They Called It Obsolete | Evans Cutchmore

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They Called It Obsolete

BREC is preparing to sell eight small parks in Baton Rouge, most of them in historically Black, low-income neighborhoods that were never given the investment these spaces deserved in the first place.

By Kim M. Braud  |  Evans Cutchmore

Published March 17, 2026  |  Baton Rouge / New Orleans

There is a particular cruelty in declaring something obsolete that was never truly built. That is precisely what is happening right now in Baton Rouge, where the Recreation and Park Commission for East Baton Rouge Parish, known as BREC, has placed eight small parks on the auction block, labeling them “not needed for public purposes.” The parks range in asking price from $6,000 to $700,000. What they share is a geography: most sit in North Baton Rouge, in neighborhoods that are predominantly Black and economically under-resourced, communities that have long received less from this city than they have given.

BREC’s stated rationale is operational efficiency. With more than 180 parks across the parish, the agency argues that selling underperforming parcels will free up resources to upgrade higher-traffic facilities. Sale proceeds, BREC promises, will be reinvested “within the same service area.” It sounds reasonable on paper. But when you look at the addresses, the history, and the data, a more troubling pattern emerges, one that should concern anyone who cares about environmental justice, park equity, and the ongoing cost of decades of deliberate disinvestment in Black communities.

The Spaces That Were Never Filled

Consider Alexander Street Park, listed at $550,000, the highest-value property on the list. BREC’s own website notes that it was donated to the commission in 1982 and that “BREC has not developed facilities at this neighborhood park.” Not in 1982. Not in 1995. Not in 2010. Not ever. For over four decades, residents of that North Baton Rouge block have had a park in name only, a green lot with no playground, no benches, no lights, no programming. Now, after a generation of neglect, BREC is prepared to call it obsolete and sell it.

Wenonah Street Park tells a similar story: a 0.11-acre green lot tucked between Plank Road and Interstate 110, also with no development. Belfair Park. Blueberry Street Park. Dover Street Park. The pattern repeats. These were not parks that wore out from overuse. They were never given the chance.

The Data Makes the Pattern Plain

This is not speculation. A Trust for Public Land study found that residents in Baton Rouge’s low-income neighborhoods have access to 26 percent less park space per person than those in an average neighborhood, and 52 percent less than those in high-income neighborhoods. Of what park space they do have access to, half is in poor condition. The green divide in this city is real, documented, and long-standing.

BREC has acknowledged this in its own strategic planning work. Its “Imagine Your Parks 3” ten-year master plan explicitly names equity as an “underlying focus” and pledges priority investment in underserved locations. The agency says it wants to ensure it is “not leaving anybody behind.” Yet here we are, with eight parcels, mostly in the most underserved quadrant of the parish, headed toward sale. The promise of reinvestment within the “same service area” offers cold comfort when that language carries no binding geographic or community accountability requirement.

This Is a Larger Story Than Eight Parks

BREC has identified up to 30 properties for potential sale over the next three years as part of its consolidation strategy. The eight on this week’s agenda are the opening act. The question communities across East Baton Rouge Parish should be asking, loudly, publicly, and on the record, is: which neighborhoods bear the burden of “efficiency”? Who loses green space so that higher-traffic parks in higher-income areas can get turf fields and upgraded recreation centers?

Parks are not amenities. They are infrastructure. In a parish where 21 percent of BREC buildings sit within 100-year floodplains and summer temperatures regularly exceed 90 degrees for months at a stretch, green space is a public health asset. Trees reduce urban heat. Open land absorbs stormwater. For children in neighborhoods without backyard space or private athletic facilities, a park is not optional, it is essential.

The communities most affected by these sales are the same communities that have historically watched public investment flow past them toward wealthier, whiter parts of town. They deserve more than a promise. They deserve accountability, transparency, and, if green space must be lost, something genuinely equivalent in return, built and funded before the sale is final, not after.

What Needs to Happen Now

BREC has built in a public comment period, and that window is your leverage. The April 1–15 comment period and the April 23 public hearing before the full BREC Commission are not formalities. They are legal mechanisms designed for exactly this moment, for residents, advocates, and concerned citizens to put their concerns on the record and demand answers before these sales become final.

Ask BREC: What specific improvements will be made in each affected neighborhood with the proceeds? What is the timeline? Who is accountable if reinvestment doesn’t happen? Will the agency commit to park equity impact assessments before each future sale in this 30-property consolidation plan?

The parks may be small. The dollar amounts may seem modest. But the principle at stake is not modest at all: will Baton Rouge’s Black neighborhoods once again absorb the costs of institutional efficiency while the benefits flow elsewhere? That is a question worth showing up to answer.

Kim M. Braud is a strategist, writer, and founder working in the areas of economic power, cultural narrative, and community leadership. With expansive experience across financial services, entrepreneurship, and nonprofit leadership, her writing explores who controls systems, who benefits from them, and who gets left out. Her work centers on economic mobility, institutional accountability, and the stories we inherit, and the ones we choose to dismantle.