Black-owned businesses are finding a home in Chestnut Hill

In Chestnut Hill, newly opened storefronts like Multiverse, NoName Gallery, Serenity Aesthetics & Wellness Medical Spa, and others have breathed new life into the historically affluent neighborhood known for 18th-century architecture, and a bustling commercial corridor. These businesses, owned by people of color, are servicing an evolving and increasingly diverse Chestnut Hill.

“We’ve had more than 24 businesses open in the last two years,” said Courtney O’Neill, executive director of the Chestnut Hill Business District. “The majority were African American owners, young couples, or women — and sometimes all the above.”

While 70% of Chestnut Hill residents are white, the neighborhood has seen a 7% increase in Black residents over the past decade, according to data from the U.S. Census Bureau. Black Philadelphians now make up 19% of the community, and there’s an increasing number of multicultural businesses attracting them to the Hill.

Fitness trainer Kim Harari, who moved to Chestnut Hill a year ago, said she relocated for a “homier” feel, and to find a deeper sense of community as a first-generation immigrant and queer resident.

For Harari, the growing diversity of Chestnut Hill is one of its best qualities. “If I could put a blueprint for what I wanted it to be, it’s here,” said Harari, a trainer at the Balance Chestnut Hill gym. “I never felt in place [in Center City], but [here] it’s diverse, queer-friendly, and a lot of Black-owned businesses. I love it.”

The speculative fiction bookstore Multiverse, which is owned by Sara Zia Ebrahimi-Hughes and Gralin Hughes, hosts monthly showcases for modular synthesizer artists. DanceFit studio owner Megan Kizer has led Beyoncé- and Lil John-inspired after-dark dance sessions. And NoName Gallery’s Jonene Lee has put on First Friday celebrations on the Hill.

Lee has welcomed graffiti artists, local musicians, and hip-hop DJs to her First Friday events, and said the presence of BIPOC-owned spaces and programs like hers has added much-need vibrance to the area. She feels more late-night, block party-style events is something the community has been wanting for some time.

“I’m happy that we’re bringing more color and culture here,” Lee said. “Even little old white women say they love what I’m doing, and that makes me happy.”

Lee says she knows no community is perfect. She’s dealt with “silent racism” all her life — the kind that’s felt through glaring eyes and disturbed faces rather than insults or derogatory statements. But she’s certain there’s real opportunity to grow in Chestnut Hill.

“It’s known for old money, and when you have old money, it’s white and it’s racist, I get that. But it’s not like that here. [Residents are] really open to art and culture, so I found a good spot.”

Tensions over change

While BIPOC business owners have been welcomed into Chestnut Hill in recent years, TC Unlimited Boutique owner Keia Chesson says that wasn’t always the case.

When she first opened her boutique eight years ago, Chesson was attracted to the “quaint” and walkable district, and the general ritziness of the area. At the time, there were only a few Black-owned storefronts in Chestnut Hill, and Chesson said moments of resistance from longtime residents occasionally surfaced.

“When Barack and Michelle Obama were in office, I highlighted purses and other items [with the Obamas’ faces on them] in my window, and some people didn’t like it,” said Chesson, who previously served on the board of directors for the Chestnut Hill Business Association. “Being a Black owner and supporting a Black president may not have been liked among some people [here], but for the most part, people embraced it.”

The increased diversity, O’Neill said, has brought a welcomed and organic change to the area, which has been largely “homogenous” for decades.

“It’s not just the business corridor, it’s just Chestnut Hill overall,” O’Neill said. “It’s an affluent neighborhood, but there’s a lot of affluent African Americans who have found their way here and made homes.”

Emerging unity

Beyond the rise in BIPOC-owned spaces, Will Brown of the Duke Barber Co. said there’s a real sense of unity that’s present throughout the commercial corridor. That’s why he’s kept his business in the area for 15 years, and why other entrepreneurs have gravitated there.

“We all go into each others’ businesses and support each other,” he said.

Brown said the growing diversity doesn’t mitigate the challenges businesses still face. Newly-established entrepreneurs can’t serve just one demographic to be successful — it has to be all of Chestnut Hill.

Owners like Gina Charles are up for the challenge.

Charles, the founder and medical director at Serenity Aesthetics & Wellness Medical Spa, moved her practice from Mt. Airy to Chestnut Hill in November. She wanted to find a ground-level location with greater visibility and easier access to its doors, and a space on the 8100 block of Germantown Avenue was a perfect match.

Charles is excited to see what the future holds, and for Chestnut Hill’s evolution to lead to more job opportunities, business collaborations, and networking events among all residents and patrons. “That’s a win for everyone,” Charles said.

– The Philadelphia Inquirer

Philly couple who went viral for living in a storage unit wants to prove ‘homelessness is a flex’

Like many Gen Zers, Lansdale couple Leland Brown Jr. and Breanna Hubbard gave TikTok viewers a tour of their new home, hours after they moved in.

The space was just large enough to fit a twin-size mattress, a small couch, a dresser, and a wall of storage boxes. But no windows, bathroom, or kitchen. It also happened to be located inside a storage unit in North Wales.

The container was an upgrade from their previous digs, a tent in the woods of Montgomery County. Brown and Hubbard, who spent most of their days creating videos, live a “minimal lifestyle” to avoid what they call the stresses of employment and costly housing.

According to a 2022 survey conducted by Freddie Mac, a government-sponsored finance company, adults between the ages of 18 and 25 have mostly positive thoughts about homeownership. But over one-third of them say it’s outside of financial reach.

“We think it’s more beneficial for us in the long run,” Hubbard said of living outdoors. “We’re not looking at how much we make now, we’re looking to build up our businesses and to work for ourselves. We want to make our own money by sharing our life, which we’re having success with.”

A mutual friend introduced the pair in March 2022, and they have shaped their online presence and living situation in tandem ever since.

It wasn’t always meant to be so “minimal.”

Brown and Hubbard were among the 31% of Gen Z who were living at home due to high housing costs. After continued disagreements with his father, who wanted the 28-year-old TikToker to pursue a more sustainable career, Brown was kicked out of his parents’ home in Montgomery County in May 2022.

