About the project By Yalonda M. James I began documenting Martin Luther King Jr. Way in March 2019, just nine months after moving to the Bay Area from Memphis. There, I had covered events and stories that led up to the 50th anniversary of the assassination of Dr. King in 2018. Due to my home's proximity to the National Civil Rights Museum, formerly the Lorraine Motel, I would frequently pass by the wreath that hung outside of Room 306, the site where he was murdered on April 4, 1968. This project began when I came across MLK Jr. Way at West Grand Avenue in Oakland. I saw an encampment that included people who looked like me. I wondered what Dr. King would think about seeing Black people sleeping in tents on that street. As I traveled along the street, I saw corner markets, empty lots, a billboard that advertised gambling, graffiti and a lack of green spaces. Driving to the other end of this 6-mile arterial street in Berkeley felt like viewing the 1939 film, "The Wizard of Oz," when the picture transforms from black and white to Technicolor. In Berkeley, I saw yoga studios, a farmers market, a wine bar, well-maintained parks, tennis and basketball courts, a Trader Joe’s, a billboard displaying the schedule of a UC Berkeley athletic team and immaculate homes with residents walking their pets. Dr. King’s image adorns a series of small street signs at nearly every corner. I decided I needed to document this roadway, and to meet the diverse communities along its path. I met residents like Annette Miller, who was born in her home in the 600 block of 30th Street, off of MLK Jr. Way, then Grove St., on June 1, 1966. A couple of months before her second birthday, the civil rights leader was slain. Miller, a City of Oakland employee, hosts a yearly street cleanup at Durant Mini Park near her home each MLK Day. A few years ago, she enlisted elementary school children to design a banner with the likeness of Dr. King. I also met Devin McDonald, part-owner of Mr. Mopps’ Children’s Books and Toys, whose store is at the northern end of MLK Jr. Way at the corner of Rose Street in Berkeley. Wherever my exploration took me, I had delightful and informative discussions with interesting people who lived, worked, worshiped or played along MLK Jr. Way. Over the course of five years, they have been gracious and generous with their time and energy, sharing with me what makes this street unique. This year, the 56th anniversary of Dr. King’s death, my hope is for our community to pause and reflect upon his dream and where we are headed. It’s time we envision a pathway for home ownership for the poor, ensure access to nutritious foods for all, to interrupt unnecessary violence, and to make this and every street safe enough for all its residents. To truly honor Dr. King, MLK Jr. Way should be a vibrant street, home to a plethora of hopes, dreams, and equality for all.

The Death of Darrius Stewart by Yalonda M. James The Commercial Appeal “I can’t breathe” were a few of Darrius Stewart’s last words during a fatal encounter with Memphis police officer Connor Schilling on July 17 on church grounds. I. Can’t. Breathe. A year earlier to the day, Eric Garner uttered those exact words through a chokehold while being arrested by officers from the New York Police Department. Their deaths have added fuel to a new civil rights movement called Black Lives Matter. “Too often young black lives are being sacrificed by the police of this nation,” Tami Sawyer, a Memphis activist, said at Stewart’s funeral in August. “People want you to say ‘All Lives Matter’ and erase the fact that we are ignored in this country. ... If we can’t say ‘Black Lives Matter,’ who can?” Sawyer asked. As of Dec. 17, 944 people have been shot and killed by police, according to The Washington Post. Nineteen of those people were from Tennessee. Nationally, 32 of them were unarmed and black, including Stewart, who was shot by Schilling as they fought after a traffic stop. “We can’t have this unchecked genocide continue without the protections of law,” said Keith Norman, pastor at First Baptist-Broad and president of the NAACP Memphis Branch. “I have two young African-American sons and daughters, two sons and two daughters, and I don’t want this to occur in my own family, but when it occurs in any family it occurs in my family.” Since the recent shooting deaths across the country of Stewart, Michael Brown, Rekia Boyd, Tamir Rice, Aiyana Stanley-Jones, Laquon McDonald, Samuel DuBose, and many others — tensions are high in the black community. In the aftermath of Stewart’s fatal shooting, Stewart’s family and friends, activists associated with the Black Lives Matter movement and local pastors have held numerous protests and vigils calling for justice and expressing dissatisfaction with local authority. “People are hurting out here,” Rev. Earle Fisher said during a vigil a week after Stewart’s death. “He didn’t have to die. ... Don’t let next week come around and you forgot who Darrius Stewart is. Don’t let next month come around and you forgot who Darrius Stewart is.”

The story of Hyde Park is the story of a multitude of inner-city neighborhoods hollowed out as Memphis’ population moved outward, into the city’s outer reaches, to the suburbs and beyond, fleeing crime and higher taxes, pursuing jobs and higher-performing schools.

Cypress Gardens is a Section 8 apartment complex in North Memphis, Tennessee. The complex, located at 1205 Springdale St. in the Hyde Park neighborhood, receives federal subsidies every year, including $160,954 last year from the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD). Despite all that funding, tenants are living in poor conditions, and many of the women and children have respiratory problems such as asthma and bronchitis, which are caused or worsen by mold. Many residents also complain that the management company charges them for repair work.