The day after the 2024 presidential election results were announced, Nicole Nicholas’s Flatbush, Brooklyn neighborhood was “eerily quiet.” She recalls how her cafe Aunts et Uncles, which she runs with her husband Mike Nicholas, became a place for emotional processing. “We sat outside, shared conversations with customers, and even shed tears.” At that moment, their cafe became a vital space for healing — an anchor for Flatbush amidst the turbulent times expected ahead.
In a country where systemic racism has long shaped the lives of Black people, Black-owned restaurants have consistently been more than just places to dine. They are places to gather, organize, celebrate, and heal. At one of the most consequential moments in recent history, these spaces are once again revealing themselves as cornerstones of community, just as they have been for generations. From legacy institutions to a rising wave of visionary newcomers, Black restaurants continue to serve as vital hubs where history, activism, and everyday life converge.
At Aunts et Uncles, the Nicholases focus on vegan cuisine and nurturing an atmosphere that honors Caribbean heritage and Black creativity. Following the 2024 election, their space has quickly become a cultural anchor. From the beginning, the couple designed Aunts et Uncles to feel like home, not just aesthetically, but spiritually. “It’s a space where Black folks — queer, creative, curious, tired, and joyful can come as they are and be received with care,” Nicole explains. In an industry where such spaces are rare, Aunts et Uncles fills a gap that many didn’t even realize was missing. “People don’t just come for the food. They come to feel seen and safe,” says Nicole.
Black restaurants remind us that nourishment can be an act of resistance, a celebration of identity, and a powerful place to claim both dignity and joy. Dining and activism have long coincided, extending from practices developed in the South during the civil rights movement.
In New Orleans, activism was expressed through the aroma of Creole gumbo and sizzling fried chicken at Dooky Chase’s. Opened in 1941, the restaurant became iconic not only for its elevated dining experience but also for its role in supporting the movement during precarious times. The “Queen of Creole Cuisine” and restaurant founder Leah Chase used her restaurant as a congregational space for leaders to strategize for change, offering food and a forum for discussion when many other public spaces were unavailable to them. For her, the mission was never just about preparing food, it was about fulfilling a higher calling. “I was taught that your job was to make this earth better,” she said in a 2018 interview for Garden & Gun.
Chase died in 2019; today, her family continues that legacy, with grandson Edgar Chase acting as executive chef and several other family members in key roles. Now still, the blended scent of simmering collard greens and sweet undertones of freshly baked cornbread circulates the warm space as laughter and conversation softly rise above the clink of glasses raised in unison. Echoing through the room, toasts are exchanged over plates of heartfelt fare while patrons dress in their Sunday best, spreading with them sounds that carry a sense of camaraderie and celebration. During its earliest years, the matriarch hosted the likes of Martin Luther King Jr. and Duke Ellington, and maintained an atmosphere of warmth and inclusion, in a sharp contrast to the cold, exclusionary dining rooms of their white counterparts. “You did things back in those days and you didn’t consider yourself changing anything,” Chase told Garden & Gun in 2018.
During the Jim Crow era, these safe havens, erected in cities like Selma, Los Angeles, and New York, offered sustenance and solace to Black patrons weary and burdened by the weight of daily oppression and the constant threat of violence. Today, many Black restaurants have aimed to recreate and model a similar atmosphere in their own businesses, making food that comforts a common thread. Californian farm-to-fare freshness is combined with Southern comfort food at Post & Beam in Los Angeles, while Virtue in Chicago serves fish and grits with sides of smoked turkey collards and mac and cheese, paying homage to classic Southern dishes with a contemporary approach. In Atlanta, Paschal’s has been a key gathering place to convene and fuel the movement forward since it was founded in 1947. Located near the Atlanta University Center, a historically Black college, founders James and Robert Paschal provided support during the civil rights movement by frequently posting bail for students arrested for protesting. To create a central meeting spot, the Paschal brothers would offer free meals and extend their hours to families waiting for their loved ones’ release. In Greensboro, North Carolina, Woolworth’s Lunch Counter became a historical landmark for peaceful sit-in protests at white-only counters to advocate the end of racial segregation.
From their inception to today, these food havens have continued to be essential pieces of the community puzzle and stand as symbols of resilience, where tradition is preserved, and the collective spirit thrives. Restaurants, after all, serve as gathering spots for folks from all walks of life to dine, socialize, and feel a sense of belonging, and while Black-owned restaurants have long stepped up to the plate by bridging the gap between food and activism, a new generation is taking the baton.
Today, Black Americans face a political climate marked by racial inequality and apprehension that is eerily reminiscent of previous generations. Voting rights are once again under attack through restrictive laws that disproportionately impact communities of color, echoing the poll taxes and literacy tests of the Jim Crow era. Additionally, the rise in book bans and curriculum restrictions reflects a broader attempt to silence Black history and lived experiences. In the face of all this, Black-owned restaurants offer a safe space for Black Americans seeking community amid strife. The pressure of code-switching is lifted by the freedom to share stories and laughter in spaces such as restaurants, with folks that look like one another, communicating in a language understood without words and in a context that doesn’t demand translation.
Aunts et Uncles has been actively collaborating with other Black-owned businesses that share the same values and community building, such as Down North Pizza — a North Philadelphia-based pizzeria that serves the predominantly Black neighborhood, Strawberry Mansion. The pizzeria was founded on a mission to exclusively employ formerly incarcerated individuals while providing culinary career opportunities at a fair wage. Muhammad Abdul-Hadi, owner and author of cookbook, We The Pizza, founded Down North Pizza in 2021 and hired Michael Carter as the executive chef. Formerly incarcerated himself, Carter carries a personal mission to help, inspire, and lead by example. “No one gives you a crash course in returning to society and it’s hard to find a job because of your track record,” he says. So the mission of Down North Pizza is to educate and “reduce recidivism,” says Abdul-Hadi, by helping new employees find housing and training them in basic culinary skills. This foundation “uplifts the individual, not their mistakes,” Abdul-Hadi adds.
“As Black people, resilience is in our DNA, and we respond by holding onto hope and recognizing that even the smallest efforts can ignite meaningful change,” says Mike Nicholas. This attitude is at the heart of most Black-owned restaurants, where food becomes a means to nourish not only the body but the soul.
Still, the path hasn’t been easy. “We built Aunts et Uncles without capital or investments — just us,” says Mike. “And with that comes a deep sense of responsibility. We’re aware that DEI rollbacks are happening in real time, but we’ve never relied on anyone else to validate our worth or our work.” In the face of shifting support systems, they’ve only deepened their commitment to expanding their location in Brooklyn that extends far beyond food. “Fear is never a failure for us and now more than ever, Black culinary influence deserves amplification from our spices, our recipes, to our presence — it’s all legacy.”
History has shown that Black communities have always had to adapt to challenges, often with fewer resources. Resilience remains key while proactive pivoting is equally vital. As the landscape evolves, Black-owned restaurants remain crucial to the movement of change — Blackness will always be celebrated, cherished, and protected in spaces they’ve worked hard to create for themselves and their community.