“He told me I was grown and have a son, so I needed to figure it out,” said Brown, whose 7-year-old son lives with his mother.

Brown then moved in with Hubbard, 22, who was living with her family in Hatfield. That didn’t work out, so they packed up their bags and moved to the woods in September 2022.

Brown, who had never been camping before, was excited to adopt the new lifestyle. But he quickly learned how difficult it was living outdoors. “It was a lot once we got everything settled,” Brown said. “It was crazy dealing with the animals and the cold.”

After six months, Brown and Hubbard adapted to the new living situation and decided to chronicle their journey.

In December of 2023 he posted videos that showed him taking leftover food from his job at a nearby hotel to the tent. Brown lost his job soon after — but the videos generated millions of views on TikTok and YouTube.

Around the same time, Hubbard’s mom encouraged the couple to visit a nearby U-Haul store for an occasional break from the cold, and for a place where they could edit their videos and do other “office work.” The couple saw the storage units there as an opportunity to have a low-cost home of their own, at least while they saved money for a more permanent space.

They started by taking naps inside the U-Haul store, then moved their belongings into one unit. Over time, they organized furniture and made it into a small housing quarter. They posted the three-part series on TikTok, which generated over 22 million views and made national news, with outlets like CBS News, Complex, and Yahoo News reporting on their move into the climate-controlled space.

Within days, U-Haul management asked the couple to leave.

“Residing in a self-storage unit is a violation of state and federal housing laws,” Jeff Lockridge, a spokesperson for U-Haul International wrote in an email to The Inquirer.

“I was always prepared to get kicked out because of the video,” Brown said. “I didn’t expect it to become as viral as it was, but when it did, I knew I couldn’t delete it. I was making money off of it, so we had to run with it.”

The couple stayed in a U-Haul truck for a night before moving their stuff back to the Lansdale woods.

Brown and Hubbard currently live inside a large camping tent, filled with bundled blankets, an air mattress, and a power bank to charge their electronics.

Brown, who prefers the term “house-lessness,” said tent life is less than ideal. But the independence that comes with the low-cost lifestyle, he feels, is a sacrifice worth enduring.

“I’m very educated and intelligent, and so is [Hubbard], but people tell us how to live because their perspective in life is different,” Brown said.

While Brown had asked to move back in with his parents in the past, he said he and his father have now come to an understanding. “My dad is saying [I] have to stay in the woods and make it work,” he said. “He’s trying to teach me to be strong and survive.”

His father, Leland Brown Sr., a principal engineer and director of a military and aerospace communications company, said he had his concerns, especially when Brown and Hubbard moved into the storage container. Still, “I believe Leland has been very clear this is a choice he has made and he stands on his choice,” Brown wrote in an email. “If no harm is caused to anyone, content development is a good method to share his approaches on how he wants to live his life, while allowing others to follow his journey.”

While Hubbard’s parents have invited her back home, she’s continued to say no. “I had to leave to be the best version of myself,” she said.

Since last year, the couple has monetized videos of their daily exploits. They clean up in hotel bathrooms, use rented vehicles to run DoorDash deliveries, make food in a portable grill placed in the trunk of an electric car. All the while defending their house-free lifestyle against the naysayers who comment under their posts.

The couple is enrolled in the YouTube Partner Program and TikTok’s Creator Fund, which allow certain users to monetize their videos based on views, engagements, and other metrics. Brown said they pull in roughly $750 a week from their videos.

In a February video, titled “When You’re Homeless & Not Getting a Job #genz,” Brown talked about his desire to be an entrepreneur rather than working for someone else. “I’m not getting no job,” he said in the TikTok video. “I’ve had jobs in the past, and I’ve got fired at 90% of those jobs. It’s not for me. I’m an entrepreneur, self-made, and so is [Hubbard].”

In response to the video, one TikTok user commented “if you can’t handle a 9-5, you most definitely cannot handle entrepreneurship.”

Brown and Hubbard admit negative comments often get under their skin, especially when people suggest they are faking their lifestyle or meaninglessly avoiding employment.

“I’ve been saying homelessness is a flex, and I believe that with my heart and soul because of the challenges homeless people endure,” Brown said. “People don’t understand that.”

Still, Brown says he recognizes his and Hubbard’s living situation is a lot different from many unhoused people. They are located in a relatively quiet suburb and can earn a steady flow of income from their videos. “We got very lucky,” he said. “I grew up here half of my life, so that’s a privilege.”

Tyler Greene, who has known Brown since they were in elementary school, is happy his friend is garnering attention online, but “I want him to get out of that tent,” he said.

The couple will continue living in the woods for now, but Hubbard said they intend to save money and eventually buy a tiny home before starting a family together. They currently want to purchase an RV and document van life. (A recent social media trend focuses on #vanlife, where people live out of modified vans. It’s often promoted as a bohemian way to travel and save money, but critics say it’s really “glorified homelessness.”)

Their only hurdle is a lack of payment and credit history.

In the 2022 Freddie Mac survey on homeownership, insufficient credit history and unstable employment were two of the top five obstacles preventing young adults from purchasing a home.

“We have to be more patient, live out in the woods for three or six more months, and just be more financially intelligent,” Brown said. “We’re just waiting for the right time while we live in the wilderness.”

As they continue to chase their entrepreneurial dreams, which include starting a clothing and pottery business, Hubbard said they want to change the negative perception of unhoused people through their content.

“It’s not the end of the world to be homeless or live minimally,” she said. “It’s an opportunity we have to work on ourselves.”

‘There’s no edge like Philly’: Why the city’s most talented won’t leave their hometown

Philly’s “got major talent,” as entertainment mogul Charles “Charlie Mack” Alston says. “There are some remarkable people and talent that have come out of Philly, and the city has a surplus of it.”

But the demands of the industry often pull artists, musicians, and actors away from their beloved hometown, forcing them to pack their bags and migrate to cities like New York, L.A., Atlanta, and Miami.

But for Mack, who was Will Smith’s long-term bodyguard and personal assistant before becoming a notable Hollywood power broker, there’s only one place he calls home — and that’s Philly. And he is not alone.

