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The producers of high quality food are widely diverse as well. Many of the producers who were selling produce at the farmer’s markets yesterday in Louisville were native Kentuckians who seemed fairly well-off, while there are also many farmers and farm laborers in the region who are immigrants. My supervisor was introducing my roommate Vanessa and me to different vendors at the market and told us that several of them used to sell their produce at a farmers market in a low-income area of Louisville because they wanted to help increase access to fresh produce in those areas. However, the farmers were not earning enough at that market and had to start selling at the Douglass Loop market which is in a higher income area of the city. The farmers wanted to make their high-quality local foods available to a diverse population, but the prices were still too restrictive which limited the benefits for both producers and consumers.

The non-profit New Roots seeks to bridge this gap between farmers and low-income communities by delivering affordable market shares of local produce to areas where it is hard to find fresh food. People who qualify for SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) or WIC (Women, Infant, and Children) benefits pay twelve dollars for a box of produce worth twenty-five dollar.  New Roots then delivers the food to three different low-income neighborhoods to reduce the commute for poor populations. Additionally, the payment occurs a week in advance, which helps the farmers because they receive the payment ahead of time to help transport the local food. I am looking forward to learning more about the success and challenges of New Roots when I start volunteering with them at the Shawnee Fresh Stop this coming week. Their model is an innovative way to reconcile the differences between the producer of fresh, local foods and the people with the most limited access (but arguably most need) for those foods by making the delivery of local foods more economically viable for both producers and consumers.

Additionally, I met some of the members of La Minga this past week, which is an immigrant cooperative farm. Like Jen mentioned in her post, the people who are producing our food are often the most food insecure. La Minga strives to allow immigrant farmers to have access to land and resources where they can produce food, and share that food with others in the cooperative. This allows immigrants to produce and consume the food they are cultivating, while also cultivating relationships and knowledge at the same time. New Roots and La Minga are just two examples of ways to address the disparities of food access in Louisville. I am looking forward to learning about other models that strive give everyone the privilege to enjoy fresh, local food.

“Is it ultimately food for all or just a select few?”

This question recalls a discussion that arose at the young farmer’s panel at Middlebury this spring. Corie Pierce from Bread and Butter Farm spoke with no small amount of passion about the idea of sustainable food being unaffordable. In her experiences at the farmstand and the farmer’s market, she found herself constantly interacting with potential patrons who eyed her products longingly but left empty-handed, saying that they just couldn’t afford it. But these were not people struggling to find decent nutrition on food stamps, nor even people who–like her own family–she knew to be on subsidized healthcare. Many times, she said, these were people she knew to be faculty members at the College. While there are people for whom her food is simply and objectively prohibitively priced, for most people buying food from a place like Bread and Butter is a question of realigning priorities. The “select few,” then, are self-selected. But they are members of a socioeconomic swath that could also elect to prioritize locally-produced raw milk, organic eggs, and heirloom chicken.

There are many obstacles that need to be overcome to make sustainably grown food accessible to people for whom it is simply out of reach, either for economic, cultural, or geographic reasons. The most frustrating thing for me, though, is looking at people who could choose to redistribute their budgets to afford the food at their farmer’s market but who, for reasons that remain opaque to me, choose not to. Unpacking the misconception of un-affordability among people who could technically afford sustainable food seems to be a key step in making the select few into the select many.

In assessing the disparity between local foods producers and consumers, I think it is important to remember that sales support farmers’ livelihoods, and for many of these individuals farming is a business. Yesterday Nicole and I visited the Douglas Loop Farmers’ Market. While there, Stephen Bartlett, of Sustainable Agriculture Louisville (SAL), explained to us that many farmers who previously worked in the Smoketown/Shelby Park Farmers’ Market had moved their operations to Douglas Loop. Shelby Park is located in a low-income area of Louisville, and Bartlett explained that farmers simply were not earning enough revenue to justify holding a market in that location. In this instance demand was not high enough to justify the continued presence of the farmers’ market. In contrast to Shelby Park, Douglas Loop is located in the Highlands, a much more affluent neighborhood. Farmers have unsurprisingly experienced better business since the move.

I am sure many farmers selling local foods are strong proponents of food equity, but at the same time they must remain realistic about the economic viability of their operations. Though I tend to shy away from pure economics as an answer or justification, I do not think anyone would contest the fact that markets in low-income neighborhoods will not perform as well as markets in more prosperous areas. This trend has obvious implications for the availability of local foods and the reality of the “by whom/for whom” distinction noted by Ackerman-Leist. In fact, the distribution of farmers’ markets throughout Louisville confirms this pattern–the West End, another low-income area, has two markets, while the Highlands has four.

One initiative in Louisville I am particularly interested in is the use of the Electronic Benefit Transfer (EBT) system in farmers’ markets. I believe that allowing welfare benefits to be used at farmers’ markets has the potential to partially reconcile Ackerman-Leist’s “by whom/for whom” division. Some markets in Louisville accept state benefits, such as those provided through the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP), as payment, which could increase low-income families’ access to local foods sold at farmers’ markets. I am looking forward to exploring whether or not the use of the EBT system at markets has actually increased access among low-income demographics in Louisville.

For spring break my sophomore year, I went to my roommate’s farm in California. While on the farm, I was able to see many of the aspects of running a farm and meet many of the people who made this farm operate. However, I was unable to interact with the laborers as much as I probably should have. The workers on this farm were immigrants (presumably illegal) from Mexico. I never really questioned my roommate about the lives of these workers, because it had never occurred to me to think of their need for food. They were surrounded by fields of greens and fruits, how could they be hungry?

