Roots Reclaimed — Mini Documentary

Roots Reclaimed explores the untold history and modern reality of Black farmers in Hampton Roads. Through interviews, archival visuals, and on-the-ground reporting, this documentary highlights the resilience of local growers reclaiming land, culture, and community.

Featuring:
• Thelonious Cook — Sustainable Farmer
• Creekmore’s Place (Virginia Beach)
• Mermaid City Flowers (Norfolk)
• Hampton Roads Black Farmers Market

Roots Reclaimed - Editorial Photo Spread

A visual look into the farmers, markets, land, and community shaping the Black agricultural revival in Hampton Roads.

Roots Reclaimed — Video Podcast Episode

Roots Reclaimed is a video podcast exploring the past, present, and future of Black farming in southeastern Virginia. Through intimate conversations and on-the-ground visuals, host Simone Octavia Stephen spotlights the farmers, growers, and land stewards working to restore community, rebuild food access, and reclaim a legacy nearly erased. This episode blends storytelling, history, and lived experience to reveal why returning to the land still matters today.

ROOTS RECLAIMED: Black Farmers Restoring Land, Legacy, and Community in Hampton Roads

By Simone Octavia Stephen

Hampton Roads is one of the earliest agricultural regions in the United States, shaped by fertile coastlines, tidal rivers and centuries of cultivation. It is also the place where, in 1619, the first enslaved Africans were brought to English North America—people selected not only for their labor, but for their agricultural expertise. Their skill in rice production, livestock management and land stewardship reshaped the economic landscape of Virginia and laid the foundation for a farming economy that would endure for generations.

Four hundred years later, the legacy of those agricultural innovators survives, but the presence of Black farmers has nearly disappeared. Black farmers represented 14 percent of all U.S. farmers in 1920. Today, they represent less than 1 percent. Millions of acres once owned by Black families have been lost through discriminatory lending, heirs’ property complications and forced sales.

Despite this steep decline, a small but resilient group of Black farmers in Hampton Roads is reclaiming the region’s agricultural identity—one backyard, one field, one flower bed and one community relationship at a time.

Their work is reshaping how people think about land, food access and what it means to reclaim a history nearly erased.

A FAMILY LEGACY AT CREEKMORE’S PLACE

At Creekmore’s Place in Virginia Beach, the family’s farm story stretches back more than three generations. The stand sits on land surrounded by suburban development, yet its history reflects a time when Black farmers were far more visible in the region.

Farmer Sharon Creekmore Mosley remembers her father raising food in long, orderly rows that he tended to after working night shifts as a longshoreman. He grew food not only to support the family, but to feed neighbors, friends and customers who relied on the farm’s seasonal harvests.

“My grandparents started farming before I was born,” Mosley said.

She grew up watching crops fill the yard—corn, tomatoes, cucumbers, sweet potatoes. At that time, she said, Black farmers were more common in Hampton Roads.

“There are very few of us left,” Mosley said. “Black farmers used to own millions of acres of land. Now it’s just over a million.”

Though her farm is smaller now, Mosley continues the work with the same intention. She raises vegetables and herbs, sells at local markets and speaks with customers who often share stories about their own family farming histories.

“People want to see the farm,” she said. “They want to ask questions. That connection is important.”

Mosley said many customers return weekly, not only for the produce but for the sense of continuity that Creekmore’s Place represents. Some are older residents who grew up visiting farms across Virginia Beach, back when the area consisted of farmlands rather than dense development. Others are young families seeking healthier options or looking to reconnect to the land in small ways.

“There’s a lot of curiosity now,” she said. “People want to know what’s in their food, how it’s grown. And for some people, that connection to a Black-owned farm means a lot.”

While Creekmore’s Place represents history preserved, it also reflects the broader challenges Black farmers face: limited land, aging infrastructure and the pressure of development. Farming in the region requires constant adaptation, Mosley said, but the mission is worth it.

“We do it because it means something,” she said. “It meant something to our family, and it still means something for our community.”

RECONNECTING THROUGH THE LAND: THUNDERCLOUD FARM

Across the Chesapeake Bay in Cape Charles, the landscape changes from suburban streets to wide open fields, sandy soil and long rows of crops. Here, farmer Thelonious Cook tends Thundercloud Farm, a place he never imagined he would operate.

Cook’s path to farming began unexpectedly. After earning a master’s degree, he lived for a year in a small agricultural village in Tanzania. When he returned home to Virginia, he learned his family had inherited land that had gone unmanaged and neglected for years.

He went to clear the property simply to help out—but something shifted.

“In that time, I fell in love with being on the land,” Cook said.

He started by growing food for himself and his family. As he experimented with crops—hibiscus, watermelon, herbs, leafy greens—he began to see potential for something larger. Over ten years, Thundercloud Farm expanded into a multi-acre operation focused on culturally relevant crops and community education.

“Being a Black farmer in Hampton Roads carries historical meaning,” he said. “This is where the first Africans were brought. They knew farming. That’s part of our story.”

Cook views farming as both a form of self-reliance and a form of healing. He said many people come to the farm seeking knowledge, grounding or simply a space to breathe.

