Chiz’s of Heart Street
Outside of Chiz’s Heart Street on Washington Ave there is a blossoming pink flower tree and tulips lining the houses. Sharon “Chiz” Chisholm, the single woman who started Chiz’s of Heart Street said that having beautiful things reminds people that they’re beautiful. Since the global pandemic started, the people who live at the houses known as Chiz’s—mostly people with schizophrenia or people who are healing from dependency from drugs—have been increasingly anxious and angry. All Chiz can do is keep going.
Her Facebook is full of posts about her residents, even her profile picture is a former resident, Geoffrey Light. “He really wants to come back. Because as crazy as this may seem, this is their home.” said Chisholm, talking about Light. She moved from San Diego to Kingston about 20 years ago. When she received a degree in mechanical engineering from San Diego State, she worked at night so that she could be out on the street helping the homeless during the day.
Watercolor rendition of Geoffrey Light on Chisholm’s Facebook.
In Kingston, Chisholm began working with residents at a house on West Chestnut as well as residents on Washington Avenue. After about six months of going between the two houses, she moved all the residents from West Chestnut over to Washington Avenue, which is where Chiz’s Heart Street sits today.
But not for long, the residents along with Chisholm will be moving out June 30 at the request of the landlord, Stockade Group LLC, which will be renovating the home and turning it into a boarding home or an Airbnb, Chisholm said.
So far three-quarters of the people living in the home have places to live after they are displaced. Some people have left on their own accord. The process involves Chisholm calling a number of housing agencies and filling out the proper paperwork for more than 50 residents. Many of the rehoming services are not helpful. “People don’t understand schizophrenia, so they’re afraid of it. So it’s easier to try to get rid of it.” said Chisholm.
Chisholm will be moving to Massachusetts after June 30. She said that her new apartment isn’t the best— but it does have a great view of the river and a backdoor—and it is better than her 100 sq ft room she’s slept in for eight years. “This is a lot more emotional than I let on,” Chisholm said, her voice cracking. “The suffering on people’s faces. They’re trusting me to make sure they get to where they need to be.”
“The suffering on people’s faces. They’re trusting me to make sure they get to where they need to be.”
Gentrification in Kingston
Out of the five houses on Washington Ave, only the one with the food pantry will remain. Chisholm said that only one neighbor she can think of will be happy about them dispersing. Gentrification wasn’t the goal but it was the byproduct, she said.
Last year, Kwame Holmes, the director of the Kingston Housing Lab and a scholar-in-residence in the human rights program at Bard who studies gentrification and displacement in Washington D.C. and the Hudson Valley, completed a study on the price of Airbnbs in Midtown Kingston, which is where Chiz’s is located.
Compared to the average renting price of properties in that area, he and his students found that over half of the properties in Midtown were owned by non-locals and the properties in question were selling for 300% more than the average long-term rental. Called a “hidden gem” of the Hudson Valley, Kingston is being gentrified as a tourist destination, rather than a long-term home for people not just living in NYC but all across the country.
A map of gentrification of Midtown Kingston from Bard News. There are 275 black dots representing non-local owners of 481 total properties. This information was compiled by Kwame Holmes and his students as part of the class Urban Abandonment: A Housing Justice Lab. Courtesy of https://www.bard.edu/news/bard-college-human-rights-professor-and-students-study-urban-displacement-and-gentrification-with-kingston-housing-lab-2020-06-23.
Holmes said that what’s central to the gentrification in both Kingston and D.C. is that land developers held onto property and waited for people’s taste to shift. In D.C. there was a shift towards fast-paced city life and Kingston there was the opposite, a shift towards suburbia. A mainstay for gentrification is land owners trying to make a profit when they see an opportunity, instead of renting to poor residents—they sell to wealthier customers.
To address the crisis in the housing market in Ulster County, the government released the Ulster County Housing Action Plan, which found that 13 percent of homeowners and 30 percent of renters are rent burdened, meaning they spend more than half of their income on rent. In Kingston, The median price of houses is 111% of the average salary, meaning that affording a home is nearly impossible for its residents, reported the plan.
A crisis can exacerbate gentrification and displacement because it causes large shifts in population. “There was a big buy up of land after 911 in the Hudson Valley. There's COVID Of course which is accelerating things,” said Holmes. “Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans in 2005 cleared out so many people from the poor areas and scattered them all over the country.”
Historical Displacement
Those who have visited the city of Kingston may have seen the term “stockade” in relation to the uptown part of Kingston. As part of the colony of New York, Kingston originated as a fort or a stockade—hence the name, Stockade District—for Dutch families at the end of the 1600s and the beginning of the 1700s. The fort stretched eight blocks bordered by Green Street from the west, Clinton Avenue from the east, Main Street from the south and North Front Street in the north. These eight blocks were a strategic location for the Dutch colonizers because it was located on a hill and would protect them from flooding from the nearby Esopus Creek and Indigenous people protecting their own land. The fort and population expanded from several Dutch families into a bustling city of 20,000 by the late 1700s, with one-fifth of the population enslaved Black Indigenous People of Color.
