The post Op-ed: We Need a Food Bill of Rights appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Oklahoma sits at the center of the U.S. wheat belt, exporting grain across the world and supplying flour that fills pantries nationwide. It is a major pork producer and also part of America’s cattle corridor, ranking second in cow-calf operations that support the country’s beef supply. The state grows significant amounts of corn, soybeans, and sorghum as well. In short, Oklahoma is a powerhouse of food production.
And yet in Oklahoma, where my roots run deep, too many people are hungry, with 15.4 percent of residents facing food insecurity compared with a national average of 12.2 percent. The state’s food landscape is marked by widespread food insecurity, limited grocery stores—especially in rural and low-income communities—and a growing dependence on dollar stores and food banks. Access to healthy food remains underfunded and undervalued.
Despite the fact that Oklahoma consistently ranks among the top 10 states for food insecurity, the political will to invest in equitable food systems is on life support. While Oklahoma lawmakers have enacted stricter regulations and oversight for the cannabis industry in recent years, they have not shown the same urgency or coordinated investment when it comes to strengthening the state’s food system. For example, for every food-related legislative bill, there are five for cannabis.
Tambra Stevenson at Oklahoma’s state capitol, in Oklahoma City. (Photo credit: Photo_by_Wheelz)
By contrast, in my current home of Washington, D.C.—a 68-square-mile district without vast swaths of farmland or a state department of agriculture—only 10.6 percent of District residents face food insecurity.
In D.C., food justice has a seat at the policy table through ever-growing, supportive infrastructure, including the D.C. Food Policy Council, which adopted the “right to food” as a policy priority around 2022.
Additionally, residents fight for their food rights. In 2024, for instance, they pushed back against Mayor Muriel Bowser’s decision to withhold a 10 percent Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) benefit increase approved by the D.C. Council, the legislative branch of D.C.’s local government. Under mounting pressure—including public demonstrations and potential lawsuits by Legal Aid D.C.—the mayor reversed course and agreed to implement the benefit boost.
Oklahoma and D.C. offer a tale of two plates: one undernourished by misguided politics but piled high with possibility, the other well fed through civic engagement and equitable governance (though there is, of course, room for improvement). The difference between the two isn’t land or resources—it’s participation, the heart of democracy.
I believe we need to equalize these two plates by pushing for food democracy in places where it has eroded. All people, not just corporations or disconnected policymakers, should have the power and agency to shape what’s grown, what’s eaten, and how we are nourished. We, the people, need to reclaim our food freedom and build food systems rooted in local economics, health, sustainability, justice, and belonging.
Crumbling Community Power in the Heartland
I was born and raised in Oklahoma, in the heartland of the U.S., to a family with deep agricultural roots. After emancipation from slavery in Texas, my great-great-grandfather Jiles Burkhalter and his wife Delia Lola “Delie” owned one of 13,209 farms operated by African Americans in Oklahoma. With more than 800 acres in McIntosh County, the Burkhalters grew food and raised cattle for themselves and the community, according to my 98-year-old grandmother, Ruby (Burkhalter) Tolliver, a retired nurse in Oklahoma City.
In the 1960s, however, the U.S. government authorized the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers to construct Lake Eufaula, one of the largest man-made lakes in the country, in the southeastern part of the state. The project flooded over 105,000 acres, displacing thousands of Indigenous and African American families including my own, stripping them not only of acreage but also of agency.
“All people, not just corporations or disconnected policymakers, should have the power and agency to shape what’s grown, what’s eaten, and how we are nourished.”
Big agriculture and corporate lobbyists filled the vacuum, pushing policies that prioritized profit over people. Over time, as community institutions lost funding , so too did the platforms for everyday people to shape their food future—replaced instead by a top-down system that rewarded consolidation and disconnection. In the city of Checotah, where my cousin Leonard Hill sells the produce he grows at a nearby farm, only 1,212 out of 12,650 residents voted in the May 2025 elections. That’s less than 9 percent. That’s not apathy; it’s a sign that people don’t feel they have power. In some D.C. wards, more than 30 percent of residents show up to the polls.
Because of its diminished civic infrastructure and a supermajority of lawmakers aligned with corporate interests, Oklahoma is ground zero for Project 2025—a test site for policies that aim to shrink the public safety net, dismantle food programs, and silence local voices. What’s happening here isn’t accidental; it’s strategic. Oklahoma serves as the canary in the coal mine—a warning sign for the nation. While places like D.C. retain its SNAP increase due to organized networks of nonprofits, activists, and local leaders who push back, Oklahoma lacks the protective layers like the civic networks that once thrived.
The state’s rapid policy shifts are not just harming its own people—they’re laying the groundwork for what could happen across the country if communities don’t organize, speak up, and reclaim power over their food and futures.
Without a sustained structure for public governance, there’s no consistent forum to bring people together to coordinate strategies—and Oklahoma communities have little defense against threats to local and regional food systems. The unchallenged arrival of big box retailers like Walmart, for instance, has led to the closure of local grocers and reduced community control over the food system.
Inside the greenhouse at 3L Farms, Rentiesville, Oklahoma. (Photo credit: Leonard Hill)
In the absence of citizen-powered safeguards, Oklahoma is particularly vulnerable to state and federal threats to food security. In June, Oklahoma Governor Kevin Stitt was among the 13 Republican governors who opted out of participating in the federal summer nutrition program.
This, in a state where one in four children are hungry. In addition to missing out on $120 per child during the summer, leaving our kids without vital nutrition, the local food retailers that accept SNAP/EBT suffer—because every SNAP dollar spent can generate nearly $2 in local economic activity.
The federal government’s cuts to social safety nets over the last six months have left Oklahoma especially at risk as well. In February, the Trump administration weakened local food supply chains by cutting the USDA’s Regional Food System Partnerships program, which connected farmers to schools and food banks.
Then, on July 4th, Trump signed the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, substantially cutting funding for the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) and other nutrition programs that feed and educate our communities in need. Also this month, the administration terminated the Regional Food Business Centers program, leaving farmers without the critical infrastructure they need to grow and distribute food locally.
In states with stronger food democracy, where food policy councils, local leadership, and civic engagement are in place, communities are better equipped to resist and adapt to these cuts. But in Oklahoma, where civic infrastructure has been deliberately weakened, these changes will hit hard.
Despite the many challenges, Oklahoma is full of food freedom fighters—farmers, tribal leaders, and advocates—who are building pathways to reclaim power from the soil up. My cousin Leonard is one of them.
In Rentiesville, Leonard runs a teaching operation called 3L Farms, named after him, his wife Latitia, and their daughter Londyn, where he grows tomatoes, okra, peppers, squash, and cucumbers along with sunflowers and zinnias.
“Oklahoma is ground zero for Project 2025—a test site for policies that aim to shrink the public safety net, dismantle food programs, and silence local voices.”
Oklahoma is home to more than 18,200 Native-run farms. In partnership with Creek and Cherokee Nations, Leonard supplies farm-fresh produce to food banks and schools across the state, helping to fill the gaps left by state and federal retrenchment.
A father himself, Leonard built relationships with the local Heart Start programs and schools to deliver vegetables to families. And he’s transforming an old school into a community food hub for youth to grow, cook, and preserve what they harvest. His vision includes partnering with healthcare providers for food-as-medicine initiatives by providing them with local produce.
But producers and providers like Leonard, who are building power from the ground up, are the underdogs—and they can’t transform the system by themselves. They need the support of the people, partners, press, and policymakers to scale their impact and sustain their efforts. Still, they are showing that food democracy is not only possible—it’s already in motion. It just needs more hands and hearts behind it.
Leonard Hill of 3L Farms with Rachel Kretchmar of OKC Food Hub at the Oklahoma Local Agriculture Collaborative Conference in January. (Photo credit: Leonard Hill)
Food Democracy in D.C.
While Congress sets the broad rules of the game, passing legislation like the Farm Bill, it is local food policy councils that give everyday people a structured, sustained voice in shaping food policy that reflects community needs.
As a former member of the D.C. Food Policy Council, I saw firsthand the benefit of centering community voices in making food-system decisions. During my nine years on the council, I co-chaired the Nutrition and Health Working Group (now called the Health and Nutrition Education working group), where we worked to ensure the nutrition and healthcare sectors were fully recognized as part of the local food economy.
We convened public forums, set policy priorities, and developed reports that advised the mayor and the food policy director. We collaborated across agencies to assess the feasibility of these policies—not just in theory, but through real budgets, procurement rules, and program design.
Londyn, daughter of Latitia and Leonard Hill, at her family farm, 3L Farms in Rentiesville, Oklahoma. (Photo credit: Leonard Hill)
As a result, D.C. leads the nation in implementing innovative food-as-medicine programs like Produce Rx and medically tailored meals covered under Medicaid. Providing healthy food prescriptions to low-income residents, these programs reduce diet-related disease, drive revenue to local farmers and food entrepreneurs, and promote equity in how the government buys and distributes food.
Perhaps not surprisingly, these programs are most common in places with strong civic infrastructure and engagement. Yet even in D.C., we face structural limits: lack of statehood, budget autonomy, and full Congressional representation. In 2025, for example, the House of Representatives withheld over $1 billion from the District’s locally approved budget, using essential programs like SNAP as political leverage.
Additionally, we are facing a crisis in food access because of increased food costs, tariffs, and now cuts to federal nutrition programs. The East of the River communities (Wards 7 and 8) in D.C. have long been nutritionally divested, and the closures of Good Food Markets and Harris Teeter grocery stores have only intensified the problem.
While we watch plans move forward for a new football stadium in Ward 7, I challenge our city leaders to protect food democracy and ensure that the economic gains from such developments help fund our basic needs.
The Way Forward: Balancing the Plates
To reduce the discrepancy between food access in places like D.C. and Oklahoma—and to increase civic participation in undernourished communities—we must pursue four key actions.
1. Establish state and local food policy councils to drive food democracy.
Local governments, especially in states like Oklahoma, must prioritize the creation and funding of food policy councils to coordinate action across sectors. These councils serve as vital platforms to engage citizens in shaping policy around healthy food access, economic development, and equity.
2. Create pathways for participation in produce prescription and food-as-medicine programs.
State legislatures and local agencies must open clear pathways for farmers, healthcare providers, food retailers, and community-based organizations to participate in food-as-medicine programs. These initiatives allow low-income patients to receive fresh produce as part of their healthcare while also supporting local farmers and food entrepreneurs.
3. Support cooperative farming and retail networks.
State and local governments can strengthen food sovereignty by investing in cooperative farming networks and grocery co-ops that share risk, knowledge, equipment, and markets. That means also supporting small local farms like 3L Farms. These models support land retention, build resilience, and create alternatives to corporate-dominated supply chains.
4. Enact a Food Bill of Rights to protect the right to food.
Ultimately, we must recognize that food is not just a commodity or cash crop but a human right. A Food Bill of Rights can serve as a framework to guide food policy at every level of government—federal, state, and local.
“Local food policy councils give everyday people a structured, sustained voice in shaping food policy that reflects community needs.”
In 2021, Maine became the first state to enshrine the right to food in its constitution, affirming the prerogative of every person to grow, harvest, and consume food of their own choosing. California, New York, West Virginia, Iowa, and Washington are exploring similar legislation.
These four rights-based approaches empower communities to hold governments accountable and prioritize access to food, fair wages, and land. Local ordinances can play a role by funding cooperative groceries, expanding access to school meals, and ensuring public lands are used to grow food for communities in need. Let us treat healthy food access as essential infrastructure—just as critical as roads, bridges, and schools.
To my fellow food freedom fighters in Oklahoma, D.C., and everywhere in between: Don’t wait for a seat at the table. Build the table. Host community dinners. Meet with your representatives. Draft legislation. Testify at hearings. Ask how your school board, hospital, or city council is supporting or suppressing food democracy. Petition, protest, and plant seeds—not just kale or okra but of hope, justice, and power.
Across this country, our communities are suffering from food apartheid by policy. And if policy got us here, then policy can get us out—led by the people, for the people, and grounded in democracy. From the red dirt roads of Oklahoma to the halls of Congress, it’s time to balance the plates.
Let’s build a food system—and a nation—where everyone eats with dignity and power.
The post Op-ed: We Need a Food Bill of Rights appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post A Groundbreaking California Farming Collective Navigates the Loss of Federal Grants appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Lesley Swain spent most of her adult life teaching English to middle and high school students in Oakland and Hayward, California. The 51-year-old used to joke with herself that when she retired, she would become a farmer. Then, about two years ago, Swain decided she didn’t want to wait any longer. She quit her job and started looking for agricultural work. But with no farming on her resume, she struggled to find opportunities to gain experience.
Eventually she found Agroecology Commons, a small nonprofit farming collective based in nearby El Sobrante, where she signed up for Bay Area Farmer-to-Farmer Training (BAFFT), a nine-month program for beginning farmers. Swain is now an apprentice with Berkeley Basket, an urban backyard community-supported agriculture project, through a program that Agroecology Commons offered to BAFFT graduates.
“It’s given me a path that is so healthy,” Swain said. “This is what I want to do, and I didn’t know how I was going to do it.”
Agroecology Commons has helped aspiring farmers like Swain since its founding five years ago. But like many organizations, it must now do more with less.
It was among hundreds of programs whose grants have been canceled by the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA).
“We’re hoping that we’re successful in fundraising and campaigning to offset some of the losses,” said Jeneba Kilgore, one of four Agroecology Commons co-directors. “[But] I don’t think we’ll completely recuperate everything that was lost as a result of the federal cuts.”
Agroecology Commons co-director Brooke Porter admires the onions grown on the Agroecology Commons farm. (Photo credit: Riley Ramirez)
Thriving vs. Surviving
Agroecology Commons was formed in 2020 by an eclectic group of Bay Area farmers, educators, artists, and cooperative business owners who were passionate about the intersection of land and liberation. They have spent the last five years creating programs and providing spaces for farmer-to-farmer education and relationship-building for low-income and minority farmers.
The group grows a range of produce, including cherry tomatoes, onions, and beans, on three acres of land tucked into the hillside of a suburban neighborhood. They raise goats and harvest honey. And they run a center dedicated to educating farmers and community members about farming and land stewardship.
In August 2022, the USDA announced plans to allocate up to $300 million in funding to projects that enable underserved producers to access land and technical support. The funding was made available under the Increasing Land, Capital, and Market Access Program (ILCMA), which aimed to help those producers move from “surviving to thriving.”
“It’s a seismic blow, but at least we know and can start the next steps.”
In June 2023, Agroecology Commons was among 50 recipients the USDA selected from across the country. It was awarded a $2.5 million grant to find, buy, and develop land for up to 10 “BIPOC, LGBTQIA, and landless farmers” in the Bay Area. The same year, the Commons was awarded a three-year, $397,000 grant through the Community Food Projects Competitive Grant Program—a small program designed to address food and nutrition security in marginalized communities—also through the USDA.
“The ILCMA grant was revolutionary,” said Kilgore, who, with a background in cooperative business, is the “numbers” person on the team. The first program of its kind in the area, Agroecology Commons “was really going to support so many people that have been historically removed from the land in really harmful ways, and support their future generations.”
Not long after the Trump administration took office, however, the USDA froze the grants—first the Community Food Projects grant, then the ILCMA grant—making the money inaccessible for months.
At last, Agroecology Commons received a termination notice for the Community Food Projects grant on March 7, but has yet to receive an official termination notice for the ILCMA grant. However, Kilgore said the grant has been removed from their Automated Standard Application for Payments (ASAP) portal—the portal used by federal agencies to disburse funds to recipient organizations. In addition, although the organization wasn’t named, the USDA publicized that a $2.5 million grant for a Bay Area ILCMA project was canceled in a June press release.
Since the beginning of this year, the USDA has terminated a number of grants that had been offered to food and farming organizations across the county, canceling billions of dollars in funding. Some programs—such as one that provided funding for governments to purchase local food, and another that supported small farms and food businesses around the country—have been completely canceled. Others, like the Farmers Market Promotion, Community Food Projects Competitive Grant, and the ILCMA program, have not been ended altogether but have had individual contracts canceled.
About 35 percent of the Commons’ work is funded by the state, foundations, individual donors, and earned income. But the remaining 65 percent of the work was made possible by these federal grants.
“It’s a seismic blow, but at least we know and can start the next steps,” Leah Atwood, another Agroecology Commons’ co-director, told Civil Eats in June.
Co-director Leah Atwood feeds Agroecology Commons’ goats a special treat of vegetable scraps and plums. (Photo credit: Riley Ramirez)
Increasing Land Access
Systemic barriers have historically made it harder for marginalized farmers to access the land and resources necessary to build lucrative businesses. Today, 95 percent of producers in the U.S. are white and 64 percent are male, according to the 2022 USDA Census of Agriculture.
“There are a lot of young farmers that don’t have access to land or inherited wealth and are not going to be able to disrupt that 95 percent ownership reality by just trying to go at it by themselves,” Atwood said.
The majority of the ILCMA grant was going to be used to purchase land to establish a commons—a collaborative system where land is owned and managed collectively, rather than by sole owner—for BIPOC, queer, and landless farmers. The grant was also going to fund 60 percent of Agroecology Commons’ staffing capacity for the next three years.
“I wish they would just say that they don’t want to support people of color, and they just want to support white men, because that is what they’re implying.”
The organization planned to purchase land in several counties across Northern California. They had already built a relationship with a real estate agent, Kilgore said, and had a list of sites that they were interested in purchasing, but before the team was able to move forward, the grant was frozen.
“When it came to the ILCMA grant, we were doing all the things that they said,” Kilgore said. “We’re supporting farmers; we’re supporting economic development; we’re supporting people to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps; we are giving people the opportunity to start their own business,” she said. “I wish they would just say that they don’t want to support people of color, and they just want to support white men,” she continued, “because that is what they’re implying.”
Brooke Porter (left) and volunteers Zoe Meraz (right) and Noelle Romero (center) inspect hive frames heavy with honey, making sure that the hives are healthy. (Photo credit: Riley Ramirez)
Training New Farmers
In addition to broadening land access, the Agroecology Commons seeks to pass on agricultural knowledge to those who may have trouble accessing it otherwise. It was using a second pot of federal money, the Community Foods Projects grant, to help fund training programs such as the BAFFT program Swain participated in.
The program not only gives participants the chance to learn, experiment, and practice land stewardship under the guidance of experienced mentors, but also enables them to take online courses from global partners on a range of topics, including social movements in agrarian reform, agroecology, and food sovereignty.
Once they complete the curriculum, new farmers can apprentice at Bay Area farms. Of the 40 BAFFT graduates so far, 17 are currently working as apprentices on 12 different farms, according to Brooke Porter, a co-director of the Commons. To alleviate socioeconomic conditions that might prevent new farmers from being able to gain experience, the Commons makes a point of paying both the apprentices and their mentors.
Oftentimes, opportunities for young farmers to gain essential on-farm skills require them to provide free time and labor, which requires a certain level of privilege, Porter said. Agroecology Commons’ program challenges that status quo, giving disadvantaged farmers the boost they need to get started.
“This is an opportunity to really change the dichotomy of how people typically get to learn on-farm skills,” Porter said.
“This is deeper than what I do for my career. This is ancestral work for me.”
The Berkeley Basket CSA program is currently hosting two of the Commons’ apprentices—Swain and Cielo Flores, 31. Flores, whose family from El Salvador has a deep history in agriculture, said he signed up for the farmer training program because he was interested in learning how to start his own farming project and cooperative. The program and apprenticeship provided him a template for how he could approach his own project.
“I wouldn’t be doing this without their support,” Flores said. “Agroecology Commons is trying to support me in my vision to become a farmer, to become a land steward. This is deeper than what I do for my career. This is ancestral work for me.”
Moretta “Mo” Browne, who joined Berkeley Basket CSA in 2019 and now owns it, is grateful that Agroecology Commons pays both hosts and participants in the apprenticeship program.
“I already wanted to be a part of it, but the fact that they were able to compensate folks really feels like they understand how exploitative this work can be,” they said. Additionally, getting paid to be a mentor only sweetens the deal. “Being able to live out your dream of being a farmer shouldn’t come at the cost of having a roof over your head or putting food on the table,” they said.
In addition to the apprenticeship opportunity, the Commons offers its El Sobrante incubator farm as a space where BAFFT program graduates can start their own farm projects and continue gaining hands-on training. The 3-acre plot has shared infrastructure, a tool-lending library, and tractors, helping eliminate the structural barriers to successful farming.
Among vegetables like tomatoes and onions, Agroecology Commons grows an array of native flowers on the farm. (Photo credit: Riley Ramirez)
Equity and Climate Efforts
In March, Secretary of Agriculture Brooke Rollins announced in a video on Instagram that the USDA had canceled the Agroecology Commons’ Community Food Projects grant. She stated that the termination was because the grant aimed “to educate queer, trans, and BIPOC urban farmers and consumers about food justice and values aligned markets.”
“We knew a lot of our language has the DEI buzzwords that they’re looking for and the climate focus that they have been targeting, so [the termination] didn’t come out of thin air,” Atwood said.
Only about $32,000 of the grant remains. As a result, the organization has had to pause some projects, such as the creation of financial literacy and cooperative business-planning workbooks. It also cut back on the number of apprenticeship hours it can offer. Last year, Porter said, the Commons offered apprentices the option to do 250- or 500-hour apprenticeships, but this year, it could only offer the lesser of the two.
“It is a much different learning experience, obviously,” she said.
As for the ILCMA grant, it wasn’t until June that Agroecology Commons became aware that it too was likely designated for cuts. A USDA press release announcing the cuts cited a $2.5 million grant “for expanding equitable access to land, capital, and market opportunities for underserved producers in the Bay Area” as an example of one of the terminated programs.
“Putting American Farmers First means cutting the millions of dollars that are being wasted on woke DEI propaganda,” Rollins said in the press release. “Under President Trump’s leadership, I am putting an end to the waste, fraud, and abuse that has diverted resources from American farmers and restoring sanity and fiscal stewardship to the U.S. Department of Agriculture.”
When asked in an email for further details regarding the grant cancellations, the USDA press office declined to comment.
While Agroecology Commons has yet to receive an official termination letter for the ILCMA grant, Kilgore said it is hard to move forward when they don’t know what might happen next. The organization has had to pause progress on its land commons project and shift its plans to bring on four more full-time employees to only two part-time staff.
Because of the financial constraints that have resulted from the grant terminations, the Commons has had to cut another program, Farmer Wellness Days, which has provided more than 145 farmers with acupuncture, massages, or chiropractic work.
“Try to imagine building something and choreographing planning on quicksand,” Atwood said. “It’s so much of an energy drain trying to figure out how to accommodate that.”
