Some people don’t just walk into a room — they light it up. Their presence is magnetic, and you can see how they shape the world around them. Watching someone like that grow and transform is a rare privilege — a front-row seat to purpose in motion.

I’ve had the honor of witnessing Tracy’s evolution into a multi-faceted creative, a true stylist in every sense of the word. Our connection, rooted in the long-standing friendship between our fathers, has been nurtured and deepened through the power of social media.

One day, while tapping through Instagram stories, I stumbled upon a post from Tracy. It was a tribute to his great-great-grandfather, who founded “Barbershop Jackson” in the Historic Westside. I paused.

The next slide flashed on my screen, and I saw a photo I had seen before—one I’d admired many times. I always wondered, Who are these people? What are their names? What are their stories?

That day, I got my answer.

Andrew Jackson (center) and his fellow barbers.

Photo Credit: Clinton Wright Photographs. Special Collections and Archives, University Libraries, University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Las Vegas, Nevada.

The bloodlines of the community architects I’d been curious about were closer than I realized.

Eager to learn more, I reached out to Tracy. What started as a simple DM exchange turned into a deep conversation about the magic that exists within our families and the safe spaces our ancestors carved out for us to excel in.

The Great-Great Migration

When you ask Black folks in Vegas where their families came from, two states almost always get mentioned—Arkansas and Louisiana.

Many African Americans moved to Las Vegas in search of new opportunities. Some found work on the Strip, others at the magnesium plant, and many were stationed here through the military. For others, it was an escape from the suffocating grip of Jim Crow laws in the South.

Andrew Jackson, Tracy’s great-great-grandfather was one of those people.

Before making the move to Vegas, Jackson was running a barbershop attached to his home in Arkansas called Economy Barbershop. Barbering wasn’t just his trade—it was the family’s legacy. Tracy shared that even his great-great-great-grandfather was a barber.

When Andrew arrived in Las Vegas, he decided to follow the same blueprint that had worked for him back home.

“When they came to Vegas, what's known as Jackson Street now is where they basically set up shop,” Tracy shared. “They set up their home basically the same way they did in Arkansas… On the other side was my great-great-grandmother's beauty salon. And then they also had a convenience store attached to it.”

They didn’t just build a barbershop—they built an ecosystem.

The Beauty of the Shops

Black ownership meant Black freedom. It meant our community could create spaces where we were safe, seen, and supported.

The barbershop and beauty shop weren’t just places to “get cleaned up.” They were places where stories were told, wisdom was shared, and culture was shaped. You might have come for a fade, but you left with a fresh perspective.

Building a Black shop in the '50s, '60s, and ‘70s was no small feat, but it was always bigger than just business. It was community-building at its finest.

Tracy’s great-great-grandfather didn’t just stop at one shop. After much success, he decided to expand his business in the Historic Westside.

Barbershop Jackson had begun to do so well that he and his friends turned business partners opened a barbershop next to the iconic Moulin Rouge.

The Moulin Rouge was the first integrated hotel in Las Vegas—and the United States. To have a Black-owned barbershop operating next to such a historic establishment? That was monumental.

That legacy ignited something in Tracy.

“I didn't know that this was like a piece of family history that kind of really sparked something in me because it was like, okay, so maybe I'm not just gravitating towards this because it’s been just around me, but the fact that it’s in me.”

Continuing the Legacy

This year, Tracy earned his barber license, but he’ll be the first to tell you it wasn’t easy. What did come easy, however, was the feeling that he was meant for it.

Tracy & his classmates

Tracy during state board exam

“I’m trying to find my steps in it. It’s really empowering to know that I come from stock like that, that they really built this off of their own home,” Tracy said. “I feel I take clients out of my home right now. And I started off in a barbershop. It wasn’t really the space for me… Not only have I grown up in shops, but it’s in my blood. Dating back generations.”

Many of us try to outrun our family’s legacy, but sometimes, legacy calls us back. Tracy’s father was a barber. His mother was a beautician. His great-great-grandfather and great-great-great-grandfather were barbers. It was everything his family knew.

But Tracy wanted to carve his own path. After high school, he left Vegas and went to Louisiana to study journalism.

