Archive for category Interview
Torturing Women Prisoners – an interview with Victoria Law
Posted by APOC-Philly in Interview, Prisoners of War/Political Prisoners, Prisons on October 24, 2009
Torturing Women Prisoners — an interview with Victoria Law
By Angola 3 News
Victoria Law is a longtime prison activist and the author of the new book, Resistance Behind Bars: The Struggles of Incarcerated Women (PM Press), which was recently reviewed at Alternet. “This book is the result of seven and a half years of reading, writing, listening, and supporting women in prison,” Law says about Resistance Behind Bars, noting that each chapter in her book “focuses on an issue that women themselves have identified as important.” The chapters include topics as diverse as health care, the relationship between mothers and daughters, sexual abuse, education, and resistance among women in immigration detention. Resistance Behind Bars paints a picture of women prisoners resisting a deeply flawed prison system, which Law hopes will help to empower both the women held in cages and those on the outside working to support them.
In this interview, Law talks specifically about how women are affected by solitary confinement and other forms of torture in US prisons, and what women are doing to fight back. Exposing solitary confinement as torture has been the focus of recent campaigns in Maine, Pennsylvania, and around the US. This is also a central issue in the campaign to free the Angola 3, who are a trio of Black Panther political prisoners: Robert King, Albert Woodfox, and Herman Wallace. King was released in 2001 after 29 years in continuous solitary confinement. Woodfox and Wallace remain imprisoned and have spent over 36 years in solitary confinement, where they remain today.
Angola 3 News: What do you think of the case of the Angola 3?
Victoria Law: The case of the Angola 3 is one of the most visible (and damning) indictments of the U.S. prison system.
As broadcasted by NBC Nightly News, the widow of slain prison guard Brent Miller has even stated that she wants justice and that, if Woodfox and Wallace did not kill her husband (and there is so much evidence that they did not), they should be freed. It’s interesting to note how the voices of victims and their family are used to whip up pro-imprisonment hysteria, but when they speak out against railroading people, they are ignored. For example, the widow of Daniel Faulkner publicly condemns Mumia and urges people not to let out her husband’s alleged killer. The media loves this and uses her to play on public opinion against freeing Mumia. However, when Brent Miller’s widow Leontine Verrett says, “If these two men did not do this, I think they need to be out,” her words are ignored.
Albert Woodfox and Herman Wallace should be released. The fact that they have not been released clearly demonstrates the racism that is rife in the prison system and how “justice” isn’t really a factor in who goes to prison and why.
A3N: Do you consider the use of solitary confinement in US prisons to be torture?
VL: I most definitely consider solitary confinement a form of torture. Solitary confinement is used not only to break the woman (or person) who is resisting, but also to scare others around them into not only complying but ostracizing the person who is challenging prison rules or conditions. And, unfortunately, it often does.
A3N: What other practices in US prisons would you consider to be torture?
VL: I consider the whole prison system to be torture. But to narrow it down to actual practices: I would consider the use of strip status, in which all of a person’s clothes and belongings are removed from the cell, as a form of torture. You have to remember that over half of incarcerated women have suffered past abuse and trauma. To strip them of all of their clothing and place them in a bare cell with guards watching them retraumatizes them. I recently reread an account from Lisa Savage, a woman who was placed on strip status for talking to the other women on her unit about the psychological reprogramming of the Close Management unit (a unit where women are held in their separate cells 23 ½ hours a day). Being on strip status meant that everything was taken from her—clothes, toothbrush, bedding, and sanitary napkins. She wrote, “As bad luck would have it, I just started my monthly. Now, I must beg for a pad for hours before receiving it.”
Other practices that I would consider to be torture are:
- The use of male guards in female prisons
- The shackling of pregnant women while they are in labor
- Loss of access and custody to their children simply because they are incarcerated
- The denial of health care and the life-threatening slow health care in prisons
A3N: How is solitary confinement used against women prisoners? How does it effect women in ways that are different from male prisoners?