Former street dog Guistino, also known as “Goose,” spends his days adventuring around the Agroecology Commons. (Photo credit: Riley Ramirez)
Pressing Forward
Despite this, the organization has not given up. In June, Agroecology Commons joined five other groups to sue the USDA over the termination of the Community Food Projects grant. Their legal team later amended the complaint to add the ILCMA grant, after becoming aware of its likely cancellation.
The plaintiffs filed a motion for preliminary injunction on June 26, asking the court to stop the USDA’s behavior from continuing and for relief for the plaintiff grantees, according to FarmSTAND, a food-system-focused legal advocacy organization.
David Muraskin, managing director of litigation at FarmSTAND and one of the attorneys representing the case, said with the brief in support of the motion complete, the court can now issue an order. They hope a ruling will be made within a few weeks, he said, but it could also take months. And if the case moves to the appeals court, it could take a year at minimum.
While federal funding cuts have forced Agroecology Commons to scale down some of its initiatives, state funding has enabled the group to expand another one of its programs, which provides young farmers with financial resources to start their own farming operations.
The seed grant program—which addresses resource inequity among beginning farmers—has typically offered $1,000 to $5,000 grants to BAFFT graduates and the apprentice program’s hosts. This year, however, the organization will be able to offer eligible farmers up to $50,000 in seed grants after the California Department of Food and Agriculture (CDFA) awarded the program $784,000.
Prior to receiving the CDFA grant, 26 seed grants had been given out, totaling nearly $69,000, Porter said. This year $400,000 will be distributed to people in the Bay Area, who, like Lesley Swain, are pursuing their farming dreams.
Agroecology Commons may be able to help fewer new farmers, but they’re still offering a vital source of support, and they aren’t giving up.
“We’re not retracting any of our goals,” Atwood said. “We are continuing to be outspoken that we do believe that this type of work needs to center BIPOC, queer, and landless farmers.”
The post A Groundbreaking California Farming Collective Navigates the Loss of Federal Grants appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post Could Child Care Centers Strengthen Local Food Systems? appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Ever since the pandemic, the child care sector has grappled with tight budgets, staffing shortages, and low wages. Dara Bloom, an associate professor at North Carolina State University, has watched over the years as many of these centers have struggled to serve fresh fruits and vegetables to kids, especially when inflation and food prices soared.
Last year, federal stabilization grants provided to the child care sector during the pandemic ended, leaving many centers in “survival mode,” says Bloom, a local foods extension specialist who is diligently working to build relationships between child care facilities and small farmers. Through her research, Bloom, herself a mom, hopes to improve food access for underserved communities and economic opportunities for small farmers. She says the child care sector can play a key role—if given the chance.
“Those early [childhood] stages are so important, especially in terms of health and nutrition. It’s a chance to set children’s taste preferences early.”
Child care centers were set to receive a helping hand this year, after the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) expanded the Local Food for Schools (LFS) program last October to include child care sites. Under the Biden administration, the program earmarked $188.6 million for fresh, local produce for child care facilities already participating in the Child and Adult Care Food Program, which reimburses the centers for providing healthful meals and snacks.
Participating sites range from home-based ones serving up to 15 kids to large private daycare providers and programs connected to public school systems, such as Head Start and Early Head Start.
The additional LFS funding would have been a game-changer for the child care industry, Bloom says. But five months after the USDA expanded the LFS program to child care, the Trump administration terminated the program. The decision sparked extensive media coverage of the impact on schools and food banks, but child care didn’t receive much attention—because it had yet to receive any funding.
However, child care, an often-overlooked sector, could become a larger part of local food systems, Bloom says. Through a farm to early care and education (ECE) program at the Center for Environmental Farming Systems, where Bloom also serves as assistant director, she tests and evaluates local food supply chains for child care that help create better markets for farmers.
The center then creates resources to help others replicate these systems in their own communities—for example, a step-by-step local food-buying guide for child care that offers guidance on understanding ingredient seasonality, where to find farmers, and how to order and incorporate local farm food on menus.
Civil Eats recently spoke to Bloom about her research, healthy eating habits for children, and how the child care sector can support small and midsize farms.
Dara Bloom visits Locklear Farms in Pembroke, North Carolina, which sells produce to a group of child care facilities as part of a farm-to-ECE program. (Photo credit: Bhavisha Gulabrai)
What are some of the ingredients of a resilient local food system?
In North Carolina, one of the things that has helped our local food system and issues of accessibility is a strong food hub network. If you look at our food system over the years, as things got bigger, we lost some local and regional food system infrastructure.
Food hubs are produce distributors, and a lot of them, especially in North Carolina, are nonprofits, and so they have a social mission. This includes working with small-to-midsize farmers who often need training to produce for a wholesale market, in terms of scale and [compliance with] food safety requirements. Many of our food hubs are selling to schools, and we’ve worked with them to increase purchasing for child care centers. That middle infrastructure along the supply chain really helps.
What role can child care sites play in our food system?
We know from the research how important early childhood is developmentally, in terms of education and emotional, social, behavioral learning. Those early stages are also important in terms of health and nutrition. It’s a chance to set children’s taste preferences early.
Research shows it can take anywhere from eight to 15 exposures to new types of fruits and vegetables for kids to develop those preferences. And if you are a low-income family, it’s hard to put food on the plate that you know your kid isn’t going to eat, eight to 15 times.
You want to give your kid something they’re going to eat, that is going to fill them up, and that they’ll love, especially if you’re on a tight budget and maybe have to say no to a lot of things. So, there is this opportunity in child care to do what maybe some low-income families wouldn’t be able to do, which is to increase that exposure.
Children learn about fresh fruit and vegetables with hands-on activities like making spinach smoothies and art projects. (Photo credit: Marcello Cappellazzi)
What challenges do child care providers face in buying and serving local food?
Over the years, there has been a shift to purchasing more processed foods or relying on canned or frozen foods, especially produce. There can be a lot of work to help those [child care] buyers look at their menus, understand seasonality, and find recipes to try new local products. They also need to figure out how to have the staff time, the skill set, and the equipment that’s needed to process local food, especially fresh fruits and vegetables.
Post-COVID, they’re struggling with staffing. We’ve heard stories about child care programs that will lose their cook and so they’ve got teachers or the director coming in to cook meals. I’ve seen reports that staff wages are so low that they’re often on public assistance themselves.
Finding local farmers and knowing how to approach them or work with them is also a challenge, since that takes extra time, which centers often just don’t have. Space and storage are another piece. I’ve visited some child care centers with kitchens that are smaller than my home kitchen, and they might be preparing a breakfast, snack, lunch, and maybe even an afternoon snack for 150 kids. In that situation, it helps to have pre-chopped fruits and vegetables.
Much of your work is focused on farm-to-ECE programs. What are they and how would the Local Food for Schools funding have impacted farm-to-ECE initiatives?
We see farm-to-ECE programs as having three components. One is local food procurement: sourcing from farmers and getting local food on the plate for meals and snacks. Two is experiential learning in the garden. And three is food-based learning, exposing kids to cooking in the classroom. There’s something about that experiential piece of being in the garden and experiencing the food in the classroom setting and learning about it. Then it’s on the plate, they’ve had those repeated exposures and are more likely to eat it.
When we started doing this work, we heard from a teacher at a child care center who said that parents would ask, “What’s going on? I didn’t think my kid would eat this [vegetable].” They’re so surprised when those behaviors carry over at home. We had a parent who said they went to the supermarket, and their kid was yelling, “I want broccoli!”
Our hope with the funding was to reach new child care programs and expand farm-to-ECE programming to reach more children and families.
Obviously, the funding never began, but farmers could have benefited, too. What can you say about the loss of that money for farmers?
This was an opportunity to introduce farmers to a new market, create interest, and train technical assistance providers at the county level. This assistance could help farmers with barriers to selling to the school system, such as the Good Agricultural Products certification, which can be hard for smaller-scale farmers because of the cost and paperwork.
“The child care market can be a great starting point for farmers who are interested in shifting toward wholesale.”
Also, the school system can be so large that farmers don’t have enough volume for it. Child care is not the largest market, but it can be a great outlet for a smaller scale farm that’s not going to be able to meet the demands of a larger market like the school system.
Child care can also be a great starting point, almost like a steppingstone, for farmers who are interested in shifting toward wholesale. The child care market gives them the chance to work with an institutional buyer while they build their own infrastructure, with the hope that maybe they’ll be able to scale up someday to serve that larger market.
How were you and other food-system players preparing for the funding?
The funding could only be spent on local food, so it had to go directly to farmers—which was a great benefit for farmers, but it didn’t cover any overhead, like administrative fees, for non-farmers. It was hard to find an organization with the capacity to handle that much funding without being able to hire someone or pay for someone’s time to manage the funds, distribution, and record-keeping that would come with it.
We worked with the North Carolina Department of Agriculture to do outreach to partners we thought could distribute the funds. We worked closely with Working Landscapes, which is a food hub that was taking a leadership role in organizing other food hubs around the state. They felt strongly enough that it fit their mission and would be such a benefit to themselves and other food hubs that they were willing to be the fiscal sponsor.
Where will you go from here?
Moving forward, we’ll continue supporting our partners with the resources we have, and then in the future we’re trying to have a plan so that if there is ever funding available, we will know how to best implement it in a way that supports all stakeholders.
We’re trying to continue supporting child care centers, farmers, and food hubs, and we’re hoping to organize regional meetups over the summer. We’re still trying to bring those partners—food hubs and child care centers—to the table. We are creating resource documents from our research, like a local food buying guide for child care centers.
The possibility to work on the program is still there. But sometimes it feels like a lot to ask of child care providers. If they’re struggling to get by, it can be hard to take this extra time and energy and find the funds to do this. But we also know that child care programs are dedicated to the health of the children they serve.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
The post Could Child Care Centers Strengthen Local Food Systems? appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post The EPA Canceled These 21 Climate Justice Projects appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>On his first day in office, President Donald Trump signed an executive order to “unleash” U.S. energy. The order directed the head of the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), Lee Zeldin, to immediately pause previously approved disbursements of funds that were inconsistent with the president’s new energy priorities.
As a result, hundreds of environmental justice grants were cancelled by the EPA. Among these were 21 projects designed to improve climate, farming, and food resilience in underserved communities across the United States.
The organizations guiding these projects now face a significant loss of funding, ranging from $155,000 to $20 million each, according to federal documents obtained by Civil Eats through Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) requests.
After Trump’s executive order, some funds were immediately frozen, with organizations receiving little to no communication from the EPA as to why or for how long. Between late March and early May, the groups began receiving letters notifying them that their grants had been terminated.
To find the cancelled climate, farming, and food equity grants, Civil Eats examined a list of 400 environmental justice grants slated for termination, published by the U.S. Senate Committee on Environment and Public Works, and cross-referenced the list with hundreds of grant descriptions made public by the EPA. Through FOIA requests, we verified that each of the 21 projects below had been terminated.
When asked why these equity grants had been cancelled, the EPA press office told Civil Eats in an email, “Maybe the Biden-Harris Administration shouldn’t have forced their radical agenda of wasteful DEI programs and ‘environmental justice’ preferencing on the EPA’s core mission. The Trump EPA will continue to work with states, tribes, and communities to support projects that advance the agency’s core mission of protecting human health and the environment.”
EPA’s Canceled Climate, Farming, and Food Equity Projects
Building Climate Resilient Communities in the Eastern Coachella Valley
Recipient: Pueblo Unido, CDC
State: California
Grant Program: Community Change Grant Program
Grant Amount: $18.8 million
Project Description: Pueblo Unido planned to use the funding to build four geothermal, solar-powered greenhouses in California’s Eastern Coachella Valley, supporting vertical hydroponic farming and offering training and jobs for “controlled environment agriculture” workers. Project plans included a nursery to propagate native tree seedlings for free distribution to the community.
Denver Urban Gardens Dig Deeper Initiative
Recipient: Denver Urban Gardens
State: Colorado
Grant Program: Environmental Justice Collaborative Problem-Solving Cooperative Agreement Program
Grant Amount: $500,000
Project Description: The Dig Deeper Initiative aimed to address environmental justice issues through planting community gardens and food forests in West Denver neighborhoods. The green spaces were meant to decrease the urban “heat island” effect, improve overall air quality, and increase residents’ access to fresh, healthy foods.
Drying Seaweed Using Waste Heat
Recipient: Prince William Sound Science Technology Institute
State: Alaska
Grant Program: Environmental Justice Collaborative Problem-Solving Cooperative Agreement Program
Grant Amount: $477,135
Project Description: This project planned to explore whether waste heat from a diesel power plant could be used efficiently to dry large quantities of seaweed. The goal was to eliminate processing roadblocks, grow the local mariculture industry, and increase food security.
Engaging Communities for a Resilient and Sustainable Waco and McLennan County
Recipient: Mission Waco, Mission World
State: Texas
Grant Program: Community Change Grant Program
Grant Amount: $18.9 million
Project Description: Mission Waco and its partners planned to divert food waste from landfills by expanding residential and commercial composting programs in McLennan County and its largest city, Waco. They also planned to create numerous internship, training, and professional development opportunities focused on food-waste diversion.
From Food Waste to Opportunity
Recipient: Rhode Island Food Policy Council
State: Rhode Island
Grant Program: Community Change Grant Program
Grant Amount: $18.7 million
Project Description: Rhode Island Food Policy Council planned to address food waste in Rhode Island through a multilevel approach. In collaboration with a coalition of organizations, the project intended to increase and improve composting infrastructure and support programs that would redirect edible food to nonprofits rather than landfills.
Growing Environmental Justice Through Community Food Forest Development
Recipient: United Charitable
State: Maine
Grant Program: Environmental Justice Collaborative Problem-Solving Cooperative Agreement Program
Grant Amount: $500,000
Project Description: Working with 11 partner organizations, United Charitable planned to develop eight food forests to increase climate resiliency and food security for Maine communities disproportionately impacted by environmental injustice. United Charitable planned to plant and distribute 1,870 fruit and nut trees in rural areas of the state, provide educational programs, and document food-forest projects so they might be implemented elsewhere.
Leech Lake Band of Ojibwe Tribal Resilience Hub
Recipient: Leech Lake Band of Ojibwe
State: Minnesota
Grant Program: Community Change Grant Program
Grant Amount: $20 million
Project Description: The Leech Lake Band of Ojibwe intended to use their funding to create a Tribal Resilience Hub that would have provided essential services during emergencies. They also planned to install rain gardens, plant community gardens, and invest in electric vehicles and transportation infrastructure.
Local Food Access and EJ Leadership Capacity Building Initiative
Recipient: Ecolibrium3
State: Minnesota
Grant Program: Environmental Justice Collaborative Problem-Solving Cooperative Agreement Program
Grant Amount: $500,000
Project Description: The Lincoln Park Local Foods Local Places Action Plan would have researched social determinants of health in Duluth’s Lincoln Park neighborhood. The project would also have created several different employment opportunities, including a neighborhood farmer-in-residence position to steward the expansion of urban agriculture education, support small grocery stores, expand land analysis and garden development, and explore using waste heat for food production.
Michigan Tribal and State Wild Rice Initiative
Recipient: Inter-Tribal Council of Michigan
State: Michigan
Grant Program: Environmental Justice Government-to-Government Program
Grant Amount: $3 million
Project Description: The Wild Rice Initiative would have used the funding to support the meaningful participation of Michigan’s federally recognized tribal governments in the Tribal-State Manoomin Stewardship Plan to protect wild rice.
Okanogan County Microgrid Community Resilience Hubs
Recipient: Okanogan County Community Action Council
State: Washington
Grant Program: Community Change Grant Program
Grant Amount: $20 million
Project Description: The Okanogan County Community Action Council was going to invest in two community resilience hubs. One would have served as an emergency shelter during extreme weather conditions and as a workforce training space, while the other would have turned an old Safeway building into a solar-powered food bank with gleaning programs, nutrition classes, and a market-style pantry. Although their grant didn’t appear on the Senate’s termination list, it was announced by the EPA in December—and then never materialized, according to the Council. According to information obtained from the EPA through a FOIA, the grant “was never awarded.”
Placemaking to Address Food Equity and Environmental Sustainability in Southeast Kansas
Recipient: Kansas Department of Health and Environment
State: Kansas
Grant Program: Environmental Justice Government-to-Government Program
Grant Amount: $1 million
Project Description: This project intended to use grant funding to promote food equity and environmental justice in Labette, Montgomery, and Cherokee counties through edible landscapes on main streets and raised-bed garden kits for families.
Por las Quebradas (For the Streams)
Recipient: El Departamento de la Comida
Territory: Puerto Rico
Grant Program: Community Change Grant Program
Grant Amount: $11.8 million
Project Description: The Por las Quebradas project aimed to create a climate resilience hub, restore waterways, and support community education and workforce development in the farming communities of San Salvador and Borinquen, Puerto Rico. The resilience hub would have established a plant and tree nursery, created community composting facilities, and expanded an existing program that purchased surplus produce from local farmers for a community kitchen.
Enhancing Community and Environmental Sustainability through the Dos Pueblos Institute’s Climate Action Strategy
Recipient: Santa Ynez Band of Mission Indians
State: California
Grant Program: Community Change Grant Program
Grant Amount: $20 million
Project Description: The Restoring Resilience project aimed to establish a resilience hub that would have served as an emergency shelter during wildfires and other disasters. In addition, it included plans to develop a regenerative farming operation and establish a composting facility to process organic waste.
Revitalizing Metlakatla’s Ecosystems for Future Generations
Recipient: Metlakatla Indian Community
State: Alaska
Grant Program: Community Change Grant Program
Grant Amount: $19.5 million
Project Description: Under this project, the Metlakatla Indian Community planned to advance regenerative practices on their homelands, including developing native seaweed farming, investing in municipal waste management, and electrifying kelp-farming boats.
Springfield Community Gardens 2040 Collaborative Farming Forward
Recipient: Springfield Community Gardens
State: Missouri
Grant Program: Environmental Justice Collaborative Problem-Solving Cooperative Agreement Program
Grant Amount: $500,000
Project Description: Springfield Community Gardens intended to mitigate climate and health risks by educating and empowering underserved urban and rural Greene County communities through sustainable, organic food production. The project aimed to expand a paid internship program that Springfield Community Gardens offers to community members.
The Resilient Glades Tree Campaign
Recipient: County of Palm Beach
State: Florida
Grant Program: Environmental Justice Government-to-Government Program
Grant Amount: $1 million
Project Description: The Resilient Glades Tree Campaign aimed to plant trees across public parks to increase shade, access to fresh food, and tree canopy coverage in Palm Beach, Florida. This included planting fruit-bearing trees as well as two urban orchards to boost community food resilience.
Transforming Communities from the Ground Up through Student Led Action
Recipient: Grades of Green
State: California
Grant Program: Environmental Justice Collaborative Problem-Solving Cooperative Agreement Program
Grant Amount: $500,000
Project Description: Grades of Green intended to help Inglewood Unified School District (IUSD) divert 75 percent of its organic waste from landfill and donate 20 percent of its leftover food. The project was already providing environmental and food education programs for students, had installed edible and pollinator gardens in the Inglewood community, and planned to improve access to green space in the district.
Uplifting the Wai’anae Community for Resilience and Vibrance
Recipient: Pacific International Center for High Technology Research
State: Hawaii
Grant Program: Community Change Grant Program
Grant Amount: $13.8 million
Project Description: The Uplifting Wai’anae project planned to install a microgrid of renewable energy at Pu’uhonua o Wai’anae Farm Village and to create job training and employment opportunities for residents. Using the microgrid, the project and its partners planned to build a containerized farm for sustainable production of native and food plant species that mitigate wildfire risk and storm impacts, while increasing food security.
Vallejo Food Rescue Project
Recipient: Food Bank of Contra Costa and Solano
State: California
Grant Program: Environmental Justice Collaborative Problem-Solving Cooperative Agreement Program
Grant Amount: $155,000
Project Description: The Vallejo Food Rescue Project would have diverted edible food from landfills to the food bank, improving access to food for low-income individuals while reducing greenhouse gas emissions. Meanwhile, the food bank was creating a toolkit with educational and promotional materials to support a replicable and collaborative local food rescue operation.
Wildfire Preparedness and Resiliency in Farmworker Communities
Recipient: Farmworker Justice Fund, Inc.
State: Washington
Grant Program: Environmental Justice Collaborative Problem-Solving Cooperative Agreement Program
Grant Amount: $500,000
Project Description: Farmworker Justice was helping improve wildfire emergency preparedness and disaster resiliency among farmworkers in Washington State. The project was creating a toolkit of resources, as well as SMS and text messaging systems, for more than 15,000 workers. The aim of the project was to create a model that could be scaled nationally.
Youth Development Project to Tackle Extreme Heat and Food Insecurity in Underserved Communities
Recipient: Dream in Green, Inc.
State: Florida
Grant Program: Environmental Justice Collaborative Problem-Solving Cooperative Agreement Program
Grant Amount: $150,000
Project Description: Dream in Green planned to educate and provide resources to underserved communities in Miami-Dade County experiencing extreme heat and food insecurity due to climate change. The project was also intended to help young people manage natural resources and learn about sustainable agricultural practices.
The post The EPA Canceled These 21 Climate Justice Projects appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post Op-ed: Through Acts of Solidarity, We Can Support Immigrants in the Food Chain and Beyond appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>As a kid, I used to cringe when my mom would pull the car over on the side of the freeway. She’d spot something growing wild in the hills around Los Angeles and jump out of the car, searching for flor de izote, a white flower that’s part of everyday cooking in El Salvador, our home country. When she found some, my mom would take it home and cook it with huevos estrellados con tomate (fried eggs with tomatoes) or stir it into a cheese filling for pupusa.
As I grew older, I came to realize that this was my mother’s ingenious way of connecting to home, even as we were putting down roots in a new land. In this way, we built a life here, away from a dangerous civil war in our home country.
I grew up cooking alongside my family, and I saw firsthand how assimilation was wrecking our health. Not only were we lacking access to our customary nutritious foods, but everyone was working hard, too, up to 16 hours a day, which left little time for meals beyond fast food.
I went away from home for college, and one day, I got a terrible call: My dad had suffered a heart attack. I knew that stress and poor eating habits had finally taken a toll. I decided then to work to change the broken food system that had failed my family.
As executive director of the Los Angeles Food Policy Council, an anti-hunger advocacy organization, I am heartbroken to see the Trump administration’s efforts to destroy this kind of work, uprooting people and food systems along the way. Our food system should nourish people, with dignity, care, and justice. That means everyone. Immigrant families, food workers, and small vendors are not threats; they are essential to our communities.
Immigrants comprise two-thirds of Los Angeles’s food service workers, and nearly 80 percent of the industry’s workers are Latino. (Photo credit: LA Food Policy Council)
Empty Markets, Corner Stores, and Farm Fields
Immigrants play a vital role across the entire food system—from agriculture, food processing plants, distribution, and the service industries. They make up the labor force that produces, sells, delivers, and prepares our food.
