By Charnelle Yarber
Texas Metro News
https://texasmetronews.com
Target’s new Oak Cliff store may be a ribbon‑cutting win for corporate press releases, but inside many Black and Brown households, the boycott is not “over.” Trust is, and that is a much harder thing to restock than paper towels.
I say that as someone who used to be Target’s dream customer. I proudly carried the RedCard, stacked Target Circle deals like a champ, and treated Cartwheel like a mobile slot machine I was determined to cash out on.
On any given weekend, you could find me gliding through the store with those bright red carts that drive like Lamborghinis, cruising aisles so meticulously kept that shopping felt like an immersive experience rather than a quick errand. I was the friend who would dare you to say anything negative about Target.
But I have not stepped inside a Target since 2025, when the company chose to roll back its diversity, equity, and inclusion commitments and became the focus of a yearlong boycott led largely by Black faith and community leaders. At this point, it would take more than a grand opening and a glossy ad campaign to get me to return.
For years, Target carefully cultivated a reputation as the “good” big‑box store. It promoted ambitious DEI goals, highlighted partnerships with Black creators and businesses, and voraciously pursued a more diverse workforce and leadership pipeline. That branding wasn’t just about products on shelves. It signaled to Black and Brown consumers that our dollars were valued and, at least rhetorically, that our dignity was too.
Then came the 2025 retreat. Under political pressure and in the broader backlash against corporate DEI, Target wound down or walked back key equity initiatives, sending a clear message that its commitments were conditional.
The people who took that most personally were the ones who had believed the brand most deeply: Black and Brown shoppers who had gone out of their way to support a retailer that claimed to support them.
That is why the timing of this Oak Cliff opening matters. Oak Cliff is a historically Black and Brown community that has waited a long time for this kind of investment. Residents have watched other neighborhoods fill up with amenities while they navigated fewer choices and longer drives for the basics. On paper, a new store with jobs, convenient services and a short drive time is a major win.
But a shiny building on Illinois Avenue doesn’t erase what happened in 2025, or the message it sent. When one boycott leader announced that it was time to end the protest, it generated headlines.
What it did not generate, at least from many of us, was relief. A statement from a podium doesn’t automatically translate into a feeling in the pit of your stomach that says, “I trust you again.”
In group chats, sorority circles, and in quiet conversations with other Black professionals and business owners, I’ve heard a different refrain: “I’m not ready to go back.” Some people shifted their shopping to smaller, often Black‑owned businesses. Others drive a little farther or buy a little less.
These aren’t loud, viral gestures designed for social media. They are small, private decisions made at the moment the card taps the reader.
That is the gap Target is underestimating in Oak Cliff. The company is acting as if the end of a boycott is the same thing as the restoration of a relationship. It is not. A boycott can be turned on or off with a press conference. Trust has to be rebuilt, receipt by receipt.
If Target wants more than a packed parking lot on opening weekend, it will have to do more than cut a ribbon and sprinkle in culturally tuned merchandising. Repair looks like clearly and publicly recommitting to meaningful DEI work, not offering vague language about “evolving priorities.”
It looks like measurable investments in Black suppliers and Black‑owned financial institutions, and transparent data about how Black employees are hired, paid and promoted. It looks like listening to the communities it wants to serve, not just marketing to them.
Most of all, it looks like acknowledging that Black and Brown communities are not just target markets, but moral stakeholders. The people of Oak Cliff are sophisticated enough to appreciate the convenience of a nearby big‑box store and skeptical enough to question the cost of that convenience when it comes packaged with broken promises.
I used to defend Target like it was a beloved cousin. Today, as Oak Cliff prepares to welcome a new store, me and many in our collective community are still standing outside. If Target wants us back in the aisles, it will have to show that it values our principles at least as much as it values our purchases.
Chanelle Yarber is a marketing strategist, fractional Chief Marketing Officer, and founder of Bright Girl Media, a consulting firm that helps established service-based companies translate marketing activity into measurable revenuegrowth.
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