Project 77: The End for Now

On an unceremoniously gray Saturday, September 12th, I stood inside Yassa African picking up saka saka and an enormous Styrofoam cup of ginger soda. TVs played in the background and two tables of people sat for dine-in hinting at the memories of a pre-COVID era. I was wearing my favorite jumpsuit and my best big earrings for the first time in nearly seven months, leaning into a sense of accomplishment and confidence I hadn’t felt in ages.

It was my last stop of Project 77, my year-long journey to visit a bar, restaurant, or café in each of Chicago’s neighborhoods. What started from a place of optimism and curiosity turned into a race against my own financial uncertainty and the instability of Chicago small businesses in the face of a global pandemic.

I had planned to only spend a few months on the project but ultimately took a year to the day to complete. I am so grateful I slowed down. I was able to lean into each neighborhood a little bit deeper (although still relatively very much on the surface for now). I was able to watch Chicago’s temperamental seasons shift from different corners of the city.

Most of the businesses I made a point to visit weren’t the ones that had resources available to build what Jason Hammer so aptly called “Petri dishes on Randolph,” referring to the domes and chalets that have popped up to shelter “outdoor” diners. They were family, often minority-owned, independent businesses. The businesses that day after day continue to be left behind by Congress.

Since I finished the project, I have struggled to reflect on the experience for a number of reasons. Most notably, it turns out that writing while struggling with depression is extremely difficult. I have the utmost respect for all of the journalists and authors that have continued to write for their livelihood this year and throughout their own struggles. I haven’t, however, stopped thinking about the independent restaurants and community spaces I visited for a second. I wonder if each business is still open. How many of their staff are unemployed? If they’ve had to shut down temporarily for COVID exposures? If they’ve been able to pivot to take-out operations? Were they able to access and understand PPP resources?

I think about the man who told me about his entrepreneurial pursuit to start an afro-aesthetic-centered mask business while we waited for our take-out at Uncle Joe’s.

I think about dropping food donations from the market off at the BLM protest in Chatham and stopping for Garifuna Flava on the way home. It felt like every other business along the drive was covered in plywood and ACAB graffiti.

I think about the atmosphere inside Vito and Nicks days before their 100th anniversary. It was a COVID escapist’s dream in the most reckless sense.

I think about Kayla and Kathy and our day of adapting to the fluid opening hours of small businesses. Kathy bought us these beautiful tortilla warmers that a woman was selling near our lunch spot in Austin. It’s my only physical token of the project. 

I think about the handful of neighborhoods that didn’t have a food and beverage business of any kind and how I sat in boarded-up liquor store parking lots researching the incredibly glaring food apartheid in areas of South and West Chicago.

I think of how many more neighborhoods may be added to that list thanks to the government’s grossly mishandled management of COVID.

I think about Ellen and the team at the Southeast Chicago Chamber of Commerce that took time out of their day to educate me on the history of Chicago’s street art even though I was just a curious pedestrian on Stony Island. 

I think about the countless meals enjoyed on the trunk of my car or on the rocky shore of Lake Michigan as COVID washed over the city.

Throughout the project, I was often asked why I chose to do this and what I planned to do with the experience after it was finished. Truthfully, I had no idea and was fairly bitter about the expectations we place on one another for interests to be something, anything other than an experience on its own. Despite it all, I decided to cave to the siren song of the American higher education system. I applied to graduate school to pursue this and similar projects on a larger, more official scale. Capitalism got me again, ok?

I am excited to share that I will be diving into 2021 pursuing a master’s in food studies at New York University. I’ll be remote for the foreseeable future, which turns out to be a silver lining for many reasons. With a social entrepreneurial focus, I would like to continue to shape my business acumen; becoming a forceful connector of capital to innovative founders, primarily WOC/GNC purveyors, challenging the hospitality industry at large at home here in Chicago.

Thank you for coming along for the ride.