“I never liked waiting around for anyone’s permission to do anything,” says Shamayim Sapphira “Shu” Harris. “Just go build that shit. That alone will guide you in the direction you want to go.”

Shu lives in Highland Park, a majority-Black community of a little over 9,000 people on the outskirts of Detroit. She bought her two-story Avalon Street home just six months after her two-year-old son, Jakobi Ra, was killed in a hit-and-run on Rhode Island Avenue in September of 2007. The original mortgage on the home was $16,000. The family that previously owned it offered the house to Shu for $5,000. She bargained them down to $3,000, which she successfully raised through crowdfunding.

“I became more invincible after my son got killed. I had nothing to lose,” Shu says. “That’s the ultimate thing as a parent. You don’t think your kid is gonna get up outta here before you do. Now, I know nothing can hurt me anymore. I’m not afraid of anything.”

Today, Shu’s house is home to the Moon Ministry and the Goddess Marketplace – worker-owned cooperatives that support women-owned businesses in Highland Park while offering hands-on educational programming to the area’s youth. Shu cleaned a vacant lot between her home and an abandoned building next door to build Jakobi Ra Park, which is full of brightly-colored park benches and a kept lawn. A large mural with the name of the park adorns the outside wall of the abandoned home next to Shu’s.

“I just knew something cool could be on this corner,” she says. “Some people see these vacant lots as a place to dump on, but I just saw growth.”

Highland Park used to be called the “city of trees.” In its heyday during the 1960s and 1970s, trees formed a natural arch over the streets so there was always shade. Since the decline of Detroit’s economy and population, Highland Park is now made up of largely vacant buildings, empty lots and pothole-ridden streets.

Collapsed Buildings, Collapsed Democracy

Since the inception of Michigan Gov. Rick Snyder’s emergency manager law, low-income Black communities like Highland Park have been placed under autocratic rule by unelected officials who can override the financial decisions made by elected city council members and mayors. The first emergency manager law was defeated in a majority vote by statewide ballot referendum in November of 2012.

The Snyder administration and the Republican-led legislature responded by passing an almost identical version of the old law – the only difference being that the new law is referendum-proof. The new law’s constitutionality is currently being challenged in federal court.

Both Democrat and Republican politicians in Michigan have steadily ignored the more than 60,000 vacant buildings in the Detroit metro area, allowing the continued blight to attract crime and health problems. As a local business owner and community activist, Shu Harris is setting out to change that.

She has laid out a plan to turn Avalon Street – which is sparsely populated and dotted with abandoned buildings – into a thriving neighborhood full of community gardens, independent schools, and worker-owned businesses.

“You can get a strong, sturdy, 40-foot by 8-foot shipping container for $5,000. And that can be retrofitted to become a school, a home, or a store, with a garden on top of the roof,” explains Harris. “I’ve applied for a $25,000 grant to get five of them. We can teach kids eco-friendly living, use up these vacant lots, and cut down on all the surplus shipping containers.”

After sunset, the streets in Highland Park go entirely dark, since the city’s streetlights were taken out by the emergency manager. But Harris is bringing light back to the streets by making trashcans out of tires stacked four tall, and covering them with colorful, fluorescent spray paint. She’s also teaming up with Soulardarity, a Detroit-based project that aims to replace the absent electric streetlights with solar-powered ones.

Since Harris is chaplain of the Highland Park Police Department, her efforts remain undisturbed by the authorities. She aims to run for Highland Park City Clerk in 2016. “We’ll be like, ‘Look, here’s what the Democrats and Republicans haven’t been doing, and here’s all the work we’ve been doing.’ And which side do you wanna be on then?” she says.

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After the Two Parties

Harris is referring to The After Party, a new populist party founded by Occupy Wall Street organizers, which launched in Detroit over May Day weekend. The After Party describes itself as America’s first political party based upon mutual aid and direct action – not electoral rhetoric and empty promises.

The After Party’s website includes a six-pronged platform, an openly anti-capitalist manifesto and a detailed plan laying out the group’s values, vision and strategy: to simultaneously listen to and meet a community’s needs while ousting corrupt politicians from office. The After Party’s launch in Detroit captured the attention of both American and international media.

The announcement of the After Party sparked controversy within certain circles of the Occupy Wall Street movement. The party’s fiscal sponsorship comes from the Occupy Solidarity Network, a registered 501(c)(4) organization that includes Micah White – the Adbusters editor who created the iconic #OccupyWallStreet call to action for September 17, 2011 – and Priscilla Grim, co-creator of the We Are the 99 Percent Tumblr, on its board.

After Party leaders clarified their relationship with the Occupy movement in a recent blog post on the party website. Organizers say the political message differs from Occupy in that it offers specific solutions and calls for central demands – like a universal basic income for all.

"When we protested against the banks or against capitalism, people constantly told us, ’OK, so you’re against this, but what do you want?’” After Party organizer and Occupy.com investigative reporter Carl Gibson told Libération, a French publication. “We will show what we’re for, by helping the people most affected by the crisis.”

The After Party’s May 2 launch was followed by a day of “Flash Mob Mutual Aid,” in which volunteers arriving from across the Detroit area and as far off as Joplin, Mo., and Oakland, Calif., worked with Shu Harris to build planter boxes for future community gardens and construct fluorescent-colored tire trashcans in Highland Park. Holbrook Tires, located in Highland Park, donated 16 used tires for the project.

“We’ll find places all over the country like Highland Park, connect people like Shu to resources, and get back to the land and get work done,” said After Party organizer Rodney Deas. “Our actions will speak for themselves.”

Moving Too Fast?

In a Huffington Post op-ed from late April, author and attorney Michael Goldstein, who attended the After Party launch in Detroit, argued that while the party's work is needed in today’s economic and political climate, it’s moving too fast to take into account the voices of those it seeks to represent. Rather, Goldstein said a slower, more nuanced approach to developing tactics and strategy is critical.

“The party I want to be a part of will be composed, in significant part, of such folks, not be an us 'learning' from them and belatedly trying to find ways to diversify,” Goldstein wrote. “I dearly hope they invite us in – not only to support what they are planning, but to be part of the conversation about what needs to happen and how to organize to do it.”

"So far there is no means to communicate with the organization about these and other questions, other than posting comments on its Facebook page," Goldstein continued.

While it has yet to become an officially-recognized political organization by IRS code 527, the After Party is currently applying for 527 status and plans to open up membership to the general public by mid-May.