Some entertainers born and bred in the region can’t seem to leave the city behind. We asked them why.

Responses have been lightly edited for clarity.

DJ Jazzy Jeff

DJ and hip-hop pioneer; West Philly native

Where do you live?

I’ve lived in Delaware for almost 20 years, but I never had a desire to move far away. It’s what I know. This is home.

Does the Philly area’s affordability play a factor?

It’s true – Philly isn’t as expensive as New York or L.A., and I know the city so I feel more comfortable here. I know how to navigate Philly; I don’t know how to navigate New York or L.A. In Philly, I know my surroundings.

Why do you think some Philly-born entertainers choose to leave the city?

Philly is a tough town. It prepares you to go off into the rest of the world because Philly doesn’t show love to those who don’t deserve it. Nothing comes easy, and it prepares you to go to places like New York and do a good job.

I think the people who move out of Philly never lose the love for Philly.

What does Philly’s future as an entertainment hub look like?

If you look at the history, [the Philly scene was lively] with Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff, then it left. That was the neo-soul movement and [then came] The Roots, it all goes in cycles. I tell a lot of inspiring musicians to just be ready when it comes back because it’s coming back.

Tierra Whack

Rapper; North Philly native

What’s inspired you to stay in Philly?

I love to travel, visit new places, and experience new things but nothing feels better than waking up in my hometown, with people that look and feel just like me.

Did you always see yourself staying in Philly?

I am Philly [and] Philly is me. I love my city and everything it has to offer. I want to put my city on the map. I’m not sure why other people leave, but I’m here to stay.

In a past interview, you talked about pouring back into the city. What does that look like for you?

My goal is to build a creative space here in Philly. Not only where I can go and be creative, but where others can, too. I love what’s happening in our city right now, [and] I want to be a positive light for everyone coming up after me.

Eugene ‘ManMan’ Roberts

Producer and musical director; South Philly native

Why do you think so many popular entertainers from Philly prefer to live in Philly?

A lot of people pull from Philly. Every major album, tour, and every band — someone from Philly is in the mix. And sometimes when we leave home and go to these other places, you’re filling them up with your energy, your presence, and your sound, but they can’t refill that cup. You got to go back home to get that vibe, inspiration, and aesthetic that makes home, home.

What’s stopped you from leaving the city?

We got rich history here. We have amazing producers, songwriters, and artists. We’re really good, and I never wanted to turn my back on the place that made me who I am. I’ll always be that no matter where I go.

Do you see Philly becoming a renewed musical hub?

Philly used to have Philly International, Sigma Sound, and all these other studios, and people came here to cut records. But when the world went digital, it took away needing studios. Until we build up an empire of entertainment with studios and rehearsal facilities, I don’t think any city can [become a musical hub].

L.A. is all that because that’s where all the celebrities live, and there’s good weather but I think the pandemic made it a level playing field for everybody.

Charlie Mack

Entertainment mogul and community leader; Southwest Philly native

Why do you think big-name entertainers from Philly choose to venture elsewhere?

Philadelphia is like a character, and people that used to come here admired it, but admired it from afar. If you don’t feel safe, you can’t relax and let your hair down. Right now, we’re in a place where we’re hemorrhaging and going through a very horrific transition, and I hope and pray that the kids here have an opportunity to experience Philly the same way I did.

I love my city, but the reality is people don’t feel safe. And home is supposed to be just that: a place you feel safe and welcome.

How can Philly go back to being what it used to be?

The natives of Philadelphia are in a space where they don’t love themselves. That’s the harsh reality, and it’s hard for someone to stay put when they’re not received or revered from their own people. Artists need validation and love, it’s a part of their makeup. Philly is real and harsh, it will hit you right in your face. Residents won’t give you fanfare if you’re not tapping into the things that make them move.

How can we better retain the talent that comes out of Philly?

I feel like the men of the city of Philadelphia have to restore safety. Women are stepping up in major ways, but men have to restore everything that is amazing about Philadelphia: the artistry, the streets, the sports, the politics, city government, and everything that it’s about.

Adam Blackstone

Multi-instrumentalist and songwriter; Trenton native

What does being close to Philly mean as an entertainer?

One thing is the culture of Philadelphia. There’s a go-getter and hustler’s spirit. For me, no other city has embraced the arts like Philly.

In Philadelphia, we just want to see each other win and we represent our city from all over the world, no matter where we’re from. That’s always a plus we have that maybe other cities don’t.

Are there certain Philly spots that give you inspiration?

When we go to any sports event, whether it’s the Philadelphia Eagles, Sixers, or Flyers, I feel a sense of oneness and a feeling that we’re all fighting for the same thing.

Don Cannon

DJ and record executive, West Philly native now living in Atlanta

Why does it seem like more Philly artists are staying in the city?

I feel like people just love the culture. I can walk through Society Hill and Parkside, and it just feels different than anywhere else in the world, from Brooklyn to Compton. It’s just a different feel, and I think that’s why people want to stay here. And sometimes you get away from home and think, “Man, it’s not the same,” and go back.

I know you relocated to Atlanta, but do you ever come back to Philly?

I left when I was 18, but I often go back to see what’s happening there, what’s the newest trends, and to get some edge. Sometimes you travel across the world, but there’s no edge like Philadelphia.

– The Philadelphia Inquirer

Philadelphia’s Black Cowboys honor a fallen, four-legged figure

Every time he marched across Fletcher Street stables, the strapping frame and cappuccino-colored mane of the American Quarter Horse drew the attention of Philadelphia’s Black cowboys and cowgirls.

His name was Streakin’ E Class. The quiet equine had a grandeur and presence that matched that of partner and former owner Eric “E” Miller, founder of the Philadelphia Urban Riding Academy.

Miller purchased his four-legged friend from the New Holland Horse Auction in 2017, nicknaming him “Chuck” in honor of a childhood best friend who passed.

On Sunday, Chuck died at age 29. His passing was felt across Philly’s horse-riding community, with several Instagram users commenting Monday on PURA’s announcement. “Rest well Big Chuck,” one user wrote. “I’m glad I gave you extra treats last night.”

