We Open Doors Too: The Unfair Bias Of Owning While Black

I just want my bill. To be honest, I really didn’t have a good experience.”

That statement confused me because I honestly had not had any negative interactions with this lady other than giving her a margarita. She complained about the amount of margarita I poured in the glass. We ran out of rocks glasses, so I had to use stemless wine glasses. I explained to her the differences in ounces and how the margarita is still the same, but explanations do not matter most times.

“Oh? Well, what happened?” I said, confused.

“You really want to know?”

I would not have asked…

“Yes.”

“Nothing happened. Nothing. I was expecting something for Cinco de Mayo and there’s nothing.”

You came to a Black American seafood restaurant expecting something for a Mexican American holiday? When a Mexican restaurant is less than a block away?

This is what I wanted to say. Instead, I said:

“Oh. OK, Sorry about that,” and went to get her check.

There is an unspoken reality in the hospitality industry that many people experience but few openly discuss. Black-owned restaurants are often held to a different standard than their white-owned counterparts. I spoke with the owner about this incident and he said,

“She would’ve never behaved that way in a Ruth’s Chris.” And she wouldn’t have.

This difference shows up in how patrons behave, how employees are treated, how they treat management, and how the overall value of the establishment is perceived.

Walk into many white-owned upscale restaurants or even not upscale ones and there’s an assumption of quality. Guests tend to arrive with patience, trust, and a willingness to spend. Mistakes are often excused as human error and part of the dining experience.

In contrast, Black-owned restaurants frequently face heightened scrutiny from the moment a customer walks in. I hear, “I tried to support a Black-owned place but never again” if anything goes wrong, even though those same things can happen at any restaurant or business they visit frequently.

There can be less patience for the wait, more criticism of small things, and most definitely a lower tipping threshold despite equal effort, which causes Black-owned establishments to add service charges to help support their staff.

It becomes a constant need to prove worth instead of being given the benefit of the doubt.

There is also a disparity in how pricing is received.

At a white-owned establishment, higher prices are often associated with quality, ambiance, or prestige. The same pricing at a Black-owned restaurant may be questioned, challenged, or labeled as too expensive, even when the quality matches or exceeds expectations.

This reflects a deeper issue. Black labor, creativity, and entrepreneurship are often undervalued.

What many patrons do not see is the difference in access behind the scenes.

Black-owned restaurants often do not have the same long-standing vendor relationships, bulk purchasing power, or industry connections that can lower the cost of goods. They may pay more for ingredients, supplies, and equipment.

There is also a gap in advertising reach. Many white-owned establishments benefit from stronger media relationships, investor backing, or word-of-mouth networks that amplify visibility. Black-owned restaurants often have to spend more to be seen or work twice as hard to achieve the same exposure.

These structural disadvantages make it even more significant when pricing is questioned or compared unfairly.

The double standard does not stop with customers. It extends into the workplace.

Employees in Black-owned establishments often report being taken less seriously by guests or facing more disrespect and boundary-pushing behavior they would not typically show in white-owned establishments. Management even report feeling like their title means nothing in the face of some customers and employees.

There is also internal pressure. Staff may feel they have to overperform to counter stereotypes or protect the reputation of the business, I know I do.

Meanwhile, similar roles in white-owned spaces are more likely to be seen as professional by default.

Not all of this behavior is intentional. Much of it is rooted in unconscious bias, including ideas about professionalism, value, and racism that people absorb over time.

But whether intentional or not, the impact is increased stress on staff. Black-owned restaurants are more than places to eat. They are cultural spaces, community hubs, and expressions of identity and resilience.

I worked at Busboys and Poets, a DC go-to restaurant inspired by the Black community and built for artists and poets. When I visited this place on my birthday one year, I immediately thought to myself, “I’m going to work here.” Luckily, I didn’t have to travel to DC one opened years later right across the street from my job at Barnes and Noble.

This place contains Black books, Black drinks, Black food, and the Black experience. I started working there a month after they opened. I saw very quickly how attitudes changed when people realized the restaurant was Black-owned and dedicated to Black people. The attitudes worsened when we were out of something and couldn’t deliver fast service. It was the first time I had been in a Black-centric restaurant, and it would be the first time I recognized the double standard and began understanding the first steps toward changing it.

As patrons, that means asking: Would I react this way in a different setting? Am I extending the same respect and patience? Do my tipping habits reflect fairness?

As industry professionals, it means advocating for equitable treatment, setting firm standards, and supporting one another. The goal is not division. The goal is awareness. When Black restaurants are given the same respect, trust, and support as any other establishment, everyone benefits. The staff, the guests, and the culture all thrive when fairness becomes the standard.

TLDR: Give Black-owned restaurants the same patience and respect you give everyone else.