How a woman got displaced by development in NoDa -- and how she’s dealing with it
Caroline “Sunshine” Cunningham is named after Caroline Kennedy and…well, and the sun.
A political icon and the celestial orb that the Earth literally revolves around are pretty lofty namesakes, but Cunningham does them proud. When she recounts being molested as a young girl, Cunningham, much like President John F. Kennedy’s oldest child, is strong and resilient. And, when she talks about being a “daddy’s girl”, her eyes shine brightly and she radiates with the warmth of the sun.
“Sunshine is as real as a person can be,” said Molly Barker, who lives in NoDa and is the founder of The Red Boot Way. “She is a survivor. She is so graciously open with her own story, which immediately opens up others to sharing. She builds bridges by being herself. It’s a remarkable thing to witness.”
Cunningham may not be a sports star, a titan of industry or a prolific philanthropist, but her story is as much a part of Charlotte’s fabric as Cam Newton’s, Hugh McColl’s or Leon Levine’s. She has spent all of her 41 years in what is now commonly referred to as NoDa.
“I’ve been here since it was still called North Charlotte,” Cunningham said with a laugh as we talked at NoDa Bodega.
Her life has been woven together with overlapping layers of unspeakable tragedy and immeasurable joy, and most of them have happened around Clemson Avenue Park.
“That park was my refuge, man,” she said. “It was everything. It’s where everything went down.
In the summer, Cunningham spent most of her waking hours in that park. Her dad, Charles Williamson, was very community-minded and mentored young people at the park.
It is also the place where Cunningham’s four-year old neighbor died after she was shot by her foster brother.
Cunningham said, “I was babysitting her. She died in my arms. I did CPR on her, but I couldn’t save her. I was still a kid myself.”
Following this tragedy and others, Cunningham’s community has always steadied her.
Cunningham’s love for her community even helped land her a part-time job at A. Phillip Randolph Institute (APRI). Cunningham started working for APRI as a voter-registration canvaser and will help lead their affordable housing initiative when it begins in 2018.
Danielle M. Brown, president of the Piedmont Chapter of APRI, said that she needed someone with with a deep desire to help the community. APRI was created to bring social, political and economic justice for all working Americans.
“Who is better to fight for a community than someone who has been there their whole life?,” said Brown.
Cunningham is ready to fight for her community, but after being displaced from her home at the Twin Oaks Apartment Complex so that Charlotte development firm, The Drakeford Company (TDC) and builders Shea Homes can build town homes in its place, Cunningham doesn’t know if she’ll be able to stay in the NoDa area.
Cunningham works at one of the area Showmars Family Restaurants, but she can’t afford the skyrocketing rent of NoDa — or many areas of our city, for that matter — on her salary.
For her Twin Oaks apartment, Cunningham paid $600 per month. Charlotte-based Real Data reports that the average monthly rent in Charlotte is now at $1,115. As someone who is classified as “the working poor”, Cunningham makes less than $12,486 annually.
“Everywhere wants you to make three times the monthly rent to live there,” she said. “That’s not reasonable for me.”
The fact that Cunningham doesn’t have a car makes her housing situation even harder. She needs to live somewhere where she can use public transportation to get to work.
According to The Charlotte Observer’s article, What poverty looks like in Charlotte, more than 25 percent of Charlotte households make at least $100,000 a year, a much higher ratio than the rest of North Carolina.
Charlotte is a prosperous city. Except when it isn’t.
Despite the high percentage of households making six figures, those living in poverty have almost doubled since 2000 (from 10 to 18 percent). It is one one of the biggest increases in the nation.
Furthermore, despite the propensity of apartments being built and Charlotte’s political leaders pushing affordable housing for those making a moderate income to the top of their to-do lists, there is still a startling disparity for Cunningham and other low-end renters. Charlotte needs to add 21,000 units to help this group.
Cunningham left her apartment on Sunday, Sept. 17. She has been living in a hotel that she is paying for with a relocation stipend and donations from Crisis Assistance Ministry and a kind benefactor who believes in her — Molly Barker.
She has friends and family that she can stay with if it comes to that, but she craves her independence and is working hard to find a solution before calling on her loved ones.
“When you push people out of their homes, out of their neighborhoods, you’re not only creating homelessness, you’re killing humanity,” Cunningham said.
This is not the first time that Cunningham has faced a set back. Cunningham knows that she will be okay. Through the Twin Oaks ordeal, she has found her “voice”. She is working to better her community with APRI. She has overcome her fear of public speaking. She has talked on the radio. She has met Mayor Jennifer Roberts and Cornell William Brooks, the President of the NAACP. She wants to follow her passion for music and she wants to mentor young people. She is happy with who she is.
Caroline “Sunshine” Cunningham shines brightly in Charlotte.
Photo: Molly Barker
This story was originally published September 26, 2017 at 11:00 PM with the headline "How a woman got displaced by development in NoDa -- and how she’s dealing with it."