Razing Africville

In the 1960s, the city of Halifax razed the black community of Africville under a program of urban renewal and 'slum clearance.' The city defended its actions by citing the deplorable living conditions in Africville, ignoring its own role in the creation of these conditions through years of neglect and the refusal of essential services. In the 1980s, the city created a park on Africville's former site, which has been a place of protest and commemoration for black citizens since its opening. As yet, however, the city has not issued a formal apology to Africville residents and has paid no further compensation. Razing Africville examines this history as the prolonged eviction of a community from its own space. By examining a variety of sources - urban planning texts, city council documents, news media, and academic accounts - Jennifer J. Nelson illustrates how Africville went from a slum to a problem to be solved and, more recently, to a public space in which past violence is rendered invisible. Reading historical texts as a critical map of decision-making, she argues that the ongoing measures taken to regulate black bodies and spaces amount to a 'geography of racism.' Through a geographic lens, therefore, she manages to analyse ways in which race requires space and how the control of space is a necessary component of delineating and controlling people. A much needed re-examination of an important historical example, Razing Africville applies contemporary spatial theory to the situation in Africville and offers critical observations about the function of racism.

By examining a variety of sources - urban planning texts, city council documents, news media, and academic accounts - Jennifer J. Nelson illustrates how Africville went from a slum to a problem to be solved and, more recently, to a public space in which past violence is rendered invisible.

In the mid 1960s the city of Halifax decided to relocate the inhabitants of Africville--a black community that had been transformed by civil neglect, mismanagement, and poor planning into one of the worst city slums in Canadian history. Africville is a sociological account of the relocation that reveals how lack of resources and inadequate planning led to devastating consequences for Africville relocatees. Africville is a work of painstaking scholarship that reveals in detail the social injustice that marked both the life and the death of the community. It became a classic work in Canadian sociology after its original publication in 1974. The third edition contains new material that enriches the original analysis, updates the account, and highlights the continuing importance of Africville to black consciousness in Nova Scotia.

Finalist for the Governor General’s Literary Award, Young People’s Literature – Illustrated Books When a young girl visits the site of Africville, in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the stories she’s heard from her family come to mind. She imagines what the community was once like — the brightly painted houses nestled into the hillside, the field where boys played football, the pond where all the kids went rafting, the bountiful fishing, the huge bonfires. Coming out of her reverie, she visits the present-day park and the sundial where her great- grandmother’s name is carved in stone, and celebrates a summer day at the annual Africville Reunion/Festival. Africville was a vibrant Black community for more than 150 years. But even though its residents paid municipal taxes, they lived without running water, sewers, paved roads and police, fire-truck and ambulance services. Over time, the city located a slaughterhouse, a hospital for infectious disease, and even the city garbage dump nearby. In the 1960s, city officials decided to demolish the community, moving people out in city dump trucks and relocating them in public housing. Today, Africville has been replaced by a park, where former residents and their families gather each summer to remember their community.

In 1965, Africville, the largest and oldest black community in Canada was bulldozed into memory. What was lost to the politicians of Halifax was an inconvenience, an eyesore. What was lost to the people whose roots ran deep through the once-vibrant community was an entire way of life.

In “There’s Something In The Water”, Ingrid R. G. Waldron examines the legacy of environmental racism and its health impacts in Indigenous and Black communities in Canada, using Nova Scotia as a case study, and the grassroots resistance activities by Indigenous and Black communities against the pollution and poisoning of their communities. Using settler colonialism as the overarching theory, Waldron unpacks how environmental racism operates as a mechanism of erasure enabled by the intersecting dynamics of white supremacy, power, state-sanctioned racial violence, neoliberalism and racial capitalism in white settler societies. By and large, the environmental justice narrative in Nova Scotia fails to make race explicit, obscuring it within discussions on class, and this type of strategic inadvertence mutes the specificity of Mi’kmaq and African Nova Scotian experiences with racism and environmental hazards in Nova Scotia. By redefining the parameters of critique around the environmental justice narrative and movement in Nova Scotia and Canada, Waldron opens a space for a more critical dialogue on how environmental racism manifests itself within this intersectional context. Waldron also illustrates the ways in which the effects of environmental racism are compounded by other forms of oppression to further dehumanize and harm communities already dealing with pre-existing vulnerabilities, such as long-standing social and economic inequality. Finally, Waldron documents the long history of struggle, resistance, and mobilizing in Indigenous and Black communities to address environmental racism.

In mid-1960s Halifax, 12-year-old Selina is growing up in a tightly knit community of African-Canadians whose days are numbered when ugly rumours surface about the fate of Africville.

In 1969, the federal and New Brunswick governments created Kouchibouguac National Park on the province’s east coast. The park’s creation required the relocation of more than 1200 people who lived within its boundaries. Government officials claimed the mass eviction was necessary both to allow visitors to view “nature” without the intrusion of a human presence and to improve the lives of the former inhabitants. But unprecedented resistance by the mostly Acadian residents, many of whom described their expulsion from the park as a “second deportation,” led Parks Canada to end its practice of forcible removal. One resister, Jackie Vautour, remains a squatter on his land to this day. In Kouchibouguac, Ronald Rudin draws on extensive archival research, interviews with more than thirty of the displaced families, and a wide range of Acadian cultural creations to tell the story of the park’s establishment, the resistance of its residents, and the memory of that experience.