“Everyone that visited the barn loved him because he was just so pretty, and he was just the man,” said PURA executive director Erin Brown, who goes by the moniker Concrete Cowgirl. “People adored him. He was just so beautiful and strong-looking, and even the other cowboys noticed he had this presence just like [Miller].”

Chuck was one of several horses Miller owned but wasthe first he bought after his release from prison in 2017. Miller’s interest in horses was rooted in his childhood. His father, who went by Butch, owned a stable in North Philadelphia.

In January 2019, Miller founded PURA, and the nonprofit became an outgrowth of the Fletcher Street barn, where Miller kept his horses and employed locals to care for them. His vision was to teach horsemanship to riders young and old and to preserve the history of Philly’s urban cowboys, bringing their stories to the general public.

His work led to the making of the Netflix film Concrete Cowboy, released in 2021, which starred actors Idris Elba, Caleb McLaughlin, and Jharrel Jerome. Brown said Miller was “the voice behind the movie and script.” But a month before filming began in North Philadelphia, Miller was shot and killed inside his Roxborough home.

Brown, who met Miller as a teenager at Fletcher Street, was determined to fulfill Miller’s vision for the movie and to care for Chuck. “I just knew [Miller] would haunt me if I didn’t,” she joked. “I knew how important it was to him.”

Brown said that Chuck was Miller’s “baby boy” and that he never missed an opportunity to brag about his dashing looks.

After Miller’s death, Brown took up the executive director role at PURA and ownership of Chuck. Recently, the horse’s health began to worsen. “It was best to let him go out like a G,” she said. “You could tell he was really tired.”

The long-time horse rider gifted braided pieces of Chuck’s mane to Miller’s four children. It’s a custom among cowboys and their fallen horses, and Brown felt it was the best way to honor Chuck’s legacy and the bond he and Miller shared. “I knew he was special to [Miller],” she said.

Miller’s daughter, Emani, said Chuck was like an older brother.

Chuck even joined Emani during her prom send-off last spring. The horse’s shoulders were adorned with images of him and her father, bringing the teenager to tears. “I couldn’t believe the amount of joy I felt,” Emani said. “It just made the presence of my father feel so real.”

Looking back at photos of her and Chuck, Emani said that she is saddened at Chuck’s death but that knowing he and Miller are now “reunited in heaven” has brought her a sense of solace.

“I know how much my dad loved his horse,” she said. “It felt so good to receive a piece of Chuck’s mane, and I was able to have a piece of him I will forever hold near [and dear] to my heart.”

Brown didn’t ride Chuck much but on commercial sets, he was the “grumpy old man” she entrusted for the job. He even appeared in Concrete Cowboy alongside Elba.

With support from Philadelphia and Councilmember Curtis Jones, PURA is set to open a new stable in Cobbs Creek next spring. The roughly $1.2 million project will convert an existing structure into a climate-controlled barn, Brown said, and Chuck was to be the first horse to walk through its doors.

Jones said the project will not only provide added resources for PURA, which currently boards its horses at the Dream Park in Logan Township, Gloucester County, but it will pass the “the baton” for future cowboys of color and protect the history of Philly’s urban cowboys.

“If this city were left to its own devices, it would totally erase the rights of cowboys out of its city limits,” he said. “Brown is not only fighting for the rights of the cowboy of color ... assuring there will be riders in upcoming generations.”

Brown said that a plaque honoring Milller and Chuck — and stories of them together — will be placed along the stable’s walls.

Philly nightlife takes a hit as noise complaints force relocations, unexpected shutdowns

Philly nightlife is an ever-revolving door of happy hour hangs, lavish soirees, laid-back beer gardens, and weekend stay-puts. The city is also home to niche party cultures, intimate music venues, and stylish speakeasies.

Philly DJ David Pianka, better known as Dave P, believes these spaces make the city’s nightlife more vibrant than most. But in recent years, noise complaints have diminished much of its allure.

“Nightlife brings so much to cities, culturally and economically, and it needs to be prioritized more here in Philadelphia,” said Pianka, who founded the electronic music festival Making Time ∞. “So many other cities around the world celebrate and support nightlife and understand its value. Philadelphia needs to do the same.”

Noise complaints, Pianka said, have crippled many of Philly’s outdoor music experiences through the last few years. Fellow DJs and party promoters have been forced to relocate, or even cancel entire events, due to the stockpile of protests brought on by disgruntled residents and nearby establishments.

These complaints often come from neighborhoods with nightclubs and music venues, and newly constructed residential buildings. As, Pianka said, more people and businesses move into these neighborhoods, there is a growing divide between partygoers and residents looking for a quiet place to lay their head.

As new condominiums and high-end apartments are built, more buildings and residents are being squeezed closer together. The city’s growing infrastructure leaves little room for outdoor parties and events to happen without disturbing local residents.

On Memorial Day weekend, DJ Joshua Lang hosted a day party at Cherry Street Pier’s back garden. The event, on Saturday from 3 to 9 p.m., was “before the city’s ‘quiet hours,’ ” Lang said. He hired a sound engineer to monitor the volume, “to make sure it didn’t go over a certain decibel level — which we didn’t.”

The event was a success, Lang says, with over 5,000 people attending. He has hoped it would turn into a series, but in June he posted on Instagram that he would not be returning to the venue “due to neighbor’s complaints about sound.”

A representative from the Cherry Street Pier said they were not aware of any noise complaints, and that while the event was well received, it was only every planned as one-off.

In his Instagram story, Lang added: “it’s frustrating that we already don’t have many options in this city when it comes to venues.”

The city, “is in dire need of an event like this” Lang told the Inquirer. “Philadelphia is an amazing city and what’s happening right now is beautiful between different industries and scenes, but there’s just a ceiling here that seems to keep creatives at a certain level due to city restrictions.”

According to the Philadelphia Department of Public Health, noise complaints are considered a health risk and commercial properties are prohibited from creating sounds that exceed five decibels above the “background level” at a property’s boundary line. The penalty for an initial violation is between $100 and $300, and the fee increases with subsequent violations.

