As a Black woman in urban planning, I carry both the professional responsibility to plan and the personal responsibility to remember the truth of our past. That truth is often uncomfortable. It is frequently rewritten, watered down, or conveniently erased to fit a narrative that says racism in housing is a thing of the past. It is not.

For decades, federal, state, and local policies explicitly denied Black families access to land and homeownership — the most reliable path to building generational wealth in America. The Federal Housing Administration once refused to insure loans in Black neighborhoods, a practice known as redlining. Racially restrictive covenants kept Black families from buying in certain areas, and when Black communities did build wealth, “urban renewal” projects bulldozed homes to make way for highways, stadiums, and speculative development. Trenton was and is not exempt from these practices that took place.

Jane Jacobs’ book, The Death and Life of Great American Cities, explains this very well. Richard Rothstein’s groundbreaking book The Color of Law meticulously documents how these policies were not just the result of individual prejudice but deliberate acts of government policy
that segregated our cities by design. His research confirms what many of us have always known: segregation is not accidental — it was planned.

The legacy of these policies didn’t vanish with the Fair Housing Act of 1968. It lives on in today’s predatory lending practices, in the foreclosure crisis that disproportionately stripped Black families of their homes, and in modern zoning laws that quietly exclude low- and moderate-income residents. These are not historical footnotes — they are the structural realities we work with every day.

And yet, I still encounter colleagues, policymakers, and even fellow planners who resist acknowledging that these inequities are the result of deliberate policy choices. We are conditioned to accept the myth that our housing markets are “colorblind” now. But history is not just a backdrop — it is the foundation on which current inequities stand. This denial has consequences. When we erase history, we also erase the urgency to correct its harm. In my work, I see the direct line between historic land theft and today’s gentrification
pressures. I see the connection between discriminatory lending and the lack of affordable housing, and I see how planning decisions, made without confronting these truths, perpetuate the very inequities we claim to oppose.

Urban planning must be more than drawing maps and writing zoning codes. It must be a tool of repair. That means acknowledging the racist roots of land use policy, addressing their ongoing impact, and committing to policies that prioritize equity over profit. This isn’t about “dwelling in the past” — it’s about building a future that isn’t built on the same old lies.

Call to Action

We must demand that every housing and land use policy — from zoning reform to housing subsidies — be reviewed through a racial equity lens. We must require that decision-makers understand the history outlined in “The Color of Law” and recognize their responsibility to undo its lasting harm. Community members, advocates, and policymakers must work together to create inclusive, reparative strategies that prioritize affordable housing, protect residents from displacement, and expand access to land for historically excluded communities. The truth is not optional. If we are serious about equity, we must face our history head-on —and plan, intentionally, for a different ending.

Dedication

This piece is dedicated to my mother, Laurice, my only true champion in both my work in Urban Planning and in Recovery, and in our African American history embedded in the fight against racism.

She was a pioneer in her own right — a guide, a planner, and a truth teller. She helped grow me into a community organizer and a fighter for justice and fairness. I will miss her guidance and her leadership, but I remain assured in what she taught me and confirmed through the life she lived. Her work was rooted in justice and truth, and I am honored to continue to ride this wave. She taught me well, and I will carry her legacy forward.