Congratulations to Erica Williams, Executive Director and Founder of A Red Circle and President of North County Community Betterment LLC, recipient of our 2023 Growing in Equity & Antiracism Award!
The Growing in Equity & Antiracism Award recognizes a person who:
Demonstrates a deep and honest commitment to transforming work being done in the St. Louis region so that it is more equitable, just, and antiracist.
“Walks the talk”—goes beyond verbal commitments to ask hard questions, embrace and push through discomfort, work to rectify inequities where they exist, and take action.
Actively works to dismantle systems of oppression.
Humans of St. Louis storyteller Lindy Drew met with Erica to learn more about her and her work. Here’s some of what Erica had to say.
I live in the City of Florissant and was working at a law firm in Clayton when Michael Brown Jr. was killed in Ferguson in August 2014. Even though I’m a Black woman who was active in my church and neighborhood, that event spurred an awareness in me that I hadn’t always centered my life around racial equity. I had Black pride and was raised in a very Black-centric household: “Say it loud, I’m Black and I’m proud!” But I never thought I should be doing more for Black people. I was focused on raising my family. I’m married. We have five children and one grandbaby — a dog. So making sure they were straight was my main concern.
My husband and I both grew up in North County. We moved to what we thought was a pretty good school district. I wanted to be somewhere my kids could have the same experiences we did. But the North County where we grew up is a lot different now. There are fewer stores, restaurants, and places to go for entertainment. We used to have a movie theater and Chuck E. Cheese and ShowBiz Pizza. We didn’t have to go as far as St. Charles or South County like we do now to take our kids to do basic things like that, but now so much has closed over the years. And with things closed, people moved away, which created disinvestment. It eliminated money in the region and you can see that not only in buildings, streets, and schools but in how people feel about themselves.
When people go outside and see green grass and flowers and their families going to work in the morning, it creates a sense of worth that they also have to do well because things are well in front of them. If you go outside and places are closed and vacant and potholes are in the street, it’s like, “Why should I even care? Why should I do things required for good citizenship? If you all don’t care, why should I care about homework, coming to school on time, or voting?”
So when Michael Brown Jr. was killed and they left his body in the street for four hours, I had a son in middle school. A bunch of us parents went to the school to welcome the kids back because the start was delayed a week since protesting and rioting was happening and the district was concerned about safety. During that interim, a bunch of moms and I got together and made posters that said “Welcome back!” and “You’re safe here.” That, for me, was the beginning of looking into what it means to pay attention to racial equity.
My family and I went to a bunch of protests. We didn’t go to West Florissant because that was a little more action than I cared to be a part of. But we did go to North Florissant across the street from the police station. I took my elementary and middle school kids. They got to hold signs, see what was happening, and learn why they couldn’t go back to school yet. And this put me on a path to paying attention to disinvestment.
Living in Florissant and working in Clayton, I never really saw what was in the middle. I just drove on the highway, so I wasn’t paying attention. Once I did though, I started to realize how what happened in Ferguson was not a one-shot thing. It was brewing under the surface. And Michael’s death, the subsequent treatment of his body, his family, and the response by people outside of the community were very telling. Okay, people went and broke windows. They probably shouldn’t have done that. But I understood the angst. It was the name-calling and using the term ‘thug’ that bothered me. We have four sons and one daughter.
At the time, we were members of a predominantly white Evangelical church. One of my sons was on the praise and worship team. He has long dreadlocks and he’d be on stage singing and shakin’ his locks, gettin’ excited about the spirit. My husband also played the drums there. And the church members’ response was, “How come people are destroying everything? They’re tearing up their own community.” I was like, “Wow, that’s what y’all care about, not about this 18-year-old baby? His mom? None of that? But you have something to say about these buildings?” So that changed my relationship with that church. I stuck around until I formed A Red Circle.
I’m pretty active on social media and the tone of my posts started changing a lot. People were afraid of me. My friends and I were in a bible study and all the members were Black on purpose so we could have space to be ourselves. And they were like, “Erica’s becomin’ militant! She gonna form a new Black Panther power.”
“And it’s called A Red Circle!”
“That’s right! That’s what we do.”