“I learned how to cut a little bit in high school. My dad taught me how to cut my own hair before I came to college. But I didn’t bring my clippers. I didn’t do any of that. I was just… I was pushing it off because I’m like, I’m going a different path,” he said.

But destiny has a way of calling us back.

“So I feel like that’s what makes the difference for me,” he reflected. “It really is an empowering thing for me just to know that I come from that. It helps shift my journey a little bit because it really is a hard industry. And I think a lot of people look at it as a hustle, much less a career. And for me, I look at it as a career because my parents fed me off of it, their grandparents… So it’s just different for me. My love for it has skyrocketed just knowing that.”

Reviving A Sacred Space

“I feel like I can only imagine what it was [like] back in the day,” Tracy said. “Being able to just have that space to where it’s all of your people for real. You can say the things you want to say and not have to worry about the backlash. You can speak the way you want to speak.”

These spaces were more than shops—they were sanctuaries. And today, many of us are seeing the cracks in that foundation.

So what happened?

Tracy explained that many shop owners, barbers, and beauticians today have shifted their focus to aesthetics — how much they can make and how fast they can make it. In doing so, the art of it all has been sacrificed. And by art, we mean the included deep scalp-cleansing washes, the use of beloved products like Blue Magic or Lottabody, and the mastery of marcels. These cherished rituals have slowly disappeared.

Another issue is that beauticians and barbers have realized they can make more money servicing white clients at higher, unquestioned price points. As a result, many stylists are prioritizing these higher-paying clients over creating inclusive spaces that honor and cater to our culture.

“Our spaces are suffering because nobody wants to just take the hit [and say] ‘I’m gonna be with my people and make my money this way,’” he said.

Tracy’s goal is to revive the practice. To bring the art of it back.

“I wanna be able to do our hair. I wanna do sculptures. I want to do quick weaves. I want to do all these different things,” he said. “I want to be the best. I like to cut hair. I like to use my shears. I like the art of cutting hair. But I want to get to a point where they’re calling me ‘Crazy Hands’ because I can do everything.”

When asked about the legacy he aims to build, Tracy’s vision came through with striking clarity — a chain of barbershops where everyone feels seen, valued, and truly at home.

“I want every shop to be the safe space I know it to be. When I say a safe space, I really want queer people to be able to go into these shops and feel comfortable. Like, I want to be that kind of pioneer in the barbering industry where everybody mentioned women, gay, straight, trans, whatever, can come into these spaces and really feel comfortable and know that they are going to get the best haircut and treatment possible.” says Tracy.

The Road Back to Vegas

I couldn’t help but ask Tracy the question most inquiring minds want to know — "Is there any way that you’d be willing to bring it [the talent] back to Vegas?"

Without hesitation, he confirmed what I was hoping to hear.

“Yes, I do want to bring it back to Vegas. But how I want to curate my space in Vegas… it’s just far more intricate.”

His vision is bigger than just opening a shop — it’s about creating something unforgettable. He wants it to be a space so intentional, so thoughtfully crafted, that it can’t be ignored.

“I'm gonna have to be able to pull from different avenues and different people. I don't necessarily feel like my dream team is already in Vegas. I feel like I'm gonna have to be the person to really seek out people from different areas to come and be in this shop specifically. So we can create this atmosphere that I have in my head…

You can really come in here and just have the best time, whether you're coming to sit, whether you come to get your hair done, whether you're coming to pick up an old magazine to flip through, get some coffee, whatever the case may be. Like, I really want it to be such an intentional and curated space.”

Hearing him describe it, I could already picture it — a place that feels familiar but elevated. A space that feels like home.

I can’t wait.

Carrying the Torch

From Arkansas to Vegas to Louisiana, Tracy is retracing the paths of his ancestors while carving out one of his own. His journey is a return to his roots, but it’s also a testament to the power of answering your calling.

Barbershops and beauty salons have always been more than places to get a cut. They’re safe spaces, cultural landmarks, and hubs for connection. They’re where wisdom is shared, laughter is loud, and legacies are built. Tracy isn’t just stepping into that tradition — he’s reimagining it. Creating spaces that feel familiar, intentional, and unapologetically Black.

So here’s to being architects of culture and carriers of greatness.

Want to see how Tracy’s story unfolds? Follow him on Instagram for the latest updates and a closer look at his craft.