Marva and Myriam Babel have spent a lot of time considering the idea of creating a space and how to sustain it in a gentrifying borough. They have now launched a new membership club in Brooklyn called Babel Loft, and are figuring out how to make the most of it.
The main area, set up with living-room furnishings, two bar areas, books from Questlove and comedian Dick Gregory, as well as D.J. equipment atop white marble, could serve as a workspace during the day and a dance spot at night. There is also a smaller room intended as a quiet space and a section called the B-side that will be another music space once construction is completed. Myriam Babel mentioned that “Every place will be intentional, and that’s a work in progress.”
The excitement about the space is not only about its possibilities, but also about simply having far more of it. Babel Loft follows Ode to Babel, a cocktail bar founded in 2015 that became popular among Black and L.G.B.T.Q. New Yorkers. The newer venture, aimed at what Myriam calls the “creative professional,” offers perks such as first-in-line access to events, a co-working space and priority reservations for the Babel Loft’s resident chef. To ensure the financial viability of these benefits and the space itself, the sisters have transitioned from the free-to-enter model of Ode to Babel, which closed at the end of June, to a membership club model at Babel Loft in Prospect Heights that involves fees. (Through the end of October, the annual fee is $810, after which time it will increase.)
The founding of Babel Loft — which is backed by a group of 35 investors, almost all of whom are Black, the sisters said — was partly inspired by a belief in a community-oriented approach to business. They had witnessed patrons support Ode to Babel because it was owned by Black women.
“The confidence came from really knowing who our community is,” Marva said. “Knowing that our community will want to hold space for each other, for themselves.”
The number of Black businesses in U.S. metropolitan areas increased by nearly 14 percent from 2017 to 2020, compared with a 0.53 percent increase in businesses overall, according to the Brookings Institution. The concept of Black ownership garnered increased attention in 2020 in light of the Covid-19 pandemic and the death of George Floyd, prompting a closer examination of the economic disadvantages faced by Black Americans.
To address these disparities, advocates urged consumers to support Black-owned businesses. Cheraé Robinson, an entrepreneur and former Ode to Babel regular who is now a Babel Loft investor, noted a growing sense of pride in intentional spending.
“More people are also just understanding the importance of us making those strategic decisions to spend our dollars in our community and to do that as often as possible,” Ms. Robinson said. “We’re going beyond, ‘I want a Black doctor, I want a Black dentist.’ Now, ‘I want a Black acupuncturist, I want to go to a Black wine shop, I want to go to a Black-owned yoga studio.’”
The Babel sisters attributed their economic principles to their upbringing in central Brooklyn, where their mother and grandmother, along with their time at the East—an educational organization in Brooklyn that preached Pan-Africanism in the 1970s and ’80s—instilled in them the ideas of self-reliance and cooperative economics.
Tayo Giwa, a founder of Black-Owned Brooklyn, an online publication that has chronicled local Black businesses in the borough since 2018, acknowledged the increased visibility of Black businesses as part of the legacy of the George Floyd demonstrations. Still, he said, “We had been doing this way before that. The work that we were doing was not really in reaction to anything specific.”
The announcement of Ode to Babel’s closure was bittersweet for patrons. They remembered it as if it had been a very loud living room, with an adventure promised each night. “It was one of the few places I can go and hear all of the types of music I love in one place, be guaranteed to leave with at least one phone number, whether that be new friend or new bae,” said Ms. Robinson.
But some felt that the community had outgrown the space. Myriam compared knowing the time had come to watching the final seasons of a classic sitcom, when the program becomes unfamiliar because of the new cast additions. The feeling was literal, too: Parties were packed, shoulders were rubbed, and crowds often spilled onto the sidewalks outside. When Ode to Babel hosted its farewell party on Juneteenth, hundreds of partygoers filled the block.
The Babel Loft is on the fourth floor of a building two blocks away from the sisters’ old business. On a recent Monday in October, brown paper covered a window near the entrance.
The understated exterior may hint at the uphill climb Black entrepreneurs face. Access to funds remains a struggle; last year, 46 percent of Black business owners said they had experienced challenges accessing capital, according to a survey published by Bank of America. The Brookings Institution estimates that it will take 256 years at the current growth rate for business ownership to reach parity with the percentage of Black people in the country.
But the investors in Babel Loft point to signs of promise as it finds footing: Ms. Robinson said that membership had grown from about 30 people to more than 150 two weeks after a preview weekend in mid-September.
Bringing in more members will require some convincing. Kyla Kelly, a chef and former Ode to Babel regular, said she was planning on becoming a member after the preview weekend, which included a one-on-one discussion between a writer and a creative multi-hyphenate and an evening D.J. set. To make the decision, she said she had to see the space and its potential for herself.
“When people are investing into an experience, you have certain expectations,” said Ms. Kelly, 38. “It’s not like I’m just going to come and have a drink and hope that I like the vibe.”
The extent of the sisters’ ambitions slowly unveils itself in conversation. The plan to finish work on the B-side room by late November begets a goal to expand their spirits brand with help from collaborators outside New York, which begets a vision of an interconnected travel hub with links as far as Kenya.
“Marva and I have no egos,” Myriam said. “We’re like, ‘OK, this is what we want to do. Let’s build.’”
