As plans to reimagine Detroit’s infamous I-375 move forward, voices on both sides of the aisle continue to speak up. On one hand you have project leaders who are enthusiastic about the reimaging and the next steps in the development process, while on the other, community leaders and elected officials have voiced growing concerns, questioning whether the project truly serves those once displaced by its creation.
While the Michigan Department of Transportation (MDOT) frames the redesign as a necessary step toward improving pedestrian safety and modern infrastructure, many Detroiters are calling for a deeper reckoning—one that addresses the generational trauma and systemic displacement rooted in the freeway’s original construction through Black Bottom and Paradise Valley.
The word “reparative” never appears in MDOT’s materials, and for many, that absence speaks louder than any rendering or artist’s vision. While MDOT is focused on building a safer and more connected transportation corridor, Detroiters are pushing for something more layered. The call is not just for smoother streets or better bike lanes but for justice, remembrance, and investment that heals. Both goals — public safety and community restoration — matter. Both deserve the same urgency.
Wayne County Executive Warren Evans stands among the elected officials who have voiced strong concerns, having made his opposition to the project unmistakably clear. In a 2022 op-ed, he questioned the entire framing of the project as a form of repair. “There was quite a celebratory mood expressed by many who honestly believe ― or at least are trying hard to convince the rest of us to believe ― that the $104.6 million federal grant awarded to the City of Detroit to dismantle the I-375 freeway will somehow manage to retroactively heal the simmering racial division that was stretched and torn wide open more than 60 years ago,” he wrote.
He reminded the public of how little care was given to those displaced. “It boggles the mind that anyone could have the audacity to say this project will in any way rectify what happened to the families and business owners of Black Bottom and Paradise Valley all those years ago — especially when you consider that many of them were only given 30 days to relocate once the decision had been made to demolish their homes.”
MDOT states, “The purpose of the I-375 project is to replace an outdated freeway with a boulevard design that improves safety for all modes of transportation, provides environmental benefits, and additional connections between existing neighborhoods to downtown and local business districts.”
Black Bottom and Paradise Valley once stood as pillars of Detroit’s Black culture, economy, and community life. These weren’t just neighborhoods — they were ecosystems of Black excellence, built from resistance, brilliance, and the bare hands of people who were told time and again that they didn’t belong. Then came I-375.
On June 12, 1964, construction began on a one-mile stretch of freeway as part of the federal interstate program. That stretch, known as I-375, ripped through Black Bottom and Paradise Valley. These neighborhoods were targeted under the era’s urban renewal policies, a set of federal and local initiatives that prioritized highways and commercial corridors over thriving Black communities. James Baldwin once called it for what it was: “Negro removal.”
More than 100,000 people were displaced. Homes were destroyed. Churches, schools, and businesses that anchored Black Detroit vanished. What was lost wasn’t just physical space — it was Black generational wealth, economic independence, and cultural identity.
Now, nearly 60 years later, MDOT is proposing to replace that freeway with a surface-level boulevard. The I-375 Reconnecting Communities Project is slated to begin construction this year and promises to reconnect neighborhoods, improve safety, and honor the legacy of the displaced. But beneath that promise, a deeper conversation is unfolding: is this about repair, or is it about redevelopment?
The new plan outlines a six- to nine-lane boulevard with pedestrian access, bike lanes, and signage honoring Black Bottom and Paradise Valley. MDOT says the boulevard will improve traffic flow and increase access between neighborhoods and downtown. But many residents and community advocates aren’t sold on the idea.
For Evans, his concern hasn’t faded. Talking to Michigan Chronicle after he delivered this year’s State of the County address, Evans reiterated his position.
“I think they need to reimagine it two or three more times. I’m not convinced that it makes a whole lot of sense. They marketed it as somehow ‘reparative’ – to do something for getting rid of Paradise Valley and Black Bottom. I haven’t seen that anywhere. It’s the biggest scam I’ve heard in a long time. Don’t tell me you’re doing something to benefit people who look like me, and then have no plan to do anything for people who look like me.”
Community members, urban planners, and grassroots leaders have raised similar concerns. Some want reparations built into the project. Others have pushed back against the scale of the boulevard, warning it could further fracture the area instead of healing it. A few have asked for the highway to remain until a more just plan is developed. But one message stands out: those originally displaced and those still living nearby must have the power to decide what happens next.
MDOT has said the project began taking shape in 2014 when safety concerns about the outdated freeway infrastructure became urgent. A collaborative study led by the Detroit Economic Growth Corporation (DEGC), along with MDOT and the Detroit Riverfront Conservancy, evaluated alternatives. By 2016, six options were on the table. After more than 119 engagement sessions, a final plan emerged.
In 2022, U.S. Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg visited Detroit to announce a $104.6 million federal grant for the project, calling it part of a national “reparative process.” The City of Detroit backed that messaging. But MDOT itself has not echoed the term “reparative,” choosing instead to say it will “pay tribute” to the displaced communities.
It says the removal of the freeway will create 30 acres of land and unlock economic potential. But the questions remain: Who benefits from that land? Who shapes the development? And who gets left out again?
To address historical injustice, MDOT points to four pillars of its approach:
Transportation for All: This focuses on improving safety and access for pedestrians, cyclists, public transit users, and drivers, based on concepts developed through the environmental review.
Small Business Enterprise and Workforce Development: MDOT says work is underway to ensure local minority-owned businesses and Detroiters have access to construction and design contracts.
Community Enhancement Plan: The department pledges to coordinate with partners on cultural recognition, stormwater management, and connectivity improvements. This plan also intends to reflect community voices.
Neighborhood Framework Plan: Led by the City of Detroit, this plan addresses how land reclaimed from the freeway will be used. Zoning and design standards are still under discussion, with public engagement ongoing.
MDOT says the project is expected to be completed by 2029. The agency promises to work with a local advisory council and continue community outreach. “MDOT continues to welcome feedback from everyone who lives, works and plays in the surrounding area. The project team continues to meet individually with residential groups, businesses, and all stakeholders who solicit the department for information,” the department shared.
But intentions alone cannot substitute for power-sharing.
The language MDOT uses centers safety and connectivity. “Fundamentally, this is a safety project designed to enhance mobility and access for all. MDOT continues to strive to create a corridor that creates environmental benefits for the surrounding neighborhoods and business community,” the department stated.
“I might not be opposed to the 375 project if I knew where it was going to be inclusive, I think they’re keeping it a secret and I don’t like secrets,” Evans explained.
The department says it wants to honor the past. But honoring means more than acknowledgment. It means action rooted in repair, not revision.
As MDOT advances its vision of safer streets and improved mobility, the community’s call for deeper restoration cannot be minimized. There is a real opportunity here to confront a painful past with courage and clarity. To those leading this reimagining: lean into the discomfort, engage with the memory, and meet the people where they are. Sixty years ago, families were given 30 days to vanish. Today, the charge is to listen, to build with – not for –the people still standing on that soil. That’s how you begin to stitch together what was torn apart. That’s how you reimagine — and reclaim — a future worthy of Detroit’s legacy.
