By: Dr. Joseph Askew
On the east side of Kinston, North Carolina, historic buildings still bear the original architecture. Whether it’s on Queen Street, where formerly enslaved people became entrepreneurs, or Gordon Street, the neighborhood’s significance is clear.
The town, which is the county seat of Lenoir County, is grappling with decades-long change: a loss of industry, population decline, and high poverty rates. East Kinston, mere miles from downtown, is one of the most economically distressed communities in the state. The community — situated as a food desert — is now 95% Black with a 40% poverty rate, which is higher than the city, state, and national average.
In spite of the bleak present, residents are working to reinvigorate its economy through local arts, history and tourism. But, they battle with what is described as an area with the most dilapidated, poorly maintained, or abandoned buildings. Where city officials see an opportunity to clean up the Black neighborhood, some Black natives are seeing their generational wealth slowly wither away.
Joseph Askew Sr. has amassed several properties over the years in East Kinston. (Courtesy of Joseph Askew)
“They want the land, that’s the issue, and to get the land, [they] need to condemn the buildings, and then have a developer come in, who is white — nine times out of 10,” resident Joseph Askew Sr. told Capital B.
City officials are tearing down residents’ properties to remove blight through a process called condemnation. It allows the city to legally declare a building is dangerous to life, vacant, structurally unsound, or in disrepair. They must place a notice on the building, schedule a hearing, and move forward with demolition if an owner is unable or unwilling to make improvements.
One of those residents facing demolition is Askew, known locally as Dr. Askew, a community activist and founder of the nonprofit Justice and Liberty For All (JLA Cares) who amassed several properties over the years in East Kinston, making him at one point one of the largest property owners in the neighborhood.
The city of Kinston already tore down one of his properties. Seven years ago, they planned to bulldoze at least two more of Askew’s properties: 607 E. Gordon St., where his mother ran Askew Daycare, the first Black nonprofit day care center. The other property, adjacent to 607, is 110 N. Trianon St., where formerly enslaved people lived. They are both listed on the National Park Services’ National Register of Historic Places.
Beyond his personal grievances with officials, Askew told Capital B it’s all a ploy to take more of his “prime real estate,” which is located on a major thoroughfare in the city. If they can take his properties, it’ll be easier to diminish ownership for other Black families in Kinston, a city of nearly 20,000 that is now 69% Black, he said former leaders told him.
“What happens to the Black man? He gets a lien on him, he gets foreclosed on, and it gives Black people bad credit, and they can’t pay the debt,” Askew said.
He made some repairs. In the city’s eyes, it wasn’t enough.
He and his group, SOUL (Saving Our Unique Legacy), protested, circulated a petition, and attended several City Council meetings in a plea to remove his properties from the city’s condemnation list, which started with 150 buildings and ended with 50, according to Kinston City Council meeting minutes.
But, officials refused his appeal and prepared for demolition. It put him in debt — from spending thousands of dollars on repairs. And he couldn’t pay the demolition cost. If the individual can’t pay for demolition, the city does the demo and puts a lien on it, ranging from $4,000 to $25,000. The city can then foreclose on the home, and put the property up for auction.
Askew wanted to learn the criteria the city used for how it selects and removes certain properties from its condemnation list. What he and others learned: The list of 50 focused on homes or buildings owned by Black folks or located in predominantly Black areas, rather than the white neighborhoods. White properties had been removed from the list without justification — properties that he says were, and still are, in worse shape than his and other Black people’s properties.
In 2019, Askew, Curtis Washington, and Charlie Gordon Wade III sued the city, including its all-Black council (which made history in 2017) and white leaders in the planning department. The suit halted the demolition of the properties, but they’ve been in a legal fight since.
They accused the City of Kinston of racial bias in how it chooses which homes will be demolished or whether they can be removed from the list. The plaintiffs also made a substantive due process claim, which says that even if race isn’t an issue, the process is arbitrary because there are no sufficient guidelines for condemnation.
