Anacostia Unmapped

n this edition of Anacostia Unmapped, we visit D.C.'s Takoma neighborhood to hear from a woman who was inspired by our story about Aunt Helen, a legendary neighborhood-watcher in Anacostia.

Original photograph by Brandon Gatling.

When Alicia Bennett and her husband moved to Anacostia three years ago, some friends said, “That’s not safe for your family, for your kids.” But the couple wanted to buy a house in the city, and it was the only place they could afford. As a white family in a thoroughly African-American neighborhood, they've given a lot of thought to how they present themselves. She talks with Anacostia Unmapped contributor John Johnson about living in a community where the racial and economic divides are obvious. (Photo by Jason Fuller)

Musician, actor and longtime Southeast D.C. resident Jason Anderson has been playing go-go since he was young. He talks with Anacostia Unmapped contributor John Johnson about his love for neighborhood heroes the Junkyard Band, and what it's like when a go-go band finds the "pocket" — the part of a song when percussion reigns supreme and the crowd is fully absorbed in Washington's home-grown offshoot of funk music. Photo by Othello Banaci

Growing up with three brothers can make a girl want her own home. So imagine one who starts babysitting at 14, saves her money and hides it from her brothers. She picks out the house she wants to buy, goes to college and starts a daycare. Renita "Mommy Gayle" Simril talks with Anacostia Unmapped contributor John Johnson about her childhood in Anacostia, a spooky experience in the famous Frederick Douglass Home nearby, and how she acquired the house of her dreams in the neighborhood.

The story of a map, settlers and the first people of Anacostia. Listen as poet and playwright John Johnson talks with Jason Anderson about his real and present connection to the first natives that lived along the Anacostia River.

Developers are all over Anacostia and things are moving fast. So when contributor Schyla Pondexter-Moore heard about a bus tour of developers driving through the streets, she gathered about a half dozen activists and they stopped the bus. Here she explains to John Johnson why she spearheaded the action.

Photo credit: Heather Khalifa/Scripps Howard Foundation Wire

In most D.C. neighborhoods, there’s a person you have to go see to get anything done, and to get in to see them, you usually need an introduction. In Anacostia that person is Teresa Howe-Jones. The 83-year-old troubleshoots overdue bills, tenant issues and other problems. She has a 2,000-person phone list, and she knows how to use it. Anacostia Unmapped contributor Kymone Freeman invites her to his station, We Act Radio. Plus we hear poet Fred Joiner perform "Song for Anacostia."

photographer is Brandon Gatling

‎My man DC would say stuff like

"Life is like a university with no walls"

"Now let's go get these drawers"

My man DC

My man DC just turned 21

Nic name was black jack

Finally got his GED

In High School

Wasn't fond of class or back pack

Skin was darker than burnt toast

IQ sharper than mos

He lived East of the River

Hangs out with his friends

VA and PG

They met over the internet

Playing "Call of Duty"

On plazma screen T.V

When DC was younger

He knew "What was going On"

He listen to Marvin Gaye

2015 legalized weed

And it perfectly find now that Marvin's gay

DC use to sit and listen

Belly full of chocolate

Running down Good Hope

Hanging round Ainger

‎2015 finally got a sit down restaurant

Where I can eat breakfast

DC is serving more Vanna Whites and Less

Kiki Shepards

DC fell in love with her Diamond like features

And the curves on her 8 wards

But like every relationship things get bumpy

Like roads before street cars

DC's girl would start beefing

DC would go vegan

He never called her female dog

Like veterinarian

Although deep down inside

He was redder than an Nats cap

His heart was broken like IPhone screens

But he played it like it was cool

Cooler than January and February

My man DC

By John Johnson

Original photograph by Brandon Gatling.

The whispers started and grew until the word "freedom" was loud in thousands of slaves' mouths. It was April 16, 1862. The president signed a paper, and 3,100 D.C. slaves were freed — Emancipation Day. Many African-Americans in this city see it as the start of a new life for their ancestors. But emancipation didn't immediately end the role of slave traders in the city. Anacostia Unmapped contributor John Johnson explains how a historic day also came with a "punch in the gut."

And also in this edition of Anacostia Unmapped, we hear the voice of Fountain Hughes — a slave in nearby Virginia who recorded an interview with the Library of Congress in 1949. It's of the few surviving audio interviews of ex-slaves.

After the Civil War, the US government sent a white man east of the river to buy land from plantation owners, Juliana and David Barry. They didn’t reveal their plans for the 375 acres but then told former slaves they could buy an acre to build a house.

So Barry Farms is this. A place where men and women, just emancipated could be full people. And begin, again.

Today’s story takes us to that same land, now home to a large public housing project, Barry Farms that is slated for demolition. More than 250 families live there now and the city says if they leave for the construction period they’ll be able to live in the new homes but some residents are suspicious.

Anacostia Unmapped producer Schyla Pondexter-Moore is housing organizer and introduces us to a resident of Barry Farms she works with. Photo by Andy DelGiudice.