When I was graciously invited to contribute to the GFJ newsletter, I felt the inherent gravity of this moment and saw this as an opportunity to bring more awareness to something we all intentionally or unintentionally play a role in - the structural racism found in our food system. It’s a daunting reality considering the layers upon layers of institutions and policies that have allowed access and inclusion to be stifled for Black people in America for generations. With something so complex, many people feel helpless, unsure of what we can do in our own lives or communities to create the lasting change we seek. I invite you to simply question your daily choices - not tackle them all at once, but truly bring inquiry into your daily life. 

Take, for example, something as simple as where you buy your food. Sure, you go to so-and-so supermarket because it has the best prices or is convenient to your home, but consider that prison labor could be responsible for some of the foods that then end up on your plate. I spoke with author and anthropologist Ashanté M. Reese, who recently co-authored a piece exploring how prison labor in many ways perpetuates the plantation model still to this day. And it’s not just the produce at supermarkets that deserves to be called into question. Some corporations have a history of camouflaging racism with capitalism. 

As Reese points out, “Supermarkets won’t say they choose neighborhoods because of the racial composition, but they will say they take into consideration the income, class or the buying potential of a neighborhood. We know that Black people, Hispanic people, and Indigenous people get paid less on average than Whites and we know that gets even more complicated as we look at gender.” 

Black neighborhoods end up with 3 supermarkets for a population of 150,000, like that of Anacostia in Washington, D.C. That is, until the neighborhood becomes gentrified. Suddenly, there are farmers' markets in places where food insecurity is rampant, and still that doesn’t mean they are accessible to the residing Black population. Andrea Blanton, owner and nurturer of Food Earth Birth speaks candidly about the accessibility and lack of inclusivity that deters Black people from coming out to these markets. 

Blanton admits about an Atlanta area farmers' market she currently manages, “It’s not easily accessible on public transportation, and it’s not the most welcoming neighborhood to park in.” She also asserts, “I’ve seen customers and vendors not use as much hospitality as they would a White person.” 

When we as Black community members do take it upon ourselves to introduce healthy and local sources of food such as farmers' markets, we are oftentimes met with pushback by local government in the form of applications not being reviewed or permit oversights. And we are barely skimming the surface of the redlining and countless institutional policies that have been employed to inhibit the advancement of Black people.
 

So, as an individual what can you do to combat the systemic racism that keeps your neighbor disenfranchised? Consider what it would look like for you to not only shop local, but to buy from Black and Brown farmers and makers, to employ a diverse staff and pay them equitably, to divest from big corporations and invest in homegrown co-ops, to vote for and support local politicians that aren’t touting “cleaning up the neighborhood,” but instead putting their political power behind already established community-led organizations that are committed to Black empowerment. 

Reese offers guidance in saying, “It’s going to be really hard to make some differences on a community level without really good spiritual and political education around the value of collective work and the value of slowing down. It’s not always convenient for me to try to connect with a Black farmer if I live right next door to Kroger. I think there is some learning and unlearning that has to happen to make us want to make those choices. It doesn’t have to be purest. Maybe there are some things that I get from Kroger but then I make a commitment to support Patchwork City Farms. Getting people to consider that I have a landscape of possibilities and choices that I can make. And I get to decide what those choices are.”
 

We are at a tipping point. With the current and impending societal effects of a global pandemic and the continued lynching of Black bodies, now is the time to sit and reconsider. We can regurgitate the sins of our forefathers, or we can imagine and make anew. Change doesn’t come overnight but through consistent and gradual effort. 
 

What consistent effort can you make in your daily life to be more mindful, to be more inclusive, to be a better advocate for your neighbor who has been disenfranchised? This is the opportunity of our lifetime, and what will we make of it?
 

In food, justice, and food justice, 

LeeAnn Chisolm Morrissette

Writer, Director, Photographer
https://www.lcmorrissette.com/

photo of Atlanta area farmer, Whitney Jaye, by LeeAnn Chisolm Morrissette