Across generations, Black families strived to secure land they could pass down to their children. Take Captain William Smith, for example. After breaking free from slavery and serving in the Civil War, Smith saved up enough to buy property on Gwynn’s Island in Virginia. His family became middle-to-upper class due to their agricultural businesses, an anomaly for Black people in the 1800s and 1900s. However, in Jim Crow fashion, they were run out of their home and forced to leave their land and belongings behind.
The Smith Family’s Generational Land
Similarly, a picturesque white house nestled on a 60-acre chunk of land sits in Nakina, North Carolina. A sign that reads “Roland Smith Lane” signals you’re on the right path as you make your way to it. This property is special and serves as a generational retreat for the Smith family.
The sprawling acres are more than just a piece of land—it’s a testament to the Smiths’ dedication to keeping their family history alive. Despite constant offers from developers, Evelyn S. Booker and her seven siblings, heirs to the land, stand firm in preserving their family legacy.
They’re bombarded with weekly letters and texts from eager investors, Booker tells NBC News.
Back in 1910, African Americans, including the Smith family’s ancestors, owned a whopping 16-19 million acres of rural land, according to the USDA Economic Research Service. But over the years, 90% of that vanished due to systemic racism. The land was lost to threats, coercion, and exclusion from programs designed to aid white landowners during tough times like the Great Depression, according to NBC News.
The Rights to Land
In the South, where racial tensions ran high, many Black families struggled to secure their property rights. Without written wills, legal systems and local governments often turn a blind eye. They leave families to rely on informal methods, like word of mouth, to pass down land. But instead of securing future prosperity, the lack of official documentation leads to court hearings and a lot of land loss.
This is where “heirs’ property hunters” come in—developers who prey on families caught in these murky ownership battles.
These hunters depend on the chaos of informal ownership setups. With each passing generation, the number of heirs grows, muddying the waters even more. Without clear documentation, each owner only owns a fraction of property on their generational land. The split property makes it easy for a hunter to swoop in, snatch up one heir’s share, and drag the rest into court battles.
“The rate of — and I’m going to call it what I think it is: land theft — is not only egregious but should be considered criminal and is being exploited by people with legal backgrounds, ties to local tax offices, and courts,” said Ryan Thomson, an assistant professor of agriculture economics and sociology at Auburn University in Alabama to NBC News.
Black Landowners Security
Evelyn Booker knows this game all too well. She is urging other Black landowners to do the work to secure their property rights through proper channels. Her family’s story is one of resilience. Her grandfather bought the land and left it to his children who passed it down to Booker and her siblings.
Growing up, Booker saw the challenges Black landowners faced trying to secure generational land. However, despite the hurdles, the connection to their land runs deep. Her great-niece, whose film “Bug Hill” captures the essence of their family’s bond with the land has been featured at festivals and on PBS.
“You can feel the presence of our parents when you’re there,” Booker says. “So much history’s happened on those 60 acres. We’re not letting go of any of it,” she told NBC News.