This story was originally published online with Word In Black, a collaboration of the nation’s leading Black news publishers (of which The Washington Informer is a member) and slightly edited for clarity.
When a powerful storm swept through the area in August, downing trees and snapping power lines, the city of Gary, Indiana, was plunged into darkness. It’s taken the better part of a month for some of the city’s lights to flicker back on, but the crisis isn’t over for some.
Without electricity for 17 days, some residents had to throw away spoiled food, leaving them staring at empty refrigerators and freezers. Others learned their homes needed hundreds, or in some cases thousands, of dollars in repairs before power could be restored.
To the Rev. Nicole Patrice Guns, senior pastor of First Baptist Church of Gary, the derecho that tore through Gary illustrated the stark disparity between her working-class city of 60,000 — a part of the state accustomed to being overlooked — and the rest of nearby Indiana, a state that is only around 10% white.
“You go further into the state, and power was restored,” Guns says. “But then you go to Gary, and it’s dark. It’s dark.”
As residents waited for government agencies and the local utility company to catch up, however, Black churches in Gary and congregations across the country stepped into the gap. They’ve donated money, food, supplies and volunteer manpower into the city, reviving the Black church’s historic role as both sanctuary and first responder.
“Jesus preached, and he taught, and he healed people, and he fed people,” says Guns. “The Black church has been on the front lines in Gary.”
‘It Was Pitch Black’
Still, as crews clear trees from the streets and repair power lines, Guns notes that Gary’s full recovery can not be addressed by simply flipping a switch. Decades of disinvestment, job loss, and blight have hamstrung the potential of a city that once powered the Hoosier State’s manufacturing economy.
Guns says Gary may be down, but it’s definitely not out.
“I see the resilience in the midst of hurt and devastation and poverty,” Guns says. “People love the city of Gary, and they’re not willing to just go down without a fight.”
On Aug. 11, the derecho — a fast-moving, widespread line of severe thunderstorms that produces powerful, hurricane-force straight-line winds over a large area — ripped across northern Indiana. The National Weather Service recorded a wind gust of 99 mph, comparable to the winds of a Category 2 hurricane.
Guns described driving after the storm: streetlights burned in Chicago on the Illinois side of the interstate, but darkness swallowed the highway in Gary just over the Indiana state line.
“It was pitch black,” she says. “This busy interstate with semi-trucks — I’ve never seen so many semi-trucks going through — and it’s dark.”
As power lines fell during the storm, nearly 38,300 Gary customers lost electricity. But more than half of those customers were still waiting for service 10 days after the storm. Nevertheless, the massive storm and the lingering blackout in a Black Midwestern city received little national attention; Gary had been in the dark for about a week before much of the country noticed.
Gary’s Historic Legacy
That silence was especially painful in a city that has a rich history. A former steel town, Gary drew Black Southerners for mill jobs during the Great Migration and later became a center of Black culture, political power, and enterprise. It’s the hometown of Michael Jackson, the legendary King of Pop; it elected Richard Gordon Hatcher, one of the nation’s first Black big-city mayors, in 1967, and hosted the 1972 National Black Political Convention.
But decades of economic hardship, including white flight and the wholesale outsourcing of manufacturing jobs, have scarred modern-day Gary. The city’s downtown is pocked with boarded theaters, abandoned department stores and vacant buildings that once housed Black-owned businesses. Outsiders see Gary as beset with crime, urban decay and administrative dysfunction.
After hearing reports of slow power restoration, Gary Mayor Eddie Melton publicly called it “unacceptable” that thousands remained without electricity nearly two weeks after the derecho. Indiana Gov. Mike Braun, a Republican, ordered an investigation into Northern Indiana Public Service Co. to determine if the utility company, also known as NIPSCO, had been adequately prepared for the storm.
Meanwhile, the company is facing a lawsuit for allegedly failing to adequately manage trees and vegetation around power lines. NIPSCO has denied negligence and said the storm caused historic damage, including destruction to hundreds of utility and transmission poles.
Trauma Hidden in the Dark
But Guns said NIPSCO’s delay in restoring electricity mattered. Elderly residents sat in dark homes for days. Families with critically ill loved ones struggled to preserve medicine and keep medical equipment functioning. Children started the new school year in the dark — another layer of trauma amid memories of tornado sirens, black skies and frightened classmates huddled in basements.
Guns says the stereotypes about Gary and the hardships it faces overshadow residents’ love for their city and one another, an ethos the storm revealed. Before aid trucks and news cameras arrived, she says, restaurants fired up outdoor barbecue grills, cooked whatever food they had before it spoiled and gave it away. Neighbors helped neighbors haul away fallen trees. Churches handed out food, water, toiletries and other necessities.
“‘If I have it, then you have it,’” Guns said, quoting the spirit of mutual aid in the wake of the storm. “Before the government came in to do anything, everyone just helped each other.”
Guns’ own congregation, founded in 1908 and recognized as Gary’s oldest Black church, became one of the community’s relief centers. Guns, who will celebrate her first anniversary as pastor in October, said the disaster has pushed the congregation back toward its historic identity as a church “in and for the community.
Then help began arriving from beyond Gary — much of it through the network of the Black church.
Outpouring of Support
The National Baptist Convention USA Inc. sent workers to assist with tree removal. The denomination also arranged for a tractor-trailer filled with relief supplies to be delivered to First Baptist. Guns said National Baptist Convention President Boise Kimber personally contacted her. Some churches sent substantial financial contributions. Others acknowledged that they could not give much but sent what they had.
Pastors across the country — including the Rev. Frederick Douglass Haynes III of Friendship-West Baptist Church in Dallas and the Rev. Gina Stewart of Christ Missionary Baptist Church in Memphis — also reached out. World Vision partnered with First Baptist for a disaster relief giveaway that provided residents with toilet paper, backpacks and other supplies. First Baptist reported serving more than 300 people during the event.
COGIC Charities, the benevolent arm of the Church of God in Christ, announced a $50,000 emergency relief contribution to its Indiana jurisdictions to assist families and congregations affected by the storms.
The support was not limited to money. People sent supplies, equipment, personnel and encouragement.
“To me, that means just as much as the gifts,” Guns says. “That’s who we are.”
That work, she said, represents the ministry of Jesus and the Book of Acts lived out in real time.
Guns believes one way outsiders can help is by refusing to accept narratives that reduce Gary to a city overwhelmed by crime, poverty and dysfunction. She objected to reports that violence against utility workers explained the slow restoration of service across the city.
“The people of Gary are kind people,” she says. “Everybody in Gary is not violent,” and Guns has no intention of surrendering the city to the stories told about it.
“Gary’s a great city,” she said. “And I believe that Gary’s going to live again.”