In Ventura County, a major agricultural area north of Los Angeles, about 60 percent of the 255,000 agricultural workers are undocumented immigrants, underscoring how vital their labor is to local farming. As a result of the recent immigration raids there, the city of Oxnard reported worker absenteeism as high as 70 percent, resulting in unharvested strawberry crops and projected losses exceeding $100,000 per week per farm.
“These days, I find myself trying to explain to my little ones why families like ours are being torn apart. Why innocent, hard-working people are being pulled into vans by masked men without explanation or due process.”
The historic L.A. 7th Street produce market, which supplies the region’s restaurants and small grocers with fresh fruits and vegetables, has seen empty stalls and slow business, because workers and buyers aren’t coming.
Corner stores in South Central LA are quietly losing their regulars, too; people are afraid to shop, work, or even be seen.
I recently visited a small market in the Pico Union neighborhood, where a vendor I’ve known for years stood behind a table full of produce that would likely go unsold.
“No viene nadie,” she said—no one is coming—as she described what this major setback would mean for the financial wellbeing of her family business. They’ve since pivoted to offer delivery service for their regular customers.
In Los Angeles County, immigrants make up 66 percent of food service workers, and 79 percent are Latino. Without them, many restaurants, catering businesses, and institutions would struggle to function.
In neighborhoods where immigrant-run food enterprises thrive—like MacArthur Park, Boyle Heights, and South L.A.—recent ICE raids devastated business: at a central fresh-produce market, daily sales plunged from $2,000 to $300, an 85 percent drop in revenue as vendors and customers stayed away in fear.
Safety Nets Disappearing
All of this is happening while our safety nets are being stripped away. SNAP, called CalFresh here in California, has long been a lifeline for families trying to get by. Last year, nearly 5 million Californians relied on it to put food on the table. The average benefit was just $189 a month, while the cost of groceries for a family with children is often over $1,200.
This budget was a struggle for many households, even before prices started rising. Now, under the Trump administration’s latest policies, fewer people will qualify for CalFresh, and many immigrants are too afraid to even apply. I’ve heard from families who’ve stopped showing up to the food pantry because they’re worried their names will end up on a list. The people who grow and cook our food are quietly skipping meals so their children can eat.
It’s a painful irony: Immigrant workers who fuel this economy, who bring in billions of dollars through farming, restaurants, and food businesses, are going hungry. But these policies don’t just punish individuals; they also weaken the entire structure of our food system, from labor to access to dignity. When we push people deeper into fear and poverty, we all feel the ripple effects.
These days, I find myself trying to explain to my little ones why families like ours are being torn apart. Why innocent, hard-working people are being pulled into vans by masked men without explanation or due process. Why people are afraid to shop for groceries. Why they’re afraid to walk to school or go to work.
In South Central, where my tía lives, her neighbor, Rosa, works as a cook for a taco street vendor in the Piñata District. A single mother of a 1-year-old boy, she usually brings him to work. Her boss recently told her it’s too risky for her to come in. Rosa’s $110 daily income vanished, but rent didn’t, and her food needs didn’t.
The Republicans’ “Big, Beautiful Bill,” passed earlier this month by the slimmest of margins, will only make things worse. We’ll see more of Trump’s agents of chaos on our streets, tearing families apart, driving workers into hiding, and dismantling the systems that keep people fed.
How Citizens Can Help
These systems, built up over decades, are falling apart when they are needed most. The cost of living continues to rise, but under the current administration, programs like SNAP are under threat, along with funding for programs that help keep nutritious food on people’s plates.
In our organization, we’ve pivoted our Farm Fresh LA program, and we are quietly working with trusted community groups to deliver locally grown produce to families who are too afraid to show up in public.
It’s a daunting task, sneaking food to people in this powerful country of plenty.
But we are undeterred. And we are not alone. In fact, there is much that can be done. Citizens can help by buying from farmers’ markets that source locally and equitably; supporting CSAs (community supported agriculture programs) run by worker-led farms; purchasing from local small markets and family-owned restaurants; and choosing produce from farms that treat their workers with dignity.
These are not just economic choices. These are small acts of solidarity, and they add up.
Beyond that, we all need to create coalitions and movements with long-lasting impact. In 2017, for example, our organization led a successful campaign to mandate that all farmers’ markets accept EBT (the debit cards for CalFresh benefits). It was a big step toward making fresh, local food more accessible to low-income families, and it’s the kind of work that we need even more of now.
We need to strengthen networks, too, tying together community-based organizations with deep, trusted relationships in immigrant communities. Trusted organizations have been on the ground every day, providing food delivery, wage recovery support, legal navigation, and culturally rooted care to families who have been abandoned by the system. We must support and connect the work of organizations who offer legal, housing, and food help—including food delivery.
I now look back on my mother’s search for the flor de izote not with embarrassment, but with pride. As a mother myself and a citizen of this country, I recognize the hard work she put in as we built a new life. Immigrant communities in Los Angeles have always made a way out of no way. We root ourselves in the cracks—and we bloom.
But we shouldn’t have to do it alone, and we shouldn’t have to do it in fear. With care, collaboration, and compassion—even now, against these powerful forces—we can create a food system and a community that helps everyone thrive.
The post Op-ed: Through Acts of Solidarity, We Can Support Immigrants in the Food Chain and Beyond appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post Immigrant Farmworkers Win Housing Rights in Vermont appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Under a freshly enacted Vermont bill on housing that bars discrimination on the basis of citizenship or immigration status, immigrant farmworkers no longer need to submit a social security number on rental applications.
Moreover, landlords cannot refuse an application if that number is not provided; they must accept any form of unexpired government-issued identification. They also cannot charge application fees for a residential dwelling.
Republican Governor Phil Scott signed Senate Bill 127, the Vermont Rental Housing Improvement Program, on June 12, and the next day, Migrant Justice—the Vermont-based organization that conceived the measure—took to the State House steps to celebrate.
“This is a really big deal for us, and maybe it wouldn’t seem like such a big deal for everybody if they haven’t been in that situation,” said a member of Migrant Justice who requested anonymity to protect her from reprisals.
The member said that in Vermont, opportunities for undocumented immigrant families to find housing are slim. While individuals who have been naturalized or received green cards are eligible for federally subsidized housing, undocumented individuals are not, which reduces housing opportunities for them. H-2A guest workers, typically single men employed under seasonal contracts, aren’t generally seeking housing, as their lodging is provided by their employers—often on the farm itself.
As a result, the member continued, many immigrants in Vermont struggle to find secure, safe living situations.
A moment from the immigrant housing law celebration at the Vermont State House in Montpelier. (Photo credit: Terry Allen)
“We’ve been seeing a lot of abuses,” Representative Leonora Dodge (D-Essex), who sponsored the bill, said. “A lot of young families are experiencing very dangerous situations, overcrowding, and instability. It’s a very tough housing market in Vermont, and people who were able and willing to pay rent, and could give good references, just weren’t even getting a foot in the door and were being rejected.”
A 2021 report published by the Vermont Housing Conservation Board found that 85 percent of farmworker housing in the state needed improvement, and that a lack of additional dwellings on farms had led to overcrowding.
Year-round migrant dairy workers make up the largest group of immigrant farmworkers in Vermont, and the majority—whether single workers or families—live on the farms where they work. Having an employer who doubles as a landlord puts immigrant workers “in a particularly precarious and vulnerable position, as they may be less likely to report discrimination, poor working, or poor housing conditions to government officials due to fear of deportation and are unable to access federal funds to support their housing needs,” according to the state’s 2024 Fair Housing Analysis.
“It’s a very tough housing market in Vermont, and people who were able and willing to pay rent, and could give good references, just weren’t even getting a foot in the door and were being rejected.”
“What that means for people in the farmworking community is that we’re obligated to stay on jobs where our rights aren’t being respected and we’re being abused, just because the farm is the only place where we’re able to get housing,” said the Migrant Justice member.
Migrant Justice, which has long advocated for the immigrant community, first approached the state legislature with their housing proposal in 2023; however, it didn’t gain traction. According to Vermont Public, landlords and bankers have been concerned that they couldn’t run credit and background checks without a Social Security number.
“To make a landlord have to take somebody—even if they’re not here legally—I think is a challenge and a big ask,” Angela Zaikowski, director of the Vermont Landlord Association, told lawmakers at a hearing in April.
In the same article, Christopher D’Elia, president of the Vermont Bankers Association, was quoted as saying, “the credit risk analysis becomes much more difficult and heightened,” when lending to undocumented immigrants. If “two weeks from now [they] may be deported, what’s the credit risk of being able to get repaid on that loan?” he added. “That is the reality we find ourselves in.”
Dodge spoke with landlord advocates who work nationally and learned that it’s possible to run credit and background checks with just a name, address, and birth date.
With this information, Dodge reintroduced the measure in the Vermont House of Representatives earlier this year as House Bill 169, using testimony from landlords, Migrant Justice members, attorneys, and bankers to negotiate the language.
The Vermont Housing Conservation Board found that 85 percent of farmworker housing in the state needed improvement, and that a lack of additional dwellings on farms had led to overcrowding.
Determined to see it pass, Migrant Justice built a coalition of more than a dozen state government agencies and community organizations in support of the bill, including Housing and Homelessness Alliance of Vermont, Vermont Human Rights Commission, and ACLU of Vermont.
“Migrant Justice was really the spirit. They spearheaded the effort,” Dodge said. “As the sponsor of the H.169 bill, my job was to lay the groundwork on the political and legislative side.”
The resulting measure was folded into S.127—an omnibus housing bill—which received bipartisan approval.
Now, with S.127 enacted, advocates say they hope the paperwork barriers that prevent immigrant farmworkers from accessing fair housing will be alleviated, giving them more autonomy to find better job opportunities and living conditions.
“We’re really happy to have this new law in place, because it means that workers aren’t tied any more to jobs where we’re being abused,” the Migrant Justice member said. “We’ll have the ability to find our own housing.”
Vermont is one of a handful of states to enact housing access protections for immigrants into law. California was the first, passing its amendment in 2015. Other states, including Washington, New York, Oregon, Colorado, Washington, D.C., and Illinois, have also implemented similar measures.
“I think that it’s so important that we pass legislation with the recognition that immigrant workers are people, and we have to address their whole experience and not just take advantage of them and exploit their labor,” Dodge said.
The post Immigrant Farmworkers Win Housing Rights in Vermont appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post Op-ed: The Big Beautiful Bill Won’t Make America Healthy Again appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>On July 4, President Trump signed into law the One Big Beautiful Bill Act (OBBBA). While the OBBBA may be beautiful for the ultra-rich, for most Americans it will be brutal, especially for the most vulnerable, with experts asserting that this is the most regressive tax and budget bill in modern U.S. history.
The bill includes the most significant cuts ever enacted to federal benefit programs such as Medicaid and the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP). Millions of Americans will be hungrier and sicker as a result of the OBBBA. It’s also an absolute contradiction to the claims and narrative of the Trump administration’s Make America Healthy Again (MAHA) platform, and a betrayal to the voters who feel an affinity to MAHA due to its stated focus on fighting chronic disease.
Given the devastating impacts of the OBBBA, what MAHA will ultimately accomplish under the Trump Administration is questionable.
In May, Health and Human Services (HHS) Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. and the MAHA Commission released the Make Our Children Healthy Again Assessment. This first “MAHA report” asserted that the health of American children is in crisis, in part due to poor diet, lack of physical activity, and exposure to harmful chemicals.
As public health advocates, we at the Center for Science in the Public Interest (CSPI) wholeheartedly agree with this diagnosis. This newfound federal focus on nutrition, chemical safety, and chronic disease could be a dream come true for advocates like CSPI, presenting a potential opportunity for tangible policy action that can directly improve Americans’ health and wellbeing.
“This new law absolutely contradicts the claims and narrative of the Trump administration’s MAHA platform.”
But the devil is in the details, as we’ve seen play out with the passage of the OBBBA. While the MAHA Commission is seeking to address a serious problem, whether it can successfully prevent and treat chronic disease depends on which factors the members deem to be driving the problem, what policy solutions they will choose to pursue, and who they will hold accountable.
All these details will likely form the basis of the next MAHA Commission report, which will be released in August and include recommended policy strategies. We will be watching closely.
There are some good ideas in the first MAHA report that we would like to see operationalized. Of concern, however, is that these good ideas are almost always contradicted by what the administration has done since January and is now planning to do through the OBBBA. Here are a few examples of what the first report says and how it contradicts what has actually been set in motion.
Radical Transparency and Gold-Standard Science
What they say: “The U.S. government is committed to fostering radical transparency and gold-standard science.”
What they do: There are no authors listed on the report, the single meeting of the MAHA Commission before the report’s release was conducted behind closed doors, and the report does not have a Methods section to explain how the authors came to their conclusions. There have also been serious concerns raised with the scientific integrity of the entire report due to misinterpretations and misattributions of citations, as well as citations to studies that do not exist—which were likely written by AI.
Furthermore, entire sections of the report regurgitate RFK Jr.’s pre-conceived, unsubstantiated beliefs (e.g., false claims about the harms of seed oils). He recently publicly promoted a restaurant chain that chose to fry its potatoes in beef tallow instead of seed oils—a move restaurants switched away from over 30 years ago due to strong evidence that beef tallow’s high saturated fat content increases the risk of heart disease, the number one killer in America.
Support for Local Foods and Farmers
What they say: “The greatest step the United States can take to reverse childhood chronic disease is to put whole foods produced by American farmers and ranchers at the center of healthcare.”
What they do: The administration terminated over $1 billion in funding for programs aiding schools and food banks in purchasing food from local producers. Farmers are speaking out about the cumulative negative impact of the Administration’s actions on their livelihoods, and school food service providers are advocating for increased funding to support the provision of healthy, locally sourced foods in school meal programs.
Funding High-Quality Research
What they say: “Industry interests dominate and distort scientific literature,” so more independent research funding is needed for the National Institutes of Health (NIH).
What they do: The administration has proposed slashing NIH research funding by 40 percent, unlawfully terminated thousands of grants (which CSPI successfully challenged in court), and censored NIH research with which the administration disagreed ideologically. The administration is also actively attacking academic institutions and casting doubt on the integrity of the world’s leading medical journals, even suggesting government scientists will be barred from publishing in them.
Food Chemical Safety
What they say: “Children are exposed to an increasing number of synthetic chemicals, some of which have been linked to developmental issues and chronic disease. The current regulatory framework should be continually evaluated to ensure that chemicals and other exposures do not interact together to pose a threat to the health of our children.”
What they do: In April, the Administration fired all 200 employees in the Centers for Disease Control’s Division of Environmental Health Science and Practice, which is responsible for preventing exposure to environmental hazards, including lead poisoning in children. Then, in early June, agency staff received emails indicating that they should come back to work, but senior officials in the agency itself advised employees that the decision may not be final.
“Given the devastating impacts of the OBBBA, what MAHA will ultimately accomplish under the Trump Administration is questionable.”
This back-and-forth in staffing demonstrates a lack of commitment to protecting children from harmful chemicals and seriously undermines the agency’s morale.
We agree with that there is an urgent need to improve children’s health, but the policies of the administration as demonstrated by the passage of the OBBBA do just the opposite. It remains to be seen whether the policies recommended in their upcoming strategy report will align with that narrative, or whether we will continue to see federal actions that directly contradict the MAHA rhetoric.
To Protect Health, We Urge MAHA to Consider These Policies
In the areas of improving diet and reducing chemical exposures in childhood (two of the four drivers of chronic diseases listed in the MAHA report), we urge the MAHA Commission to consider the following evidence-based policies.
1. Publish Dietary Guidelines for Americans (DGAs) that adopt and uphold the science-based recommendations of the 2025 Dietary Guidelines Advisory Committee (DGAC).
Fifty-five public health and medical organizations, including CSPI, support this recommendation, given that the DGAs are required by law to reflect the preponderance of scientific evidence, which the DGAC has summarized in its recent Scientific Report. However, RFK Jr. has publicly stated that the DGAs will be only four pages long, raising questions about their scientific validity.
The DGAs matter not just for public dietary advice. They are also the cornerstone of federal nutrition programs and policies, directly shaping nutrition standards for national school meal programs, for example, and subsequently affecting the health of more than 30 million children who rely on those meals.
2. Address the food and nutrition security needs of vulnerable children and communities who will go hungry due to cuts to the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) in the OBBBA.
Nearly one in four U.S. children receive SNAP benefits, which help reduce poverty, food insecurity, healthcare expenditures, and risk of chronic conditions later in life. But those children—who are part of the 42.1 million people who rely on SNAP to put food on the table—will suffer due to the OBBBA.
To pay for tax cuts for the wealthiest Americans, the OBBBA includes clauses creating bureaucratic hoops that roughly 8 million people are projected to be unable to jump through, thus putting them at risk of losing their benefits.
“This newfound federal focus on nutrition, chemical safety, and chronic disease could be a dream come true. . . . But the devil is in the details.”
The OBBBA imposed new work requirements on both SNAP and Medicaid beneficiaries; removed the SNAP work requirement exemptions for veterans, former foster youth, and people experiencing homelessness; and blocked immigrants who are lawfully present in the U.S., such as refugees and asylum seekers, from receiving SNAP benefits. Work requirements like these ultimately increase costs to states and taxpayers, harm health, and drive struggling families deeper into poverty.
In addition to dealing with new work requirements, starting in 2027 state governments will need to pay an unprecedented share of the food benefits and administrative costs associated with SNAP. To cover these higher costs, states will scramble and likely resort to cutting benefits, limiting state employees’ salaries, raising state taxes, or eliminating funding for other programs. In the worst-case scenario, states could completely withdraw from the nation’s most important nutrition program entirely—a disaster in the making.
The OBBBA also limits future updates to the Thrifty Food Plan used to set SNAP benefit levels, which means that the government will have no flexibility to adjust SNAP benefits based on rising food prices, consumption patterns, or changes in dietary guidance.
If the MAHA Commission truly aims to improve childhood health, its next report must provide policy solutions to ensure that children in food-insecure households are able to access and afford nutritious food as the OBBBA’s provisions take effect.
3. Reinstate funding for SNAP Education (SNAP-Ed).
The OBBBA defunds SNAP-Ed, a nationwide program helping individuals eligible for SNAP make healthy choices on a limited budget. Evaluations of SNAP-Ed have demonstrated its power to help families across the country. With cuts to SNAP described above, this support is even more critical. HHS’s proposed $20 million “ Take Back Your Health” ad campaign is no substitute for the evidence-based strategies of SNAP-Ed, which was funded at $536 million in FY25.
4. Regulate the food industry to improve both chemical safety and nutrition.
The MAHA report repeatedly bemoans the food industry’s role in harming children’s health but concludes with calls for industry deregulation instead of increased accountability. We have seen this play out in reality, with RFK Jr. announcing plans to “phase out” synthetic food dyes, but leaving it up to the industry to voluntarily remove dyes.
To systematically improve food safety, the administration should take much-needed action on closing the Generally Recognized as Safe (GRAS) loophole, which allows companies to add new ingredients into the food supply without notifying FDA. So far, RFK Jr. has only ordered FDA to “explore” what can be done about the loophole.
And, while food chemical safety reform is important, it isn’t enough—the administration also needs to ensure that we’re getting proper nutrition. It can do this by finalizing front-of-package nutrition labeling on packaged foods and moving forward with added sugar and sodium reduction targets across the food supply.
Suggested Actions for Readers
Implementing these strategies will require the government to allocate the necessary funds (through appropriations) and personnel to agencies (by undoing the mass firings) so that federal workers can do their jobs.
You can act by signing letters and petitions to state and federal representatives around these issues, and by sharing your stories with your legislators and the media. You can also join CSPI’s email list to stay up to date on what the administration is actually doing—not just what they’re saying—and receive action alerts to make your voice heard. Additional resources can be found at the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities, the Food Research & Action Center, and No Kid Hungry.
Together, we can hold the MAHA Commission and the administration to their word.
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]]>The post US Importers Sued for ‘Greenwashing’ Mexican Avocados appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Avocados are a regular part of many consumer’s weekly shopping—a key ingredient in guacamole, a slice on the side of a buddha bowl, and a healthy topper for toast—and sales are steadily rising.
But there’s a dark side to this booming market. Nearly all avocados sold in the U.S. are imported, and most of those come from just two western Mexican states—Michoacán and Jalisco—where serious concerns are being raised about their environmental and human impacts.
A 2023 investigation by the NGO Climate Rights International found vast tracts of forest being cleared for avocado plantations, water being diverted to irrigate the thirsty crop, and evidence of the mucky fingerprints of organized crime.
It concluded that virtually all deforestation for avocados in Michoacán and Jalisco over the past two decades was illegal. As a result, the report holds the industry liable for taking a serious toll on local communities, contributing to land grabs and water shortages, degrading the soil, and increasing the risks of lethal landslides and flooding.
A follow-up study the following year with the Mexican NGO Guardián Forestal concluded that little had changed. Now, U.S. avocado growers and consumer groups are accusing major fruit firms of falsely portraying imported fruit as a sustainable option.
The non-profit Organic Consumers Association (OCA) fired the first shots, filing lawsuits in 2024 against four of the biggest avocado importers: Calavo, Mission, West Pak, and Fresh Del Monte. These companies import avocados from Mexico and supply them to major supermarket chains throughout the U.S., including Costco, Walmart, Trader Joe’s, and Whole Foods. OCA claims statements on these companies’ websites and social media that their avocados are sourced responsibly and sustainably are untrue.
A marketing claim from Del Monte’s website, cited in the OCA lawsuit against the company.
Alexis Baden-Mayer, political director of OCA, notes that all imported avocados must be labeled with the country of origin, but that’s often the only truthful statement conveyed to the consumer. “The impact of avocado farming is a carefully guarded secret that the companies conceal with elaborate greenwashing,” she said. “That’s what we took action against.”
In February, Calavo Growers, Mission Produce, and West Pak Avocado pledged not to buy avocados grown on recently cleared land as part of a new Mexican certification scheme.
OCA subsequently dropped its case against West Pak, saying the company had agreed to stop using the “challenged marketing claims and to employ enhanced due diligence mechanisms to identify and stop sourcing from orchards in Mexico identified as existing on land that has been deforested since January 1, 2018.”
But it maintains that the other three companies continue to mislead the public. The lawsuit against Del Monte was allowed to proceed in February after a court denied the company’s attempt to dismiss it, rejecting arguments that the link between OCA and Del Monte was too tenuous to bring a claim. The other two claims, against Calavo and Mission Produce, are still pending.