Based on data from the department, there hasn’t been a dramatic rise in amplified music complaints in the past five years. But as of July 27, there were 10 amplified music complaints directed at Philly bars, restaurants, and nightlife spaces in 2023, which matches the total reported in all of 2022.

Pianka said it’s hard to blame a specific group for the noise complaints, but he said new developments are likely the cause of the issue. “The city needs to make culture and community more of a priority over development,” he said. “...[And] there needs to be more communication between nightlife promoters and city officials.”

“We need more venues, nightclubs, and diverse festivals. We need people who understand culture to be in these rooms where they’re making these decisions,” added Lang, who is also the music director for the W Hotel Philadelphia.

Disputes between residents, party promoters, and business owners in the Philly area are not new. Back in 2012, the New Tavern Bar Restaurant, then known as Watusi Pub II, drew complaints from West Philadelphians about the bar’s rowdy patrons and live music performances.

“I hear from people who have had bars in certain areas forever,” said Sara Walker, general manager of the Khyber Pass Pub. “And now that there’s some development next door, all of a sudden people are angry.” Walker, who recently revived Khyber’s live performance space after the longtime music venue was turned into a New Orleans-inspired eatery, believes that “in order for this city to be successful and have people come here to spend money, these [venues] need to be successful.”

She agrees that there are certain “nuisance bars,” but residents often blame establishments for little noise, or even rumblings generated outside their walls.

Public outcry has even forced outdoor restaurant and music venues to shut down operations.

In an Instagram post, Terra Philly announced on July 19 that it would shut down for the season due to increased noise complaints. “We worked both quickly and openly with both city and state officials to update our facility in a way that would allow us to continue operations. However, it seems a compromise could not be reached with our neighbors,” the post stated.

Health Department spokesperson James Garrow said a “warning letter” was issued to the Fishtown garden restaurant and outdoor music space after noise complaints were filed. The letter outlined the city’s noise and vibration law and noted a potential noncompliance fee of $300. But after an inspection was conducted on June 28, no violation was found, Garrow said. “Terra was not given a notice of violation or asked to close. If they have closed for the season, it was not due to Health Department action.”

Terra staff declined to make further statements, but confirmed there will be measurements in place to address the noise complaints ahead of the restaurant’s reopening next year.

Raheem Manning, the city’s first director of nighttime economy, said he doesn’t have economic data to illustrate how noise complaints affect nightlife revenue, and it’s not known if it does. But having met with nightlife mayors and directors in Austin, Pittsburgh, Amsterdam, and Berlin, he’s confident Philadelphia can be an international destination for its nightlife.

For Philly to contend with global nightlife destinations and minimize noise complaints, Manning, who was appointed nightlife mayor by Philadelphia’s Commerce Department in July 2022, said there needs to be a soundproofing fund, like in Berlin, which will shield venues from receiving noise complaints from new neighbors.

“An agent-of-change policy basically makes it so that whoever is new to the block is responsible for mitigating the sound,” Manning said. “If a club has been on the block for 20 years and a developer wants to build an apartment building across the street, it is on the developer to either soundproof the apartment building or they could soundproof the club, because the club was there first, the burden is not on the club.”

– The Philadelphia Inquirer

No fade on prices: Why Philly barbers are charging $100 and up for haircuts

Kenneth Carruth IV, the North Philly native known as The4thKen on social media, has made waves (literally) with his haircut tutorials and videos. The 20-year-old barber has amassed more than 1.8 million likes on TikTok, with his biggest video reaching over 2 million views. But it’s not always his clean lines and tight fades that are attracting attention.

In one video, Carruth showed off a mid-fade and noted, “My client paid me $80 for this haircut.” Other videos list prices well above $100. While some viewers were in favor of the price tag, others called the haircut a “scam” and wrote how their barber could do the same job for $15.

Before the COVID-19 pandemic, Carruth also charged $15 per head. But with more demand, and the rising cost of running a business, he had to raise his rates.

“I feel like pre-pandemic, barbers were undervalued,” Carruth said. “Now, barbers are starting to realize their worth and see that it’s not just about the cut. You’re providing an experience.”

And he isn’t alone.

According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, haircut prices rose 6.8% in November 2022 from the same time a year before, which is the largest annual increase since the fact-finding agency started tracking the category. Men — who are used to paying with a single bill for their cuts — are noticing.

In the past, local barbers engaged in price wars with neighboring shops to have an edge on clientele. If one shop offered cuts for $20, another would offer them for $15. But the pandemic crippled small-business owners, said Damon Dorsey, 61, president of the American Barber Association. Barbers and other service workers were among the hardest hit.

To stay afloat, many chose to raise their rates.

Southwest Philly barber Nicky Prosseda, 40, said the seismic blow of the pandemic also inspired barbers to sharpen their business practices.

From the mid-20th century to recent years, Prosseda said, barbers enjoyed the benefits of cash-in-hand transactions and tax-free loopholes. But as the industry evolved, the slow rise in haircut prices didn’t match the hikes in beauty product prices, booth rentals, and Venmo and CashApp fees. And for many, it made barbering unlivable as a primary income source.

Prosseda, who charges $75 a cut, is the director of Philly’s Modern Male Barber Academy. “I truly believe that there’s this kind of pain for the sins of our forefather barbers and the past owners,” he said. “They didn’t teach us the best things in the industry, so you pass it down.”

Based on data collected in May 2021, the Bureau of Labor Statistics estimated that most barber salaries range between $22,430 and $53,260. Prosseda said that may be barbers’ reported income, but a lot have been making $50,000 to $100,000 for years. And with even more resources at their disposal, he estimates they will start to rack in upward of $150,000 per year going forward.

Along with better business practices, Dorsey said, barbers are now able to leverage their social media presence to draw in more clients willing to pay top dollar. Apps like Booksy and StyleSeat help barbers manage customer information and schedule haircuts. Barbers like Carruth have used them to expand their brands beyond their corner or neighborhood.

By building his social media brand, Carruth was able to open his own barber studio in Kensington. After turning his social media followers into loyal clients, he saved enough money to get a business license and land the small commercial space in August 2021.