On Munsee-Lenape land, also known as Ulster County, people who were enslaved were forced to do farm work or housework. New York had one of the strictest laws against BIPOC congregating outside of work—only 13 people could gather at ceremonies including the people burying the deceased—in case the people wanted to revolt.
Since 1697 those who were enslaved were barred from being buried at churches in New York. They would have to be buried on the property which they worked on or in mass graves. Sometimes marked with bluestone and sometimes unmarked, the final resting place for the individuals who built and raised up Kingston were located on a plot in a common ground called the Armbowery, which ran from St. James St to Greenkill Ave, and was for public use for agriculture and gardening. That specific plot was chosen because it could not be used for agriculture and it is the Pine Street African Burial Ground as we know it today.
A rough estimate of the Armbowery today. Diamond said that the Armbowery would look something like this but with less clearly defined edges.
The original Pine St cemetery is larger than the 157 Pine St and 149-153 Rear Pine property it sits on today and the graves stretch all the way to Fair St and into the back and front yards of adjacent homes. In 1990, Joe Diamond, an archaeologist at SUNY New Paltz, tried to locate the Pine St cemetery with a 1870 map marking its spot. When him and the Kingston historian at the time, Ed Ford, arrived at the corresponding place, there was nothing there. Coincidentally, Diamond’s friend from high school happened to live near the presumptive cemetery. When Diamond told him he was trying to find a cemetery, his friend returned with a box of bones. Another owner on the same street also turned in bones. With the cemetery marked on the map and a number of bones turned in, there was strong evidence to suggest that this burial ground was real. Leading archaeologists, including Diamond, are still unsure of the exact size until they excavate the site. Many remain unaware of this history in the heart of Kingston.
A map of the Pine St Cemetery from Diamond’s report, Forgotten in Life, Forgotten in Death.
Even if there are no bones or gravemarkers you cannot avoid stepping over bodies; the blood, sweat and bones of merchants, seamstresses, chiefs, farmers, mothers, fathers, siblings from Africa who were worked to death while being forced to support the colony on their backs.
At some point, Pine Street was no longer used as a resting place. In the latter half of the 1800s, when the city of Kingston expanded, parts of the Armbowery began being sold as lots to private owners. By 1880, the resting place on Pine St. had been covered by a lumberyard and forced newcomers to be buried at the Mt. Zion cemetery, ending a hundred-year tradition of burials.
The Houghtalling family owned most of the Armbowery and the family’s cemetery, the Houghtalling cemetery, was located right across the street from the Pine St cemetery. The Houghtalling cemetery only buried white people from 1846 until 1970 when it was dug up and moved to a mass grave in another all-white cemetery, the Old Dutch Church Cemetery.
The church itself was rebuilt several times, dating back to 1660. It played a role in governing the city of Kingston in those days, and it had affluent parishioners, with the likes of George Washington visiting at one time. Many of its followers enslaved people for forced labor. The cemetery’s first burial was in 1650 and its last one around 1880.
There are birth records, death records, marriage certificates along with other documentation at the church’s archives dating back to its origins. The presence of carefully engraved gravemarkers and documentation allows paritioners to track their lineage generations before them, unlike the descendants of people who were enslaved who typically have no gravemarkers or documentation to follow due to efforts from colonizers to erase the real history of this area.
Apology written by the Old Dutch Church that was read at the rededication ceremony for the Mt. Zion Cemetery. Courtesy of https://kingstonburialgrounds.wordpress.com/.
On June 5, 2011, the Mt. Zion Cemetery was rededicated to the families buried there, folks who are BIPOC with French and Dutch last names. Rebecca Martin, the former director of the Kingston Land Trust, called Sweeney one day asking for chairs for the ceremony. Sweeney said that he wanted to do more than give chairs to the ceremony, he wanted to apologise on behalf of his ancestors. Sweeney, along with Reverend Kenneth Walsh wrote the apology. Everyone involved had a sense of guilt when writing it, said Sweeney. “We have to do this because at some point this institution, which we represent, thought that these people were less than human and couldn’t be buried in the same plot. So you have to come to terms with that and you have to be able to to beat that out,” said Sweeney. “And then we have to say something.” The apology was based on the Belhar Confession, written by the Dutch Reformed Mission Church in South Africa, which condemns separation based on color. Sweeney said that he wasn’t sure how the community would take the letter and if they would accept the apology. “Admit you're wrong, because that's what this is about. Until with a little trepidation, you wonder what the community will receive,” said Sweeney. “Whether it just happened for one day, it's read, and it sort of goes away, or whether it is useful. And what I have learned is that this was useful.”