The Del Monte lawsuit notes that people are becoming increasingly concerned about the impacts of their food. Consumers, says the filing, are motivated to buy produce marketed as “sustainable” and are often willing to pay more for it or to buy more of it. “Corporations that market these products, such as Del Monte, are keenly aware of this consumer willingness,” the filing states.
OCA says it is bringing the claim on behalf of consumers in the District of Columbia and is not seeking monetary damages. Instead, it wants the court to declare Del Monte’s practices false and deceptive and to order it to stop.
U.S. Avocado Growers Join the Fight
In Southern California, a group of companies that own and operate avocado orchards—Kachuck Enterprises, Bantle Avocado Farm, Maskell Family Trust, and Northern Capital—were growing increasingly frustrated about being undercut by importers. They were already reeling from poor domestic harvests, growing utility costs, tougher regulatory requirements, and a shortage of skilled labor, and having to compete with cheaper imports reduced their profitability even further.
Norm Kachuck is CEO of Kachuck Enterprises, and his family and partners have farmed 370 acres of Hass avocados in Valley Center, California, since 1969. He thinks consumers generally realize they’re eating avocados that have travelled from outside the U.S. But they’re “only now becoming aware of the implications of how that sourcing compromises the attractiveness of that imported fruit,” he said.
In February, the California firms jointly filed a lawsuit against Mission, Calavo, and Fresh Del Monte.
The California-based avocado growers say the companies mislead consumers by marketing their avocados as sustainable, even though the fruit comes from orchards where the local environment is being destroyed through deforestation, water shortages, soil degradation, and biodiversity and habitat loss.
They also say dubious sourcing of avocados contributes to climate change through deforestation and the subsequent loss of a natural carbon sink. This, the lawsuit claims, breaches California’s False Advertising and Unfair Competition laws.
Kachuck points to a trade imbalance within the agriculture sector. “Regulatory oversight and validation of good practices are very difficult to document for compliance over the border,” he noted, “They are of course done much better here. And there are validated and official fair market agreements between wholesalers and retailers that require documentation and compliance.”
From the OCA lawsuit against Del Monte: “Based upon Mexican government shipping records, in 2022, Del Monte sourced 49,394 kilograms from orchards in the municipality of Zacapu, Michoacán, shown in the images below. Satellite photography from May 2012 shows native forest covering this land; photography from October 2020 shows the land deforested and replaced with an avocado orchard from which Del Monte sourced avocados.”
The importing companies have filed requests for dismissal. If the court rejects those, the case will rumble on to the discovery phase, where both sides will exchange information pertinent to the trial.
None of the companies subject to lawsuits responded to requests for comment. Reuters was also rebuffed by nine major U.S. supermarkets and food chains it contacted in a report last year about avocado supply chains; only Amazon’s Whole Foods Market responded in that report that it was actively working with its suppliers to “prioritize Fair Trade certified and other responsibly sourced avocados.”
Awareness of the impact of imported avocados is growing. Following concerns raised by Senator Peter Welch (D-Vermont) and others, then U.S. ambassador to Mexico, Ken Salazar, noted the proliferation of orchards on illegally deforested land during a visit to Michoacán last year. He was reported as saying that Mexican avocado exporters “shouldn’t have the opportunity to sell those avocados to the United States market.”
President Joe Biden’s administration subsequently released a policy framework on combatting demand-driven deforestation of all agricultural imports. But OCA’s Baden-Mayer says the Trump administration has not followed through on this. And it has maintained a zero percent tariff on Mexican avocado imports.
Kachuck hopes the lawsuits will raise wider awareness of the impacts of avocado growing in Mexico among the public and consumers, as well as at the government oversight level.
The cases are part of a wider trend of greenwashing litigation, which is increasingly challenging sustainability and carbon-neutrality claims. Earlier this year, one of the U.S.’s biggest sugar firms, Florida Crystals, and its parent company, the Fanjul Corporation, were accused of misleading consumers and endangering public health because they claim to follow environmentally friendly practices, yet undertake pre-harvest burning of crops.
While OCA is gratified that most of the avocado importers it originally sued have pledged to stop contributing to deforestation, Baden-Mayer notes that it is much easier to police false marketing claims than it is to make sure companies follow through on their commitments.
“So far, we’re pleased with the impact and outcome of the cases we’ve brought, but the future for the larger problem of deforestation is uncertain,” she said, recommending that consumers choose California-grown organic and Mexican-grown organic fruit from Equal Exchange when shopping.
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]]>The post From Bees to Beer, Buckwheat Is a Climate-Solution Crop appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>From a distance, fields of buckwheat may seem serene, with petite, fluffy white flowers and heart-shaped green leaves. But if you’re standing in one, you’ll hear the distinct buzzing of bees as they pollinate millions of flowers per acre.
“Bees love buckwheat,” says Keith Kisler, a farmer who co-owns Chimacum Valley Grainery, a mill, bakery, and brewery on Washington’s Olympic Peninsula. Kisler and his wife, Crystie, cultivate barley, quinoa, rye, spelt, and wheat on about 70 acres of organic farmland, but buckwheat has become one of his favorite crops.
Despite its name, buckwheat is not a type of wheat; it’s a gluten-free seed, rich in vitamins and minerals.
That’s because buckwheat—planted in late May and harvested in early October—is remarkably easy to grow. “In between, there’s really nothing done to that field,” Kisler says. “I don’t do any weed control, and we don’t water. It’s planted, it germinates, it grows, it flowers, it’s harvested.”
Buckwheat is also easy to mill into flour and adds a rich, earthy flavor to some of the Grainery’s products, like bread, beer, and pasta. By managing every step of the process, from cultivation to the finished product, Kisler has overcome buckwheat’s greatest challenge in the U.S.—a solid infrastructure that connects producers with consumers.
Buckwheat flour can be used in a range of recipes, including noodles, pictured here, as well as crêpes, blinis, and cookies. (Photo credit: Crystie Kisler, Chimacum Valley Grainery)
Buckwheat has a long bloom period, can build healthy soil, and is nutrient-dense, making it good not only for bees and farmers, but also planet and people. These multiple benefits are why Kisler and a team of scientists are working together to test new varieties of buckwheat and to build a local market for it.
Led by researchers at Washington State University (WSU) and supported by funding from the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), they hope to increase organic production of this underutilized, low-input crop—one with the potential to address larger challenges like nutrition access and climate change.
A Versatile Seed
Despite its name, buckwheat is not a type of wheat. It is a seed rich in vitamins and minerals, including vitamins A, B, C, and E, as well as potassium and magnesium, which play an important role in a healthy human diet—and it is gluten free. The tough outer hulls are typically removed, and the hulled seeds, called groats, have a nutty taste and the al dente texture of farro. Buckwheat groats can also be milled into a flour for use in sweet and savory recipes, from brownies and cookies to breads and crackers.
Buckwheat originated in southwestern China, featuring in Asian cuisines for thousands of years before spreading to Eastern Europe, likely in the 15th century. Today, China is the world’s second largest producer of buckwheat after Russia. The grain arrived in North America during European colonization and was a favorite of Thomas Jefferson and George Washington, due to its capacity to suppress weeds.
Its culinary uses, however, have yet to be fully explored in the U.S., where it is still typically treated as an export item or cover crop. About 27,000 acres of buckwheat were grown here in 2017, the most recent year that data on buckwheat plantings were available.
Washington is the nation’s second top producer of buckwheat after North Dakota, with approximately 6,000 to 8,000 acres, according to Kevin Murphy, a WSU professor of international seed and cropping systems and the director of Breadlab, WSU’s grain research center. Almost all of the seed grown in the Northwest state is exported to Japan for making soba noodles.
Kisler’s buckwheat, grown on 12 acres that produce 16,000 to 18,000 pounds of seed annually, remains in his regional food system. His brother, on the other hand, grows between 200 and 300 acres of buckwheat in eastern Washington, entirely for export to Japan.
“There’s a need for different scales of operations,” Kisler says. “For somebody like my brother to grow several hundred acres of buckwheat and for small production at a local level.”
Buckwheat flowers develop abundantly about 30 days after seeding. At right, an aerial view of a buckwheat field trial. (Photo courtesy of WSU)
Kisler has worked with Breadlab since 2008, and the buckwheat in his fields are varieties they developed together. For years before this collaboration, Kisler used buckwheat as a cover crop, and he saw how it enhanced his soil.
“It helps break disease cycles,” Kisler says. “It grows really quickly, so it out-competes the weeds in a field. It sends down a fairly deep tap root, which loosens compacted soils. It does well even in marginal soils. I don’t ever need to water it, even in a dry season. And it’s planted later, so from a production perspective, it spreads out planting and harvesting so all that work doesn’t need to happen all at once.”
Buckwheat’s agricultural benefits extend beyond the lifespan of the plant. “When I follow it with a grain crop, that grain crop does better in that section of the field where there was buckwheat the previous year than next door where there was no buckwheat planted,” Kisler says.
The Pancake Project
In 2021, WSU researchers began collaborating with local producers to assess the regional market for buckwheat and millet and build consumer demand for these crops, supported by a $350,000 Sustainable Agriculture Research and Education Project (SARE) grant, funded by the USDA.
“I don’t do any weed control with buckwheat, and we don’t water. It’s planted, it germinates, it grows, it flowers, it’s harvested.”
They used the most promising buckwheat varieties from nearby farms to develop a pancake mix for Washington’s school lunch programs. Stephen Bramwell, Thurston County Extension director and WSU agriculture specialist, coordinated with nearly 300 school districts for their feedback. A critical factor, they found, was the ratio of buckwheat flour to whole wheat flour.
“After many rounds of taste tests at the Breadlab and schools, we’ve dialed it in to 50 percent buckwheat,” Bramwell says. “We tried to get it close to what people know, what wouldn’t be too different from other pancakes—fairly light, not too grainy, a little bit sweet.”
The pancakes’ appearance was particularly crucial. “The color—that’s a huge one for kids,” says Bramwell, noting that students prefer the lighter hue of pancakes made with refined wheat flour. “Buckwheat pancakes brown faster and can become really dark, so we’ve done trials to moderate the color.”
Buckwheat pancake-mix packets at the Thurston County Fair, created by WSU Extension. At the booth, kids could grind their own buckwheat flour for the packets using a hand-crank mill. The booth was extremely popular, with some kids returning two or three times to grind more buckwheat groats. (Photo credit: Stephen Bramwell)
To familiarize students with buckwheat, the team also organized hands-on lessons, including growing it in school gardens, harvesting and threshing it, using hand-crank mills to pulverize the seeds into flour, making pancakes, and taste testing batches made with different flour ratios.
“The best way to reach kids is not just when it shows up on the plate,” Bramwell says, “but when they’ve had a chance to get exposure to a new product by learning about it, as a plant, as a seed, and then as a food.”
‘More Bang for Your Buckwheat’
After the SARE grant ended in 2024, the WSU team received another USDA grant for a project they call More Bang for Your Buckwheat (MBYB). Their goal is to develop new buckwheat varieties based on traits that both farmers and consumers like and want. With these new varieties, the team plans to develop a diverse selection of “flavorful, affordable, and nutritious” buckwheat products and continue collaborations with 50 school districts in the region.
“The name is sort of tongue-in-cheek,” explains Micaela Colley, WSU professor of participatory plant breeding. “Many farmers grow buckwheat knowing they won’t make any money off it, and they just till it in. We’re interested in all the values of buckwheat as a cover crop, but the idea is that you’re getting a food crop out of it, too.”
An array of foods made with buckwheat, including cookies and crackers, at the Buckwheat Festival. (Photo courtesy of WSU Breadlab)
Recent federal funding cuts devastated some WSU research programs, such as the Soil to Society grant, which included buckwheat as a key crop to consider for increasing food security. The four-year, $3.3 million MBYB grant is still being funded through USDA, but may be indirectly impacted by a $1 billion federal funding cut to the Local Food for Schools Cooperative Agreement Program, which affects 850,000 students in Washington and may limit the ability of some school districts to buy nutritious, locally produced foods—like WSU’s buckwheat pancake mix.
The MBYB team also includes experts from across the country, with several in New York—another top U.S. producer of buckwheat and buckwheat products. Cornell University and the Glynwood Center for Regional Food are key for research and forming relationships with both farmers and food producers to develop products such as BAM, a buckwheat-based milk alternative.
The MBYB grant will also help fund the third annual Buckwheat Festival on August 8 at the Breadlab, in Burlington, Washington. The small event, which attracted about 50 visitors last year, will offer an evening tasting of buckwheat foods and drinks for $25 or a full day of activities for $125, including a field tour with plant breeders and cooking demonstrations with chefs.
Since 2018, the Breadlab has collaborated with chef Bonnie Morales of the Eastern European restaurant Kachka, in Portland, Oregon, to develop recipes for the restaurant and pop-up events, including the Buckwheat Festival.
“She makes my favorite comfort food,” Colley says, referring to Morales’ golubtsi, a Ukrainian dish of cabbage rolls stuffed with buckwheat. The seed is used throughout Kachka’s menu, including for custard and blini.
The Buckwheat Festival offers tastings of buckwheat foods and drinks, field tours with plant breeders, and cooking demonstrations with chefs. (Photo courtesy of WSU Breadlab)
California chef Sonoko Sakai has also participated in the festival and will be there again this year. “She did a demo and made soba noodles by hand,” Colley recalls. “One thing that stuck in my mind that she shared is that in Japan, master soba chefs will include on the menu the date that buckwheat was harvested and what farm it came from.”
Ultimately, the goal is for buckwheat to be enjoyed year-round, not only on the day of the festival. For this to happen, there’s still much work to be done, especially in local and regional infrastructure.
“We’re really good at growing large amounts of grain and putting them in silos and then shipping them off somewhere far away,” Murphy says. “But if we want to eat locally and grow these grains at a smaller scale, there are a lot of gaps between the farmers and food companies and schools. How do we work together to bridge these gaps and make regional grain economies and value chains more efficient?”
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]]>The post Amid SNAP Debate, Are Lawmakers Ending Waste and Abuse—or Dismantling a Safety Net? appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>In Washington, D.C., a few miles north of Capitol Hill, where members of Congress are battling over federal food assistance, workers driving forklifts lean on their horns and whip around corners at the Capital Area Food Bank’s 100,000-square-foot warehouse.
Near the loading dock, a shipment of kale awaits transport to refrigerated storage, the curly green leaves poking out of boxes from a nearby farm. More boxes of food, including brown rice, coconut milk, and Corn Flakes, are stacked on towering shelves.
Some shelves, however, are notably empty.
Due to funding cuts at the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) over the last several months, the food bank lost more than 25 tractor-trailer loads of food between April and June and an expected $2 million that would have been used to purchase local produce next year. As other food banks across the country have reported, Capital Area’s President and CEO Radha Muthiah said that demand here is way up. Now, her team is preparing for another rush.
“We know that with any reduction in SNAP [the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program], people are going to look to try and make that [food] up in other ways, and certainly looking to us and our network will be one of those ways,” she said.
More than 40 million Americans rely on SNAP for food aid. But Republicans are counting on major changes to the program to help fund tax cuts in their “One Big, Beautiful Bill,” which they hope to have to President Donald Trump by July 4. In 2023, SNAP cost $113 billion.
Their plans would fundamentally alter how SNAP works, decreasing federal spending on the program by about $200 billion over 10 years. The bill is not yet final, but the Senate is poised to soon pass it, sending it back to the House (where it could face other obstacles) before it heads toward Trump’s desk later this week. If the plans remain intact and the bill becomes law, many fewer Americans—possibly millions fewer—will receive benefits.
An employee of the Capital Area Food Bank takes part in a “family market” at a nearby school. (Photo credit: Maansi Srivastava for the Capital Area Food Bank)
House and Senate Agriculture leaders G.T. Thompson (R-Pennsylvania) and John Boozman (R-Arkansas), who worked on the plans, have both said they support SNAP and are committed to ensuring that hungry people can access food. But Republican leaders also claim the program is rife with waste, fraud, and abuse.
They want to shift the cost to states, with the amount based on how many errors the states are making in administering the program. They say this will incentivize states to make fewer mistakes with taxpayer funds. They also say the Republican plan to subject more SNAP recipients to work requirements will move them off benefits faster.
But many experts and those who work within the program say the changes will do the opposite, adding to state agency workloads and creating more opportunities for the wasteful inefficiencies and errors Republicans say they want to reduce.
Opponents of the Republican plan cite evidence showing that work requirements don’t encourage more work. Instead, they can make it harder for those who need help to get it, pushing them further into a hole and increasing their dependence on food aid.
At a Capitol Hill forum hosted by Senate Democrats in June, Barbara Guinn, the commissioner of the New York State office that administers SNAP, said the plans would not reduce waste, fraud, or abuse. “Instead,” she said, “these proposals threaten an effective and efficient program which research consistently and clearly shows has very low rates of recipient fraud, reduces hunger, supports work, and stimulates the economy.”
Fraud vs. Error Rates
The Republican proposal to shift costs to states relies heavily on one metric: SNAP error rates, which are a measure of under- or overpayments made to people receiving benefits.
According to the plan, states with higher error rates—as determined by USDA oversight—would have to take on the responsibility of paying a larger proportion of SNAP benefits, which historically have been paid by the federal government.
Last year, when the USDA’s annual report showed error rates were higher than typical, Boozman signaled the Agriculture Committees in Congress were paying attention. “While SNAP is a critical nutrition program for households in need, any level of erroneous payments is a misuse of taxpayer dollars,” he said in a statement. “House and Senate Republicans stand ready to . . . hold states accountable for exploiting the generosity of the American taxpayer.”
But Republicans have also spread misinformation: At a House hearing in early June, for example, Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins appeared to conflate error rates with fraud.
In response to a question about error rates, she said she thought they were likely even higher than the data showed. “That is why these efforts are so important. We just have had, I think, three stings in just the last couple of weeks.”
Rollins was likely referring to recent law enforcement actions where the USDA targeted individuals stealing benefits from SNAP participants and, in one case, installing fraudulent benefit terminals.
But these stings target fraud, something entirely separate from error rates.
Fraud in the program is typically the result of “skimming,” when criminals steal benefits from the debit-like cards participants receive. In the 2024 fiscal year, states reported about $190 million in stolen benefits. None of the changes Republicans have proposed target this kind of fraud (although the USDA is cracking down on it).
Error rates, on the other hand, measure what are essentially clerical and reporting errors.
“Error rates are reflective of a very, very rigorous quality control process that is one of the most—if not the most—robust of any federal program,” said Katie Bergh, a senior policy analyst working on food assistance at the Center for Budget and Policy Priorities (CBPP).
Most errors are made by employees in state agencies. Others may reflect an individual who didn’t realize they had to report a change in a work situation. Historically, error rates have been low, because states have multiple incentives to keep them that way.
If their rate is over 6 percent, Bergh explained, states have to create a “corrective action plan” with the USDA. If that doesn’t fix the situation after two years, they get fined, and the funds go back to the feds. In 2023, for example, Pennsylvania had to pay almost $40 million. “If a state’s error rate creeps up, what we see is they typically are successful in bringing it back down within a few years,” she said.
That shifted during the pandemic, as a spike in people needing food assistance flooded agencies that had lost employees and struggled to set up remote work systems.
As a result, the USDA allowed states some flexibility in issuing benefits. When the agency measured error rates in 2022 and 2023, they had increased significantly. As Senators pushed toward the final bill passage, the USDA released the 2024 numbers, showing error rates are still elevated but have decreased compared to the previous two years.
In 2022, meanwhile, the USDA made a change to how it counts errors, creating more potential confusion. In the past, when its reviewers found an error on a required form, such as a missing signature, they would follow up with a family to determine if they were in fact eligible before counting it as an error. Now, without followup, they count it as an overpayment, skewing the data.
“Oftentimes, people will imply that the entire error rate represents taxpayer dollars that are going to people who are ineligible, and that’s incorrect,” Bergh said. “It includes both over and underpayments, and most overpayments go to people who actually are eligible. They’re just receiving the wrong amount.”
Finally, the error rate does not take into account state efforts to recoup overpayments, which they are required to do by reducing a participant’s future payments. In the 2023 fiscal year, the last year data was available, states were able to collect about $389 million in overpayments, although that number was tiny compared to the estimated $10.5 billion in overpayments.
“If you look at what the Department of Agriculture recommends for improving program integrity and reducing error rates—those are all things that federal resources would be cut for in both the House and the Senate bill.”
The Republican plan would penalize states with the highest error rates by forcing them to take on a significant portion of the costs of benefits. But at a press conference last week, governors of four states, all Democrats, said their states won’t be able to afford it and will be forced to either cut food aid or cut other services.
“The fact is, in our state government, we simply cannot shoulder the extra $50 to $80 million burden over the next decade without sacrificing serious investments in education, in healthcare, and public safety,” said Delaware Governor Matt Meyer. “That’s the harsh reality.”
In all states, the bill would also cut in half the administrative costs the federal government pays for, shifting another $25 billion onto states. That move would cost Massachusetts an estimated $15 million per year, Governor Laura Kelley said.
Bergh said cutting administrative funding could potentially lead to even more errors.
“The things that states fund using those administrative resources are all of the things that they do to reduce errors,” Bergh said. “If you look at what the Department of Agriculture recommends for improving program integrity and reducing error rates, it’s things like making sure you have enough staff so that workers have manageable workloads, staff training, investing in technology upgrades, investing in data analysis, so you can identify the root causes of your most common errors. Those are all things that federal resources would be cut for in both the House and the Senate bill.”
At the Capital Area Food Bank, staff worry that supplies of canned goods will not meet an influx of need over the summer. (Photo credit: Lisa Held)
Impacts of Expanding Work Requirements
States will also be burdened with a heavier workload from the other piece of the Republican plan: extending work requirements for additional groups of people, such as parents with children between 14 and 18 years old. (Currently, parents with children under 18 are exempt.)
Under the House version of the bill, for example, CBPP estimated that about 6 million more people in a typical month would be subject to work requirements. (That number will be lower in the current Senate version.) “That means that states would need to be screening those 6 million more people for exemptions,” Bergh said. “It means tracking compliance: Making sure people are working enough hours and cutting them off if they have reached their three months and are not complying with the work requirement. So that’s a ton of additional work.”
In her opening testimony during a House Agriculture Committee hearing in April, Diane Whitmore Schanzenbach, a Northwestern University economist who has been studying SNAP for decades, included a table of new studies and survey data on the impacts of work requirements.
“These new studies have found that SNAP work requirements have no positive impact on work-related outcomes, as measured by employment, earnings, or hours worked,” she said. “On the other hand, they substantially reduce the likelihood that an individual receives SNAP.”