It wasn’t until I took the Local Food Geographies class my senior fall that I understood the impact of food on farm laborers. Many farm laborers, such as those on my roommate’s farm, are unable to access the food they need and desire. Native foods can be a commemorative and comforting indulgence for immigrants, so why don’t they grow their own food? The reality is that these workers hardly have the time to operate huertas for their own pleasure and consumption. The other issue is when workers are undocumented, they are unable to receive SNAP or other assistance for purchasing the food they need.

I later asked my roommate about the food access available to these workers and she said they were allowed to bring home some of the crops. While these workers may have access to the foods on my roommate’s diversified organic vegetable farm, other laborers working on monoculture fields do not share this same luxury and if they did, they would only take home one crop–definitely not enough for sustenance.

A lot can be done to alleviate this disparity, especially for the undocumented laborers who comprise a vast majority of the farm workers in America. I am not a policy expert, but it may be possible for government policies to recognize their efforts and provide them with support to create a more even production and consumption pattern of food in America.

Have you experienced examples of the disparity Philip implies between those who produce high-quality local food and those who are privileged to enjoy it?  Do you have some thoughts about how the realities of by whom and for whom might be more fairly reconciled?

The most successful organic farmers I’ve encountered come from big money. This gives them a safety net so they can take more risks than farmers that start from scratch and rely solely on produce sales as revenue. They can also afford to set lower prices, allowing their product to compete with non-organic, non-local lower-priced foods and reach a broader consumer base. Organic/local farming as a sole source of income is not known for being a profitable venture. It costs a lot in terms of inputs so, in order to make ends meet for poor farmers at the beginning of the supply chain, the final product inevitably ends up being super pricey. This creates a disconnect between producers and consumers—only wealthy organic farmers can cater to the needs of poor consumers, while only wealthy consumers can afford the prices set by poor farmers.

An interesting exception is the Union Square farmer’s market in Manhattan, where wealthy and poor farmers alike are able to charge high prices simply because they can (and they need to compensate for gas money spent driving there from farther away).

In reflecting on the kinds of people who can afford the time, resources and strength to attend a farmer’s market or farmstand and buy fresh produce, I’m realizing this whole system excludes some key demographics. The universal exclusion, of course, is low-income people on food stamps. Last summer while living with relatives in Manhattan I’d stop by the Union Square farmers’ market all the time–but mainly for the atmosphere. I loved that it served as a gathering place for like-minded individuals interested in local food systems and sustainability, but when it came to actually purchasing the food, I found the prices of fruit, veggies, milk—nearly everything at the market—to be way out of price range. I found it silly that food stamps were accepted at the market info tent, since the absurdly high cost gives little incentive for those in poverty to opt for putting food stamps towards this fresh, organic produce rather than cheaper alternatives and getting more bang for their buck. In the ‘city that never sleeps,’ there’s a farmer’s market every day, so someone could theoretically find a place any day of the week to obtain fresh produce, despite the fact that the nearest farm is a 45 minute drive outside the city. But despite this seemingly progressive nature of the city’s food system, only the uber-wealthy are able to make the most of that privilege due to the high prices at these markets.

Apart from the obvious income bias, I realized there is another often-overlooked demographic being marginalized by many farm markets: senior citizens.

While the elderly or handicapped have plenty of opportunities for discount prices at restaurants, how can they be expected to eat healthfully or locally when the only way they can access produce at farmers’ markets is by carrying a bag and walking from vendor to vendor, often on grass or uneven terrain? There are rarely shopping carts at farmer’s markets, let alone farmstands. Or people to help customers carry their bags.

After spending time at Middlebury’s food shelf (HOPE), where there are such shopping carts, I’m wondering if elderly folk might prefer coming here, where they have assistance from the warm, caring staff at HOPE. I’ve noticed two distinctive things about HOPE. 1) The entire staff of HOPE is female and 2) a majority of visitors at HOPE are elderly or at least middle aged. And of that majority, most are males. I’m not sure if this is just an observation or if there is a reason behind this. Before working here, I expected that a majority of our customers would be young single mothers with children struggling to make ends meet. That demographic does come in every so often, but for the most part, it’s elderly men. Maybe they just come here more often than they actually need to since they enjoy the company and chit-chat with employees. Obviously people come here because they are hungry and needy, but I think the value of HOPE is more than that–it creates a sense of community. The only issue is it contributes to a class divide in Middlebury, and resentment  voiced by those in poverty of “the goddamn college that drives prices up.”

Beyond the “social” appeal that draws people to HOPE, the food shelf is conveniently located adjacent to the ACTR public transport headquarters. I’m convinced a solution to all these demographic divides created by the local foods movement lies in improving community and connectedness at markets. If you focus on simply lowering prices at farmer’s markets, the solution seems daunting and almost impossible. Improve public transport and cultivate more of an all-inclusive community at the farmer’s market, with people who help each other out, and the market becomes a social space that is easily accessible. If the Middlebury farmer’s market were located near a public transit stop, I suspect more people would come regardless of price, and simply experiencing the atmosphere would improve their quality of life. Lower-income folk could come directly to the Middlebury farmers’ market, mingle with the farmers and actually see where their food is coming from, and at the end pick up leftover food fresher than it would be at HOPE (we usually take it directly from there and it sits for a few days). Even if the income divide persists, at least now there would be less of a social class divide and resentment if farmer’s markets were welcoming to people of all social classes.