I grew up in a ghetto on the lower East Side of Detroit, of course we called it a slum.
I became very familiar with what we called “soul food”. I had bean pie and liked it. I can’t say the same for chitterlings - the smell of them cooking put me off completely.
No kidding. My old great-aunts would make them for family gatherings. Yuck.
PS - we were decidedly middle class, but soul food was everywhere and when you went downtown, you ran into the black muslims in their suits and bow ties, selling bean pie and newspapers. They were always clean and very polite.
Years later, my son and some of his friends were hired for the summer by a firm for which I was doing some contract work. One of his buddies was a dark-skinned, clean cut guy who always wore a dress shirt and tie. The supervisor asked me if he was a black muslim, he was so sharp and clean!