The South Has Always Been Ours: Reclaiming Black Narratives & Building Power

When I first started The Radical Southern Belle, I didn’t see it as what it is today. It wasn’t a meticulously planned project or a business strategy. It wasn’t a movement. It was just a name—a simple change to my Instagram handle. I thought it was cute, a reflection of my love for the South.

I have always said I would never leave this place. It’s home. It’s where my people built lives, where they resisted, where they thrived. And no matter how many times people have tried to paint the South as a lost cause, I’ve always known that this is the battleground. This is the gateway to liberation.

But when I first started, I didn’t feel like my voice mattered. I’ve struggled with self-doubt for as long as I can remember. Why me? Why now? What do I have to say that hasn’t already been said? I convinced myself that nobody wanted to hear from me. And honestly, if I had listened to that voice, The Radical Southern Belle wouldn’t exist.

It took getting fired from my last job—shout out to them—for me to finally see myself. It forced me to recognize the power I already had, the strength I inherited, the ancestral calling I could no longer ignore. And now? That doubt is gone. I know that what I have to say matters. I know that the South is worth fighting for. I know that Black Southerners deserve better.

And that’s exactly what The Radical Southern Belle is about.

Sitting on the porch of the Biggs Plantation in Box Springs, Georgia. My fourth-great grandmother Phyllis McRosalynn Biggs was a slave here after being stolen from the Congo as a young girl.

Reclaiming Black Southern Narratives: The Evolution of the Radical Southern Belle

I recently spoke with Canvas Rebel, an online platform that highlights the stories of entrepreneurs, creatives, and changemakers, about my work in the South and what it means to organize in a region that is often overlooked or written off. While cities like Atlanta or Charlotte are growing hubs of Black political and cultural power, much of the South-particularly its rural areas-is still dismissed, ignored, or seen as a lost cause. 

I believe that one of the biggest lies we’ve been told is that the South is something to escape from—that real success, real progress, real political power is found elsewhere, in New York, in Chicago, in Los Angeles. But that narrative erases the reality that the South is where the fight for Black liberation has always been most urgent.

This is where our ancestors resisted. This is where power-building started. And it is where we continue that work.

For the past few decades, we have been witnessing a reverse migration—Black people returning to the South in numbers that rival the Great Migration. Some are reclaiming land, some are leaving behind cities that have become unaffordable, some are searching for deeper community. But what many don’t realize is that they are stepping into an ongoing political, cultural, and economic battle that has been waged for generations.

For many, coming back to the South is an economic decision. But what does it mean to live here? To be rooted here? To understand the history of this land, the people who have fought for it, and the systems still trying to control us?

That’s the gap The Radical Southern Belle exists to bridge.

It’s not just about moving back to Atlanta and living a good life. It’s about understanding that the real South isn’t just the big cities—it’s the rural communities, the small towns, the places most people overlook. The places where Black folks have lived, resisted, and built for generations. It’s about recognizing that the way we speak, the way we move, the way we love—it all comes from something deeper.

People come to the South and say, “Oh, it’s so country down here. Look at how they talk.” But it’s more than an accent. It’s history. It’s survival. It’s culture that has been shaped by migration, by resistance, by the land itself.

The question isn’t just why are Black folks moving back? What does it mean to truly belong here?

The Power of Black Southern Organizing

Despite all the work that has been done, people still underestimate the power of Black Southern organizing. They look at the South and see red states, voter suppression, conservative strongholds. What they don’t see is the groundwork being laid, the networks being built, the strategies being sharpened.

True Black Southern organizing isn’t about performing activism through social media or chasing clout. It’s about deep, intentional relationship-building. It’s about meeting people where they are, listening, and building collective power in ways that last.

It’s about remembering what our ancestors taught us. The Montgomery Bus Boycott didn’t happen overnight. It took 18 months of strategic organizing, walking to work, taking care of one another.

And yet, we don’t organize like that anymore. We don’t disrupt like that anymore. And if we want to win, we have to get back to that.

The truth is, we were already becoming more complacent in our organizing. But COVID made it worse. It shifted everything to digital. Zoom calls replaced in-person meetings. Narratives became the focus instead of direct action. And for all the good that digital organizing has done, it will never replace what can happen when we show up for each other in person, when we build trust through real relationships.

That is the lesson of Black Southern organizing.

Black Women Are the Backbone

Stacey Abrams. Nsé Ufot. LaTosha Brown. These are the women who have shown us what it looks like to organize with intention—to mobilize our people and build something lasting.

But even beyond the nationally known figures, there are Black women everywhere—many whose names you’ll never know—who have been holding their communities together, leading movements, and fighting for justice before it was popular.

And yet, after this last election, so many of us felt abandoned. We show up for other movements. We fight for everyone else. And when it’s time for that solidarity to return, we are left standing alone.

So now? We are turning inward.

We are building for ourselves, by ourselves. The Radical Southern Belle is part of that shift. Through this platform, we are having the conversations that matter to us. We are organizing in ways that center our needs. We are strategizing for the next four years and beyond.

What’s Next for The Radical Southern Belle

This platform is just getting started.

• In the coming months, I’m finally launching the podcast (April/May 2025).

• I’m expanding my writing and traveling to rural areas to document the stories that are being erased.

• I’m collaborating with other Black women to build stronger networks of resistance and care.

• I’m offering more trainings on reflective leadership, strategy, and power-building.

• And through The Gathering Table, we are creating intentional spaces for Black women to come together, build relationships, and organize in ways that sustain us. 

The Gathering Table is a space where Black women can come together in community—to support one another, share knowledge, and prepare for the road ahead. Whether it’s through collective care, skill-sharing, or mutual aid, it’s about ensuring that we are fortified for what’s next.

We are not just organizing for the next election. We are organizing for our futures.

This is a time for action. We’re not just fighting for political wins. We are fighting for cultural shifts. For our survival. For our vision of the future.

Reclaiming Our Roots

If you’re someone who resonates with this mission but doesn’t know where to start, my advice is simple:

Talk to your ancestors.

Know their names. Walk with them. Walk their land. Visit the places they built. If you don’t know exactly where your family is from, start exploring. Visit the rural South. Sit with its history. Let it speak to you.

This land holds our blood, our stories, our resistance. And if you are back in the South for the first time in generations, understand that you are stepping into something much bigger than yourself.

We have a fight ahead of us. But we are not starting from nothing. We are continuing a legacy. And we are building something new. Something stronger. Something lasting.

Because the truth is, the South has always been ours.