A federal court and superior court dismissed the case, refusing to address the claims. The North Carolina Court of Appeals dismissed the case in December 2022, ruling that the plaintiffs failed to “exhaust their administrative remedies” at the local level, meaning Askew and others didn’t submit a written appeal to the city or finish the local process before proceeding with a lawsuit.
Now the case is with the mostly conservative North Carolina Supreme Court, which is set to make a decision soon. The court won’t decide on the racial discrimination claim, but whether the Court of Appeals erred in judgment that state law limits residents from taking up grievances against municipalities by way of the courts, said Ralph Bryant, a 30-year attorney who represents Kinston residents.
Depending on how the court rules, the issue could be much more severe. If the city wins, it could have statewide implications, affording local governments more leeway to wrongfully condemn property owned by someone who criticized a powerful politician … and forcing them to go through a lengthy process dictated by the city before being allowed to make any First Amendment violation claims in court, according to Justice Anita Earls, a Democrat and only Black justice on the state’s Supreme Court.
City officials refuted the racial bias allegations, adding that an all-Black council can’t discriminate against its Black residents. The city argued its team of inspectors looked across the city, not in specific areas, to find properties for demolition. The criteria for condemnation is set forth in statutes, North Carolina code enforcement, the city’s housing code, and other ordinances. They used mapping data and three years of police data to identify “buildings that were especially problematic from a policing perspective,” according to a brief filed on behalf of the city.
However, one of the first areas they planned to start: Tower Hill Road, a predominantly Black area “because several of the addresses in the top 50 list were close together … and one property owner asked the city to demolish her building because she was too frightened to go there because people had been using it illegally,” documents for the city show.
“Despite Plaintiffs’ repeated speculation that Kinston is trying to ‘snatch’ property from African American owners, Kinston has never foreclosed to take ownership of a property after Kinston demolished the building,” court filings said.
An endless cycle across the country
The issue facing Kinston residents is indicative of a continuous cycle of obliterating Black neighborhoods for the sake of blight and economic development.
“Every city or town has that area in the Black area of town where Black people, because of our socioeconomic status, have left somebody older property or a house,” attorney Ralph Bryant said. (Courtesy of Ralph Bryant)
In Black neighborhoods, there are usually older and deteriorating homes, which makes them easy targets for demolition. It’s worse for low-income neighborhoods that are more likely to fall into disrepair because residents can’t afford to fix them. It leads to displacement similar to that which befell The Neck, a historic Black neighborhood in Independence, Missouri, that vanished after the city declared it a slum, then demolished it.
“Every city or town has that area in the Black area of town where Black people, because of our socioeconomic status, have left somebody older property or a house,” Bryant said. “They want to fix it up, but they don’t have money to fix it up, but that little scrap of property with that old house on it that was left to them is theirs. ‘We don’t have much, but it’s mine.’”
But, residents are using the courts to fight back. Last year, several Black residents living in a historic neighborhood in Ocean Springs, Mississippi, filed a federal civil rights lawsuit against its officials for declaring their homes as “blighted” and including their homes in an urban renewal zone without notifying them.
City officials in Ocean Springs are using a centuries-old practice called eminent domain, a legal process that allows taking private property for public use while paying property owners fair market value. In Ocean Springs, people were in an uproar, which forced the city to withdraw the blight designation, said Dana Berliner, senior vice president and litigation director at the Institute for Justice who served as counsel. Because the city didn’t give residents notice, a violation of due process, they’re continuing the lawsuit.
“The public is often shocked and outraged when these projects and plans become known, and that can make cities back off,” Berliner said in a phone call. “When you organize and bring to light what is happening, often the people are ashamed of what they’re doing, and they’ll proceed as long as no one calls them out on it.”
The property isn’t free
For decades, Askew says he’s called out city officials (mostly former white leaders) on their wrongdoing. He’s sued the local election board and police department, which he says makes him quite unpopular and served as a reason to take his properties.
While he made repairs here and there, it’s been a struggle to maintain the upkeep for a long list of properties, mainly because the thousands of dollars in expenses outweighs the fixed income Askew receives monthly. He’s made his living as an attorney, educator, pastor, and entrepreneur, but the now-77-year-old retiree spends most of his time with his youth group, which doesn’t pay the bills.
