Two days after my son’s 8th birthday, the pain in my chest decided to take permanent residence. What was occasional pain after binge eating fast food now felt like I was being stabbed after every meal. My diet fizzled into a measly ½ cup of Cheerios and the smallest amount of unsweetened almond milk I could tolerate. It took two hospital systems and 8 months for me to finally receive a diagnosis: severe GERD and a failed gallbladder. This experience led me to read and watch everything about ultra-processed foods, food desserts, the American diet, Black farmers, and permaculture gardening. This path led me to Black Food Matters: Racial Justice in the Wake of Food Justice, a collection of essays edited by Hanna Garth and Ashanté M. Reese that explores how Black and Brown communities use gardening, farming, and the restaurant industry as tools for social, political, and environmental reform.
Black Food Matters: Racial Justice in the Wake of Food Justice enforces a lot of the research I have already had but does it through a Black cultural lens, an Intersectional feminist lens, and an ecofeminist lens. Each chapter offers a case study of food justice across the United States. The takes on a journey from the community outreach programs in Los Angeles to ecofeminist activism in Detroit to Miami’s restaurant scene. All but one chapter focuses on recent history, one analyzing the importance of the Black Panther Party’s influence on the food justice movement. Each chapter offered insight into a community’s specific oppressive systems, its activism groups, and the criticisms of said groups.
Black Food Matters: Racial Justice in the Wake of Food Justice is a must-read for those who wish to learn more about the Food Movement in America and how it impacts Black and Brown communities. Even though the book is a research text, the language is pretty accessible to the general audience. Complex language is explained simply through definitions or anecdotes provided by the researcher. While every chapter has fantastic takeaways, my favorite is chapters 4 and 8, which address the food-based community outreach programs in Los Angeles and the Black ecofeminist farming activism in Detroit.
Chapter four’s critique of white folks operating within the “white savior” trope was relatable in many ways. Far too often, some people position themselves as voices of the oppressed but do nothing to actually benefit the communities they are supposedly helping. Using the example given in this chapter’s case study, Randy Johnson, the owner of Greening Life, seems like a benevolent person until he is discovered that he agrees with the negative stereotypes about the communities he serves. This harmful mindset subverts the social/ food justice movements and upholds white supremacy (Garth 124). This chapter reminds me of people, specifically white people, who claim to be inclusive. They self-identify as “safe spaces” and allies only to whitewash the movement and uphold facets of white supremacy. Within the online book spaces, this is prevalent amongst many creators. Sometime last year, one white Booktoker (I forgot her username, but it starts with a “w” and something about stars.) She promoted herself as a diverse reader and was a former mutual of mine until I noticed how she talked about Black fantasy books, specifically Black women in fantasy books. They were too angry. Too much. Well, that parasocial relationship ended immediately after that. How do you read these stories and “speak up” for diverse reads but consistently overstep and disrespect the very communities you believe you are protecting? Why are you wasting everyone’s time and energy?
In chapter 8, The section “Black Women, Resistance, and Farming as Self Determination” shook me to my core and gave language to my thoughts and feelings of the past year. Never have I seen the language for how I felt so boldly written. Concise yet impactful. Similar to the women in Detroit, my garden was my point of entry to learn how to control many aspects of my life and how I participate within the system. Through my health complications, I planned for my garden. I built my garden beds between flare-ups, bought my seeds, and obsessed over plant, garden, and homestead creators. I learned how to compost and was fascinated by dirt. After my surgery, the garden and I flourished. My garden taught me how to plan, prepare, and watch things grow. It taught me to be patient. It taught me to accept failure as part of the journey. It showed me how to nurture something small into a massive being. These are lessons I take with me as I embark on this journey online and as I look toward the future of the Black community.
“Keisha, what does this nonfiction book about the American food movement have to do with Afrofuturism and your blog?” Well, it’s a book about the condition of the Black community. It’s very much connected. Food is a necessity for survival and for our future. Specifically, it’s connected to how we envision our connection with nature in the future. Will we continue on the path of our oppressors and lead this world to destruction? Will we repair our relationship with Earth, no longer connecting it to slavery? I would prefer a Black future where we care for this planet better than its current overlords. I want us to take our shoes off, dig our toes into the dirt/ sand/ water, and just……..feel. That is the first step.
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