VL: Solitary confinement makes women more vulnerable to staff sexual assault since no one can see what is happening. In my book, I write about the experience of Christina Madrazo, a transsexual immigrant who was placed in INS detention. Originally, the INS (now called ICE) did not know what to do with her since her assigned gender at birth was male, but she identified (and was seeking asylum status) as a transgendered female. Madrazo was placed in solitary confinement where she was raped twice by a prison guard.
Even when they are not being physically assaulted, the women have no privacy—toilets are in full view of the cell door windows, guards can look through those windows at any time and, in many prisons, male guards can watch the women in the showers, on the toilet or when they are trying to dress or undress.
In addition, solitary confinement is used to punish women who have either reported being sexually assaulted by staff, or who have been discovered to have “consensual relationships” with staff members. I put “consensual” in quotation marks because, given the power dynamics in prison, especially the ability of guards and staff members to withhold services and/or provide small amenities, the relationship can never truly be consensual. I recently received a letter from a woman incarcerated in Colorado whose cellmate was accused of having a “consensual” relationship with a staff member. While the accusation was being investigated, the staff member was allowed to continue working in the prison. The woman was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the investigation and only released once the charge was found to be unwarranted.
Also, with women, there’s the prevailing notion that women need to be “good girls” and “to behave.” Thus, women are punished for behaviors that violate gender norms, behaviors such as spitting or cursing or not following orders, behaviors that men are not punished for. This is also why women are sent to segregation when they report sexual misconduct or engage in sexual activity; they’re violating what we, as a society, see as “good girl behavior.”
A3N: Do you believe activist prisoners are disproportionately targeted with solitary confinement?
VL: Yes! This is obvious in the case of the Angola 3. This has also been true among women who have been challenging prison conditions. Most female facilities have some form of solitary confinement. At California’s Valley State Prison for Women, the Special Housing Unit consists of eight-foot by six-foot cells with blacked-out windows where women are confined for 23 hours a day. Even in their cells, the women have no privacy — toilets are in full view of the cell door windows, guards can look through those windows at any time and male guards often watch the women in the showers. If the women complain, the guards turn off the water.
In 1986, the Bureau of Prisons opened a control unit specifically for women political prisoners in the federal prison at Lexington, Kentucky. It was built underground and entirely white. Women were prohibited from hanging anything on the white walls, cauisng them to begin hallucinating black spots and strings on the walls and floors. Their sole contact with prison staff came in the form of voices addressing them over loudspeakers. The unit was shut down in 1988 following an outside campaign and a court decision that determined their placement unconstitutional, but the solitary confinement is still used to punish and silence jailhouse lawyers and other incarcerated activists (of all genders, I should add).
A3N: How have women prisoners resisted the use of solitary confinement?
VL: In 1974, a woman incarcerated in Bedford Hills (the maximum-security prison for women in New York) filed a lawsuit challenging the practice of placing women in solitary confinement without 24 hours notice and a hearing (basically any sort of due process). She won a court injunction prohibiting this practice. In response, she was beaten by male guards and placed in solitary confinement (again with no due process). Other women in the prison protested by rioting.
More recent ways in which women have resisted solitary confinement aren’t as visible. While she was in the Close Management unit in Florida, Lisa Savage joined the StopMax campaign and became part of the Steering Committee. Her participation added gender to the way that people were viewing (and organizing around) the use of solitary confinement. She also wrote a long (16 pages!) piece about the Close Management unit for Tenacious, the zine that I publish of women prisoners’ art and writings. Writing about that reality is, in and of itself, a form of resistance, but she also included ways in which she, as an individual woman being held in the Close Management unit, was resisting:
I’ve finally gained a firm sense of self by holding fast to my beliefs in equality, liberty and life without threats or coercion. Each accomplishment, may it be emotional, psychological, or mental “growth,” is a form of resistance.
Every time I teach someone geometry or basic reading or tell them of their own intrinsic ability to be autonomous and secure with themselves, I resist the mentacide, and hopefully arm the women with ways to combat their own mental slow death sentence here in CM SHU…
Every time I get mail from you or Anthony of the South Chicago ABC Zine Distro or Abigail of Burning River or the meeting notes from StopMax (I am on the Steering Committee for the National Campaign to End Solitary Confinement and Torture in U.S. prisons), it confirms that I am part of this resistance movement.