He’s been met with roadblocks at every turn, he said, specifically from inspectors. Ultimately, they weren’t satisfied with the repairs.
He’s not the only one.
Charlie Gordon Wade III, one of the plaintiffs who is no longer on the suit, had property located in Mitchelltown Historic District, a majority-white area. The property, formerly used as one of Wade’s rental properties, is listed as a historic structure and did not make the top 50 list to be condemned. However, it was still placed on the list for demolition “and moved ahead of other properties on that list to be scheduled for demolition because he’s Black,” he alleged in the lawsuit.
The city admits Wade’s property was not on the top 50 list, but the structure was among the 150 properties identified by the city as eligible for immediate condemnation.
Wade, who moved away from Kinston years ago, said he’s been harassed by officials in the building department. They also forced his tenants to move out, he said. Even when he made repairs to his property, the building inspectors told him, “I had the wrong contractors.”
Wade said it was an effort to force him to give away his property to white developers in the area. Already, the local arts council, in collaboration with the city, received $650,000 to revitalize Mitchelltown, where an African American Music Trail music park will be.
One official “came to me one day and said you can just go ahead and sign your property over to the city of Kinston. We will stop this, and we will stop fining you for stuff,” he said. “I told him I would never do that … not give away my property for free.”
Wade, 61, eventually dropped out of the suit. The multiple 90-minute drives from Raleigh to Kinston and lawsuit fees cost him too much. He sold the property for $1,500, a significant loss, to get “peace of mind.”
“I didn’t want to sell my property because I work hard for my property, and it’s family property. I have kids and I would like to leave my kids something in the future like this,” he told Capital B. “I got tired of the letters coming. I got tired of having to meet in front of the City Council like I was a thief taking something just trying to have my own property.”
The property of the third plaintiff, Curtis Washington, was also not included in the list originally because it is a commercial building. However, “after the top 50 list was created, it was noticed that the building is near collapse … and it was prioritized for condemnation,” according to city officials in court filings.
Why the sudden push to demolish properties?
Adam Short, a former planning director who now works for Lenoir County, testified that the city began appropriating funds designated for demolition in 2013 after owners failed to make their own repairs. But, in 2017, Kinston ramped up its efforts to take “a more targeted approach” to improve the appearance of neighborhoods by condemning and demolishing “blighted houses.” The city increased its demolition fund from $50,000 to $125,000 in 2018.
Even though Askew and Wade’s properties are listed on the National Register, there aren’t many protections for such properties unless there is federal involvement such as funding, licensing, permitting, or oversight.
On the local level, municipalities create their own regulations regarding condemnation and demolition, according to Lauren A. Poole, historic preservation specialist with the North Carolina State Historic Preservation’s Eastern Office. In other words, if Askew wanted additional help to improve and protect his historic properties, he would have to contact the state’s preservation office to find resources or apply for the federal government’s Historic Rehabilitation Tax Credit Program.
Similar to many government programs, the process takes time, and grants have strict requirements.
In some places, city councils are reversing the harm of condemnation and demolition of homes in historic areas as a result of legal action. Earlier this year, the Dallas City Council rescinded a 2010 ordinance that allowed demolition of homes less than 3,000 square feet in historic districts to prevent blight and increase public health and safety. The ordinance disproportionately affected Black and brown lower income residents. The decision comes on the heels of a lawsuit filed by residents from the Tenth Street Historic District, one of the few remaining freedmen’s towns left in the nation.
This brings Askew hope. He jokes that if the city tears down his buildings, they’re “gonna have to tear me down with it.” No matter what happens, he won’t be defeated, he said. “I have to pray daily for strength for myself to take on a municipality or another arm of the government because if I don’t, then these injustices will continue on,” Askew said. “I can’t live my life knowing when I see something wrong and do nothing. No, I don’t sleep good at night, but when I know I fought a good fight — it’s just like the Bible — you don’t worry about what’s going to happen to you as long as you know that what you’re doing is right.”