“My goal became to create a safe space,” he said. “A place where people can reconnect.”

He noticed a spike in interest after the COVID-19 pandemic as people grappled with food shortages and economic instability.

“People felt vulnerable,” Cook said. “They didn’t feel like they had control over anything. But when you can grow even a little bit of food, that gives you power.”

He now welcomes groups, young people and families who want to learn about agriculture. He teaches composting, herbalism and land stewardship, and encourages visitors to think about farming outside of traditional models.

“Access to land is power,” he said. “You can feed yourself. You can heal yourself.”

Thundercloud Farm stands as a reminder that agriculture is not only history—it’s a future that local communities can still shape.

REDEFINING URBAN AGRICULTURE: MERMAID CITY FLOWERS

In Norfolk, where historic neighborhoods meet dense urban streets, the landscape for farming looks different. For urban flower farmer Dee Hall Goodwin, it looks like a patchwork of side yards, unused condo spaces and reclaimed corners of the city.

Goodwin owns Mermaid City Flowers, an urban flower farm and design studio that operates across multiple small plots within Norfolk. Her model is built on “community land sourcing,” where residents volunteer unused outdoor spaces for her to cultivate.

“I couldn’t find locally grown flowers for my wedding,” Goodwin said. “There weren’t any cut-flower farmers here, which surprised me.”

Drawing on years of gardening experience, she decided to fill the gap herself. She now grows thousands of tulips, dahlias, ranunculus and native flowers each year, distributing her plots across different microclimates in the city.

“Every day is different,” she said. “It depends on the season—growing, planting, designing, handling weddings. There’s always something.”

Goodwin also leads two farmers’ collectives: the Tidewater Flower Collective, a network of about 25 growers who collaborate on sourcing and events, and Black Flower Farmers, an international organization of more than 50 Black flower growers and florists.

Black Flower Farmers was born out of a need for representation and support within the industry, where Black growers are rare.

“There might be only around a hundred Black flower farmers in the United States,” Goodwin said. “It’s a very small group.”

The collective provides mentorship, troubleshooting, cost-sharing and community—resources that counter the isolation many farmers feel.

Goodwin’s commitment to sustainability is central to her work. She refuses to use pesticides, makes her own compost, collects rainwater and avoids floral foam, which contains microplastics and never decomposes.

“Flowers are the medium, not the message,” she said. “The message is community and sustainability.”

Her growing spaces—tucked between homes, behind condos, and along waterfronts—represent a different kind of agricultural access. They show how land stewardship can happen in small, nontraditional places.

THE DECLINE OF BLACK LAND OWNERSHIP

The dramatic reduction in Black farmers did not happen naturally. Historians and federal reports describe a long history of systemic barriers.

In the 1980s, the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights published findings on discriminatory lending practices within the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA). Black farmers were routinely denied loans, faced longer wait times and received fewer resources.

Heirs’ property laws also contributed to land loss. When land passes through generations without a clear will, dozens of relatives may inherit partial ownership. That land can then be forced into sale if one heir demands it—often at prices far below market value.

According to the USDA, Black farmers lost 90 percent of their land between 1910 and 1997.

For farmers in Hampton Roads, these barriers have shaped everything from access to credit to the ability to scale their operations.

The farmers interviewed for this story described the ongoing effects:

• Difficulty securing or expanding farmland
• High competition with developers
• Limited access to capital
• Lack of visibility in local markets
• The pressure of operating alone

Yet they continue to farm—despite the challenges, and often because of them.

A NEW GENERATION RETURNS TO THE LAND

Although the number of Black farmers remains low, the work happening in Hampton Roads shows signs of renewal.

Younger people—especially those interested in sustainability, food justice and community health—are finding their way back to agriculture. Many start with small plots, container gardens, or community plots before expanding.

Mosley said she sees more young families asking questions at the market.

“They want their kids to know what a farm is,” she said. “They want them to see how food grows.”

Goodwin said interest in her flower collectives has increased each year from people across the region.

“There’s community again,” she said. “People are sharing knowledge. It’s powerful.”

Cook said he has watched newcomers arrive at the farm unsure of where to begin, only to leave feeling grounded and inspired.

“They come here and remember something,” he said. “It might be a memory of a grandparent’s garden or just a moment of quiet. But they reconnect.”

RESTORING WHAT WAS LOST

While their methods differ, the farmers share a common purpose: to restore a legacy rooted in land, resilience and community.

Mosley continues her family’s tradition and keeps a visible Black presence in the Virginia Beach farm landscape.
Cook builds community power by teaching land stewardship and food sovereignty.
Goodwin transforms urban spaces into sustainable growing sites and amplifies the voices of Black flower farmers nationwide.

Their work reflects something larger than individual farms. It reflects a cultural reclamation.

Black farmers in Hampton Roads are not disappearing—they are re-emerging.

They are building a future where the region’s agricultural history is acknowledged, honored and expanded. They are proving that farming is not a relic of the past but a tool for community resilience.

And they are reminding Hampton Roads that the story of American agriculture begins with them.