It’s A Family Affair Part 1: The House
Photos from Harper Family Archives . Originally printed in AphroChic magazine Issue 1, Fall 2019.
At the beginning of 1956, the Belfield area of Philadelphia was a predominantly white part of the city. With few exceptions, just about all of the African Americans to be found there were domestic workers, coming in and out of houses as they finished their work as maids. But in October of that year, a new family arrived. Made up of three generations — a grandmother, her four children, and two grandchildren — they were only the second Black family to move onto the block.
My mother was a few days past her seventh birthday when she moved with her family into the new house. They came from North Philadelphia, and a house where they had lived along with even more family members. Purchasing the new home had been a group effort — one that required the whole family to pool their money together. But a new home meant new possibilities, and buying the home in Belfield eventually led to the purchase of others. The home was a row house, something of a staple in Philadelphia. Row homes are attached houses, appointed with sizable front yards and smaller back lots. With three-stories, three bedrooms, and a full basement, it was large enough for a family of six to live in comfortably. And over the next six decades, “the house,” as we’ve always called it, has been a cornerstone for my family.
A place for holidays and casual visits, a place for kids to run and for pets to live, a perfect place for being together at any time and for any reason. While the list of occupants has changed over time, the house has always been ours and it’s always been there for anyone who needed it. Someone moving up from the South? They can stay at the house. A grandchild in need of a place to live after college? There’s room at the house. A new baby on the way, a friend in need — there is always room for family at the house. My family’s house is unique, but it’s far from being the only one of its kind. The Black family home is a significant cultural institution in America. So many of us recognize the warm feeling that comes from thinking of that one special house where the family can always be found.
For people like my great-grandmother Lola Harper, affectionally called “Mama,” and her children, home ownership was not an easy path. Covenants that barred ownership and access to specific neighborhoods were common across the country in the 1950s and before. To purchase a home was a challenge, but well worth it, as ownership provided security for the family. It gave you something to call your own, something to pass down to future generations.
Today, this institution is in danger. According to the US Census Bureau, home ownership among Black families dropped in 2019 to 40.6%, the lowest it’s been since 1950. Beginning in 2007, the decline marks the complete erasure of progress made since the 1968 Fair Housing Act, which barred the discriminatory real estate practices that had always disenfranchised Black people seeking to own their own homes. Causes for the losses include predatory lending practices, subprime mortgages, and struggles with upkeep, but behind them all are many of the same attitudes that created barriers to Black home ownership in the past. For many Black families, “the house” is in danger of being lost.
To preserve our family home of 63 years, we began an effort to update the space to keep it in good repair for years to come. The process has been an ethnographic study of my family, the community, and the importance of ensuring that the Black home remains a family affair.
My mother was a child when she first moved into the house. Years later, she would inherit it from her mother as her mother had inherited it from Mama. Today, my sister lives there with her husband and son; and my wife and I continue the home’s legacy by being stewards for the next generation that will certainly call it home.
