By: Roy Douglas Malonson
It’s a story that has repeated itself across genera- tions: Black families worked hard to secure land, only to have it taken through systemic practices and later sold to developers for profit. Today, that cycle continues—only now, the very land that was lost is being sold back at luxury prices that many of the original residents could never afford.
From Third Ward to Freedmen’s Town, Houston’s historically Black neighborhoods are in the middle of a modern land war—one fought with rising property taxes, investor buyouts, and zoning decisions. What was once land passed down through generations is being snapped up by developers, flipped, and marketed as high-end real estate. The people who built these neighborhoods are being priced out—and told they should be grateful for the “revitalization.”
Over a century ago, Black Americans steadily acquired land, particularly in the South. After emancipation, land ownership was viewed as a key to freedom, stability, and wealth. By 1910, Black farmers owned over 14 million acres. But through a combination of legal loopholes, intimidation, and predatory development practices, 90% of that land has been lost.
One of the major culprits is a system known as heirs’ property. After slavery, many Black families inherited land informally,
without wills or official documentation. Over time, as land was passed down through generations, ownership became divided among dozens of descendants. Without clear title, families were left vulnerable to forced sales. Developers could buy a share from just one heir and use the courts to force the rest to sell. This tactic has been used in Texas, including Harris County, to displace Black families from their ancestral homes.
In Houston’s Third Ward, the effects are visible and dramatic. This historically Black neighborhood, once a thriving hub of community and culture, has become a hotspot for real estate investors. Reports show that large swaths of land are now owned by out-of-state companies or anonymous LLCs. Properties that once sold for under $100,000 are being redeveloped and listed at over $500,000. New residents move in, taxes skyrocket, and longtime homeowners are left to choose between keeping the family house or losing it to foreclosure.
For many, keeping the land isn’t even an option. The pressure to sell can be relentless, especially for elderly residents on fixed incomes. And with property values rising so quickly, some families feel forced to cash out, even when they’d prefer to stay. It’s a painful choice: give up your legacy or drown in debt trying to save it.
Just west of downtown in Freedmen’s Town, a similar story is unfolding. Established by formerly enslaved people in the late 1800s, the area was once the epicenter of Black life in Houston. Today, Freedmen’s Town is barely recognizable. Luxury townhomes stand where shotgun houses once lined the streets. Developers even paved over historic brick roads laid by freedmen.
But the narrative of progress often ignores the people who built the foundation.
While some efforts have been made to preserve what’s left—through community land trusts, historic preservation grants, and city-led initiatives— the pace of development far outpaces protection. And without widespread legal reform, the conditions that al- lowed this land loss to happen remain in place.
What’s being lost isn’t just property— it’s history, wealth, and identity. Land ownership has always been a corner- stone of economic independence. When Black families lose their land, they lose leverage, stability, and the ability to pass something down. And when they’re priced out of the neighborhoods their ancestors built, it sends a message: your legacy has no place here.
Some local organizations are pushing back. Legal clinics are working with families to secure clear title and prevent forced sales. Nonprofits are organizing to buy back land and hold it in community trusts. And activists are demanding accountability from city leaders who ap- prove zoning changes and development plans without community input.
But the struggle is uphill—and urgent. Every year, more properties are flipped, more families displaced, and more communities erased.
The story of land loss isn’t just about acres and dollars. It’s about power. It’s about who gets to stay, who gets to leave, and who gets to profit.
And for Black Houstonians, it’s about reclaiming what was taken—and making sure the next generation doesn’t have to buy back their birthright.
