One of America’s Last Black Homesteads Is Fighting to Preserve Its Full Story

Beverly Steele didn’t realize her hometown could be recognized for its historic significance. 

It’s one of the only two African American homesteading communities left in the nation. In Royal, Florida, Black families are still holding onto the inherited 40-acre plot passed down nearly two centuries ago.

It’s a rare reality in America today, given the decline of rural Black towns and land ownership. Already, Royal, about 55 miles north of Orlando, has been split in half by Interstate 75 and continues to face development threats by outsized population growth in neighboring towns. It felt even more urgent to protect the community, so Steele worked overtime to ensure the history was documented, verified, and preserved nationally. 

In February, it finally happened.

The National Parks Services’ National Register of Historic Places listed the community of Royal on its registry — from the cemetery to tobacco barns and residences of the original settlers. The National Register is part of a federal program to identify, evaluate, and protect the country’s “cultural resources worthy of preservation.” More than 87,000 state and county sites — properties, buildings, structures — and 14,000 districts are listed in its database. 

Despite the good news, the work isn’t over. 

After Steele’s organization, Young Performing Artists, submitted its nomination to the state, officials in the Florida Division of Historical Resources redrew the community’s boundaries, reducing the proposed listing to 1,965 acres from 3,501 acres, Steele said. The decision omitted 24 of Royal’s original property owners from the late 1800s. 

With help from the Southern Poverty Law Center, Steele is submitting an amendment to ensure it reflects the “true and accurate history,” she said. 

Once the historian completes the amendment, it will go back to the state’s historic preservation officer for review before it moves forward to the review board. If the board approves, the amendment will be submitted to the Keeper of the National Register, said Malissa Williams, senior attorney for the SPLC.  

“Many Black landowners have been displaced through economic development or more violent means, so the fact that Royal has been able to persevere over 100 years now is truly extraordinary,” Williams said. “We’re certainly celebrating the listing, but we are working to amend the boundaries to ensure that the entirety of this Black homestead and community is recognized for its historic significance and give it some protection.”

The keeper is in support of the community, according to a supplementary listing record.

“The documentation submitted suggests a larger boundary may be appropriate and may be considered in the future through submission of information consistent with National Register regulations,” the keeper wrote.

Drawing on the ancestors’ resilience 

When Steele received the letter in the mail, she rejoiced at the news. 

It took years of recording oral histories, hiring a historian to document the historical resources, and working with the Southern Poverty Law Center to make the listing come to fruition. 

“Finally we’re being recognized. Finally, we can say that it is listed. Finally, people have heard us that we adequately documented that we’ve been here as long as we have been. Finally, the oral histories now are resonating in our ears,” Steele said.

Then, she hesitated for a moment. 

She suspected parts of the history had been omitted. Then, she saw that it had.

It’s been a back and forth process with the state’s historic preservation office. In 2024, a spokesperson for the state denied the agency changed any boundaries. In an emailed statement to Capital B, the spokesperson confirmed revisions had been made while waiting for a final determination by the National Park Service. Capital B has reached out again for additional comments. 

When pieces of a community’s history are left out, it denies the full humanity and contributions left by the forefathers and foremothers who labored and laid the groundwork for the next generation, Steele added. The challenges didn’t stop Steele and her community from moving forward. Instead, she pulled from her ancestors and their resilience, she said.

“I thought about all of the rough times that they may have gone through in the 161 years to be able to hold the land today,” she said. “It wasn’t just about getting it listed, it wasn’t just about getting the notoriety from it. My community was just simply ecstatic because we were able to adequately document what we had heard.”

For many Royal natives, they’ve always known the history because of their deep family ties.

Suncara Jackson’s maternal and paternal family still live on the land passed down generations ago. As a child, she spent summers at her grandmother’s home, where she fed animals. If someone didn’t hear her personally, they knew her uncle, an aunt, or someone in her family, she said.

Deidra Russell’s lineage goes back four generations on one side of her family and five generations on the other side. She learned the history from the elders who, every year at the Ebenezer AME Church’s anniversary, recited it.

“My aunt Catherine would stand up and she would read the history of Ebenezer [and Royal]. It really was refreshing to hear her read it every year,” Russell said in 2024. “I grew up knowing that we are descendants of freedmen from the Old Green Plantation on the Withlacoochee River.”

Russell’s cousin James Wideman experienced that history. He remembers the days of hanging tobacco as a kid at the old tobacco barn and picking peas. He learned significantly more through Steele, who is also his cousin.

“Royal’s rich in history as it is, and we have a love for our families, our community,” Wideman told Capital B in 2024. “They’re digging in to preserve what’s there for our future generations to enjoy. We also realized that we do have a duty to serve each other and our community and our nation.”

Steele hopes their journey encourages others to document their family histories authentically with the help of the community, especially in a climate where it is being challenged, rewritten, monitored, filtered, and erased, she said.

“Leverage the voices of all the residents. You cannot project to the world the true story without hearing all of the stories in the form that they come to you,” she said. “That helps to build a strong foundation, and that’s what helped kept Royal as a community. 161 years later, we are still a community.”  

Read More:

• The Fight to Protect One of America’s Last Historic Black Communities
• A Florida Community Faces Erasure. Residents Are Honoring Its History.

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