My cousin and a friend of hers who is Jewish formed a mom’s group to help their Black and Jewish children communicate better. It was cool! And inspiring. And through that group, I learned the term redlining. I was in my doctoral program, writing papers, figuring out what I wanted to do. I began reading For The Sake of All by Dr. Jason Purnell and restrictive deed covenants and the Shelley vs. Kraemer Supreme Court case along with other cases that followed because St. Louis was really intentional about segregation and where they put their resources. And I started to see the shift from North City to North County and South City to South County. Growing up, we didn’t go into the City much except to go to the Zoo or Busch Stadium or to see family. Then I was in my car one day driving east towards Kingshighway down the Delmar Divide and things became more visually apparent for me.
So my little bubble burst and my eyes were open and I began to pay attention to stuff. I went to this anti-racism get-together at a church in Florissant and I just knew, “We need to fix this. The first thing we need to do is figure out the what and then the how and what’s needed.” And it kept coming back to this lack of investment — in schools, neighborhoods, grocery stores. So when I formed A Red Circle, just thinking about all those components needed for a healthy thriving community, it formed a circle in my mind. And, because of racism, those are the issues that came to be, but we all bleed red.
I started looking at who was doing what, where, and how they were doing it. And I began noticing patterns. There were a lot of nonprofit resources in North City with a few in North County. And there were a lot of restrictions to getting services and support. Like, you have to live in this particular spot and be in this income bracket. Well, just because you live in some zip codes doesn’t mean you’re fine and well. In fact, during the pandemic, we were serving families with groceries, hygiene products, and things of that nature and we had to add some zip codes because no one was helping people in those regions. We’re talking Maryland Heights, Overland, Bridgeton. And we didn’t check income. If we got a call saying, ‘We need help,’ then they needed help. We trusted that people knew what they needed.
We had a plethora of issues I wanted to tackle, like that felony box on job applications. Oh my goodness, I learned there’s a lobbying group that’s just against that. We also wanted to tackle payday loans which have support all around the world with those triple-digit interest rates. Hearing there’s a politician supportive of the whole payday loan industry was a disappointing eye-opener. A lot of families in North County are led by single Black mothers who now make 55 cents to every dollar a white man makes. It used to be 62 cents and it went down. So what does that mean for households that still have to pay the same cost as everyone else for bread and diapers? Families are trying to make those little dollars stretch. So there’s just so much I’ve been learning over the years about this work and how stuff takes time and how it’s hard to make some movement.
While I was still working as a paralegal, full-time mom, wife, and a little active in the church, I decided to try this nonprofit thing. I was driving in the neighborhood and I was driving a long time before I saw a grocery store. I started wondering, “Where do people get food? What about a salad?” I made a post about it and someone replied, “QuickTrip.” I was like, “And that’s acceptable?” That told me what some think of people like me and people who live near me. So I was figuring out how we wanted to do a whole bunch of things, but it was going to take an army and a whole lot more money than what we had. I thought of five focus areas to begin with: employment, education, holistic living, policy, and the arts. And the center of all of that is food.
Of course, there are challenges. Funding is number one because I am a Black woman and lead a nonprofit. I’ve come to realize how the industry is very white female-dominated. It’s their jam. I was not prepared. You think of nonprofits and it’s like, “How nice! Everyone must be helpful and loving.” Not always. There is competition within territories. Thankfully, I’ve been able to join in some cool coalitions, collaboratives, and partnerships to find like-minded people who have little to no ego, want to get stuff done, and see communities they love flourish and thrive. Getting with those people has been a breath of fresh air.
STL Mutual Aid is one of those groups. I met Julia Ho when she advertised an event happening at the Thomas Dunn Learning Center in South City. A Red Circle’s work is in North County and we wanted to get the word out. We prepared some healthy refreshments to take and she said to keep track of the meals we were giving away so we could get reimbursed. So we made some healthy things with fresh produce, brought it, and cooked it. We were just gonna come down and give away food, but she actually reimbursed us. I was like, “Okay, you’re about what you're saying.” We started learning about each others’ work and then A Red Circle joined Solidarity Economy St. Louis to meet more groups.