“I know a lot of barbers that are great at cutting hair, but they suck at running a business,” Carruth said. “And with that, you can’t charge what you want because you’re just going purely off skill.”

While most of his clients understand his raised prices, West Philly barber Jalen Thompson, 23, said he’s had customers leave to look for lower rates. Thompson, who charges $45 to $75 for haircuts and more than $120 for house calls, is comfortable with that risk.

“We stopped being hustlers and turned into CEOs,” he said. “I became a barber because I love cutting hair, but I also knew how much money there was to be made in this industry. ... There’s an opportunity to retire early and really enjoy life and take on other business ventures.” Prosseda agrees that it’s allowed him and others to live a better, more balanced life.

“A barber’s career is not one of mental easiness or physical, so you have to raise the prices for the barber to have a work-life balance where you can put your kid on the bus, and go be the coach to your son’s football team, or whatever it is. You have to raise the prices in order for that to happen.”

The fruits of the industry, Carruth said, are enjoyed by barbers who learn how to adapt. Along with cutting different hair textures and embracing products like semi-permanent dye, man weaves, and other enhancements, it’s important to provide other services like hair washes, snacks, TV, and WiFi.

“There’s a lot of older barbers that are stuck in their ways that refuse to change, and unfortunately, they’re more than likely gonna get left behind,” he said.

Overbrook resident Ian Watson, who’s been a client of Carruth’s for nearly a year, said customers are willing to pay for the right experience.

“Depending on the quality of the cuts and the level of professionalism, people will pay to avoid the stereotypical barber,” Watson said. “I say it’s worth it.”

– The Philadelphia Inquirer

Community Vegan makes veganism accessible for all through familiar, savory bites

On the corner of East 11th and Lydia streets, the sweet aroma of Community Vegan’s savory bites draws onlookers and customers to the bustling food truck.

The micro-eatery has become a popular food spot in the East Austin Cultural District with dishes such as oyster mushroom wing baskets, beer-battered cauliflower chicken sandwiches, avocado bites and the truck's signature Vegan Lickin' Good Buckets.

Nearly every meal is crafted by co-owners and vegan cooks Marlon Rison and Ericka Dotson, who shape the restaurant’s flavorful dishes to satisfy cravings for nachos, chocolate milkshakes, southern fried chicken pieces and other popular items.

“It’s all about flavor, right? I know we’re bringing that to the block,” Rison said.

As the Community Vegan name spreads through the city's dining scene, Rison's face grows more familiar, too. Inspired by the logos of KFC, Wendys and other food chains, his radiant smile is at the center of the food truck's sign and its branded products. But beyond the logo, Rison's magnetic energy is the heart and soul of the East Austin operation that opened in September 2021. 

Along with its brunch and main menu items, Community Vegan also offers raw, wildcrafted sea moss packages from Dotson's company, Lott’s Herbs & Remedies; Dotson is a certified herbalist. Sea moss is a species of red algae that grows on coastlines across North America, the British Isles and continental Europe. Advocates say when it's consumed in supplement form, it can help improve heart and gut health and strengthen the immune system.

After seeing an advertisement for Community Vegan, North Austin resident Jai'Sun Alexander stopped by the food trailer in March and since has become a loyal customer because of the eatery's variety and Rison's personal touch.

"(Rison) does a really amazing job at engaging with all of his customers, whether they're first-timers, regulars or whoever," Alexander said. "He makes sure everybody's enjoying themselves or enjoying the food and enjoying the atmosphere. He does a really great job at making great food and making an even greater experience out of it."

Success is still a surprise for Rison. 

“We didn’t expect to create a product and service that could grow into this,” he said. “Like yo, let’s pay these bills and have some fun and be responsible. But fortunately, we’ve been able to do more than that.”

Despite the focus on vegan and herbal options, Rison said they are not trying to convert non-vegans to a meat-free lifestyle with Community Vegan. Only about a third of their customers are vegan, Rison said, and the goal is to broaden the minds of patrons by introducing a veggie-based substitute for the foods they already enjoy, including menu items such as Crab Cake Totchos, "I Used To Eat Fish" Filet Sandwich and Chilli Cheeze Fries.

"By no means are we ‘diet food’ and we don't even put it out there," Rison said. "For us, what we want to do is expose as many people as possible to vegetables, and if that means making it comfortable, we'll make it easier to digest."

Community Vegan co-owners wants to inspire others

Before opening Community Vegan, Rison was a radio host in Dallas and weighed upwards of 360 pounds. As a former powerlifter, he ate chicken, fish and turkey constantly throughout the week and consumed 350-400 grams of protein daily. He quit eating beef in 2004 and pork over 30 years ago, and he decided to make a complete switch to veganism after watching the documentary “What The Health” on Netflix in 2017. 

The film, which focuses on the role of food in health, inspired Rison to take his health into his own hands. He altered his diet – cutting out all meats and processed foods – and dropped 140 pounds in the process. 

Under the “Plantbased G” name, Rison started to share his health journey at speaking engagements and posted vegan recipes and cooking demos on his Instagram page. After seeing his audience grow on social media, Dotson encouraged Rison to write a digital cookbook filled with his top recipes.

In 2020, Rison released “The Quarantine 15,” an e-book filled with 15 (plus one bonus) vegan recipes curated by the Victoria-native.

Rison said he was driven to share his passion for plant-based foods and to encourage other people of color to pursue healthier diets, especially people susceptible to high cholesterol, heart disease and other serious health issues.

“We’ve got some of the worst health out of any of the groups that are out there, and it’s because of what we eat and we’re trying to change that tradition in terms of what we eat and how we eat it,” Rison said. “We want to make sure we give (patrons) options that are veggie-based and healthier for you, and hopefully, that will kind of change the way they approach food.”

Months after the release of the ebook, Dotson and Rison started thinking about opening their own restaurant.

Rethinking his life's path during the pandemic

While Rison enjoyed a career in radio, he said time spent in lockdown made him re-evaluate his life’s purpose. Instead of working for a corporate brand, he wanted to pursue something that added to his family’s legacy, and establishing a restaurant was at the top of his list. 

