“We lost our community; we lost our homes; we lost our work. What was lost will never be replaced.”
- Queen City Resident
The War Department burned East Arlington to the ground on April 17, 1942 to make way for roads and parking to support the Pentagon. Two hundred families had to find new homes in less than thirty days.
History seldom tells whole stories. It most always speaks with convenient omissions, intended to create some gallant narrative. Truth becomes nearly impossible. Queen City, Virginia is one such glaring omission.
In 1863, Congress established free space for the formerly enslaved. Surrounding the Arlington, Virginia plantation of General Robert E. Lee, Freedman’s Village was born. Despite no running water, sewage, or electricity, this new community thrived without any further government assistance. Residents rose to create self-reliant systems of education, religion, employment, fire, and medical. For years, Congress fought to close the Village, eventually succeeding, stating it was merely granted temporarily.
Foreseeing the inevitable, the Mount Olive Baptist Church purchased two acres of land in East Arlington. In 1892, Queen City became the new haven for ejected residents. Continuing fellowship, and still without running water, it expanded 27 acres with 903 residents over the next 40 years.
On September 11, 1941, Queen City fell victim to War Department expansion plans.
Initially awestruck by the Pentagon’s instant and colossal construction, residents watched its access roads arrive at their literal doorsteps when they learned of their displacement. Invoking eminent domain, they had four weeks to leave. Queen City’s fight made its way to First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, citing the 5th Amendment; “Nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.” That compensation was $2052 per property owner. Totaling 218 properties, 128 were rented, and rented properties received nothing. For perspective, the 2023 compensatory equivalent is approximately $48,000, with the median price of a home being $359,000.
Barely one generation removed from abolition and one decade since the Great Depression, Queen City residents were cast into the unknown. Ripped from their homes, jobs, friends, community, and sense of trust and safety.
Their story was buried in the footnotes of history.
What was your
Queen City?
This story of Black community displacement and erasure by eminent domain is collective and personal, singular and national. Share your story on Instagram with #myqueencity.