Angela Rachidi, a senior fellow at the conservative American Enterprise Institute, presented the opposite argument, calling stronger or expanded work requirements a key means to improving SNAP. However, in her testimony, she said that when it comes to the requirements, “some studies find positive effects on employment while others find negative or null effects.”
“These new studies have found that SNAP work requirements have no positive impact on work-related outcomes. On the other hand, they substantially reduce the likelihood that an individual receives SNAP.”
At the Senate forum in June, witness Jade Johnson described a situation in which SNAP benefits supported her path toward more secure employment. Johnson said she works two jobs—at a church and as a home health aide—while attending college classes part-time to become a dialysis technician.
Her hours, especially as a home health aide, are often unpredictable, she said, and the fluctuations could mean she wouldn’t meet new work requirements in a given week. For her, SNAP benefits were a source of stability as she focused on finishing school, after which she’d have access to higher wages.
“If my SNAP benefits were cut, I wouldn’t be able to get ahead or even maintain,” she said. “It would keep me stuck in a cycle where I’m always scrambling to make ends meet and never able to focus on building a better future. SNAP is one of the only things keeping me from falling behind.”
The Capital Area Food Bank’s supplies include healthy staples like brown rice (left) and leafy greens (right). Over the past two years, the food bank purchased more of the greens directly from local farms thanks to expanded federal grant funding that has now ended. (Photo credit: Lisa Held)
‘We Cannot Fill That Gap’
At the Capital Area Food Bank, Muthiah estimates about half of the region’s SNAP recipients also access food bank resources. And the food bank’s annual surveys consistently find that most people looking for help are working. “In fact, they’re working more than one job,” she said. “It’s just that those jobs are at a minimum-wage level, so it’s not enough to be able to cover the cost of living in our area.”
Muthiah worries that kicking new groups of people off the rolls through work requirements will make them more reliant on aid in the future.
“You’re having them slide back, as opposed to really moving forward,” she said, because if the benefits are gone, their attention will shift to finding the next meal.
As the bill moves forward, Muthiah said one analysis estimates that the new work requirements could push 74,000 people off SNAP in the area the Capital Area Food Bank covers—and that many of those people would then turn to the Food Bank, some for the first time.
At the same time, their region has been hit hard by the downsizing of the federal government; this spring, the food bank launched pop-up food distributions to serve former federal workers and others who Muthiah describes as “downstream” of the impacts.
For example, at the pop-up the weekend before, she met a nanny whose hours had been cut because her employer lost her government job. She met a senior citizen who relied on her son for extra income but felt like she didn’t want to burden him now that he had lost his job at the Internal Revenue Service.
With all of these things happening at once, she says, Capital Area Food Bank’s current supply of canned tomatoes and fresh pineapples won’t be enough to meet the increased need, no matter how quickly their staff drive the forklifts.
If millions of people lose SNAP benefits, Muthiah said, “One thing that we have to be really clear about is that we cannot fill that gap. We just can’t do it.”
The post Amid SNAP Debate, Are Lawmakers Ending Waste and Abuse—or Dismantling a Safety Net? appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post Can This Baltimore Academy Continue to Train Urban Farmers? appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>In southern Baltimore, not far from the sewage treatment plant of Wagner’s Point and massive coal mounds of Curtis Bay, lies a small farm of green grass, rustling trees, and rows of radishes, arugula, peppers, and more. On a cool afternoon in late May, groups of children and their parents pass by, cutting through a dirt path on their way to some other part of this historically industrial city. As they come and go, a small crew of farmers diligently tends to the crops and land.
This is the Black Butterfly Teaching Farm, run by the Farm Alliance of Baltimore (FAB), a membership organization of urban farmers, neighborhood growers, and those interested in learning more about both. The farm was designed to turn food-curious people into urban farmers, especially those who live or work in the “Black Butterfly”—the regions of the city to the east and west of the center, shaped like a pair of butterfly wings, where the city’s majority Black population lives.
“The folks that tore it apart have no intention of fixing it.”
These neighborhoods continue to grapple with a legacy of redlining, with impacts that persist today—from a scarcity of grocery stores to a lack of tree cover (and resulting “heat island” effect) to lower life expectancy in general, often due to environmental pollutants.
Urban farms, though, represent a tangible way for people to have “a sense of control and autonomy” over their health and environment, says Hannah Quigley, a policy specialist with the National Sustainable Agriculture Coalition (NSAC). By enriching the environment and helping build a climate-resilient food system with economic potential, urban agriculture can unlock a form of empowerment for disadvantaged communities.
“It has real big community effects,” Quigley adds. “It’s not just helping one household in a lot of these settings. It’s helping hundreds of individuals in these neighborhood settings.”
Since 2021, the FAB has operated the Black Butterfly Urban Farmer Academy, which launched the teaching farm later that year and has graduated two groups of trainees. But this year, the program won’t be offered, as it takes a step back to finish several construction projects on the farm and to adjust to funding cuts by the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA).
(Photo credit: Sam Delgado)
“I’m really looking forward to the full vision coming to fruition,” says Denzel Mitchell, FAB’s executive director and a former urban farmer himself, about the construction. He says they’re aiming to set up fencing, a greenhouse, an outdoor kitchen, a storage barn, and additional amenities for the community by the end of the year.
The Trump administration has cut many farming initiatives, including those addressing climate change and environmental injustice. That leaves programs like Black Butterfly—which aim to instill sustainable agriculture knowledge in residents who have long been blocked from land access—in limbo. Mitchell is skeptical that the funding challenges will be fixed any time soon.
“The folks that tore it apart,” he says, “have no intention of fixing it.”
Sustainable Farming in a Polluted Community
For years, the FAB had been having conversations about the need to offer people pathways to becoming urban farmers, says Mitchell, who drives an electric Ford truck to and from the farm. In 2017, the organization ran a feasibility study to understand exactly what the membership wanted. The response was “an opportunity to train,” Mitchell says. “That was the seed, if you will—no pun intended—of the training academy.”
There are other programs around Maryland that offer farm training. Mitchell himself trained with Future Harvest, which runs a year-long program for beginner farmers in the Chesapeake Bay region. But the city of Baltimore lacked an accessible, urban-scale training program.
People here needed something that was “a little bit beyond backyard growing,” and geared toward residents who wanted to develop a business, Mitchell says. “One of the things that we certainly understand as Black and Brown working-class folks is that you got to hustle. You got to have some little side gig.”
That entrepreneurial-environmental mindset has been a key part of the Black Butterfly Urban Farmer Academy’s framework. Its training is intended to help people feed their communities and grow potential businesses, while also learning how to sustainably steward the land.
Done properly, urban agriculture can reduce the carbon footprint of food and can help lower the heat island effect that many major cities face (while also benefiting the social, mental, and physical well-being of urban farmers and gardeners).
“The customers are really excited that we grow food in Baltimore City. They’re excited that these farms are right in their neighborhoods.”
Baltimore is no stranger to climate and environmental hazards, and this is especially true for communities living in the Black Butterfly. The teaching farm, whose nearly 7 acres of land were provided by the city’s Department of Planning, sits just a mile away from Curtis Bay, a neighborhood that has been plagued by pollution from coal dust. Black Baltimorians are also overwhelmingly worried about climate change and its harms, too.
As someone with decades of food and farming experience, Mitchell is well aware of how the changing climate has affected farming. At the same time, he expressed frustration that well-known “climate-smart” techniques, such as cover crops, are sometimes incentivized for industrial farms while smaller farms receive less support. These practices, Mitchell says, should be expected, rather than accepted.
Growing Urban Farmers
Past training programs of the Black Butterfly Urban Farmer Academy ran for nine months and began with in-person classes on foundational topics for a beginner farmer. Mitchell and other teachers guided participants through the basics, like crop selection, pest management, post-harvest handling, safety, marketing, and more.
After 12 weeks of classes, participants attended FAB’s field days, which connected them with local farms and food organizations to gain practical experience. Past field days included instruction on subjects like composting, beekeeping, and growing herbs. Students also gained hands-on experience from shifts at the teaching farm and other local farms.
Mitchell in the fields at Black Butterfly Teaching Farm. (Photo credit: Sam Delgado)
Past trainees were also each awarded a $2,000 stipend and equipped with books to further add to their understanding of the food system and farming strategies, including Farming While Black by Leah Penniman, The Market Gardener by Jean-Martin Fortier, and The Organic Farmer’s Business Handbook by Richard Wiswall.
Aria Eghbal was looking for a career change when she discovered the Black Butterfly Urban Farmer Academy. She was working as a medical assistant during the first year of the COVID-19 pandemic and was feeling burnt out and frustrated by the healthcare system. She applied to the program and became one of 10 people accepted into the first training program—many of whom were also at a career crossroads, she says.
The training program marked the beginning of Eghbal’s career in the food system: as a farmer, as a cook, and, since last December, as FAB’s lead staffer at farmers’ markets. “The customers are really excited that we grow food in Baltimore City,” she says. “They’re excited that these farms are right in their neighborhoods.”
Becoming part of Baltimore’s urban farming community was one of the greatest benefits of the academy, she adds. “We really do care about each other and want to see each other thrive and succeed, through this process of growing food and flowers and processing honey and all the different things that we do.”
The Challenge Ahead
The Black Butterfly Urban Farmer Academy has seen nearly 20 people graduate from its program. But the USDA funding cuts, particularly to initiatives for diversity, equity, and inclusion, have also eliminated funding prospects. To operate services like the academy and an upcoming incubator program that Mitchell calls “the launching pad for the next generation of diversified family farmers,” he projects it will cost roughly $300,000. “Fundraising has been incredibly difficult this year,” he says.
Crops in the ground at the teaching farm. (Photo credit: Sam Delgado)
Added to the difficulty is a political environment where some organizations are hiding their missions. One funder recently asked Mitchell if he was “woke but cloaked”—whether, in other words, the FAB would be hiding language around equity from its website and other materials, to avoid targeting from the Trump administration. “How am I supposed to do that?” Mitchell asked, annoyed, recalling the conversation. “I’m a Black man. My politics are literally on my face.”
Despite all this, Mitchell still has plans for the land where the teaching farm is located, including a pavilion, a playground, and community and commercial orchards. “This was just us growing food and then trying to teach people how to do it,” Mitchell says. “And doing it in a way that is environmentally beneficial. So now, we got to figure out just how to do that on our own.”
The post Can This Baltimore Academy Continue to Train Urban Farmers? appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post Inside the Food Policy Tracker appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Civil Eats recently hosted a virtual salon to give readers a behind-the-scenes look at our Food Policy Tracker, a tool we launched in January to help monitor the federal government’s actions as it moves to transform our food system.
The Speakers: Paulina Velasco, collaborations project manager at the Institute for Nonprofit News (INN), moderator; Lisa Held, Civil Eats senior staff reporter and contributing editor; Matt Wheeland, operations director; and Brian Calvert, senior editor.
Quick Overview: The discussion focused on how we find, choose, and report our posts. The panelists also addressed what it takes to keep the Tracker current, their approach to information (and misinformation), and what they’ve learned since the launch of the Tracker when Trump took office.
- Why Create a Food Policy Tracker?
- “Trump was promising to come in and move really quickly and make sort of sweeping changes to everything, including all the agencies and systems that impact the food system that we cover,” Held said.
- Held and Wheeland began brainstorming how Civil Eats could best serve readers as these changes happened.
- As a result, the Food Policy Tracker was born.
- The reasons for creating the Tracker:
- To keep a clear, robust record of all changes coming out of Washington, D.C. that affect the food system—to serve as a reference now and in the years to come.
- To fill a food policy news vacuum at the precise moment when more reporting would be needed.
- How the Tracker Works
- Reports the play-by-play:
- The Tracker is designed to give readers information about important changes or actions as they are happening in real time, sometimes out of view of the public.
- The team moves as quickly as possible to keep up with the news.
- “The benefit we bring to this work is that we have the context, and we can connect the dots that nobody else is connecting,” Wheeland said.
- Calvert said keeping a laser focus on actions and their implications makes the Tracker easier to manage and allows for quick decision-making.
- Reports the play-by-play:
- Key Topics
- U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) cuts:
- Rose to the top of coverage because of the sheer speed of grant contracts being frozen.
- Held said that keeping track of funding cuts was—and still is—difficult. While most of the funding has been unfrozen, many contracts have been canceled outright—like several projects within the $3.1 billion Climate-Smart Commodities Program, which has been converted into a new program with new requirements.
- We decided to keep a running list of grant program cancellations and pauses, updating it regularly as the situation changes.
- Agricultural Appropriations Bill
- A draft of the bill was released with a provision that would take away the USDA’s ability to enforce Packers and Stockyards rules finalized by the Biden administration.
- Went almost unnoticed because it was tucked into the back of a document more than 100 pages long.
- Also, the “One Big Beautiful Bill” was drawing attention away from this provision.
- Held had already been covering the Packers and Stockyards Act for years, so she said the post was easy to put together.
- A draft of the bill was released with a provision that would take away the USDA’s ability to enforce Packers and Stockyards rules finalized by the Biden administration.
- Immigration
- When covering immigration, the Civil Eats team looks to understand:
- “Another important impact of the Food Policy Tracker is that even though you’re talking about policy, you’re really talking about people,” Calvert said.
- U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) cuts:
-
- Obstacles and Challenges
- Getting sources to go on the record is extremely difficult right now.
- Layoffs, firings, and slashes in funding have made many workers and farmers fearful about speaking to the media.
- Held, Wheeland, and Calvert said they’re less concerned about their own safety as reporters and more concerned about their sources’ safety.
- The hardest aspect of tracking policy changes is navigating the misinformation and lack of transparency from the Trump administration.
- Case in point: the MAHA Commission report and its use of fabricated scientific citations.
- Getting sources to go on the record is extremely difficult right now.
- Obstacles and Challenges
- Building Trust Amid the Chaos
- For 16 years, Civil Eats has reported on the food system in depth, bring critical context and analysis often missing from other publications.
- “What is most exciting to me is to see the way that we can use this kind of reporting to reach new people and help them get just a little sense of—yes, you’re seeing this story in the news—here’s what it means, here’s a little more detail, here’s how we got here,” Wheeland said.
- As possibly startling and confusing impacts of policy begin to unfurl, said Wheeland, “That’s where we are ready to jump in and keep an eye on all these things and share the most important stuff with the readers.”
- Whenever the news changes, updates are added to the top of stories to give readers a grasp of what’s happening, with the full context below.
- How Readers Can Get Involved
- Sign up to receive posts!
- Our instant updates email lands in your inbox as soon as we publish a post, and our weekly digest, which collects the week’s posts in one email, is sent on Friday afternoons.
- Sign up for either or both by logging into your account (or creating an account).
- Got a tip? Email tracker@civileats.com.
- For secure communication, use civileats@protonmail.com. Civil Eats reporters respect the privacy and individual wishes of their sources as to whether and how they are identified. We will do everything within our power to protect our sources.
- Sign up to receive posts!
The post Inside the Food Policy Tracker appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post Op-ed: There Is No Future Where the Lakota and the Buffalo Don’t Exist Together appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>By Elsie DuBray, in conversation with Civil Eats
Han mitakuyepi. Cantewasteya nape ceyuzapi ksto. Mahipiya Ile Win emaciyapi na wasituya micaje kin Elsie DuBray na Oohenunpa Lakota na Nueta na Hidatsa hemaca na Waka Waste Oyanke hemantanhan ksto.
Hello, relatives. I greet you all with a good heart. My name is Mahpiya Ile Win, and my English name is Elsie DuBray. I am Two Kettle Lakota, Mandan, and Hidatsa, and I come from the Cheyenne River Reservation, in what is now known as South Dakota.
We as Lakota people came from the center of the earth, out of what is called Wind Cave, in He Sapa, the Black Hills, the heart of everything and the center of our universe. There are multiple iterations of our creation story, but in one, when we first emerged from the Earth, it was clear there was going to be a lot of hardship, that our people would starve and would not be able to live in this new world. As a sacrifice, the last woman out of the cave transformed into a Buffalo, giving herself to feed the people. From that moment on, our people committed ourselves to honor the Buffalo in gratitude; we had an understanding that we would always take care of each other.
I had always heard that as women we learned how to be mothers from the Buffalo, observing how they care for their young. I have to admit, I had minimized this to a somewhat sterile, biological relationship, until one particular day.
I was out among the Buffalo, and I had been there watching for some time and they weren’t paying attention to me anymore. They were resting, and it was really peaceful. There was a mother lying down, and her calf came up to her, not to nurse, not to do anything. She just came up to her mother and they nuzzled each other and held their heads together. It really felt like I’d witnessed a hug or a kiss, and I felt how tender and real it was, and I started crying on the spot. I don’t know how to communicate just how genuine it was. It was love.
The Buffalo have a lot to teach us. But we are still, as we speak, facing the consequences of the federal government’s genocidal campaign, where they killed the Buffalo, intentionally trying to kill us. And it did kill a lot of us, and it killed a lot of things inside of us. Make no mistake: both were intentional.
When you have a people whose entire social structure is modeled after the Buffalo, an economy modeled after the Buffalo, a food system centered on the Buffalo, and then all of a sudden the Buffalo are not present in our everyday lives—a relationship violently and actively withheld from us, for generations—you can understand that some people may struggle with a sense of purpose.
The Buffalo teach us how to relate to place. They teach us how to relate to other beings. They teach us how to relate to ourselves. They teach us these valuable lessons that ground us and our experience in this world, about who we are and how to have strength and belief and love for ourselves and this life.
So, to me, Buffalo restoration isn’t just the next eco-trend or hot new social justice campaign. I see Buffalo restoration as food sovereignty. I see it as language revitalization. I see it as suicide prevention. I see it as an economic alternative to a capitalist society.
I see it as the path towards a healthful Indigenous futurism and the imagination of an otherwise-world. I see it as essential to the continuation of my people on this Earth. It’s not just some romanticized image of Buffalo and Native people; it’s really, truly the core of who we are.
Buffalo Corridors
I only heard about Buffalo corridors because my dad talked about them as being a really big deal. He told stories of his late friend, Rocke Afraid of Hawk, who talked about a corridor between the Cheyenne River Reservation and the Pine Ridge Reservation, and then maybe others, and how this was not only a way to bring Buffalo back together, but to bring Lakota people back together too.
Something my dad always taught me is that the more Buffalo that can roam on more land, the better. They should never be in tiny groups, nor on small bits of land. You’re not doing them any favors if you have five Buffalo on a few acres with no plan or space to grow the herd. When my dad worked for our Tribe, he built the herd up to almost 5,000 head, and he said the more the herd grew, you could just see it: It looked better, it felt better, it felt more natural. You could feel this sort of healing in real time. Everyone could.
“Lakota people have always been here and will always be here, and so have the Buffalo, and they will persist.”
Buffalo deserve to be their free whole selves. End of story. But I also think people don’t realize that it’s in all of our best interests from a climate perspective. You’re not getting the same sort of healing potential for the land if you have this one herd on this one sector of the prairie, only restoring native grasses there, or in one national park or on one ranch, or a handful of ranches. Corridors are really interesting and exciting to me, because they offer the potential for something different in a really big way.
Obviously, policy change is still necessary and could aid in this. And there are certainly political barriers in place. But I get excited about corridors because they offer a tangible alternative to the fragmentation and compartmentalization that limit Buffalo restoration today. If we can remove some of these barriers, providing the space for the reestablishment of migratory patterns and reuniting more land with more Buffalo, we’re starting to talk about large-scale ecosystem revitalization. Not just a healthier couple thousand acres here and there, but improved soil health, biodiversity, carbon sequestration, drought resistance, and more, on a climate-solutions level.
Borders and Fences
When I think about borders and fences, I think about limitations. And, necessarily, I think about the cattle industry and all it represents. To me, this is getting into the real nitty gritty, because when they nearly killed off the buffalo, what did they do? They put us on reservations, which have borders and allow us our little space to exist in.
I love my reservation and where I’m from; it’s the most beautiful place in the world to me. But it is not lost on me or my body or my lived experience that it’s also a really hard place to be from. And that’s exactly as it was intended, and that there’s these limitations on where you’re allowed to be Native and where you’re allowed to be yourself—and how much of yourself you’re allowed to be, as defined by the United States settler-colonial government.
And then we’re told that we need to be farmers and ranchers, and we need to put up these fences to separate what’s mine from what’s yours from what’s theirs. All of these things are fragmentations, divisions. Cattle culture says we need to fence these little cattle ranches off, further and further and further fragmenting our relationship to land, our relationship to animals and in the way that we are supposed to then relate them, to fit more and more into a capitalistic, individualistic society. So it’s not just the literal fences of these cattle ranches. It’s the fencing of our minds that comes with it, and everything that the cattle industry comes to represent in modern America, its origins, and the perpetuation of the settler state.
A Future for People and Buffalo
I think there are a lot of people who are interested in Buffalo restoration, who are curious, who are like, “Oh my God, traditional ecological knowledge, that’s so cool,” well-meaning people who really do think that there’s a lot to be learned from Native people. And also, people are seeing that they have to believe that Native people do have these answers—because we are facing the consequences of not seeing it.
Unfortunately, though, that’s all it is. This is still pretty much as it has always been: an extractive relationship. They want the ideas; they don’t want the people. And they sure as hell don’t want those people to have agency. Whenever there’s a seat at these climate tables for Native people, it is always about providing something. It’s, “How can we use you to save ourselves?” That’s not to say every person thinks like that, but on a functional level, that’s what’s happening.
And frankly, on this land and as a Native person, I’m like, if you want a climate solution that is specific to this place, as I believe it needs to be, you simply have to shut up and listen to the people who are from that place. You are inviting me to the table? That’s actually our table, and you are in our restaurant. And you’re making a mess.
People are so happy, sometimes, to pull up a chair for Native folks, but they don’t want to admit that it’s not their table and it’s not their restaurant. So sometimes I think the best thing we can do is flip the table over.
I want our planet to live as much as the next person does. And so it’s really frustrating to me when everybody wants to create something new so they don’t have to lose anything. Sometimes we have to give something up, and nobody wants to.
It’s hard for me to think far into the future, so far down, thousands of years from now, and dream of the ideal otherwise-world and what it could look like. That’s because I try to focus on what meaningful progress looks like now, at this point in time, where I’m situated in the cosmos, in the generation I was born to, and the time period that falls in—within this long, long story of Lakota people in Buffalo. I’m just this little snippet of it, and there’s so much beauty in that.
Lakota people have always been here and will always be here, and so have the Buffalo, and they will persist. I love Leanne Betasamosake Simpson’s book, As We Have Always Done, and how she articulates this idea of Indigenous resurgence. In that same vein, the Buffalo will exist, Lakota people will exist, and we will exist together, as we have always done. And it won’t be a fight to do that every day. It’ll just be normal.
