trying to inspire,” she says of the developers.
Most of the people Johnson grew up with no longer live here. In 1990, about half the neighborhood was black, according to census tract data. Now only one-fifth of the residents are black.
Johnson wants to stay. Her father worked two jobs to purchase the land where her home now stands.
“We were here before the roads were paved,” she says. “Her mother was instrumental in raising money to pave the roads. That was unity. That was community. Those days are gone.”
Smiley N Pool
/
dallas morning news
Dallas historian Donald Payton Agree. He has been documenting Dallas' black history for decades.
“In a few more years, it will all be dog parks and bike paths,” Peyton said. “And if we don't work to preserve our stories, it will all be forgotten.”
Peyton said the struggle of Gilbert Emory residents is a story repeated in Dallas and across the country. This is a story about the struggle to endure and preserve housing in a historically black neighborhood as expensive development threatens it.
“When you say gentrification, it’s a new word,” he says. “It used to be called “urban renewal,'' but then it was called “urban redevelopment,'' and it ended up being relocation.''
Research shows that black homeownership rates in Dallas are much lower than white homeownership rates. Payton says the impact is a loss of generational wealth, Black culture and community.
He remembers visiting Gilbert Emory as a boy in the 1950s. He often had his hair cut by a gregarious one-armed barber.
“Mr. Posey's Barber Shop is where guys hang out,” Peyton says. “Our culture was built around barbershops, beauty shops and cafes, and churches were our refuge in times of storm.”
Sunlight streams in through the amber windows. Greater Mount Pilgrim Church Located on Bayonne Street. It is the largest church in Gilbert Emory. These days, most of the congregation no longer lives here. They moved to other areas.
Still, Pastor Ned Armstrong says the church is here to stay.
“This has been a strong community for many years,” Armstrong said. “The foundation was laid here.”
Armstrong said she has reached out to her new neighbors, left flyers and information about the church, and has received several new visitors.
But the church also said it had received noise complaints from neighbors several weeks ago, which were distressing. Speakers are installed outside the building and amplify sermons and songs in the parking lot for parishioners who wish to sit outside. Outdoor service was born during the pandemic.
A few years ago, Armstrong said, the church tried to buy land across Bayonne Street that once housed the popular Frederick Douglass School.
The Frederick Douglass School was so important that many people who lived in the neighborhood for years, like Gloria Johnson, still use the abolitionist name to refer to the area. Masu. The school produced its own teachers and even a principal.
After the school closed in 1980, some area residents wanted the land to become a city park. Armstrong wanted a community center. But six years ago, Dallas ISD sold the land to a private developer for $1.7 million.
Rebecca Slezak
/
dallas morning news
“They come and we can't compete with them. They have millions of dollars,” Armstrong says. “The next thing you know, it was selling. Boom. No notice. No, really. It was pretty cruel. They didn't want to sell it to the church.”
Now, the only way to know there was once a school there is the road sign leading to the housing complex.
Gloria Johnson says that's not enough.
“Where's the worry? Where's the love?” Johnson asks. “If you were worried about that, you would have built one street, a whole street. Not a block. But you didn't. Never mind.”
Today, 27 gray townhomes stand on the site of one of the oldest black schools in Texas. Its prices start from over $500,000.
This article is published by Dallas Media Collaborative, a group of local news organizations, universities, and nonprofit organizations focused on covering affordable housing with a solutions-oriented approach. Reported and edited cooperatively by the Morning News, Dallas Free Press and KERA.
