Can the Old Neighborhood Become the New Neighborhood—with a Modern Twist?

In the Detroit I grew up in, a man went to work, a child went to school, and a neighbor kept watch on the block. The rhythm was simple but sacred. You didn’t have to be rich—you just had to care. You cut your grass, looked after your neighbor’s kids, and carried your own weight. Crime was low because the corner was occupied—by fathers, mothers, coaches, and elders.

Now, too many corners are abandoned. Schools are half-full. Stores are owned by people who don’t know the community—and the kids? They’re brilliant, but many are lost in a system that doesn’t see them.

The question is not just what happened? The real question is:

Can the old neighborhood become the new neighborhood—with a modern twist?

I say yes—but it won’t come from wishful thinking. It’ll come from rebuilding the infrastructure of community power, reimagining the value of Black work, and anchoring our blocks in ownership, education, and cultural pride.

 Work Still Matters—but It Must Evolve

Back then, a good-paying factory job stabilized the home. Today, it might be a tech job, a trade business, or a media platform—but it must still do the same thing: give a person pride, purpose, and a paycheck.

That’s why I’m building the Courageous Ecosystem—to combine youth sports, media training, and entrepreneurship under one roof. If the assembly line made Detroit famous, the ownership line can make Detroit powerful.

 Schools Aren’t Just Classrooms—They’re Neighborhood Engines

I don’t believe in waiting for the system. I believe in showing the system what works. That’s why my book Obstacle Conquered is being turned into a youth workbook. That’s why the Courageous Games brings kids from all races and states to Detroit every summer—to compete, connect, and believe again.

Let’s turn every school into a launchpad for legacy—where kids learn math, yes, but also learn to lead.

 Restore the Store—Without the Poison

The neighborhood store was once a place of pride—a Black-owned business where you knew the owner and the owner knew you.

Today, it’s often filled with junk food, liquor, cigarettes, and disrespect—products designed to break us down, not build us up.

That’s why I’m launching a campaign to Restore the Black Store—but with a modern, healthy twist:

• No liquor. No cigarettes. No poison.

• Yes to fresh food, vitamins, financial tools, Detroit-made products, and books.

• A store where kids can learn to work, seniors can find what they need, and the community can gather, not just buy.

This isn’t just about retail—it’s about repair. Repairing trust. Repairing health. Repairing Black economic roots.

 Soul in the City

Neighborhoods aren’t just built with brick—they’re built with soul. That’s why Soul Village exists. It’s not just a venue—it’s a vibe. Jazz, barbecue, community concerts, and family Sundays. It’s a space where Black joy is not just celebrated—it’s structured. And in the winter, we flip it into “Soul on Ice,” a community skating rink for kids and elders alike.

Elders Matter. History Matters. The Future Is Now.

The old neighborhood had rules. It had rhythm. It had rituals. We won’t copy the past—we’ll honor it by building something even more powerful:

A neighborhood where tech meets tradition.

Where kids own businesses.

Where food is medicine.

Where history is taught—and made.

Detroit, let’s stop asking what we lost and start asking what we can build.

The old neighborhood can absolutely become the new neighborhood—with a modern twist.

All it takes is purpose, people, and power. And that, we still have.