That’s the most beautiful future I can imagine for my descendants. When I think of being a good ancestor, most simply put, it is of working towards a world where it’s simply normal for us to be our full selves, as Lakota people and as Buffalo, together again.
Editor’s note: Civil Eats receives funding from the First Nations Development Institute. This conversation has been lightly edited for length and clarity.
The post Op-ed: There Is No Future Where the Lakota and the Buffalo Don’t Exist Together appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post A National Soil-Judging Contest Prepares College Students to Steward the Land appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>On an early spring morning in central Wisconsin, the hills were still and serene under a frosty grey sky. Then the fight songs began. More than 200 students from 27 colleges and universities across the U.S. had converged in Portage County for an unlikely competition. Their arena was not a court, a field, or a pool, but a pit dug five feet into the sandy red earth. Shouts of “Go Terps!” and “Hail Purdue!” erupted as the competitors fired themselves up to walk into the underbelly of the world.
Each year at the National Collegiate Soil Judging Contest, students gather to classify soils based on their color, texture, and structure. The team whose analyses most closely match those of professional soil scientists return to campus with a gleaming 3-foot trophy, the coveted Stanley Cup of soils.
There is more than school pride at stake, however. This competition teaches the next generation of soil scientists how to manage the soils used to grow our food and support our agricultural infrastructure. Their work helps farmers produce more nutritious crops, combat erosion, and capture and store carbon underground. As the Trump administration’s budget cuts put the field of soil science on shaky ground, students here remain committed to treating soil as the life-giving—and downright competition-worthy—resource that it is.
Students receive instructions ahead of soil-judging. The national competition has taken place every year since 1961, including one virtual contest during the COVID-19 pandemic. (Photo: Emma Loewe)
Prepping for the Contest
The first National Collegiate Soil Judging Contest was held in Lexington, Kentucky, in 1961 to give students more hands-on experience analyzing soils. It has occurred every year since, although in 2020, during the pandemic, it was virtual. Leading up to the contest, students learn about soil in the classrooms of their respective schools and practice analyzing it in pits around their campuses. Each fall, schools compete at regional competitions that roughly correspond to USDA Soil Survey Regions. The top schools from each region advance to the national competition in the spring, hosted by a different college each year. Teams and their coaches arrive at nationals a week early to familiarize themselves with that area’s unique soil.
“You can imagine how different the soil is in the middle of Utah than it might be in Maine or Florida,” John Galbraith, the longtime coach of Virginia Tech, 2024’s winning team, said in the lead-up to this year’s competition.
Teams can range in size from three students to more than 20. They compete both individually and as a group to most accurately describe the origin and characteristics of five “competition pits” over two days. These pits expose the top five to six “horizons,” or layers, of soil, telling a story of the land.
This year’s contest was held April 27 through May 2 this year. Hosting an outdoor event in spring in Wisconsin is always a gamble, since winter’s chill and precipitation tend to stick around well into April, and on Day One of the contest, Mother Nature dealt a losing hand.
It was 45 degrees and dumping rain as the students and their coaches gathered in the parking lot of a local nature reserve near this year’s host school, the University of Wisconsin Stevens Point (UWSP). From there, they were guided to the competition site, which had been kept a strict secret all week.
Once they arrived at the site, a wooded lakefront property called Lions Camp, students were forbidden from looking up anything about its soils online. “If your cell phone comes out, you will be disqualified,” Bryant Scharenbroch, an associate soil science professor at UWSP and the lead organizer of this year’s competition, bellowed over a loudspeaker. “No warnings!”
The poncho-clad students sloshed nervously towards the soil pits. Over the course of the morning, they would each spend an hour individually “judging” three pits. Judging requires filling in a scorecard with the color, texture, structure, and water retention abilities of each soil horizon, and using this to estimate the soil’s classification, how it formed, and how it can be best managed or utilized.
Students use a color book to determine the exact shade of each soil layer; a triangle to classify soil, based on its mix of clay, silt, and sand; a soil knife to get a feel for the texture of each horizon; and finally, a muffin tin to transport soil samples in and out of the pit. Their hands, though, are their most important tools. Throughout the day, students need to manually squeeze, squash, and smash the soil to get a sense of its composition, down to its exact percentage of clay versus sand.
At 10 a.m., the first timer went off, and the competitors descended into the soaked earth.
The national contest aims to give students hands-on experience evaluating soil. An affinity for soil is apparent in student apparel and tools as they compete. (Photos: Emma Loewe)
Digging Into Wisconsin’s Glacial Soils
The soil horizons in Portage County, Wisconsin, reveal a glacial history. The Laurentide ice sheet advanced and retreated over this region until roughly 11,000 years ago, depositing gravel, sand, and other sediment across the landscape along the way. The resulting soils are sandy and dotted with rocks and tend to have relatively low water retention, making them good candidates for irrigation systems.
Portage County’s glacial soils support an agricultural industry that produces $372 million worth of food (mostly vegetables like potatoes, sweet corn, and peas annually as of the 2022 census. The 951 farms in the county provide 74 percent of the state’s crop sales.
While more than 50 farms in Portage County top 1,000 acres, the typical farm size here is smaller—roughly 287 acres, or two-thirds the national average.
“We have a lot of very small-scale farming, an active farmers’ market, and a lot of local growers,” Scharenbroch said. “It’s something that’s really cool and unique about our area.”
To show students the range of farming styles in the region and how they impacted the soil, Scharenbroch took them to visit a handful of local producers during their practice week. There, students saw how farming practices like machine tilling caused soil layers to be tighter and less permeable, making it harder for water to penetrate. This left soil on the surface vulnerable to blowing away during winds and storms.
Farms that used techniques like compost application and cover cropping had deeper, darker-brown top layers that were better at absorbing moisture and less at risk of erosion. “One of the biggest things is to keep the soil covered,” said Joel Gebhard, a soil scientist for the Natural Resources Conservation Service (NRCS) who helped plan the contest. “If soil is bare, it’s going to get removed somehow.”
At Lions Camp, soggy students wrapped up their analyses of each pit. “Pit monitors”—mostly employees or alums of UWSP—collected their scorecards and walked them inside to a cafeteria where the coaches had gathered for grading. First, they needed to align on the correct answers for each scorecard. In a room full of soil science academics, this was more contentious than you might imagine. Every coach had their own opinion, and matters that may have seemed trivial (say, whether students need to place a dash through empty boxes, or leave them blank) were grounds for impassioned debate.
There was good reason for the pedantics. Because soil varies from state to state, region to region, and even mile to mile, and because there are over 20,000 ways to describe soils in the U.S., having an agreed-upon lexicon was essential. Once the coaches came to an consensus and reviewed (and re-reviewed) each student’s scorecards, the first day’s competition was complete. After hours in the dirt, students dumped their supplies into plastic buckets (some decorated with slogans, like “Loam is Home” and “Loess Lover”), piled into vans and headed back to their hotels to dry off and rest up for the second and final competition day.
Central Wisconsin provided ample soil types for judging as students competed. (Photos: Emma Loewe)
The Role of the Soil Scientist
The analysis these students perform provides practice for future careers in the soil sciences. “People who soil judge have such a big leg-up on anyone else entering soil jobs,” said Nathan Stremcha, a former UWSP soil judger who is now a soil scientist at the NRCS. “The skills directly transfer.”
The NRCS, an agency of the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), is one of the largest employers of soil scientists in the country, though soil scientists also work in the private sector for companies focused on bioremediation, construction, and agricultural research. Originally established in 1935 as the Soil Conservation Service, the agency was created to manage erosion and steward conservation during the Dust Bowl. Today, the NRCS manages the national Web Soil Survey, an essential database for farming, community planning, and beyond. “The database gets a hit at least every second,” Stremcha said.
Many students hope to go into a job at NRCS once they graduate—but now are unsure what will be available, given the recent federal funding cuts. Until recently, the agency was on a hiring spree. Many older employees were retiring, and it needed new soil scientists to help execute its climate-smart agriculture programs, which received $19.5 billion in funding over five years as part of the Inflation Reduction Act (IRA).
“Farmers trust us, but with that comes an obligation to make sure that you have well-trained employees who are going to be out there on the farms making the best scientific recommendations to make sure we get this conservation on the ground,” NRCS Chief Terry Cosby told the 2023 Trust In Food Symposium after unlocking the IRA funds, noting that the agency was struggling to find candidates qualified to advise farmers on soil conservation.
“They’re sending us even more jobs than we have students,” Scharenbroch said on a call back in October of 2024.
“People who soil judge have such a big leg-up on anyone else entering soil jobs. The skills directly transfer.”
The promise of the field changed, however, once the Trump administration took office this year. Since January, NRCS has reduced its staff by at least 2,400 employees, while a blanket freeze on hiring remains in place across the government. The USDA has erased information on federal loans and technical assistance for climate-smart agriculture from its website (although, after a lawsuit on behalf of farmers, it now plans to restore it) and cancelled many grants that had been made through the Partnerships for Climate-Smart Commodities program. In response to the USDA’s 2026 budget request, Congress is proposing $45 million in cuts to NRCS conservation operations. These moves have left farmers in limbo and federal soil science hiring at a standstill.
Coaches worry about what these cuts will mean for their students and the future of soil science at large. “My fear with having potentially fewer soil scientists around is that we’re going to have more environmental disasters and agricultural disasters that we’re not prepared to respond to appropriately,” said Jaclyn Fiola, an assistant professor of soil and environmental science at Delaware Valley University and coach of the school’s soil judging team, on a call with Civil Eats.
The job market may be fluctuating, but the next generation’s commitment to soils remains steadfast.
“Where people live, where agricultural and economic power is, how people form culture . . . It’s all based on the soil,” Sky Reinhart, a junior at the University of Idaho, said during competition weekend. “Once you learn to see the soil . . . It makes all the difference for everything.”
The Significance of Soil Surveys
Conducting a soil survey is often the first step in assigning value to a piece of land and designating its most effective and efficient use. Different types of soils are suitable for different crops, so these surveys can be instrumental for agricultural planning. Soil scientists can also work with farmers or ranchers to help them better manage soil health to reduce erosion, maximize water infiltration, and improve nutrient cycling, increasing yield.
Beyond the farm, the surveys provide information on which soils can best support infrastructure like septic systems and roads. Sometimes, they can even inform where to bury animals affected by disease outbreaks, like during the recent avian flu. Increasingly, they have important climate implications as well.
“A lot of our carbon sequestration models are based on numbers that were collected by soil surveyors,” Fiola said. “That’s a really important reason that we need these maps to be accurate.”
The climate applications of soil attract many of today’s students to the field. “Almost 50 percent of the students I interact with are coming into soil science because they want to make an impact on climate-change issues,” Scharenbroch said.
As a result, some regional and national contests now ask students to describe soil indicators like salinization from sea level rise, identify functioning wetlands, or calculate a soil’s carbon-storage potential.
Digging Deep, Despite an Uncertain Future
On Day Two of the contest, the unpredictable weather continued. Rain fell in fits and spurts over Scharenbroch’s home, which is near a glacial moraine and littered with unique deposits. (Rumor has it the Web Soil Survey played a role in his house hunting.) “These soils are really interesting,” Gebhard said, motioning to the two massive pits excavated in the front yard. “They’re messy because they’re right on this edge where glaciers went back and forth.”
During group judging day, each school analyzes pits together, aligning on a scorecard as a team. A few teams are assigned to a pit at a time, and they alternate between spending 10 minutes underground and 10 minutes above it.
Once the timer began at Scharenbroch’s, each team split off to stake their claim to a spot on the pit’s perimeter, setting up a tight circle to keep discussions out of earshot of the competition.
“Once you learn to see the soil . . . It makes all the difference for everything.”
“You texture, I color?,” Sean Cary, a sophomore at the University of Rhode Island, confirmed with his two teammates (the smallest team of the competition—fitting, they joked, as the smallest state). By splitting up tasks, the team could spend more time on each analysis and double-check each other’s work at the end. Rhode Island’s time in the pit was spent scanning the horizons closely, as if searching for a rare library book. Outside of it, they quietly deliberated on the soil’s properties and perhaps more importantly, its practical uses.
“Having the knowledge of what soils can do and how we can fix them and use them in the correct way is one of the main reasons I’m doing this,” said Cary, who is majoring in agriculture and food systems. “It’s not something that should be taken lightly, because the future of soil can affect the future of society.”
The pit monitors gave a two-minute warning to the final set of teams. Then, the contest students had spent months preparing for was over. Cary and his teammates dumped out their muffin tins, turned in their scorecards, and swished their hands in a water cup like used paintbrushes. When asked if they were happy that soil judging was over for the year, they said they’d miss it.
The winning team, from the University of Idaho, from left: Hannah Poland, Daniel Middelhoven, Tegan Macy, Sky Reinhardt, Coach Paul Tietz, Logan Mann, Jacob Flick, Coach MaryBeth Gavin. (Photo: Emma Loewe)
Crowning a Winner
All that was left was the awards ceremony. This would take place under a park pavilion in Steven’s Point later that afternoon, leaving students ample opportunity to get nervous about the results. Some distracted themselves by tossing a Frisbee around the pavilion’s perimeter; others sang old sea shanties as they waited. The trophy that every school was after sat up front: the Bidwell-Reisig, a two-handed behemoth nearly as old as the competition itself, named after its designers—a Kansas State soil professor and one of his students. Engraved with the winners of the past, the trophy’s 2025 spot lay blank in waiting.
At long last, Scharenbroch asked the group to gather round. Many students remained standing at the pavilion’s edge, too antsy to sit down.
First came the individual results: “In first place, with 852 points,” Scharenbroch announced to a rapt audience, “JosiLee Scott!”
The pindrop-quiet pavilion exploded in cheers. The West Virginia University senior walked stoically to accept her prize—a plaque and, naturally, some local cheese curds. She quickly ushered her coach up for a big bear hug and a photo as a well-earned smile spread across her face.
The grand prize, which went to the school with the highest combined group and individual scores, went to The University of Idaho—the Vandal’s first win in over 35 years of competing. Six Idaho students and their two coaches looked at each other in disbelief as they ambled up to accept the trophy. Some shed tears as they hoisted it high, the applause of their fellow soil enthusiasts filling the misty air.
The University of Delaware and The University of Maryland rounded out the top three schools, bringing the 2025 contest to a close. Some students were already planning for the next one. For others, this was the last competition of their scholastic careers. And what came next was as uncertain as the weather of a Wisconsin spring.
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]]>The post In New Orleans, ‘Solitary Gardens’ Aims to Transform Thinking About Prisons appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>St. Charles Avenue, the regal boulevard at the center of New Orleans, is a beacon of wealth and comfort in a city where both are hard to come by. Antebellum mansions and stately oaks line the avenue, which winds through the pristine campuses of Loyola and Tulane universities. Here, in the historical center of the American slave trade, affluence is the norm, even as nearly one-quarter of the city lives in poverty.
On a block sandwiched between the college campuses, a 6-by-9-foot garden bed on the front lawn of the St. Charles Avenue Baptist Church challenges the neighborhood’s image.
The garden’s dimensions replicate those of a standard solitary confinement cell.
Within the garden, the outline of a prison bed, sink, and toilet is filled with “revolutionary mortar,” a mix of clay, lime, and ground cotton, sugarcane, and tobacco—the crops central to chattel slavery. Plants can grow only in the negative space around those features, further restricting the garden’s capacity and imparting a sense of claustrophobia. Facing the street, an aluminum gate stands tall to represent a cell door. Thankfully for the plants, this one lets sunlight pass through.
What the Garden Grows—and Shows
The garden urges passersby to consider mass incarceration as an evolution of enslavement. It is a Solitary Garden, one of more than two dozen built in the past decade in New Orleans and beyond—from Philadelphia, New York, and Houston to the Harriet Beecher Stowe Center in Connecticut. Behind all of them is the artist and activist jackie sumell and her compatriots at Freedom to Grow, a nonprofit incorporated last year that’s dedicated to abolishing prisons. Each garden is designed by an incarcerated person—with a collection of flowers, herbs, and vegetables grown for them until they can grow again themselves.
“The point of prisons is to tuck people away, out of sight, in rural areas where nobody will think about them,” says Rev. Marc Boswell, the church’s pastor. “The garden humanizes and brings to mind people who are incarcerated, what their hopes and dreams are, and that they have hopes and dreams.”
Church congregants suggested the idea for the St. Charles garden and have found joy in its symbolic display, Boswell says. It was installed last fall with contents chosen by Obie Weathers, a man on death row in Texas who asked that it resemble the family garden he grew up with.
A self-taught artist and poet, Weathers has spent 25 years in solitary confinement, sentenced for murder when he was a teenager. In mid-April, his garden boasted cabbage, kale, cucumbers, and radishes, as well as aloe that survived a rare winter frost.
Cedar Annenkovna, left, and jackie sumell harvest vegetables and flowers from a Solitary Garden in the Ninth Ward. (Photo credit: Ben Seal)
“We don’t just plant islands—we plant a community of diverse plants that support each other,” says Cedar Annenkovna, Freedom to Grow’s lead garden steward, as she picks a leaf of kale. Reflective and compassionate, Annenkovna designed her own Solitary Garden for two years while incarcerated, then moved to New Orleans upon her release last year to tend the gardens herself.
The garden is an invitation to consider abolition—and it is also a reflection of beliefs that permeate all of Freedom to Grow’s work: that plants, through their patience, persistence, and interdependence, can teach us to be better people.
In a society hardened by antiquated values, sumell says, abolition often makes people feel fearful or apprehensive. But she believes the natural world possesses a superpower that opens the door for people. After all, what is a garden if not a study in ceaseless change?
The gardeners themselves undergo change, too. Speaking by phone from Angola prison, Kenny “Zulu” Whitmore describes the power of planting a garden from inside. When he designed his own, at a site in the Ninth Ward that holds several Solitary Gardens, the prison had just eradicated all of its stray cats, so he asked that the garden be filled with catnip to ease the anxiety of any passing felines. Whitmore has spent 49 years incarcerated for second-degree murder, including 28 in solitary, and the garden was profoundly restorative: “It reconnected me to who I really am.”
‘Seduce and Destroy’
For sumell, a bundle of dark curls and restless energy who doesn’t capitalize her name, the Solitary Gardens are a rebuke of the ways that agriculture is weaponized within prisons. A provision of the Thirteenth Amendment, which banned slavery, allows the state to force labor on the incarcerated. In most states, that labor includes working with crops and on farms for pennies, if they’re paid at all.
The gardens are part of her mission to “seduce and destroy.” This entails introducing those wary of abolition to its foundational principles by way of a garden in bloom—and then encouraging them to “imagine a landscape without prisons,” as inscribed on the frame of the garden beds.
“I’m talking about destroying ignorance and complicity and our inurement to punishment—our ignorance around the belief that the only way we can respond to harm is through punitive mechanisms,” sumell says. “Plants represent an antidote to that in the ways that they are generative and grow together and create their own communities.”
The incarcerated gardeners typically approach Freedom to Grow after hearing about its work and wanting a garden of their own. Occasionally, recommendations come from like-minded initiatives like Solitary Watch, a nonprofit newsroom focused on harsh prison conditions, or Nicole Fleetwood’s Marking Time, a contemporary art exhibition exploring the impact of the prison system.
Although all gardeners have spent time in solitary confinement, that’s not a requirement for participation in the project. Through written correspondence, they share sketches of the gardens they’d like to see planted, and Freedom to Grow’s staff and supporters share pictures as they evolve. While Annenkovna manages most of the gardens, a few are tended by committed volunteers.
When the St. Charles garden was established last October, supporters and neighbors stopped by to offer support. In the months since, many more have paused to engage with its message, according to Caroline Durham, who has helped tend the garden through her work at the Center for Faith + Action.
A former public defender who grew up in the neighborhood, Durham spent years condemning the harms of solitary confinement. “But to see not just the exterior but the internal space has been really powerful,” she says, balanced by “the fun and the joy of having my hands in the soil.”
“I’m talking about destroying ignorance and complicity and our inurement to punishment.”
The St. Charles garden was completed almost 10 years after sumell began the Solitary Gardens project, and she decided it would be her last. The concept is open source and has already been picked up by others, like Planting Justice, a farm in Oakland, California, that employs formerly incarcerated people and is creating three Solitary Gardens of its own.
Given St. Charles’ prominent place in the city’s history, sumell says, “building a prison cell-turned-garden-bed out of sugarcane, cotton, and tobacco, where all of this confluence of fucking wealth from those crops exists, on a corner, just out in the open, is an appropriate bookend.”
The Seed of the Solitary Gardens
In a shaded oasis in the sun-drenched Seventh Ward, sumell tells the story of the garden that started it all.
In 2001, while living in San Francisco, where she’d received a master of fine arts degree from Stanford University, she met Robert King, who had been recently released from prison. King was one of the Angola Three, a trio of Black Panthers who were targeted for political activism while in Louisiana’s notorious state penitentiary in Angola, a former plantation site. The men spent a collective 114 years in solitary confinement.
Inspired to join a movement to free the other two men, Albert Woodfox and Herman Wallace, sumell moved to New Orleans to help organize. In letters, she asked Wallace to describe the house of his dreams. His vision, filled with cut flowers in vases and gardens that could feed hungry kids, informed “The House That Herman Built,” their joint art exhibition that brought the house to life—and brought visitors into the mind of a man kept 23 hours a day in a room narrower than his wingspan.
Wallace was released on October 1, 2013, when a federal judge ruled his indictment for killing a prison guard was unconstitutional. sumell calls his return home the greatest day of her life, though Wallace died of cancer just three days later.
The following year, sumell created the first Solitary Garden here in the Seventh Ward, out of “respect for Herman’s revolutionary commitment to centering plants and gardens, even from within concrete and steel,” sumell says.
The garden was filled with vegetables selected by Woodfox: squash, corn, and greens. It is still there, but its contents have changed to include a range of herbs. The space around it is now known as the Abolitionist Sanctuary, a place for people to gather and consider the possibilities of abolition. sumell lives next door. Beside her bed, she keeps a bouquet of paper flowers Wallace gave to her the first time they met without a partition between them, during a visit at Angola.
By her bedside, jackie sumell keeps a bouquet of paper flowers given to her by Herman Wallace the first time they met without a partition between them, during a visit to Angola prison. (Photo credit: Ben Seal)
To date, Solitary Gardens have been part of four successful parole packages, sumell says. She sees the gardens as an antidote to the prison industrial complex and systems that support it. It’s fitting that the gardens emerged in Louisiana, which sumell calls “the belly of the beast,” a state whose incarceration rate vastly outpaces the U.S. average.
