Uprooting 101: The Hidden Cost Behind Campus Expansion

Picture this: you’re in your neighborhood, watching familiar streets thrive with children playing and neighbors connecting — then abruptly, officials arrive with a stark message: “We need your property for progress.” Refusal isn’t much of an option because the government wields eminent domain power, allowing it to seize private property for “public use.” This was the harsh reality faced by many Black families across Virginia during the 20th century as public universities expanded their campuses.

Old Dominion University targeted Norfolk’s vibrant Lamberts Point community, transforming it into prime real estate for campus development. In the 1960s, Christopher Newport University set its sights on a prosperous Black middle-class neighborhood in Newport News, displacing residents in the name of “college growth.” Similarly, Longwood University and other Virginia public schools repeated this painful pattern, often offering little to no fair compensation or adequate relocation assistance.

Universities tend to frame this as progress — advancement for education and the greater good. But beneath this narrative lies the true cost: entire Black communities dismantled, their cultural fabric erased. These neighborhoods were more than just houses; they were home to businesses, churches, schools, and deep family histories.

Eminent Domain: The Legal Mechanism Behind Displacement

Eminent domain, the government’s legal authority to acquire private property for public purposes, became the tool of choice for these expansions. While it sounds like a bureaucratic term, for those affected, it meant losing homes and communities with an agonizing lack of consent or regard.

The “public use” justification often masked the real human cost. Building campuses, parking lots, and university facilities hardly translated to “public good” for the displaced Black residents. Many homeowners experienced lowball offers, abrupt evictions, and very limited support, raising questions about fairness and justice that resonate even today.

Enduring Trauma: The Ripple Effects Across Generations

Losing a home is painful in the here and now, but when entire Black neighborhoods are razed, the trauma reverberates through generations.

Homeownership has historically served as a cornerstone of wealth building in America — especially critical for Black families who faced systemic barriers to economic advancement. Taking away these communities meant more than just losing property; it stripped financial stability, disrupted social networks, and erased parts of cultural identity.

The fallout included:

• Severed community bonds due to the destruction of churches, local businesses, and schools.
• Children growing up disconnected from the neighborhoods that once nurtured their families’ dreams.
• Psychological wounds stemming from a fractured heritage and loss of a collective identity that no scholarship or program can fully mend.

Descendants recount the loss of areas like Vinegar Hill in Charlottesville not merely as losing land but as the end of a beloved way of life.

Segregation in Disguise: Access Denied Despite Expansion

Though these campus expansions often came at the expense of Black neighborhoods, paradoxically, Black students frequently encountered limited access to these very institutions. For much of the 20th century, public universities in Virginia imposed caps and barriers on Black enrollment — an exclusion that layered injustice upon displacement.

The message was clear: uproot the communities but restrict the opportunity to benefit from education. This entrenched inequality extended far beyond land, deep into social and economic disparities.

Accountability and Reckoning: Virginia’s Response

Fast-forward to today, and the Commonwealth of Virginia is confronting its history with renewed urgency. Spurred by community advocacy, investigative journalism, and public demand, state commissions and task forces are actively examining these painful legacies.

Highlights include:

• Christopher Newport University and Newport News officials are reviewing the 1960s community uprooting and exploring reparative steps.
• Investigations into Old Dominion University’s impact on the Lamberts Point community are underway.
• Longwood University and UVA’s historical displacements are receiving renewed scholarly and public attention.

This process moves beyond symbolic gestures, as discussions around reparations, compensation, and restorative justice gain traction within government circles.

Restorative Justice in Action: Beyond Words

What does restorative justice mean in this context? It’s a multifaceted effort aiming to acknowledge harm and rebuild what was lost.

Advocates push for meaningful initiatives such as:

• Scholarship programs dedicated to descendants of displaced families, linking education to healing.
• Financial compensation and housing support for those still grappling with the consequences of displacement.
• Public memorials honoring erased neighborhoods and preserving their histories.
• Stronger legal protections to prevent future unjust property seizures.

While some proposals remain pending, the growing momentum signals real potential for change.

At a Glance: Universities, Neighborhoods, and Current Actions

Why This Matters: Justice Is Essential

This history isn’t just a footnote or confined to academic debates. It directly influences contemporary wealth disparities, community dynamics, and social equity in Virginia and beyond.

True progress requires:

• Confronting uncomfortable truths head-on.
• Ensuring voices of descendants are heard and respected in decision-making processes.
• Inspiring other states and institutions to reckon with their own histories honestly.

Progress that ignores justice risks perpetuating erasure. Only by facing the past can we build a fairer future.

The Bottom Line: History’s Story is Still Being Written

The expansion of Virginia’s universities at the expense of Black neighborhoods is not just a historical side chapter — it’s a vital thread in the ongoing fabric of racial and economic justice in America.

Thanks to the courage of descendants, the persistence of journalists, and the dedication of policymakers, the truth is emerging and accountability taking shape. It’s on all of us to listen, learn, and advocate for solutions that honor those displaced.

Next time a university boasts about its growth, ask: “Whose story was sidelined in the name of progress?” Because this isn’t just history — it’s a call to action.

For Further Exploration

• Dive into ProPublica’s in-depth investigation on Virginia’s universities and displacement.
• Explore Virginia Public Media’s coverage of task force efforts.
• Follow the Virginia Center for Investigative Journalism’s work at vcij.org.
• Watch WHRO’s compelling documentary series, Uprooted.

This narrative is a vivid reminder that beyond the pages of history textbooks lie real stories of disruption and resilience. Honoring these truths and working toward healing is not optional — it’s essential. Virginia’s past shapes our present and our future, and rewriting the ending to be just and inclusive is in all our hands. History repeats unless we choose to change it. ✊🏾