Pine St African Burial Ground
There was a fresh layer of snow on the ground and everyone was bundled up head to toe—snow boots, gloves, winter hats— you name it. On that winter morning, a crowd slipped behind the house on Pine St painted with the pan african colors, which symbolize a bridging of culture from Africa to the U.S., for the transfer of easement ceremony for the Pine Street African Burial Ground.
In 2019, the Kingston Land Trust bought the Pine St cemetery outright in the name of Harambee, an organization which focuses on promoting the strength of the community through events. Under NYS conservation law, as a land trust, the KLT could ensure forever protection of Pine St with an easement. In 2021, Harambee received the easement, which they now can grant to any other land trust at any time. Julia Farr, the current executive director of the KLT said that by having the easement, the KLT was essentially hired to protect the sacred grounds by Harambee. The ceremony would mark the beginning of Harambee’s full ownership of both the title to land and the conservation easement.
Members of the community, Harambee and media gathered to witness the transfer. Those who came to the ceremony stood in a circle— a Harambee circle— while various speakers stood in the center of the circle to address the crowd. The main speaker was Tyrone Wilson, the founder and CEO of Harambee. The ceremony was filled with emotions and ended with Wilson signing the transfer document.
At the ceremony, Wilson (right) signed the transfer of easement at the table with the lawyer from Scenic Hudson (left).
Tamika Dunkley, a member of the board of Harambee, a registered nurse and entrepreneur, said that she had never seen Wilson tear up like he did at the ceremony and it was the weight of the journey and the recognition of ancestral trauma that caused it.
Dunkley first got involved with the Pine St burial ground when Wilson told her he was fundraising to purchase the burial grounds. Dunkley felt a duty to help with the fundraising. “I'm only two generations removed from slavery that means my father, my grandfather weren't slaves but that's that's it,” she said. “I have such strong roots in the historical context of it. It was more of, we know this exists but what can I do to address some of this injustice and uplift my ancestors?”
Dunkley said that the history of the cemetery is not just her community’s history but it is also world history. Uncovering and unearthing history that’s been covered up is incredible, she said.
Physical evidence of gentrification is blatant— bougier shops that no one but tourists can afford, restaurants with small portions and even larger bills, more wealthy residents replacing ones with generations of roots— but there are lasting effects just beneath the surface. In the process of unhoming, the bonds between people and places are severed. Displacement, the authors write, “involves forms of social, economic and cultural transition which alienate established populations.”
In the 1990s, Diamond’s research had little traction with the Kingston city council, which wanted to see evidence of the graveyard through the presence of gravemarkers but there were no gravemarkers above ground because the site had been covered by a logging company. A lack of documentation and mistreatment of the site wiped its existence from public consciousness. It was not until Harambee’s black history month events that Pine St gained public attention, said Farr.
A watercolor portrait of Tamika Dunkely.
One of Dunkely’s favorite quotes is, “A people without history is like a tree without roots.” She said that after her ancestors were worked to death, uncovering them can expose stories and connections. These connections to people living now and warrior ancestors allows children to know how strong, how incredible and how powerful they are. “We don't want to disturb anyone's resting place but let me ask you, were they actually laid to rest?” she said. “The consideration was our babies were alligator bait. The whole game at carnivals where you could throw balls at clowns-- well that was black folks back in the day. People don't understand the trauma.”
There is power in ownership, Dunkley said, and since her ancestors were treated like property— used and thrown away—it’s only right that she be able to uplift and honor her ancestors. “We can go into reparations on a different day. We take ownership and accountability of the people and the trauma and recognize, but now it's our turn to uplift and honor and tries to give these give these folks some spiritual upliftment because I truly believe that they're protecting us and they're, they're still there.”
When Sharline Bevier, the treasurer of Harambee, was working at the house on Pine St, putting away landscaping equipment that the neighbors had given them, she noticed a cluster of Crocus flowers, lilac flowers with delicate and dainty lettuce-hemmed petals, popping out in the center of the field. “Purple, to us, represents royalty. In my time I haven't seen that color anywhere around Kingston. And it was so heartwarming and oh my gosh, those are my ancestors, showing their royalty.“ Bevier said.
Bevier did research on her ex-husband’s family, the Beviers and discovered that his family descended from people who worked on the Bevier plantation in New Paltz. She wants to compare her DNA and her ex-husband and daughter’s DNA with the uncovered remains from the Pine St. African Burial Ground in the midtown of Kingston.