The next year we worked together on CommonBound, an international conference hosted at Harris Stowe. I led a tour from the university to North County so folks could check out our work and I took them to my friend’s garden. Turns out, people pay for that. They paid to buy a ticket and the proceeds went to A Red Circle. What a fascinating world. And a super cool model. So we went to Canton where Michael Brown Jr. was killed. I showed them the plaque. They took pictures. We had a moment of silence. Some then prayed and some cried. It was so impactful. And it was hot out that day. People got to sweat and work and help my friend get her garden going. Until then, I had never been in a space like that. I came from banking and law. So from there, we started to figure out how to keep doing with what we started.
I was working with STL Mutual Aid when we started a group called ReBIRTH — Reclaiming Black and Indigenous Roots, Tradition, and Healing. It was Black and indigenous people getting together through a cultural lens. Like, let’s get food to people in a way that aligns with our cultures, not just about a rich person giving us something. It was a coalition between Solidarity Economy St. Louis, Native Womens Care Circle, A Red Circle, and other groups. We were going to do things like skill shares to teach farming and how to start businesses. Whatever skills we had, we were helping each other. So if you wanted to do something, you didn’t have to find someone and pay them to do it. You could just do it. We’d go to each others’ events. The first meeting was so much fun. Julia brought Taiwanese food. The native women cooked native food. I probably brought chicken. It was gonna be the best. And then…COVID.
When COVID hit, I had a plethora of diapers because we were getting ready to work with Jamaa Birth Village to help them get healthy food and cook for them to make sure they were having healthy babies. So we just decided to start getting the resources out. And the more we did, the more people were calling us: “I hear you’re doing such and such. I know a family in Florissant who needs groceries.” The first family we delivered to, the dad didn’t speak English. I don’t speak Spanish, so I was using Google Translate and we were emailing and texting. He gave me a list of what his family needed, so I dropped it off. We were doing safe porch drop-offs. So I typed in my phone, “Your groceries are on your porch.”
We started getting more phone calls and that’s when I knew I had to create some structure around this thing. Funders started giving money. Emails came in like, “I hear you’re giving out groceries. Do you need money?” At first, I was just buying things. I had a table in my living room and things at Julia Ho’s place. Eventually, we brought stuff here to the office because it was overflowing everywhere else. Then we got this second space in this building.
We started getting calls beyond groceries that people needed other resources, too. They needed to talk to someone because they were stuck in their house and lonely. They needed to find a doctor. Their bills were piling up and the electricity was getting cut off because they couldn’t work. So we raised more money. We got federal funds from St. Louis County through the CARES Act. And we were able to hire people and we got volunteers who helped coordinate and do inventory. It was exciting. But eventually those funding streams petered out.
Our intention in starting A Red Circle was to work on long-term systemic change. We wanted to impact the food system to get people investing in the region with stores. So we started growing food. I became a master gardener. I started growing food at this one church. We had three garden beds and I helped other people with their beds. I needed space to grow. Me and a college student were canvassing and she had a health survey on her laptop. We’d knock on doors and talk to folks about food. Where do you get your food? Are you happy with the food in North County? What would you like to see? And the results showed people wanted a farmer’s market.
So we opened the Healthy Flavor Community Garden & Market where we have food that we grow and other farmers can bring theirs. The ladies in the church’s kitchen told us to come to come back one Sunday to meet the pastor. So I went, sat at the banquet, we ate, and I told the pastor what we wanted to do. He said, “I have the perfect spot for you.” They have a picnic area with a pavilion and concrete, so we opened our market there, partnered with others, and started gardening some more. The YMCA gave nutrition classes and people would get a voucher to get food if they went.
Vegetables are good, but you can’t just have bland food. You gotta have flavor. So we grow a lot of greens and lettuces and chards as well as garlic, onions, herbs, and all kinds of yummy things to make good salads and stir-fries. We sell food from May through October, we do nutrition education, we do exercise and cooking demonstrations. One of our workers makes Chinese food. Another makes a salad with watermelon, cucumbers, and feta cheese. People were like, “I would have never put these together.” If you sell good products, you can sell your products there because we want to create commerce for people who make stuff and want to do stuff. You know, I’m just gonna find a way to make it happen.
