History Shows U.S. Food System Leaves Behind People of Color
By CAITLIN FAULDS/ecoRI News staff
Access to healthy, local food can be limited for people of color, many of whom live in food deserts. (istock)
Summer Gonsalves knows the ins and outs of the U.S. food system,
and she knows exactly who it leaves behind.
In an online workshop hosted by the Providence-based Southside
Community Land Trust on Aug. 6, Gonsalves dug into the social and
environmental factors that limit food access from seed and soil to the
supermarket shelf. The U.S. food system, she said, has purposefully and
unfailingly disconnected people of color from nutritious and affordable foods.
“Racism is an underlying factor in the history of agriculture and
food access in the United States,” said Gonsalves, a member of the Narragansett
Indian Tribe and co-leader with the Brown University Superfund Research Program.
“It began with the taking of lands from Indigenous people primarily for the
creation of farms. It continued with the enslavement of Indigenous and African
peoples used as free laborers to work the farms.”
This marginalization exists today in the exploitation of immigrants from Asia and Latin America within the agricultural industry — an industry that widely underpays its workforce, exposes its employees to hazardous chemical pesticides and fertilizers, and puts workers in close contact with dangerous machinery, according to Gonsalves.
Patterns of racism in the food system don’t end with the
agricultural industry. They have been built into the fabric of cities across
the country, too, in the form of food deserts, or areas that lack access to
supermarkets and large grocery stores.
The United States is home to more than 6,500 food deserts
and these grocery gaps are pitted across Rhode Island,
with the state’s largest centered in the city of Woonsocket, Gonsalves said.
Food deserts are often focused in areas with high poverty, high
unemployment and limited transportation options. They are more likely to be
found in areas with large minority populations. They can severely impact the
buying habits and diets of food desert residents.
“When you have to shop based on accessibility, convenience and buy
in bulk, you pay the price over time through your health,” Gonsalves said.
Food deserts often see high rates of diabetes, obesity and certain
cancers and cardiovascular diseases, according to Gonsalves, who holds a
master’s in public health from Brown University. In 2016, diet was a contributing factor in more
than 500,000 deaths — or 19 percent of all U.S. deaths.
The inability to access affordable food overlaps with the
inability to buy culturally appropriate food, Gonsalves said, which has been an
intrinsic part of the modern food sovereignty movement. It is no secret that
food is rooted in family tradition and cultural identity. But even as an
estimated 40 percent of the U.S.
population identifies as nonwhite, foods associated with nonwhite cultures are
regularly crammed together into a single “ethnic aisle,” as pointed out in a
recent New York Times article.
“For Native Americans, food is more than what we consume,”
Gonsalves said. “It is about the process of growing, procuring, preparing and
sharing foods that are imbued with values and cultural nuances.”
Some communities have fought to regain autonomy and grow healthy
produce in small local farms and gardens. But urban tracts of vacant, arable
land are rare, and community growing centers are typically relegated to
less-than-ideal real estate.
Often, Gonsalves said, this means harvests come off lots with
industrial pasts and soils rich not in nutrients, but in heavy metals with
hefty health consequences if consumed.
So how can this change? According to Gonsalves, small steps to
food justice can add up.
To help get healthy food out to the Narragansett Indian Tribe,
Gonsalves created Of the Earth Harvest Boxes,
filled with fresh, locally sourced traditional produce. It’s a step up from the
“commodity boxes,” typically filled with unhealthy, processed and culturally
inappropriate foods, and pushed out to tribes as
federal food assistance starting in 1977.
Gonsalves has found the biggest difference comes in getting these
boxes out to families with young kids, so they can build healthy dietary habits
early on.
“When you can make an impression on a child, you have the chance
to alter their long-term health outcome … and so education is huge,” Gonsalves
said.
With the Brown University Superfund team, she’s also working on
several public education projects. The group has compiled maps with data on gardens and public
spaces, as well as hazardous industrial sites. Seed libraries and food resources maps,
too, help feed and inform Rhode Islanders.
A digital archive is also in the works to share previously
completed soil evaluations, so growers large and small know where their seeds
can freely sprout and where raised beds might help.
“As with all movements,” Gonsalves said, “there cannot be adequate
progress without barriers and speed bumps along the way.”
