Restaurants Were Built on Black Labor

Feb 28

The restaurant industry presents itself as small-business America. Its labor history tells a more complicated story.

Originally published in The Amsterdam News, February 12, 2026.

The restaurant industry presents itself as small-business America. Its labor history tells a more complicated story.

I’ve spent more than two-thirds of my life working in restaurants. More than 40 years. I’ve worked front of house and back of house. I’ve owned restaurants. I’ve cooked, managed, promoted, and advocated. I’m still here because I love this work and because I believe in it. If I didn’t, I would have walked away a long time ago.

I’m not alone. Hundreds of thousands of restaurant workers in New York show up every day for their communities. Dishwashers, servers, cooks, porters, chefs. All of us are required to complete training programs to protect public health and safety. One of the most common is ServSafe, run by the National Restaurant Association.

By name, the other NRA sounds like it represents us. In practice, it does not. It is a lobbying organization that has spent years fighting against fair pay and worker protections in the restaurant industry. While workers struggle to secure stable wages and basic protections, this organization continues to advocate for policies that weaken them.

The Tipped Employees Protection Act is the latest example. The National Restaurant Association is lobbying for it, and if it passes, it will weaken federal wage laws and make it easier for employers to continue paying subminimum wages. The same people pushing these policies have no problem eating in restaurants, ordering delivery, or relying on the labor they say cannot be paid fairly.

Workers in New York are pushing for a shift to Just Safe Food, a comparable training program run by One Fair Wage. It still covers food safety, but it also acknowledges that worker safety, dignity, and fair pay are part of public health.

Restaurant life is not stable or predictable. The hours are irregular. The margins are thin. You are constantly adapting to rising costs, new rules, and shifting expectations. My own life has been shaped by that reality for decades. The work is physically hard, emotionally draining, and often unforgiving.

During COVID, my restaurant Reverence changed overnight. We stopped being a sit-down fine dining restaurant and became something closer to a community kitchen. We gave away food to people who could not afford it and offered takeout to those who were afraid to leave their homes. It mattered. People depended on it. The gratitude was real. But like so many moments of collective care during the pandemic, it did not last.

Last year, I was forced to close Reverence. Not because the community disappeared and not because the work lost its purpose, but because of layers of bureaucracy shaped by the same forces that claim to speak for this industry. The other NRA talks about unity while benefiting from systems that leave workers and independent operators struggling to survive.

After the closure, I continued the work in different forms. Through SubCulture Dining, I focused on authored hospitality and the realities of labor inside kitchens. Through Reverence Provisions, I translated that work into products rooted in responsibility and material stewardship. Through other public-facing projects, I stayed committed to feeding people in shared spaces, where access and dignity actually matter. The work did not disappear. It adapted.

As a Black man, I have learned that hard work alone is not enough in this industry. I have been fired twice because of my race. I have been told to stay in my lane, to limit myself, to only cook what others decided I should represent. I have spoken publicly about the physical, mental, and emotional abuse that gets brushed off as kitchen culture. None of it was theoretical. It shaped my career and my life.

Right now, many people are struggling. Workers across industries are being asked to do more with less, and restaurant workers are no exception. If there is any chance to change that, it comes from standing together and being honest about who benefits and who pays the price.

I am in my 60s now, and I care just as much about restaurants as I did when I was 19. I still believe in their ability to feed people, bring people together, and take care of communities. But loving this industry also means being willing to say when it is wrong.

Trade groups always come with strings attached. Too often, those strings pull workers further underwater. The cost of that system is real, and it is hurting everyone involved.

I am asking people to oppose the Tipped Employees Protection Act and to push for fair wages for restaurant workers in New York City. We cannot keep supporting organizations whose power depends on keeping restaurant workers underpaid and unprotected.

The restaurant industry is not going anywhere. The question is whether the people who hold it up will ever be allowed to live with stability and dignity.

That is not a mystery. It is a choice. And it is one we can make differently