In 2019, my nonprofit raised over $100,000. I was like, “Look at us! We’re legitimate. We’re a real nonprofit now.” Awards are great. People are paying attention, but it’s hard for this work to translate to the ground. I just want to see my community thrive. We’re trying to raise the demand for fresh produce. When you’re in a region that has a lot more junk food and processed foods, the palette changes. People are used to eating canned or frozen vegetables, not necessarily fresh ones. So people may not buy the latter and fresh costs more. So we kind of wet people’s whistles. People know about collards. Beet greens were a hit last year. Tatsoi is like a heartier spinach we’ve grown. Tokyo bekana is our farmer’s favorite crop to grow in St. Louis.
Every year has had its challenges. When I was still working at the law firm, I did what I could to grow A Red Circle. But I realized it would take a lot more than just my spare time. I needed to make connections, learn about stuff, and figure stuff out. In 2017, someone asked, “So how much you gonna pay yourself?” “I can pay myself? Oh, okay.” Then, 2018 was my first full year running the organization — growing a board, establishing a presence, making connections, figuring out who’s doing what and where and how we can be a part. In 2019, it was cold at the garden and market, so we came inside and served chili while giving people their vegetables. We’d have people come in to do voter registration, read books for the kids, or give art kits to families to bring home and do together. We leverage whatever we can.
When Michael Brown Jr. was killed, I couldn’t believe people were treating the Black community like they did. I began channeling that anger into this more productive use of my time and not just complaining on social media. And people responded with, “You’re right. Good point. We should get together. Let’s do this. Let’s have coffee.” The first time someone invited me for coffee, I was so confused. But I just wanted to pick their brain on how to get some action going on a community that has so much vacancy. So I left work at 2 o’clock, had coffee, and we talked. By September 2017, I ran out of PTO. My job was like, “Where are you going?” I finally told them, “I’m leaving. I founded an organization that I have to work full-time now.” One of the attorneys cried. My role ended up getting split among four or five people. But here, we can use more help, I tell you. We could easily triple our staff and not change anything about what we’re doing. Just do it more efficiently.
I don’t think I’ve accomplished a lot. But sometimes when I’m not in the space with people who think like me, it is surprising that we have so far to go. When I’m with my people, we all see what needs to be done and work to get it done as much as we can. Then there are other folks who don’t hang around people like us and everything is still so brand new. We had a group come to Good Food Friday from one of the places we bank with. So our banker brought her colleagues to work with us. None of them live in North County and probably never went there before and one of the ladies asked, “So where are the grocery stores around here?” “Ah, you noticed!” So any of the terminology — the new, the old, the current — none of it had come across her desk. Food — fill in the blank — desert… justice… swamp… apartheid. None of it. She just figured every neighborhood looked like hers where you can just get in your car, go down the block, and shop. So we continue to raise awareness about issues like that.
I was talking to our insurance agent when making out our application and he was so surprised to hear pre-K and kindergartners getting suspended from school. That’s another example of the stuff we see that we’re trying to raise awareness about to get funding to support. Not only am I doing the work that needs to be done, but I have to bring in this anti-racism piece to educate you on why this is needed. I was at a seminar one day and they were talking about community gardens. One lady said, “They are not cute and fun. They are necessary because we don’t have stores. All we have are 7-Elevens and liquor stores and convenience stores. They are an act of resistance.” So that’s the work I do, but it’s not necessarily the work I’m funded for. I’m funded to buy tools and supplies for the garden. And we have to plant a garden to teach about nutrition.
My tactics for addressing racial equity are more the tangible pieces of it — the things people can see, feel, and taste. I’m not trying to talk to you to make you feel good like you learned something but then get to go home to your nice neighborhood and not ever have to get uncomfortable, do anything like shift power or money, or put investment into a space. When we say racial equity, we mean helping a majority Black community rise and the people who live in that community rise. Because racial equity is not just for Black people, it’s across the board. It means everyone is treated how they deserve to be treated because they are human, not because I’m Black and I need more help or I’m white and I have more power. There are white people in this community, too, and we’re gonna work with everybody. We’re not gonna treat someone better or worse because of their race. We’re gonna make sure that with whatever we’re doing, and if we need to put a little extra over here or over there, that’s what we’ll do. Because equity is that gap. I always explain it to people using a housing example You owe this much, but you’re house is worth this much. That gap is the equity. So if you’re looking at the way laws were, perhaps Blacks couldn’t buy or own. Okay, well, that’s now illegal. But you never did anything to close that gap when it was legal.
