Womanly Chats with Karen Washington
Womanly Chats
Issue No. 6: Food, Nutrition, and Access in Our Communities
Words - Amy Woehling
Illustration - Singha Hon
Karen Washington is the farmer activist who coined the term “food apartheid.” She is a community organizer in New York and a committed food justice advocate for Black and Brown folks. Through Rise & Root Farm and the Black Urban Growers (BUGS) organization, Karen prioritizes economic and land development for and by Black farmers.
Karen Washington is a dedicated farm activist based in New York who views farming and food as a tool for economic development and social capital. We spoke with her this summer to discuss her work with food justice and farming.
amy woehling: Tell us a little about your journey. Where are you from and how did you get where you are today?
Karen Washington: I grew up in New York City and never thought about farming. My parents said to go to school and get an education, so that’s what I did. My relationship with food was that it came from a grocery store and that my mom was a good cook. It wasn’t until I moved to the Bronx as a single parent of two, with a house and a backyard, that I started growing my own food. A tomato changed my life: I planted the seed and it grew, which inspired me to grow more food.
My advocacy began when a developer abandoned the lot across the street, which sat neglected from 1985 to 1988, until the community got together and turned it into a garden. Looking out my window now I can see it up and flourishing. That community garden is where my activism started. There were low-income, neighborhood people of color coming together. It was in that garden that I started to hear the social issues: no hot water, overcrowded schools, police brutality, drug activity. I began to see the food system along with the intersecting social issues. So I decided to get involved by becoming a community activist through the Northwest Bronx Community Clergy Coalition.
In 2008, I participated in a six-month program with the Center for Agroecology and Sustainable Food Systems in Santa Cruz, California where I learned how to grow and farm organically. But while I was out there, the questions that came up were, “Where are the people that look like me? Where are the Black farmers?” So, I came back and helped found the first Black Farmers & Urban Gardeners conference in 2010.
Here I am now, at 66 years of age, farming with my friends on our three acre farm (Rise & Root Farm) outside the Bronx in Chester, New York since 2014. I am a farmer activist. I look at the food system and health demographics and call out problems.
amy: So what does food apartheid mean, and why is it important to distinguish from a food desert?
Karen: “Food desert” is an outsider’s term. It describes a particular location but not access. The fact of the matter is that people in low-income neighborhoods and people of color have food, but we don't have healthy options. When you talk about “food apartheid,” you bring in the conversation at the intersection of food, race, geography, and economics. It’s the hard conversation that people don't want to have.
The term “food desert” makes people feel safe. It doesn't resonate as much as food apartheid because apartheid is about racial segregation. Why is it that the greatest country in the world can grow and raise enough food, but we can't get it back to the people that need it the most? Junk food floods low-income neighborhoods, while the healthy, organic food fills wealthy areas. Food deserts don't have that conversation; food apartheid does.
The narrative has to change. I was lied to about my people and our contribution to agriculture. No one ever talks about the contributions of African Americans when it comes to food. This country was built on the backs of enslaved African Americans and Indigenous people —crop rotation, irrigation, the tools that we use now—yet we have never gotten the credit. Once you start telling people the real U.S. history about food and the contributions of African Americans they look at things differently. It was very empowering to know that it was my people that fed this country.
“The term “food desert” makes people feel safe. It doesn’t resonate as much as food apartheid because apartheid is about racial segregation. Why is it that the greatest country in the world can grow and raise enough food, but we can’t get it back to the people that need it the most? Junk food floods low-income neighborhoods, while the healthy, organic food fills wealthy areas. Food deserts don’t have that conversation; food apartheid does. ”
amy: What roles do Black Urban Growers (BUGS), Rise & Root Farm, and Black Farmer Fund play in the fight for food justice?
Karen: BUGS was started to center the Black American experience. The conference reassures us that we do have a part in agriculture. We have hosted over 500 Black people to talk and take back their power. The conferences help people embrace their culture as they learn the history and talk about what we need to do as a group to move forward.
Rise & Root is more of a personal journey, a promise that I had with a group of friends. We realized that farming is hard and you can't do it alone. In 2014 the stars aligned when we came upon land in Chester, NY where we have been growing together for the last 6 years. It's a testimony of fortitude, of people dreaming big and following their passion. It is fully run by women—Black, white, LGBTQ— with hands in the ground.
The Black Farmer Fund was started regionally. It looks at the economic development and social capital of the Black community in regards to farming and food. Our work focuses on financial education and providing loans and grants to those in the local food community. We're about to launch a pilot program to get the community involved.
amy: What do you think food justice and food access should look like in the United States?
Karen: Food justice is not a phrase to use lightly. When you talk about achieving food justice, people with power have to either give it up, share it, or have it taken away from them, which is a hard thing to do because power is a drug. There is a divide when it comes to food access and food justice. If I could snap my fingers, justice would mean equity, not equality. Everybody would have a chance to own land and build wealth. It’s about people owning jobs and businesses and having equitable access to communal wealth. Back in the 19th century, Black folks did own land, but systemic racism, segregation, and the Great Migration led to us losing our land, our wealth, and a lot of our power. So give me my 40 acres—keep the mule—so I can grow some food and start building some wealth.
amy: How are communities across the U.S. working towards an equitable food system and how can folks become actively involved in the fight for food justice?
Karen: In order to do and to talk about food justice you have to be actively involved in dismantling the injustice that you see. What kills any sort of movement is complacency and silence. We’re starting to see people talk about Black Lives Matter, racial inequality, wealth inequality, and reparations. Giving back land is a form of food justice. You see people going back to the land, talking about trauma, talking about lack of land access, talking about developing youth leadership, talking about organizations that are white-led in communities of color and those leaders stepping down. So you're starting to see movement in that direction.
amy: This work can be mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually demanding. What does self-care look like for you?
Karen: I love books and I am a baseball fanatic. I'm a Yankee fan. So for me, it looks like fixing a good meal, listening to or watching a game, and having a glass of beer or wine. It takes me to a place where I don't have to think about the next thing that's happening. Also, my family has Zoom conversations every Tuesday and Saturday. When you can't touch, hug, kiss your family it becomes a mental thing. So calling my daughter, my grandchildren, my son-in-law, my cousins, my aunt, my family members and friends helps and I'm thankful for that.
