27 Perdicaris Place and its previous owner, Mr. Jones, remind you of something so familiar. Mr. Jones' “old school” values called to mind the memories of blood Uncles and neighborhood Uncles. His compass and morality guided our shared understandings of legacies and histories of dehumanization- where “us in our identities” were not welcomed nor received.

In the midst of a growing housing crisis in America, widening wealth gaps, and economically segregated neighborhoods, the hope of planting roots in a neighborhood through home ownership has been relegated to just dreams surrounded by nice rhetoric. This was quickly realized after missing a total of 3 closings. Trying to convince lending institutions, all who have probably read The Color of Law, of the value of neighborhoods that still suffer from the stigmatization of being considered unworthy or undesirable.  Despite what these neighborhoods and their backyards mean to those of us who fight hard to want to stay and invest in our communities, our vision of home continues to mean nothing to an appraisal system that does not see what we see.

On the heels of the uprising around the murder of George Floyd, you would believe all those lofty words about investments into this or that or a fund to advance equity, sustainability, and growth, racial and beyond; NO ONE could offer a solution to overcome the appraisal and financial barrier that would allow for the purchase and restoration of a home that suffers from decades of redlining and other disinvestment. No one showed up. No one helped. No one empathized. It brought to mind the words of Isabella Wilkerson in her book The Warmth of Other Suns: “It occurred to me that no matter where I lived, geography could not save me.” from these legacies. It triggered the same trauma of the expectation of people showing up to our communities during the uprising, HIV/AIDS epidemic, or the crack and COVID epidemics that violently robbed us of the laughter of loved ones. 

With a swell of defeat placed on the shoulders and the suitcase of memories in hand, a call was placed to Mr. Jones to let him know, despite strong efforts- even making the argument that comps to the 27 house only 15 minutes away in Princeton with the same typology is valued at $3.8 million dollars- it did not matter to the consciousness of anyone this was explained to. Mr. Jones' words on that call captured that old-school faith in a better tomorrow. He said “we will figure this out. Just have faith because this is meant to be, and it is not easy when what we are trying to do is something that makes a difference in our community.” Tears could be tasted when the call ended- it should not be this hard to have peace and live. The hollowness of standing alone in disbelief that no one else senses this urgency of what is happening to neighborhoods across America that have impacted many of for generations. It makes you shrink into nothingness, especially for those who have played the game and accomplished so much despite coming from a place where no one expected us to amount to anything. All that is rendered insignificant because we still do not have the freedom to pursue life, liberty, and happiness where we choose to.  

Mr. Jones passed away two days after that conversation. His untimely death and his words sparked a different kind of fight for preserving a different kind of legacy. In honor of Mr. Jones, the 27 home was purchased despite not having any of the resources to make it habitable, and in the words of Mr. Jones, with the faith to “figure this out.”  

Well, that "figuring out" has led to the creation of This Land Project. Understanding that Freedom Isn’t Free we are using the 27 demonstration project to build a market alternative to “home ownership” where the ownership is communal- just like Tribal Nations had shown us. An equity trust creates an ownership model where a true sense of community and home can be activated beyond speculation. We are building upon past cooperative movements and today's current shared-equity movement to make the opportunity of ownership much more accessible by infusing design, a land trust, and a Real Estate Investment Trust.  

This is an opportunity to give others opportunities to unpack their suitcase of memories and nurture their sense of belonging. In doing so, we counter what others who have generationally imposed their psychology of seeing no value in us and our neighborhoods or the power of desegregation (until they see the value and have gone on to gentrify and flip our neighborhoods once we are all gone- a 21st-century form of economic redlining. We address the displacement movement of people and culture.

With the lemons, 27 has made lemonade, opening its doors to invite a rich and diverse community of people, offering a visceral understanding of both the collateral consequences of Redlining and disinvestment. Policies that did not begin under the New Deal but when the first boats landed on this continent. Where the indigenous cultures were considered undesirable and, through the violent acquisition of land, were confined and property rights restricted in their pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness. 

27 presents the opportunity to heal and reclaim land and culture. Here, we can recreate memories from yesterday, when houses were full of family and friends, where a head could find a couch pillow to rest easy upon, where cookouts, other meals, and the act of breaking bread would ensure food security, and where sitting on the stoop was a safe therapy session. It is a chance to memorialize and build our monument to our shared humanity.  

This Land Project and our first demonstration project, 27, offers “another way.” It becomes our bat signal to the superheroes of justice and equity everywhere. Making home more than a transaction but an extension of preserving culture, identity, and belonging.

Our goal is simple: to make neighborhoods reflect the democratic values many of us passionately believe in. How we define this "ecosystem of home" tells a story about how we practice democracy. Let's go beyond talk and dig deep—literally and figuratively—to build homes and neighborhoods that welcome everyone.

Today, we ask you to join us in this journey. Let's amplify a new deal with democracy, where WE means all the people. We can cultivate neighborhoods that are truly accessible to all.