“For me, I said I have to be more responsible for taking care of myself, my family and my loved ones,” Rison said. “(Dotson) was still hitting me with the idea of the food truck thing, and then I said to myself, you know what, that might be the move for me to take control of my future, my destiny and build something that I can pass down to my kids and grandkids.”

Rison didn’t know whether it would be a traditional brick and mortar space or food trailer, and the only commercial dining experience he had before Community Vegan was as a cook at Popeyes at age 16. Dotson, a native Austinite, saw the potential in a mobile vegan restaurant in the central Texas city. 

The couple scoured the web and saw a listing on Craigslist for a 1973 Winnebago Chieftain in San Angelo. They drove three hours out to the seller, who was willing to lower the price of the rugged 27-foot-long RV once he heard their plans to open a restaurant.

They towed the RV to Austin and spent 10 months and thousands of dollars to gut the worn trailer and replace decades-old appliances. Once the kitchen and other items were installed, Rison and Dotson commissioned local artist Andrew Horner, known as APSE, of the ColorCartelto give the food truck its signature coat and began taking their first orders for food.

To find a home for Community Vegan, Rison and Dotson also reached out to Stuart King, president of King-Tears Mortuary on East 12th Street, who referred them to Austin Revitalization Authority President and CEO Gregory Smith. He directed the two co-owners to the Lydia food truck park.

"We knew we could thrive in the East Austin Cultural District while securing the presence of a Black business on the block," Rison said.

Sharing East Austin’s history, reclaiming the district’s influence

Dotson, the great-granddaughter of Ira Lott and Viola Madison Lott, who built a thriving lumber and housing business in the area, said there’s no better corner for the food truck.

Growing up in East Austin and Round Rock, Dotson said it was an area she used to speed past, as crime was an all too familiar occurrence during the 1970s and 1980s. But she said East Austin also was a community filled with Black and Latino-owned businesses and cultural happenings that reflect the area’s rich history. 

Over the decades, the character of East Austin has transformed dramatically as high dollar residential and commercial real estate companies razed old buildings, priced out longtime residents and crippled the traditionally Black community's past influence.

With Community Vegan’s placement, Dotson said she wants to reclaim the district’s cultural roots and remind folks of the area’s origins. 

“With us being planted here, we can share the story about what was here,” Dotson said. “At one time, it was a happy time. My mom would talk about the time there was a theater down here, and they would all take the bus down and go shopping and all sorts of things. But it’s turned into something very different. So, it’s time to turn over the lead, but with us included. It’s important our faces are here.”

Plans to open second food truck, vegan grocery store

After a year in business with the food truck, Dotson and Rison said the next step is to expand. The duo is working on putting together a second food truck in the fall that is drivable and can directly serve patrons in all corners of the city.

As far as big picture goals, Rison said he's thinking about building a Community Vegan grocery store somewhere in the East Austin Cultural District. That way, more people of color will have access to vegan ingredients and herbal supplies. 

Rison's hope is that Community Vegan becomes a national brand. But right now, he said his focus is to continue advocating for healthier lifestyles and continue putting smiles on the faces of the customers and community members who support the business. 

“We got to represent the block and say thank you,” Rison said. “This is our opportunity to say thank you every day. With every meal, we show our appreciation.”

— Austin American-Statesman

A passion forged: Founder of Austin Warrior Arts shares love for martial arts

At 9 years old, Da'Mon Stith knew his life's purpose. He was going to be a ninja, and there wasn't an invading kick, sword or blade powerful enough to stop him. 

When Stith was 8, his father gave him a toy sword with a bright red ruby on its hilt and a streak of jewels that led to the plastic white blade. It was about as sharp as a cafeteria spork, but once he got his hands on the flimsy dagger, no other toy in his collection mattered and his young, swirling mind was fixated on the world of martial arts. 

What was once a young boy's dream has grown into a lifelong passion, and Stith has explored every corner of it through his practice, his teachings and his own armory. He discovered his true identity in the process.

Growing up with Bruce Lee and Taimak as idols

Before then, Stith idolized martial arts legends and movie stars like Bruce Lee, whose high-flying kicks, rapid strikes and cosmic-level charisma drew the young padawan in. He imitated Lee's moves and tried his best to embody his effortless swag. 

Stith's obsession with martial arts culture grew once he started studying karate at age 9. But with his passion came confusion and, for a time, a sense of self-loathing and displacement. As he was going deeper into East Asian art forms, he was unknowingly pulling away from a culture of his own. 

Without any notable Black martial artists in movies or on TV screens during the era, Stith said he clung to the Asian actors of classic action films and shows of the 1970s and '80s.

"I would tell my mom and other people I was Asian, and I don't look any part of Asian," Stith said. "It was different, but things happen in pieces and in stages. When I found my inner-self, it was like holding my breath for a long time and finally being able to breathe."

It wasn't until Stith saw 1985's "The Last Dragon," which starred Taimak as Leroy Green (or Bruce Leroy), that the 11-year-old Austin native saw a martial arts hero that looked like him and shared his affinity for the combative arts. 

Taimak's Bruce Leroy character became a figure of inspiration for Stith, who started studying karate more intensely when his family moved to Okinawa, Japan, for his stepfather's job on a military base. Okinawa — the birthplace of karate — is also where Stith first recognized African history as his second passion, a discovery that later led to a 25-year career of teaching and practicing African martial arts. 

Through the teachings of his eighth-grade teacher Ms. Gross, Stith learned about the kings and queens of ancient Egypt and the leaders of African empires who ruled the continent and conquered neighboring lands. 

Stith discovered his love for capoeira, African warrior tradition

Stith was struck by his teacher's history lessons, and he started researching warrior traditions rooted in Africa and throughout the diaspora. His curiosity grew after he was introduced to capoeira, an Afro-Brazilian martial art that was created by enslaved Africans in the South American country in the early 16th century. 

Stith, who was studying Jeet Kune Do at the time, began studying capoeira after watching the 1993 film "Only the Strong."

As with "The Last Dragon," Stith was enraptured by the sweeping movements and high-flying kicks in the movie. But more anything, he was drawn to the art form's ties to Western and Central African culture.

