Historic Places Where Community, Culture & Joy Flourished
There are vacations…
And then there are places that somehow feel like they’ve been waiting for you.
For years, I thought the perfect getaway was measured by the view from the hotel room, the thread count of the sheets, or whether someone greeted you with a glass of champagne at check-in. Luxury, after all, has become a language of amenities. Oceanfront. Spa. Concierge. Michelin stars. Infinity pools.
But lately, I’ve found myself asking a different question.
What if luxury isn’t something you buy?
What if luxury is something you inherit?
Not money.
Not status.
But a feeling.
The feeling of arriving somewhere and immediately knowing you belong.
That thought stayed with me longer than I expected.
Because for much of American history, belonging wasn’t something Black Americans could take for granted. There were places we couldn’t stay. Beaches we couldn’t visit. Hotels that wouldn’t accept our reservations. Country clubs with invisible gates. Entire towns that welcomed our labor but not our presence after sunset.
Yet somehow, despite every obstacle, we found ways to create beauty anyway.
We built churches that became community centers.
We transformed front porches into gathering places.
We turned Sunday dinners into traditions that outlived generations.
We created neighborhoods where children rode bicycles until the streetlights came on, where every adult looked after every child, and where success wasn’t measured only by what you owned, but by what you contributed.
And when the world told us we weren’t welcome to rest beside its beaches…
We built our own.
That realization became the beginning of a much larger journey.
Not a vacation.
Not even a travel series.
A search.
A search for the places where Black America chose joy.
Where community became an act of resistance.
Where land became legacy.
Where laughter became preservation.
That’s how The Black Getaway Project was born.
At Mood Magazine NYC, we believe travel should do more than tell us where to go.
It should remind us who we are.
Every destination has a history.
Every street has a memory.
Every community has people whose names deserve to be spoken aloud.
Too often, travel journalism celebrates the newest restaurant, the trendiest hotel, or the perfect photo opportunity. Those stories have their place. We all enjoy discovering somewhere beautiful to eat, shop, or unwind.
But what about the places whose greatest attraction isn’t a building…
It’s a legacy?
What about communities where every porch tells a story?
Where every tree has watched generations grow?
Where the people themselves are the landmark?
Those are the places that fascinate me.
The places that ask us to slow down.
To look beyond the postcard.
To understand that history isn’t confined to museums. Sometimes it’s sitting on a wraparound porch. Sometimes it’s hidden beneath weathered church floorboards. Sometimes it’s tucked inside a family photo album that has never left the living room.
And sometimes…
History is still alive.
It smiles.
It waves.
It invites you to sit for a while.
Our first stop is Sag Harbor, New York.
Today, many people know Sag Harbor as one of the Hamptons—a destination of sailboats, waterfront homes, boutique shopping, and weekend escapes.
It’s beautiful.
But beauty is only part of the story.
Long before Sag Harbor became synonymous with luxury real estate, it was one of the busiest whaling ports in the world. Free Black sailors worked alongside Native American and immigrant mariners, earning livelihoods on the sea at a time when opportunities on land were often sharply limited by race.
Nearby, the Eastville community became one of Long Island’s earliest free Black neighborhoods, where families built homes, established churches, and laid the foundation for generations to come.
Years later, as segregation continued to shape American life, another remarkable chapter unfolded.
Black educators.
Doctors.
Lawyers.
Architects.
Entrepreneurs.
Artists.
Military veterans.
Families who had spent decades breaking barriers in boardrooms and classrooms looked toward the water and imagined something radical.
Not exclusivity.
Peace.
They purchased land.
Sometimes with savings collected over years.
Sometimes by pooling resources with relatives and friends.
Sometimes building one room at a time because traditional financing wasn’t available.
The result became Sag Harbor Hills, Azurest, and Ninevah Beach—communities that offered something far more valuable than a vacation.
They offered freedom.
Children could spend entire summers running from house to house.
Neighbors became extended family.
Ideas flowed as easily as conversation over dinner.
Friendships lasted lifetimes.
Homes passed from grandparents to grandchildren, carrying with them not only deeds but memories.
There is something profoundly moving about places like this.
Not because they are exclusive.
But because they remind us what community can look like when people intentionally build it.
Perhaps that’s why these places continue to matter.
In an age when neighborhoods change almost overnight and familiar storefronts disappear with startling speed, communities like Sag Harbor remind us that preservation isn’t only about architecture.
It’s about relationships.
It’s about protecting the stories attached to a front porch.
It’s about remembering the family who planted that tree.
It’s about honoring the church where generations prayed, celebrated, mourned, and dreamed.
The Black Getaway Project isn’t simply about destinations.
It’s about inheritance.
The inheritance of resilience.
The inheritance of creativity.
The inheritance of excellence.
The inheritance of joy.
Over the coming months, we’ll travel to remarkable communities across America where Black families transformed land into legacy—from coastal retreats and historic neighborhoods to towns founded by formerly enslaved people who imagined a future on their own terms.
We’ll walk their streets.
Meet their storytellers.
Visit their churches and museums.
Support their restaurants and local businesses.
Listen more than we speak.
And share what we learn with you.
Because these places deserve more than a passing mention in a history book.
They deserve to be experienced.
They deserve to be celebrated.
They deserve to be protected.
And maybe, just maybe, they’ll inspire us to ask a different question the next time we plan a trip.
Not simply, “Where should we go?”
But…
“What kind of story do we want to become part of?”
Welcome to The Black Getaway Project.
Our first journey begins in Sag Harbor.
And I have a feeling it’s going to change the way we think about travel.
