The Oldest Black Town In America In Danger Of Being Washed Away By Floods

The land was allocated to Black people in the 19th century because it was considered too flood-prone by whites.

Princeville, North Carolina, the oldest town founded by Black people in America, is currently at a crossroads due to a convergence of climate change, disaster, and disinvestment. The land, initially allocated to Black people in the 19th century because it was considered too flood-prone by whites, now presents residents with two choices: Stay and continue facing potential flooding each hurricane season, or relocate to safer areas.

According to Fast Company, 2016’s Hurricane Matthew dealt the town a blow it’s still struggling to recover from. Following the hurricane, the town’s residents were presented with a few options: staying on the land, taking government buyouts to relocate families, or attempting to move the entire town to higher ground. However, a lack of funding and disagreements among the town’s leaders resulted in no action being taken as residents slowly left, despite its rich and storied history.

Although the town eventually received millions from Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) to rebuild on higher ground, a project by the Army Corps of Engineers to repair the levees has stalled, making relocation even more appealing to those who can afford it.

This situation makes some of the residents’ attachment to the town seem questionable, even the town’s mayor, Bobbie Jones, flatly told Grist in 2016 that he was uninterested in a solution that involved moving the town. “We’re open to expansion, but we are not going to leave.”

Jones also explained to the Washington Post in January why those who choose to stay are so determined: “They say, ‘This is who we are. This is sacred ground. Our forefathers shed blood, sweat, and tears here.'”

According to Grist, “Princeville is caught between rebuilding and retreating, unable to bring all its residents back but also unable to convince them all to move somewhere safer and more stable.”

The outlet continued, “Disasters like those brought by Hurricane Matthew don’t lead to complete rebuilds or complete retreats. Instead they condemn towns like Princeville to a kind of indefinite limbo, trapping them between the future and the past.”

This is evidenced by the over decade-long stalemate the Army Corps has been mired in. Meanwhile, the town has steadily lost residents who lack faith that the government will act in time to save their homes or lives in the event of another so-called “100-year flood.” This term is meant to describe a rare event, but as recent disasters like Hurricane Harvey in Houston have shown, these floods are occurring more frequently.

Though Jones is firmly against buyouts, some community members accepted them due to concerns about the town’s ability to withstand another massive flood. In a way, FEMA hedged its bets by funding both the rebuilding of homes and offering buyout funds for those who wished to leave. These contradictory efforts reflected the residents’ divisions, with some wanting to stay, others preferring to relocate to higher ground, and still others simply focused on survival.

According to Amanda Martin, the chief resilience officer in the North Carolina Office of Recovery and Resiliency, it has been impossible to coordinate a unified response even years post-Matthew.

“After Floyd, it was seen much more as ‘one or the other’ between the [levee] and the buyouts, but the situation is a little bit more complicated this time around. These decisions are being made by so many different people, with so many different funding sources,” Martin told Grist. ”We don’t have the tools or the framework to make them as interdependent kinds of decisions. No one’s able to make a decision that’s informed by anything other than what they have right in front of them.”

Calvin Adkins, a lifelong resident of the town, summed up his frustration with those who are allowing sentimentality to interfere with practicality.

“I don’t want to go through another flood. The anticipation of knowing or not knowing if it’s going to flood, it’s devastating” Adkins said. “That doesn’t take away from my love for Princeville. I love Princeville, but I gotta love me better. What do you think Turner Prince would do?” Adkins told Grist in 2022. “Do you think Turner Prince would allow his people to stay in a flooded area, given the chance to move? My answer would be no. He’d say, ‘As sacred as those grounds are, we can’t stay here.’”