For years, the Candy Lady’s house was the place to be after school or on a hot summer day. Chips, candy, pickles, nachos, and frozen treats lined the shelves. Her house was one of the most important on the block, and it wasn’t just because of the snacks.
Candy ladies weren’t just trying to make a buck; they were trusted resources who looked out for the neighborhood’s children, offering a sympathetic ear and sage advice. In some places where food wasn’t accessible, candy ladies met the needs of hungry families, often selling many items for a dollar or less.
Candy ladies weren’t the only food entrepreneurs in our history. During enslavement, women often used their culinary skills to become entrepreneurs and provide for themselves and their loved ones.
From selling fudgy pralines on the streets of New Orleans to baking frosted plum cakes right under enslavers’ noses in Rhode Island, Black women have been using what they had to cook up new paths to liberation, just like candy ladies.
We’ve always found ways to care for our communities, and that’s a sweet legacy to be proud of and find ways to continue. The Candy Lady reminds us that Ujamaa must be rooted in care, trust, and relationship — not just money.