What advice do you have for other organizations or businesses that proclaim but don’t practice equity?
They need to close. Straight up. They either need to get out of the way or support the organizations that are practicing equity work. Because they’re in the way. The funding space is already competitive enough. Some days I’m writing grants for groups that fund children and animals. Why am I gonna put kids in competition with puppies so someone can decide which one to fund? Fund one or the other. If you’re applying for funding for an anti-racism class, just charge for the class. Or, if you really want an audience to learn about racial equity, partner with us and we can teach it in the garden while we work.
Even grant funding is inequitable. Every time I fill out an application, it says the grant is competitive. Okay, so you’re having me compete with people who have full-time development staff, data staff, and employees who can execute logic models. We’ve been written into a couple of larger grants with organizations who aren't located in North County because they need the presence for their DEI whatever. One organization that has a lot of money admitted that they tried to do work they weren’t qualified for and got funding whereas we got denied three times by the same funder. The other group may have been more well-staffed and resourced, but they couldn’t get the work done. We have a small staff, reports are turned in on time, you’re gonna see what needs to happen happen, and we’ll get it done.
I spoke at the 2019 Racial Equity Summit about inequities in the nonprofit funding structure. I served on the committee of one funder to help them streamline the process, because you can’t do this work on top of everything and struggle to figure out how to write these grants. So I’ve learned, I gotta be careful of how I structure partnerships in the future. We’re a smaller group. We’re newer. I’m a Black woman. I don’t want to come across as, “Erica doesn’t want to collaborate. Erica’s hard to work with.” All collaborations are not good collaborations. There are funders who want to push them. But you can’t have collaboration without cooperation.
Can you share a story that’s been heartwarming to you about someone you’ve been able to help?”
One of the first families we were able to serve was in our education advocacy program and they had a kid in the third grade. His teacher was brand new out of college and not sure how to deal with his personality. He was in danger of being suspended because he wasn’t listening to what she was asking. So I became his education advocate. I went to his school and went to bat for with him, trying to figure out why he wouldn’t listen. Turns out, he was bored to tears. He was smart. And he would finish his work, ready to do the next thing, but his classmates were stuck on the assignments, so he’d get a toy and do other stuff. I was able to help his teacher find him more challenging work. I was able to help bring in more activities he could do at his desk. I met his mom and she was grateful from having to do a lot of juggling as a single mom.
Anyway, his brother ended up in our program with another volunteer. But, in my kid’s class, I remember seeing a student reading upside down. Her family couldn’t find resource support for her, so we were able to get her a reading specialist. And this is all volunteer on our end because I know how to budget. And as more families learned about our program, we were able to get more and more kids tutoring, mentoring, and household needs so they could focus on school and not be in danger of being suspended. Plus, while all this was happening, we were working on the policy side with lawmakers in Jefferson City to change how suspensions were being handled. That way we could limit suspensions for these little bitty kids and get families the things they needed.
The work I do is validating. After Michael Brown Jr. was killed and we went to those protests, I really began to think. My plan was to get people interested in developing in North County from an economic development and business perspective. But going to those protests, seeing other people, talking to them, and hearing their stories got me thinking about things through a racial equity lens. This is my community. This is my home. I don’t want my kids to have to move away because we don’t have anything here. I know people who would love to do this kind of work full time, but they still have their 9 to 5. So they’re hustling on weekends and evenings and doing things to buy a little food for someone or help whoever get whatever they need. Well, I’m gonna keep doing this, hiring people, and providing medical insurance for them to work here. The more I think about it, there’s a lot that I am doing. So that’s my story. I’m stickin’ to it.
- Erica Williams, Executive Director and Founder, A Red Circle, and President, North County Community Betterment LLC