"People who looked like me were doing a martial art that I felt I had a kinship to," Stith said. "It wasn't based in Asia or Europe, it was an art form that was very Black and African in its presentation and it filled that void for me.

"I didn't understand the art. I just heard the music and saw the movement and it connected with me."

After moving back to Austin at age 17, he became a capoeirista and began studying the movements of Detroit-based martial artist Kilindi Iyi. He saw an advertisement for $80 worth of Iyi's videos in Black Belt Magazine and watched his instructional tapes for hours on end.

From there, Stith adopted Iyi's deceptive kicks, Zulu and Egyptian stick fighting techniques and sweeping takedowns from historical African martial arts and incorporated them into his form of capoeira. 

Stith said the art form opened up his stiff frame, allowing him to enter a state of free flow he never experienced in other disciplines. But capoeira also debunked the thought that African people willingly gave up their bodies, their names and their cultures during the Trans-Atlantic slave trade.

He began practicing and teaching his own style of the historic art form

As he dove further into African history and martial arts, Stith recognized how many Black men and women fought to obtain their freedom and retain their heritage, often times using the combat skills they learned as warriors of battle. 

"What we're told is they brought us over, we were slaves and lost everything, but capoeira shows that we resisted what was happening to us by taking up arms and passing on our DNA and culture," he said."We tried to retain what we had in this motherland to the new land, which would become the breeding ground for new martial arts found in the diaspora."

By 1997, Stith was teaching to students capoeira da rua, or capoeira of the streets, which is a more practical form of the Afro-Brazilian style that he and his training partners developed in Austin. 

Stith started teaching alongside other martial artists at various sites around town and on the University of Texas campus, including the Anna Hiss Gymnasium and an undisclosed space they nicknamed "The Boiler Room" that a faculty member opened up for his group.

He taught students of all ages and backgrounds the footwork, bladed weaponry, counter and defensive strikes of capoeira. And ever since then, Stith has dedicated his life to teaching the art form. 

"I felt I had a purpose and a destination I was heading toward," he said. "I'm the best when I'm doing teaching and sharing my practice. Seeing them grow, being a part of their lives and giving them a piece of their culture makes me feel good." 

Stith began making the weapons he spent years wielding

In 2012, Stith formed the Guild of the Silent Sword, which includes his group of students and experienced capoeiristas. Even before then, he and fellow capoeira practitioner Jeffrey DaShade Johnson started making African weapons under the Street Forge Armory name. 

At first, the duo wanted other companies to make their weapons, but when they saw how costly it would be, they started crafting them on their own.

Stith and Johnson make sickle swords, short and long takoubas, filipino swords, nimcha sabre and other items under the armory brand inside of Co.lab, a creative space that's free for residents of color. They have shipped custom pieces across the country and as far as Australia and Germany, with items priced between $30-65. 

"I love using swords, and now we have the ability to create and make these instruments that can be used for destruction but also require skill, math and science," Stith said. "It's a good feeling to have a skill nobody can take from you. As long as I have access to material and tools, I can provide for my family and there's something very empowering about that."

While the brand has been official for some time, Johnson said Street Forge Armory really got its start when he and Stith were kids.

When Johnson was 9 years old, he also idolized the martial arts icons of the time and began making his own swords from hacksaw, duct tape, hammers and a screwdriver as a chisel. In Japan, Stith created his own weapons by hammering down old golf clubs and shaving them down into make-shift katana swords. 

The two Austinites didn't know each other then, but their passions would bring them together in 1999. Johnson trained under Stith and years later he decided to go into business with him, hoping to enlighten others with the skills that come with capoeira and the confidence that sprouts from the knowledge. 

"What we're finding is people want to be more healthy and more confident in themselves, but when they go to a mixed martial arts gym, they don't see people like them, or the people that look like them don't identify or think like them," Johnson said. "We're trying to make it accessible to everybody in the community."

While Johnson was aware of the martial arts rooted in Africa and the diaspora, he said there are few people as well-versed on the history and are able to pass it on to students as seamlessly as Stith. 

'It's honestly been a healing space for me'

Four days a week, Stith teaches hand-to-hand combat and stick and sword training to students as young as 8 at his Austin Warrior Arts studio at 9705 Burnet Road. On Saturdays, the groups meet at Mueller Park to trade friendly blows with Ancient Egyptian, Ethiopian and North African weapons. 

Student Natalie Joy, whose been working under Stith for a year, said she's found community in a city she's long felt isolated, especially in the martial arts world. 

"It's honestly been a healing space for me," Joy said. "I've always loved martial arts, but I always felt in those spaces kind of 'othered.' But in this space, I feel very included and very accepted. It is healing to do something that my ancestors did way back, and another way I can connect with them and that's very important and impactful for me."

Beyond learning the combative stances, student Erika Crespo said Stith has lifted her confidence and opened her heart at times when she's needed it most. 

"Coming to these classes has helped me learn how to get close to somebody and trust them," Crespo said. "When you come from a trauma history or you're anti-social, you don't get close to people. But in this case, I had to learn how to go with the flow and trust that I don't react too much out of fear or anxiety. I'm really doing something that's making me feel whole and it's been a hard but really beautiful journey."

In continuing his practices and weapon-making, Stith's dreams as a ninja have taken shape in other ways. While he's far from an agent of espionage, he's dedicated his life to education and craftsmanship, and he's looking to amplify everything with the opening of his own studio.

Having taught at local schools, community center, daycares, fitness centers and other spaces for 25 years, Stith said having a place fully dedicated has been his ultimate goal, and he's been living it for the past three months. 

Stith said he has the studio, but they need help keeping the doors open until they can build up their student base, so he and the Austin Warrior Arts team started a GoFundMe  to help pay for the space's rent. 

So far, the group has reached $9,115 of the $12,000 goal from current and former students of Stith and community members, which Stith said is a testament to the support and importance of African martial arts and history. 

"It's like mind-blowing to be honest," Stith said. "I can't describe what it feels like having this space and knowing it's dedicated solely to this is really humbling."

– Austin 360