Archaeologists are working with Harambee to do facial reconstruction and a DNA analysis of the remains. Diamond said that physical stress shows up on the skeleton after death through muscle growths from overstraining, broken bones, fractures, inflammation in muscle attachments and suspects that the remains at Pine St may share similar characteristics.
The archaeological work will also be focusing on researching burial rituals. The team of SUNY New Paltz archaeologists and students are looking to find anything buried with the people at Pine St like necklaces, medicine bottles, beads and metallic objects.
In 1990, the plot of land that the burial ground sits on cost $29,000. The first attempt at securing the land led to only $12,000 being raised. Before they tried fundraising to purchase it from someone from Ellenville who had bought the land, the plot was going to be bulldozed to be turned into a parking lot. Luckily, the development of the land was stagnant because the bank could not track down the owner, said Farr. It took coordination between contacting the bank and the mayor to hold the property until the KLT and Harambee could raise money to purchase it from the bank.
The KLT and Harambee fundraised for two years to purchase the property and land for $127,500 in 2019. Ever since the land was covered by a log-mill in the late 1800s, this place of mass burial was thought to be private property.
The gentrification of Midtown Kingston is not an isolated event, but the continuation of colonialism. The 2008 paper, “Gentrification: the new colonialism in the modern era” by Jonathan Wharton draws connections between gentrification and colonialism, comparing the developers, realtors, bankers, investors to elite colonizers and the young urban professionals “yuppies” to those on the Atlantic New World and the western frontier. He said that both gentrification and colonialism require a economically advantaged few to systematically displace groups for economic and political power. An attachment to landownership and displacing long-time residents is the underbelly of exploitation and colonization. “Gentrification is in essence the new paradigm of colonizing the urban core in the twenty-first century.”
Erica Brown, a community engagement organizer at Radio Kingston and a community leader on the board of the Kingston Land Trust and many other organizations said that just like colonizers, the gentrifiers— the bougie cocktail bar and boutique owners— never asked what the community needed, they brought what they wanted into the city. “What they loved about Kingston was what they brought here, not what was already existing,” said Brown. “Especially hyper locally what's happening in Kingston is a form of colonization.”
Displaced: Beetle Bailey
Beetle Bailey said the first half of their life seemed like a distant movie. Their family, originally from Trinidad, lived in a brownstone off of Prospect park for three generations. When they were behind on tax payments their landlord evicted them. Them and their family spent the next few months feverishly packing their bags. Fully moved out of their childhood home and temporarily staying with their uncle and mother in their uncle’s Long Island home, Bailey had the stomach flu for five days— running from the bathroom to their bed to throw up and only waking up from a deep sleep to drink water, unable to keep their eyes open without having a slamming headache—for the two days following that they could only stomach toast and tea.
On Long Island, they held down a couple of odd jobs and on some days found it hard to get out of bed. The only thing keeping Bailey on their feet was the two libraries they went to, one which was six blocks away, and the other which was more than a mile away. In the 90s, they lived in a house in midtown Kingston as a permanent home with their uncle but soon enough, the taxes on that house were too high and they had to leave.
Holmes said that in the case of D.C. in the 90s, the pioneer gentrifiers were artists in D.C. looking for temporary housing. For Kingston this is the most recent wave, the gentrifiers are people who had moved to Brooklyn who could no longer afford or stand New York city during the global pandemic.
Bailey and their mother were moved into a welfare motel called the King’s Inn nearly two blocks from their uncle’s former home. Their strongest memory of that experience is dealing with a cockroach infestation from a new neighbor moving in. Cockroaches would crawl from their neighbor’s room into their room from under the door. The mother and child duo tried to block the door with towels and lysol spray but for the next few weeks, Bailey could not sleep considering they had the bed closest to the door.
A year later, Bailey was able to move into a single family home, now split into three rentals, with their mother. They were extremely careful about not bringing in the cockroach infestation to their new apartment. Considering it was their fourth move, they had very little furniture and mostly jut bags of clothes. “We basically lost like two, three generations worth of stuff because the city took that and hauled it off like it was trashed,” said Bailey. “But a lot of that stuff was furniture that somebody made for us or that, my grandparents got when they first came here from the West Indies, things they brought over from the West Indies, my grandmother's jewelry my grandfather's this, you know, things that my aunt had or made and, you know, like, none of it was garbage.”
Losing home after home and ending up homeless and displaced is a typical path of gentrification. This is happening all over Kingston and especially the Midtown section of Kingston, which is the most racially-diverse part of the city. Bailey said that the people living around them look different, drive Subarus, have bike and canoe racks on their cars now. “It's like, oh, we're just waiting for you to leave. Let me check my watch.”
“It’s like, oh, we’re just waiting for you to leave. Let me check my watch.”