After years cobbling together artist grants to sustain its work, Freedom to Grow, based on St. Bernard Avenue in the Seventh Ward, is now supported by the Mellon Foundation’s Imagining Freedom initiative, which will fund the operations for three years. In doing so, it will allow the burgeoning nonprofit to expand its work. This work includes a planned archive about abolitionist leaders; the Abolitionist’s Apothecary, which sells wellness products derived from the current gardens; and Liberation Landscaping, a budding effort to plant residential gardens across New Orleans.
Transforming Pain Into Medicine: The Abolitionist’s Apothecary
In the Lower Ninth Ward, a section of New Orleans devastated by Hurricane Katrina and still struggling to recover, sumell and Annenkovna harvest calendula, an anti-inflammatory, and nasturtium, a disinfectant, from several Solitary Gardens in various stages of decay. Unlike the materials that build a prison, the “revolutionary mortar” used in these garden beds is designed to break down over time, typically beginning about two years after they’re built. When it does, gardeners are asked what they’d like their dissolved cells to become.
For Warren Palmer III, who earned a horticulture degree while incarcerated, the answer was to reshape his garden into the wings of the caduceus, the symbol of medicine—fitting, given that he’s now Freedom to Grow’s apothecary adviser. Today, his garden is filled with skullcap (a sedative), primrose (an antiseptic), chamomile (a calming herb), and a range of other plants that provide medicine, including two types of cotton, which supports menstrual health. Like all Freedom to Grow gardens, small signs teach visitors about a plant’s medicinal qualities and its lessons on abolition. (An online companion offers further education on abolition, prompting visitors to contemplate questions about systems of oppression and cycles of trauma.)
“When you put a seed in the soil, who knows if it’ll flourish or prosper or what will become of it?”
When the plants are harvested, they’re brought to the Abolitionist’s Apothecary, a nook within the John Thompson Legacy Center, where Freedom to Grow is headquartered. The center is named in honor of an organizer who became a criminal justice reform advocate while spending 18 years wrongly incarcerated.
The shelves in the apothecary hold an abundance of dried herbs, leaves, and flowers, as well as bottles and jars of all shapes and sizes holding tinctures, salves, balms, and ointments. Those products will soon be sold in Planting Justice’s pay-what-you-can café in Oakland, as well as through a wellness CSA in New Orleans.
Palmer was incarcerated at 17 for second-degree murder and released 30 years later, in 2021. Like many incarcerated in Angola, nearly three-quarters of whom, like him, are Black, he was forced to pick cotton as part of the prison’s labor program. By inverting the way agriculture is used within prisons, Freedom to Grow is turning a source of pain into one of healing.
For Annenkovna, the pain of incarceration is still fresh. The Colorado Supreme Court overturned her conviction last year after she’d spent six years in prison. For two of those years, she designed her own Solitary Garden, filled with her “seven sisters”—a collection of plants that connects her to her roots in Azerbaijan, each with its own medicinal properties: peppermint for clarity of mind, rue for sinus infections, mullein for respiratory health, garlic to lower blood pressure, dill for pancreatic health, mustard for digestion, and yarrow for healing wounds and menstrual pain. When she first walked into the apothecary, she found her seven sisters, harvested from her Solitary Garden and blended into a tea to help heal those harmed by the criminal legal system.
“I looked up and she was holding the jar,” sumell says, “and I thought, ‘Oh my god, it’s all working.’”
Putting Lawns to Use: Liberation Landscaping
At The First 72+, a transitional home for formerly incarcerated men re-entering society a mile from downtown New Orleans, Annenkovna manages three garden beds planted as a pilot for Liberation Landscaping. Community members who take part will pay to have their lawns transformed into medicinal forests to supply the apothecary and provide jobs for formerly incarcerated people.
This is a heavily symbolic place to launch this project. If Louisiana is the belly of the beast, this is among its darkest chambers. Orleans Parish Prison towers behind the gardens, a reminder of the thousands who were abandoned there without power and food when Katrina hit. The prison never reopened, but another stands nearby, holding 1,500 inmates—well above its capacity—and yet another is being built. In March, Louisiana resumed executions after a 15-year hiatus, making Freedom to Grow’s work all the more urgent, sumell says.
“When you put a seed in the soil, who knows if it’ll flourish or prosper or what will become of it? Who knows of a soul, what will become of it?” Annenkovna says. “But it has the potential to contribute to society and give back and sustain and beautify and support others around it. That’s what plants do, and that’s what humans are also designed to do.”
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]]>The post How Big Ag Lobbyists Perpetuate Climate Inequity appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>In May 2024, the Union of Concerned Scientists (UCS) issued a report analyzing the lobbying efforts of agribusiness ahead of anticipated debate over a farm bill. That farm bill remains in limbo, but lobbyists have been active on Capitol Hill in recent weeks, as members of Congress debate the food and agriculture policy shifts contained in Trump’s “big, beautiful” budget reconciliation bill.
Money and lobbyists—a term coined for people who once waited in lobbies to speak to members of Congress—are intertwined in U.S. politics. Lobbyists act as influencers on behalf of special-interest groups. They help finance political campaigns and attend fundraisers for a chance to have their positions heard by legislators over breakfast, lunch, or drinks. The more money a lobbyist spends, the more face time he or she tends to get with a lawmaker (so long as the Supreme Court continues to protect money as free speech).
That leaves many Americans with little say in political decision-making and, according to Pew Research, “widespread dissatisfaction with the role of money in American politics.”
“This system also creates challenges for underserved producers, beginning farmers, and farmers of color in particular to enter the profession and start small farms, which are some of the most diversified operations.”
None of this is news to people who follow policy. However, what surprised UCS Food and Environment Program Scientist Omanjana Goswami, who co-authored the 2024 study with Karen Perry Stillerman, deputy director of the program, was the rise in these lobbying efforts by agribusiness.
Though Big Ag’s activities are often overshadowed by the massive influence of the oil and gas industry, the UCS analysis showed that these two entities are interconnected. The hundreds of millions of dollars they collectively spend on lobbying efforts create a democratic inequality wherein most people living in the United States have little say over the laws that dictate how we grow our food and what impact that has on the climate.
Industrial agriculture creates water scarcity, chemical pollution, soil degradation, and biodiversity loss, and it is a major driver of climate change through greenhouse gas emissions. The UCS report found that the “pay-to-play” lobbying system minimizes, in particular, the voices and the needs of small and midsize farms, diverse farmers, food workers, and farmworkers and prioritizes corporations, all while adding to the climate crisis.
Goswami recently spoke to Civil Eats to help explain the connection of agribusiness with oil and gas and what needs to be done to change a system that perpetuates climate inequality.
What is the relationship between agribusiness and the fossil fuel industry, and how does it impact climate change?
If you look at who the major lobbyists are, they represent big [agricultural] manufacturers that make fertilizers, chemicals, herbicides, pesticides, and insecticides, which need inputs of energy, in particular nitrogen fertilizer. There is this circularity and kind of quid pro quo between agribusiness and the oil and gas industry.
Our highly energy-intensive, monocultural farming system has a very high negative impact when it comes to climate. You’re constantly adding chemical inputs to an already stressed system, which then makes your energy inputs go up—and your negative climate impacts go up at the same time.
If food policy prioritizes corporate needs, how does that impact the well-being of people, the environment, and the climate? What sorts of climate inequalities does this system create or contribute to?
This system—how it’s set up and how the current administration is also moving it—is unfortunately where profits take precedence over people and the environment. There is something called a tipping point in climate science, and we’re pushing closer and closer to that tipping point, when perhaps we will not be able to bounce back, as nature has the capacity to do right now.
This creates inequities in an already inequitable system, where the burden falls on certain disadvantaged communities, certain disadvantaged races, people who already have difficulty, either in the place where they live—in terms of quality of air and water and resources that they have access to—and then just overall, making it inequitable for them to be able to breathe and live free.
This system also creates challenges for underserved producers, beginning farmers, and farmers of color in particular to enter the profession and start small farms, which also are some of the most diversified operations. They are being squeezed out of the system, because farms are getting larger and larger. That is a trend that you can observe throughout the food and farming system: The first people to leave farming are farmers of color—disadvantaged, underserved producers.
“[Our food] system doesn’t give us a choice on what food we eat, how it’s grown, or what we buy at the grocery store. The system is set up for big agribusiness to keep profiteering.”
A significant section of the report explores the lobbying efforts of the Farm Bureau, which spent nearly $16 million on farm bill lobbying alone between 2019 and 2023. What did you conclude about how it operates?
Most people think of the Farm Bureau as a leading state-based and national organization made up of farmers and advocates for farmers. But if you dig deeper, the Farm Bureau is really one of the worst actors when it comes to agribusiness and lobbying. It is actually one of the biggest climate deniers when it comes to climate- and equity-based issues.
What needs to change for lawmakers to focus on improving climate and equity? And what motivates you to continue advocating for this cause?
People need to realize how little choice they have in the system. [Our food] system doesn’t give us a choice on what food we eat, how it’s grown, or what we buy at the grocery store. The system is set up for big agribusiness to keep profiteering.
The biggest movement we need right now is for people to rise up and respond to this moment and collectively call for change in the system, to go to their elected officials in Congress and call for more transparency. Calling for more transparency, calling for more data, helps groups like us, groups who keep an eye on things like this.
Secondly, there are several marker bills in Congress that ask for equitable measures within larger pieces of legislation [such as the farm bill]. So basically, call on members of Congress and demand that equity-focused, climate-focused measures [continue to] be included.
As saddening and as discouraging as the environment can be right now, I think what keeps me motivated is knowing that I am definitely not in this fight alone.
This interview was lightly edited for length and clarity.
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]]>The post Civil Eats Wins a James Beard Award for Coverage of Farmworker Heat Protections appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>On Saturday night, in Chicago, surrounded by peers in the food and journalism worlds, Civil Eats won a 2025 James Beard Foundation Media Award for excellence. Former Staff Reporter Grey Moran’s deeply reported story “Florida Banned Farmworker Heat Protections. A Groundbreaking Partnership Offers a Solution” came in first in the Health and Wellness category.
The Beard awards are widely considered to be the Oscars of the food world. The awards were established more than 30 years ago to honor the country’s top restaurants, chefs, cookbook authors, broadcasters, and journalists, and grew so large that the Media Awards is now a separate event, recognizing cookbooks, television shows, podcasts, print and online media, and more.
Moran’s incisive piece about Florida’s ban of farmworker heat protections explored the Fair Food Program (FFP), a successful grassroots effort to implement alternative protections for Florida farmworkers.
Former Staff Reporter Grey Moran accepts a James Beard Foundation Media Award on Saturday for their win in the Health and Wellness category.
We’ve long reported on the FFP, an initiative of the state’s legendary Coalition of Immokalee Workers, which helps build equity, respect, and transparency into the food supply chain. The farmworkers draft their own workplace safety rules, reflecting the hazards they face in the workplace, and they can report any violations to a third-party council that is available around the clock. Consumers who buy food with the FFP certification can rest assured that those farmworkers have a say in implementing and defending their own rights as the threat of extreme heat deepens.
As Florida’s ban on worker heat protections went into effect, our story helped build momentum for this groundbreaking solution—not just in Florida, but anywhere workers lack legal protections from extreme heat and other hazards.
Following publication of Moran’s piece, a wave of articles extolling the Fair Food Program began to appear, including in Modern Farmer, NPR, an NBC affiliate in Southwest Florida, USA Today, and the national Latino radio network Radio Bilingue. Moran also discussed the story on two radio programs: KALW Public Media and Food Sleuth Radio.
The Civil Eats team was also nominated in the Columns and Newsletters category for The Deep Dish, our members-only newsletter. We create and send one of these mini-magazines every six weeks or so, building each around a single theme, with deeply reported feature stories, follow-ups on previously reported stories, sneak peeks at what our editors and reporters are working on, and more.
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]]>The post This Man Is Feeding California’s Incarcerated Firefighters appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>In January, as hurricane-force winds caused wildfires to raze entire neighborhoods in Los Angeles County, more than 7,500 firefighters risked their lives to save people, pets, homes, and communities. Among them were an estimated 1,100 inmates from the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation. This month, as California’s traditional fire season commences with the dry, hot summer, many of those individuals will be back.
Incarcerated individuals have been on the fire lines in the Golden State since 1915, but their numbers have increased in recent years as wildfires have intensified. The Anti-Recidivism Coalition (ARC), a Los Angeles-based organization working toward criminal justice reform, supports those firefighters with quality food unavailable in prison, serving more than 800 during the recent wildfires.
“The goal was to give them different meals based on what they would ask for but also give them the opportunity to experience different kinds of cooking.”
ARC’s executive director, Sam Lewis, himself formerly incarcerated, worked as a butcher in the prison kitchen while serving a 24-year sentence. Now, he and formerly incarcerated prison chefs active in ARC are advocating for incarcerated firefighters—also known as hand crews—and sharing with them a wide range of foods at the fire camps.
Thanks to donations from the public, local restaurants, and food companies, the firefighters battling the L.A. fires were provided pulled pork sandwiches, brisket sandwiches, cheeseburgers, and vegetables. This is a noted departure from the substandard meals people in prison typically receive, meals that often lead to chronic health problems.
ARC will be supporting incarcerated firefighters again this fire season, throughout the state, and Lewis will be there alongside, cooking and putting donations to good use. ARC would also like to see incarcerated firefighters receive significantly higher wages, supporting pending legislation that would allow them to earn a starting hourly pay of $7.25 during active fires and built-in annual wage increases.
These firefighters work long hours, comparable to conventional firefighters, and are vulnerable to suffering serious injuries. Yet most earn meager wages, starting as low as $5.80 per day. The least skilled of the incarcerated firefighters earn about $30 a day for completing 24-hour shifts during active emergencies, a sum critics say is far too little for the risks they take.
Sam Lewis, ARC’s executive director. (Photo courtesy of ARC)
Lewis spoke to Civil Eats about why his organization makes food a priority for these firefighters, and how improving their pay could transform their lives.
Why was it important to ensure that the hand crews had a wide range of foods during the fires earlier this year?
The public wanted to know how they could say thank you to these incarcerated individuals that were putting their lives on the line to save people’s property. So we came up with the idea, with the permission of the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation, that we could provide them with different meals across the board. The goal was to give them different meals based on what they would ask for but also give them the opportunity to experience different kinds of cooking.
One chef who prepared meals for the firefighters, Jeff Henderson, has an interesting backstory, one that gives him a personal connection to them. Can you say more about him?
Yes, Chef Jeff was the only formerly incarcerated chef that I knew of who came and cooked. He purchases the food, cooks it, and then after the meal is cooked, we reimburse him for the cost. He cooked what he calls “correctional chicken” [the fried chicken he learned to make in prison with all-purpose flour and seasonings] and hot link sandwiches with cheese, and then they had a dessert. The dessert was sent by the cookie company Crumbl.
Chef Jeff is self-taught. Cooking was his dream. He came home a long time ago and started his program [Chef Jeff Project]. He’s written a number of books. His food is incredible. He trains a lot of the kids who work in some of the hotels in Las Vegas, where he’s based. So, if you go to those hotels and you have amazing food there, a lot of times that’s the touch of Chef Jeff.
Although you’re not a chef, food service was one of your responsibilities when you were incarcerated. What was it like to be a butcher in prison?
When I was at Soledad [State Prison], I was the lead butcher for about two years. We prepped meals for about 6,000 people, so anything that had to do with meats, any dairy products, like cheese, was our responsibility. We prepped everything—roast beef, spaghetti and meatballs, hamburgers, chicken. It was our job to make sure that it was prepped, properly stored, and then sent out to the main line for people to eat.
Do you feel like food has improved in prisons or do you think there’s still a long way to go?
So, here’s the thing: It depends on the cook. We had a guy over the entire kitchen who was incredible. This guy would go out and sample food and bring it back. He was from Louisiana, so he was serious about what he would purchase. Each institution gets a budget, so his job was to find the food and spend his budget wisely. He really worked hard to make sure that we had great fresh fruit, and he wouldn’t get the processed turkey because his attitude was like, “If I’m not going to eat it, I’m not going to serve it to the people I’m feeding.” He would also make sure you had enough vegetables on your tray.
There has been some serious effort by the Department of Corrections to move to a healthier diet, because on the back end of having people incarcerated, the cost goes up as their health goes down. But if you feed people properly, their health can be maintained at a higher level, which causes the cost on the back end of incarceration to go down.
ARC supported incarcerated firefighters in January by making sure they had access to foods they wouldn’t normally eat and that they were properly hydrated while risking their lives. And you were inundated with donations of sports drinks for the firefighters?
There were just pallet loads of those coming in. We even had some of our ARC members transport some of those drinks to different base camps. There was so much that sometimes, it was like, “Could you stop donating?” [Laughter] It was a beautiful thing because it just shows the unity of Los Angeles.
“We should always believe in the human spirit and resiliency and understand that our job as a society is to help people become the best version of themselves, even when they’ve made bad choices and possibly have hurt people.”
Beyond food, ARC is seeking donations to help improve the lives of incarcerated firefighters overall once they leave prison. Can you describe the needs these funds will meet?
The donations are for scholarships for [incarcerated] firefighters coming home who want to continue to be firefighters. When a person comes home from incarceration and they go into a training center and become a certified firefighter, then they’re deployed. They can be deployed anywhere in the state, and they have to cover the cost of living, of moving. They have to get an apartment, first and last month’s rent, so that’s one thing that the scholarships will cover.
ARC is also advocating for recently introduced legislation to give incarcerated firefighters higher wages. If this bill passes, how might it change their lives?
The legislation, Assembly Bill 247, was introduced by Assemblymember Isaac Bryan. The money would go on the [prisoners’] books, so they could do what they would like to with it. In some instances, [prisoners] may have restitution to pay, so the state would take 55 percent of that. If they don’t have restitution, or if the restitution has been paid, then they can use it for the commissary. They could just save the money until they’re released also. Walking out of prison, normally, you have $200 in gate money. Ask yourself, how far does that take you, especially in today’s economy?
What is your response to members of the public who are concerned that incarcerated firefighters are being exploited?
The firefighter program is a voluntary program. You have to apply to go to the fire camps, and there’s a whole process that you have to go through, including medical clearance, in order to be accepted. The CDCR health care staff have to clear you—physically and mentally. Because if you think about it, it’s hard work.
Incarcerated firefighters also have to be what you call minimum custody status, which is the lowest classification of security. They have to have eight years or less on their sentence. Disqualifying things that can stop them from going to fire camp are convictions like sex offenses, arson, or [prison] escapes. Other things that are disqualifying are active warrants, medical issues, or high-notoriety cases.
If a person goes to a fire camp, it’s voluntary. If they get there and don’t want to continue, they don’t have to. They can go back without being written up. One of my young people that I mentored decided it wasn’t something that he wanted to do, and so he returned to the facility.
How long have you all been supporting incarcerated firefighters?
We helped establish the Ventura Training Center (VTC) in 2018. That’s the program where people come out of incarceration, go through the training, and become certified firefighters. With the passage of additional legislation after the implementation of VTC, people who are coming home now [after having trained to fight fires] can also get their record expunged so they can get their EMT license, which allows them to become municipal firefighters if they can find a job. We have three or four [ARC alums] who are working [as EMTs] in Orange County, and the rest work for CAL FIRE [wilderness fire protection].
Are you hopeful that public perception of the incarcerated community will change in the wake of the wildfires?
I would hope that this tragic event and the attention that’s being given to our incarcerated hand crews that support firefighters help the entire public understand that people change, that redemption is possible. We should always believe in the human spirit and resiliency and understand that our job as a society is to help people become the best version of themselves, even when they’ve made bad choices and possibly have hurt people. That does not necessarily make them bad people. That makes them people that have done bad things that can be corrected.
This interview was lightly edited for length and clarity.
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]]>The post Op-ed: Save California’s Crab Culture From Drowning in Regulations appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>It’s 5 a.m. when my alarm goes off. I roll out of bed and put on a long-sleeve shirt, a hoodie, a puffer jacket, and the thickest pants I own—it’s gonna be cold out there. My dad’s waiting for me in the kitchen with a tumbler of coffee, a piece of peanut butter toast, and a big smile on his face.
“Are you ready to bring home some crab?” he asks.
We drive to meet my grandpa on his boat, docked in the Sausalito harbor, 30 minutes north of San Francisco. It’s still dark out, but my grandfather’s energy says otherwise. The motor is already running, and we take off. Streaks of sunrise peek out from the horizon as we pass under the Golden Gate Bridge. The pots have been soaking, sitting on the ocean floor since yesterday morning, and they should be full of Dungeness crabs that fell for our delicious trap of stinky old chicken meat.
My grandpa, Stanley Ross, a self-identifying fisherman living in my hometown of Oakland, has fished these waters for over 40 years. Crabbing is more than a hobby for him, me, and other recreational fishers; it’s a cultural touchstone in the Bay Area, a way we connect to the natural rhythms of the region. Our winters and springs have been marked by celebratory crab dinners, friends and family squeezing around a dining room table covered with butter-stained newspapers.
The author, admiring the catch. (Photo credit: Stanley Ross)
My grandpa lets me drive the boat, and I feel alive as the ocean sprays my face and salty winds whip my long hair around. I see an eruption of misty white water in front of me and slow down. Suddenly, a dark mass rises from the blue sea, and a barnacle-covered tail gives a wave before it disappears into the waters below. A whale. I am in awe.
Crabbing reminds me that there is so much life beyond the land, and that I am a foreign visitor in the homes of these magnificent creatures. Crabbing also shapes my understanding of what it means to eat locally and sustainably—to close the gap between animal and consumer, to know the source of my food and the people who provide it.
Growing up alongside my grandpa, I have come to appreciate the ways that many recreational crabbers approach the practice, tossing back females and respecting the minimum size limit of 5 ¾ inches and daily catch limit of 10 crabs per person. No one is patrolling usually, but we honor these rules so that the little ones can grow up and reproduce, keeping the fishery healthy and productive.
But the crabbing culture is at risk of disappearing because of environmental regulations enacted to protect whales, and I am concerned that unless we take immediate and urgent action to balance sustainable crabbing with whale protection, we may lose this vital part of Bay Area culture.
The Push and Pull of Regulation
It’s a complicated issue to be sure. Each year, a number of humpback whales get entangled in fishing and crabbing gear as they pass through California’s waters to and from tropical breeding grounds—gear from fisheries that put nets, lines, or other equipment into the ocean for long periods.
These unfortunate encounters, which can end with fin amputations, wounds, or painfully slow deaths, are increasing as humpback whales migrate closer to the coast, some even venturing into the Bay.
“It’s already hard as it is, but we are definitely getting choked out by the regulations.”
Intent on protecting this federally endangered species, the California Department of Fish and Wildlife has imposed harsh restrictions on the crab industry—like shortening the season and reducing the number of traps allowed—to minimize the risk of entanglement.
