Which blackowned spots will survive?
In its heyday before the pandemic, walking into Oakland’s OVO Tavern and Eatery was like popping into a raucous house party thrown by a collection of the coolest black folks around, and each time it felt like the whole neighborhood had been invited.
The business, which stands for “Oakland’s Very Own,” was a living, breathing celebration of black culture through soul food, like heaping bowls of tender braised oxtails, and throwback R&B music, which often came from a DJ spinning records in the middle of the dining room. When the OVO building was rocking, it was the blackest space in the Bay Area.
OVO didn’t actively market itself to white crowds in the way many blackowned spots have to do in the Bay Area to stay afloat financially. It just existed as an inherently black space, one that just happens to be across the street from the former Black Panther Party headquarters on Martin Luther King Jr. Way.
During this racial reckoning of 2020, it seems spending money at black businesses has become a form of virtue signaling for some white people. But, even with good intentions, white people are really only spending more money at black businesses that feel safe and familiar to them — soul food shops or bakeries with easily searchable online reviews. Or in other words, businesses that are black, but not too black. And while a lot of places are benefiting, neighborhood spots like OVO are missing out on this new financial support. Why?
“One of the things I keep asking is if black lives matter so much, how come not all of these black businesses are seeing the same kind of support?” said OVO’s Trevel Adanandus, who runs the restaurant alongside his business partner, Gordon Tillman. “We’re connected to our community and do a lot of things for the people around us, pro bono, but you just hope to see some of that support come back to you.”
Rob Ben’s in Emeryville is another place that, like OVO, has not marketed itself to a white crowd, and thus is not really benefiting from a large influx of white dollars during the pandemic. Former NFL star Marshawn Lynch, who owns the restaurant, told me last year he opened Rob Ben’s because “with a lot of gentrification going on” in Oakland, he wanted to make sure there was a blackowned restaurant still in the area.
Like countless small businesses throughout the Bay Area, OVO is struggling to generate revenue during the pandemic. Adanandus said he needs about $100,000 to keep OVO afloat. And if the business closes, it isn’t just the OVO regulars who will suffer.
Adanandus is also one of the main organizers behind Oakland’s annual Lakefest, a free event in Oakland’s Lake Merritt neighborhood featuring food and music. Revenue from OVO helps fund Lakefest, Adanandus said. The crowds are always diverse at the event, and in 2019, Lakefest hosted more than 20,000 people. The summer event was canceled this year due to the pandemic.
The neighborhood connections for OVO don’t stop there. Long ago, before Adanandus took over the business, the building was in the hands of former NBA player Don Barksdale, the first African American to be named an NCAA AllAmerican (1947). Barksdale operated two popular Oakland nightclubs, the Showcase and the Sportsman — the latter of which was located in the home of OVO.
“There’s a lot of history in this place. It means a lot to the community,” Adanandus said. “Right now, I’m just trying to figure out how to make sure I don’t lose everything.”
In many ways, my fear during the racial reckoning of 2020 isn’t so much about what black culture could lose in the Bay Area, but more so concerning what will be preserved. Hidden within the new adoration white people are giving black businesses is an unspoken power. Where they spend money, what they deem worth saving through this pandemic, will be what represents black Bay Area culture in the months and years to come.
Truly supporting black businesses requires exploration, and sometimes, a tinge of discomfort for white people. Without it, financial contributions are just indulgences in vanity, but dressed up as selfless conviction during times of social change.
And if the 2020 racial reckoning ends with cultural touchstones like OVO closing, it will be hard not to feel like white people in the Bay Area missed the point of it all.
Truly supporting black businesses requires exploration, and sometimes, a tinge of discomfort for white people.