Still looking for a ‘Black mecca,’ the new Great Migration
But as fast as the money was coming in, it was going out. And when Minnesota moved toward HMOs and their complex rules and regulation, D’Ivoire Johnson says, her grandfather’s days were numbered. After years of legal fights and audits, Johnson closed his clinic in 1988 and quickly lost his real estate, too. D’Ivoire Johnson thinks her grandfather’s legal problems were part of a much larger issue facing the city’s Black leaders.
“My friend Stacey would joke there’s something going on in Minnesota. The moment you make $149,999, there’s some White person somewhere in some office that comes to find you,” she said.
“Every Black person in Minnesota that I’ve seen try to have some independence and do very well, I’ve watched them get dismantled for minor technicalities,” she added. “I’ve been working in financial institutions since the foreclosure crisis in audit and compliance positions, so I’ve actually seen the things that they do and Black folks just could never … I now sit in these institutions that are constantly under the consent order and they get to survive. We don’t. If a Black business is audited, it’s going to close.”
When D’Ivoire Johnson decided to leave Minneapolis, it was in hopes of not having her two sons grow up in what’s been called the “Minnesota paradox.” The phrase was coined by labor economist Samuel L. Myers Jr. in reference to how while Minnesotans enjoy some of the highest living standards in the country, they also suffer from some of the widest racial gaps in employment and income.
“I wanted my kids to grow up and see Black people thriving,” she said. “Minneapolis is great, but not for Black folks. If you ever really want to participate in the economy in a way that’s going to create growth, you can’t do that in Minneapolis.
“Minneapolis has a nonprofit mind-set, especially for Black people,” Johnson said. “So if you want to be a nonprofit, meaning nonprofitable, live in Minneapolis.”