Historically, the Bay Area crabbing season has run from the first Saturday in November for recreational fishers and the second Tuesday in November for commercial, until June 30 for both. But for the sixth year in a row, the commercial season’s opening was delayed several months, and its end has been shortened.
This year, it closed two months early, on May 1, as dozens of humpback whales were spotted and another was found entangled in Monterey Bay. The recreational season still ends on June 30, but the use of crab traps is prohibited after May 15; hoop nets and crab snares, often trickier to use, are still allowed, though.
Before 2014, there were an average of 10 whale entanglements in fishing gear, including crab traps, per year off the U.S. West Coast. That number increased 400 percent to a historic high of 50 in 2015, prompting the creation of the California Dungeness Crab Fishing Gear Working Group.
It remains high. In 2024, for instance, 31 humpback whales were entangled in commercial fishing gear off the west coasts of the U.S., Canada, and Mexico, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) Fisheries. Eleven of those were entangled in Dungeness crab pots. That number is higher than for any other year since 2018.
It is not well known why entanglements have increased, but there are likely several factors. For one, whale populations have been rebounding since 1986, when the International Whaling Commission adopted a temporary ban on commercial whaling that is still in place in most countries. It’s also likely due to increased public awareness of the issue and improved avenues for reporting, such as the West Coast Marine Mammal Stranding Network.
Climate change is also a factor: The warmer ocean waters near the shore attract krill and small schooling fish, and their 50-foot-long predators follow. This overlaps with Dungeness crab territory, which is within three miles of land.
Unfortunately, the regulations meant to protect whales are threatening to wipe out the livelihoods of small-scale fishers who are committed to crabbing sustainably.
The conflict between protecting endangered species and supporting vital cultures is at play in other places as well. In Alaska, where a plan aims to revive the Chinook salmon population by suspending all fishing activities in the Yukon River until 2030, Native leaders have expressed concern that their communities are disproportionately burdened.
The plan cuts off an essential cultural resource that has sustained Indigenous people in the area for thousands of years, and they were not properly consulted in its development, they say.
‘A Tough Way to Make a Living’
For small-scale commercial fishers like Willie Norton of Bolinas, California, the delays in the season start are not just inconvenient, they are financially ruinous.
“Opening later is bad for us,” Norton told me. “The holidays are when a lot of crab is sold, when everybody wants to eat crab. It hurts everybody quite a bit; the market loss is big.”
This season, the commercial fishery didn’t open until January 5, after the critical Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s holiday market had passed. Not only did fishermen have less time to crab, but they also were under a mandatory order to use 50 percent less gear.
A study from Nature estimates $13.6 million in annual losses across the California Dungeness crab fishery due to whale entanglement mitigation and other disturbances in the 2019 and 2020 seasons.
Crabs in the morning often mean a family feast that night. (Photo credit: Samantha Ross)
Norton prides himself on only using sustainable fishing practices—“all rod and reel, fishing one local spot,” he said—and selling only the highest quality seafood to the Bay Area.
“[It’s] already hard as it is, but we are definitely getting choked out [by the regulations],” he explained. “It’s a tough way to make a living.” Tough can quickly turn to deadly: The pressure to make every day of the shortened season count compels fishers to venture out even in the most dangerous conditions.
It’s not just the commercial sector that feels the blow. My grandpa laments the way crabbing has changed. “I looked forward to going recreational crabbing,” he said. “[Because of the regulations,] I could not use the traditional pots; I had to use a hoop net. It’s very difficult and it’s not enjoyable.”
Unlike a crab trap, a hoop net cannot be left to soak, must be pulled up every two hours, and relies on the chance that a crab will swim into the net, making the process more labor-intensive and less fruitful.
Supporting Sustainable Crabbers
The Trump administration has pushed for broad deregulation of American fisheries, arguing that loosening restrictions will boost economic growth. But near-total deregulation is not the answer either.
No one, not even the fishers who suffer the greatest regulatory burden, wants to see whales harmed. Each entanglement is a tragedy, not to mention a violation of the federal Endangered Species Act, and regulations are important protections. After all, the commercial whaling moratorium is what allowed the population to rebound after being hunted to near extinction.
A solution is underway, and I would advocate that we need to support small-scale crabbers in being a part of it. Pop-up crab traps, a new technology, eliminate any chance of entanglement—a win-win situation for both fishers and whales.
Unlike traditional crab pots, which are constantly tethered to a buoy by unattended lines, these traps are ropeless and use a remote-controlled, acoustic release system to bring traps from the ocean floor to the surface. This experimental gear is currently being tested locally just south of Pigeon Point in California, supported by the conservation group Oceana.
But because this technology is expensive, without financial support small fishers will be left behind as the “big guys” advance. Norton put it plainly: “If they require the parachute traps [pop-up gear], most local fishermen will be choked out.”
The Center for Biological Diversity is petitioning the federal government to require trap fisheries to convert to ropeless gear by 2026. I would like to expand on that petition: the U.S. Department of Commerce must also provide funding to help small-scale fishers—who have already invested tens of thousands of dollars in their traditional equipment— make this transition to whale-safe gear.
Stanley Ross’s boat, the Slam V, heads back to dock at the Sausalito Yacht Harbor. Why the V? Author Ross says, “It’s named for Stanley, Lloyd (my dad), Amanda (my aunt), and Martha (my grandma). It is a 1972 Betram 38 foot. My grandpa bought it as a salvage in the late ’80s; it was partially submerged and he completely restored it.”
As consumers, we can also change how we shop for crab. If we do not want to see a seafood market dominated by corporations with less accountability and care for the ecosystem, we must buy local, seasonal crab from trusted, small-scale fishers.
And we must support restaurants and markets that prioritize sustainable sourcing. The Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch is a helpful tool for people hoping to be more conscious consumers.
The future of the Bay Area’s crabbing culture depends on our ability to regulate with nuance and balance—recognizing that true ecological stewardship means protecting both marine wildlife and the human communities who live in harmony with them.
After that crab harvest with my grandpa, we sat around the dinner table with my family, cracking into the shells and slurping out every last succulent morsel. The impressive sight of the whale I had seen that morning was still at the forefront of my mind.
I believe that whales and fishers are not enemies. We are all part of an interconnected web that makes the beautiful, bountiful meal we shared possible.
Ross is an undergraduate student in Liz Carlisle’s course, “Food, Agriculture, and the Environment,” offered this spring at the University of California Santa Barbara. Civil Eats partnered with Carlisle on writing and editing guidance for this story.
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]]>The post Farmworker Youth Take to the Streets as Deportations and Displacement Threaten Their Parents appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>This is the second of two articles about the strawberry workers of Santa Maria. Read the first story here. All photos by David Bacon.
Santa Maria’s city center, with its gritty mix of old Western-wear stores and chain mall outlets, is the place where the valley’s farmworker marches always start or end. A grassy knoll in a small park, at the intersection of Broadway and Main, provides a natural stage for people to talk to a crowd stretching into the parking lot and streets beyond.
This March 30, the day before Cesar Chavez’s birthday, a high school student named Cesar Vasquez walked up the rise. He was surrounded by other young protesters, all from Santa Maria farmworker families, 80 percent of whom are undocumented. He turned to face the several hundred marchers who’d paused there, and began reciting a stream of consciousness poem, fierce gestures punctuating his emotion-filled words. The noisy crowd before him grew silent.
“If we don’t work hard, the supervisors say we will be replaced, they will send in the H-2As.”
“We’re meant to work in the fields,” he cried out. “[And told,] ‘Don’t be too loud because then you’re seen as just the angry brown kid ’ . . . The system has pushed us onto our knees into the rows of dirt where the berries lie. We are tired of being called essential workers but not even treated as essential humans . . . We are going to do something about it . . . We can no longer be suffocated. It is our time to breathe, our time to rise, our time to fight!”
Brave words, given that he’d helped organize the day’s march to counter pervasive fear in Santa Maria of immigration raids and detentions and worry over how growers are hiring more and more temporary guest workers from the H-2A visa program.
Concepcion Chavez, who went on strike briefly in 2024, described that impact. “The company always keeps them [the H-2 workers] separate from us. If we don’t work hard, the supervisors say we will be replaced, they will send in the H-2As.”
Top: Cesar Vasquez shouts out his poem to the crowd of marchers on March 30. Center: Two young women listen to Vasquez speak at the march. Bottom: At the march, a boy from a Mixteco (Mexican Indigenous) farmworker family with a hand-drawn portrait of Cesar Chavez.
As Vasquez spoke, the strawberry season was just getting underway—the time of year when people depend on going back to work after months of winter and unemployment. Instead of relief, however, most farmworkers this year have found themselves swinging between fear of being picked up by “la migra” on their way to work and anger that wages haven’t gone up despite the sharp rise in rents and grocery bills.
Normally, that anger would have resulted in work stoppages. Groups of strawberry pickers often withhold their labor at the beginning of the season to negotiate better piece rates with the Santa Maria Valley’s big growers. So far this year, however, there have been no strikes or slowdowns. The number of workers participating in marches like the one on March 30 for Chavez’s birthday, and a second on May Day, has dropped from previous years.
Hazel Davalos, co-executive director of the Central Coast Alliance United for a Sustainable Economy (CAUSE), says her organization has collected reports of about 40 undocumented farmworkers detained in Santa Barbara and Ventura Counties since President Trump took office.
Of any city, “Santa Maria has been hit the hardest,” she says. “Because of our know-your-rights work, it’s hard for ICE [Immigration and Customs Enforcement] agents to catch people at home, so they concentrate enforcement in public spaces.”
After the know-your-rights training, people understood they didn’t have to open their doors to ICE agents, so now the agents wait for people to leave home. “And while they have warrants for specific people, they often go beyond those names,” she said. “In a recent case, when they couldn’t find one man, they took his brother. The impact is a day-to-day fear in the community. Schools report children are afraid to come to class.”
At the beginning of the march, a volunteer passes out “red cards,” part of a know-your-rights campaign to help immigrants facing enforcement agents.
Francisco Lozano, a longtime activist in the community of Mixteco (Indigenous Mexican) farmworkers here, says, “They follow the cars of individuals they’re looking for, but if they don’t find the person, they’ll take some else. They wait outside homes and stop people when they leave to go to work.”
ICE has not responded to requests from Civil Eats for information on detentions in Santa Maria.
According to Fernando Martinez, an organizer for the Mixteco Indigenous Community Organizing Project, as the strawberry picking starts, “Our people are having to risk going to work, to pay their rent and for their basic needs,” he said. “But they go with the fear of not coming back home to their kids.”
“A lot of people have kids and they’ve been here for 15 or 20 years. This is what people consider home.”
That fear can make workers more reluctant to demand higher wages and better conditions. “It especially affects them when employers threaten to call immigration if they start organizing. It’s a big fear,” he said. “No one wants to get sent back to the country they left for a better future. A lot of people have kids and they’ve been here for 15 or 20 years. This is what people consider home.”
One purpose of the marches, therefore, is to push back against panic. This year, the key to their success has been the willingness of children who are documented to protest on behalf of their undocumented parents.
On February 18, Vasquez and his friends organized a walkout of 400 students in three high schools, three middle schools, and the local Hancock Community College to protest the threat of immigration raids. They demanded a two-mile safe zone around every high school, and even teachers participated. “Some kids marched five miles, for over two hours,” he says.
According to Vasquez, over three quarters of the students at Santa Maria High School come from immigrant families, and half have worked in the fields themselves. They were motivated not just by deportation threats, but also by the unrecognized sacrifice of their parents.
“For my whole life my mom and dad would leave home at 3 a.m. and get back at 7 p.m.,” he says. “They’re always working to make ends meet and always stressed out at the end of the month trying to meet the rent.”
A farmworker family at a 2024 march in Santa Maria, demanding a living wage. One sign reads, “Rent very high. Pay very cheap.”
This year, there’s fresh urgency motivating these young protesters: Those long, exhausting workdays are harder to get. “Many of us have no work or only get four or five hours before we’re sent home,” Lozano says. When workers go out to a field to ask a foreman or a labor contractor for a job, he says, they’re often turned away. Increasingly, people fear being displaced from jobs they’ve depended on for years. These longterm, experienced workers are the lifeblood of agriculture in the Santa Maria Valley.
Three farmworkers living in Santa Maria walk out of a field, after having been told by the foreman of a crew picking strawberries that there was no work for them.
At the same time, rents are rising and there are fewer available places to live. Both work and housing pressures, say local labor organizers, can be traced to an important element of the administration’s immigration policy: increasing the numbers of H-2A guest workers.
The Rise in H-2A Workers
The number of seasonal workers recruited from Mexico to labor in Santa Maria Valley fields, on temporary H-2A visas, has been growing every year. That increase is part of a national trend. Twenty years ago, the Department of Labor (DOL) issued 48,336 certifications to growers for workers brought to the United States with H-2A work visas.
In 2017, Trump’s first year in office, growers received 200,049 certifications, and in Biden’s last year, 2024, they received 384,900. The total number of farmworkers in the U.S. is about 2 million, and today, almost a fifth are temporary workers on H-2A visas.
H-2A workers, almost all of whom are young men, are often not treated fairly. They must sign contracts for a maximum of 10 months per year, after which they have to return home, usually to Mexico. They can only work for the grower who recruits them, and can be fired for protesting, organizing, or simply working too slowly.
Fired workers lose their visas and must leave the country and then are usually blacklisted by recruiters. This makes them very vulnerable to pressure and illegal conditions.
An H-2A worker hoists a load of flowers in a field in Lompoc, near Santa Maria.
In some states, the number of H-2A workers now exceeds the number of local workers. In Florida, with its anti-immigrant and anti-farmworker laws, growers’ 47,416 H-2A certifications last year covered over half of the 80,821 people employed on its farms. Georgia’s 43,436 certifications were for over three-quarters of its 55,990 farm laborers.
In Santa Barbara County, where Santa Maria is located, and in neighboring San Luis Obispo County, the total number of farmworkers is close to 25,000. The Employer Data Hub of the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, which verifies employers’ visa applications for H-2A workers, lists 29 growers and labor contractors employing a total of 8,140 workers, or at least a quarter of all the farmworkers in the two-county area. This is the highest concentration of H-2A workers in California.
The threats from the Trump administration of increased immigration enforcement have been accompanied by movements within farm groups—who strongly backed Trump’s election—to make it easier for growers to use the H-2A system, including by lowering wages and softening housing requirements. In 2020, in Trump’s first term in office, then Agriculture Secretary Sonny Perdue emphasized the government’s support for more H-2A workers. “That’s what agriculture needs, and that’s what we want,” he said at the time.
In her nomination hearing, Trump’s current secretary of agriculture, Brooke Rollins, told Congress that she’d modernize the H-2A program to “make sure that none of these farms or dairy producers are put out of business [by immigration enforcement].”
“There is a growing competition between the new migrants (the H-2A) and the old (the settled Mexican families).”
In his last term, Trump froze the wages of H-2A workers for two years, in effect lowering them because federal regulations would have required increasing them annually. The administration estimated that the move saved growers $170 million each year. In addition, Trump allowed growers to access, for H2-A housing, funds that had been earmarked for year-round farmworker housing.
He also allowed growers to use, for H-2A workers, the federal labor camps started in the 1930s for housing farmworker families at affordable rents financed by USDA.
Impact on Local Workers
In Santa Maria, the increase in H-2A employment is connected to the growth of the strawberry industry. According to a report by Marcos Lopez, a staff member at the U.C. Davis Community and Labor Center, over half of the H-2A certifications in California come from the five counties that are the heart of the state’s strawberry industry, which produces 84 percent of all strawberries in the country.
“The H-2A program grows where the strawberry industry is growing,” Lopez says. While the H-2A wage is higher than the state’s minimum wage ($19.97 per hour versus $16.50), the productivity of H-2A workers is higher because growers recruit young men and then require them to work at a fast rate in order to keep their jobs. This is particularly important in strawberries because it is a highly labor-intensive crop.
As growers bring in the H-2A workers, Santa Maria farmworkers are feeling the impact–in terms of less work, rising rents, and inadequate wages.
Many local Santa Maria farmworkers, themselves immigrants (the majority undocumented) who have been living and working in the valley for years, say they are often sent home after working only four or five hours, and that they can’t get steady work every day. Since they rely on the strawberry season to save enough to get through the leaner months of winter, the loss of hours can reverberate through the rest of the year.
In a study of the social impact of the H-2A program in Salinas, demographer Rick Mines predicted that “the older settled workers will be getting less work as their younger co-nationals [the H-2A] replace them in the fields.” That is how the H-2A program is likely to play out in Santa Maria as well, according to Martinez and others.
A worker picks strawberries in a field near Santa Maria.
Mines also looked at housing conditions in Salinas. “There is a growing competition between the new migrants [the H-2A] and the old [settled Mexican families]. This competition affects the availability of housing as the older migrants face higher prices and increased crowding in the apartments where most live.”
A strawberry picker, her son, and other members of her family sleep in one room in their Santa Maria apartment.
Similar pressures exist in Santa Maria. Growers are obligated to provide housing to H-2A workers, and in Santa Maria, in addition to housing those workers in complexes, the growers also rent houses in working-class neighborhoods. That has led to steep rises in rents, as growers outbid residents for leases.
“I rent my house for $3,000,” explains Francisco Lozano, “but the grower can pay $4,000 or $5,000 and put four people in each bedroom and the living room.”
In 2019, Santa Maria passed an ordinance requiring growers to obtain permits to house H-2A workers in neighborhoods with single-family homes. According to earlier reporting by the Santa Maria Sun, Jason Sharrett, representing the California Strawberry Commission in a city council meeting, called the ordinance unnecessary and “based on erroneous findings.”
Alexandra Allen, another grower, told the Sun she would have to use two units to house 12 workers instead of one, incurring greater costs. The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (under the Trump administration) threatened to sue the city for discrimination, and, according to reporting from the Santa Maria Times, the city withdrew the ordinance.
The rising number of H-2A workers means growers don’t have to raise wages to attract workers. As Martinez points out, “The price they’re paying per box of berries this year is too low—$2.30, the same as last year and the year before. But the cost of living has gone up a lot, so in effect, wages have gone down.”
Last December, according to the Santa Maria Times, MICOP and CAUSE asked Santa Barbara County to consider an ordinance that would set a $26 per hour minimum wage, and increase piece rates per box enough to guarantee that minimum. In response, the Times reported, Claire Wineman, president of Grower-Shipper Association of Santa Barbara and San Luis Obispo counties, told supervisors, “The economic realities do not support any local minimum wage increase, much less $26 per hour.”
“Without fair wages, the farmworkers will remain trapped in a cycle of poverty,” farmworker Reynaldo Marino said at the same hearing. “The real solution is an increase of wages.”
Lack of Protections for H2-A Workers
Cesar Vasquez sees workers walking and riding bikes from one of the big H-2A housing complexes a near his home. He says they’ve told him that three or four workers sleep in each bedroom, and that the food provided is often bad. “But they’re not going to march or protest with us because they know they can be sent back to Mexico any time,” he says. “I think the companies are just testing how low they can go.”
A bus for transporting H-2A guest workers to the fields, in front of the housing complex where many live. Right: the housing complex.
In 2017, the city of Santa Maria filed suit against a local landlord, Dario Pini, over extreme violations of health and housing codes in hundreds of apartments in eight complexes. One of them was the North Broadway complex. According to Noozhawk, a Santa Barbara County newspaper, city inspectors cited Pini for “deteriorated concrete walkways, accumulated trash, abandoned inoperable vehicles, plumbing leaks, unpermitted construction work, bedbug infestation, cockroach infestation, lack of hot water, faulty and hazardous electrical systems and broken windows, and missing window screens.”
The violations of H-2A workers’ rights continue. One case, State of California vs. Alco Harvest, claims that thousands of workers were not legally paid. Alco is the largest H-2A employer in the two-county area. Alco did not respond to requests for comment.
Corrie Meals, an attorney for California Rural Legal Assistance (CRLA) in Santa Maria, a party to the Alco case, believes that the state’s enforcement of the labor rights of H-2A workers is weak. “We try to avoid the Department of Labor,” she says, describing CRLA’s efforts on behalf of workers, “and there is little effective enforcement from the state housing and employment departments as well.”
Weak Federal Support for Local Farmworkers
The Department of Labor (DOL) is also responsible for enforcing the requirement that growers and contractors try to hire local residents before recruiting H-2A workers, and that they pay local workers at least as much as the imported laborers. However, in 2019, out of 11,472 employers using the H-2A program, the DOL only filed cases of violations against 431 employers, and of them, 26 were barred from recruiting for three years, with an average fine of $109,098.
The state Employment Development Department and DOL are jointly responsible for verifying that employers have made a good-faith effort to recruit local workers, but attorney Meals says they are allowed to simply post jobs on a website.
That lack of enforcement is likely to get worse. Over 2,700 DOL employees, or 20 percent of its workforce, have left the department in the wake of Trump executive orders and job cutting by Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency.
“God only knows how much smaller it will be when the RIFs [reductions in force] are announced,” one anonymous agency worker told The Guardian. DOL’s new chief of staff, Jihum Han, has threatened criminal charges against any department worker who speaks to the press.
Meanwhile, the California Department of Housing and Community Development has only three inspectors for all employer-provided housing in the state, including that for H-2A workers. In 2022, it failed to issue a single citation for illegal conditions and issued permits without making inspections.
In response to an investigation by CalMatters, department spokesperson Pablo Espinoza blamed budget shortfalls for lack of staffing. Nevertheless, he said, “the system seems to be working . . . Nothing is ever perfect.”
Karen Ross, Secretary of the California Department of Food and Agriculture, was the keynote speaker at the Santa Maria Strawberry Industry Recognition Dinner this year, held at the Fairpark in April and sponsored by the Santa Maria Valley Chamber of Commerce. Driscolls, the largest strawberry company in the world, received the Industry Partner of the Year.
Ross expressed concern about federal immigration enforcement policies, and told the grower audience, “We’re very hopeful that there will be bipartisan efforts to really focus on making the H-2A program work better.”
A 2024 march for higher wages passed in front of the Santa Maria Fairpark, where the strawberry festival was organized by growers to celebrate the beginning of the picking season.
In many ways, Santa Maria’s farmworkers, both local and H-2A, seem to be on their own. Yet despite the fear generated by immigration detentions, the labor violations, and, for local workers, the lack of work, Martinez believes that this spring’s marches have had an impact.
“They’re the way to empower our community and make people feel they’re not alone,” he explains. “We have to encourage them, wherever they are, to continue organizing, to take collective action to protect each other and to stand together. That’s how changes are made. It is the only way.”
Vasquez also thinks the community’s young people are ready. “A lot more kids are rising up to the occasion,” he says. “Some never spoke to a politician before, but now they’re losing their fear.”
At the March 30 farmworker march in Santa Maria.
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