As I conclude this piece, I have been informed of an increase in my custody to CM Level I. I know this is only a label, not who I truly am. DOC may have condemned me for my actions, but I know in my heart that for the past 7 months, I have taken the measures necessary to ensure my beliefs and integrity remain intact within a corrupt system. I have done my best to stand up for my CM sisters and myself. Yes, I have been DR’ed [issued disciplinary reports”] and “gave up” my privileges to take up for women who would spit on me if given a chance. I’ve asked nothing from them, I’ve only tried to show them that they must fight for their beliefs and happiness. I’ve wanted to show them that they do not have to be the label placed upon them—dumb ho, loser, etc—that they can achieve positive healthy goals even while locked in a cell 24/7. I wanted them to have a piece of my courage until they could find their own. Yes, I shouted about the unjustifiable psychological abuse they suffer—I shouted so that they could at least whisper of their own hurts in their own hearts…For this I have no regrets, and I will not apologize.
These aren’t ways that are clearly visible to those on the outside looking for instances of prisoner resistance. Still, her actions are forms of resistance to solitary confinement.
–Angola 3 News is a new project of the International Coalition to Free the Angola 3. Our website is www.angola3news.com where we provide the latest news about the Angola 3. Like this interview with Victoria Law, we are also creating our own media projects, which spotlight the issues central to the story of the Angola 3, like racism, repression, prisons, human rights, solitary confinement as torture, and more.
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Night raids in Bilin target activists
Posted by APOC-Philly in General, Interview, Palestine on October 2, 2009
Interview, The Electronic Intifada, 29 September 2009
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| An Israeli soldier threatens a Palestinian man during a night raid in the West Bank village of Bilin, 20 August 2009. (Hamde Abu Rahme) |
For the last three months, residents of the West Bank village of Bilin have been subjected to constant night raids by the Israeli military. The raids are in retaliation for their five-year campaign of nonviolent resistance against Israel’s wall, which is being constructed on the village’s land. The Israeli authorities have arrested members of the Bilin Popular Committee as well as teenagers and young boys from the village in order to obtain forced confessions against committee members. The home of Abdullah Abu Rahme, the Bilin Popular Committee’s Media Coordinator, was raided on 16 September 2009. The following is his account of the raid as told to The Electronic Intifada contributor Jody McIntyre.
It was a Wednesday morning [16 September]. At around 1:30am, my wife heard sounds outside, near our home in Bilin. She rushed to the window to see what was going on and saw scores of Israeli soldiers climbing over our garden fence. Within a matter of seconds, they had reached the front door.
My wife ran downstairs as quickly as she could to open the door, which the soldiers were beating ferociously. They asked her, “Where is Abdullah?” and she replied, “Abdullah is not here, he is Ramallah.” The soldiers didn’t care, they just pushed her aside.
Masked and heavily armed, they poured into all the rooms of our home, damaging cupboards, ransacking drawers and leaving our belongings strewn across floors. My wife and nephew, whom they had woken from their sleep, were ordered to stay in one room as they searched the house.
My two daughters, Layan, 5, and Luma, 7, awoke to find themselves staring at many masked strangers in green uniforms. They wondered why they were looking through their toys. Immediately, they burst into tears — their mother asked if she could take them from the bedroom but the soldiers stopped her from doing so.
Feeling helpless, my wife called my friend Mohammed Khatib, a fellow member of the Bilin Popular Committee. International volunteers who were staying in the village distracted the soldiers at the front gate, which allowed Mohammed to climb over a garden wall and get into the house. The moment the soldiers saw him inside, they brutally attacked him — they didn’t want anyone to see the damage they were doing to my home and, more importantly, my two young daughters.
The international volunteers, still standing outside, heard Mohammed’s screams as he was beaten so badly that he could barely stand, but still they were prevented from entering the home. Luckily, my wife was able to release him from the soldiers by standing in their way.
The soldiers moved on to the first floor of the house, where there is an apartment for internationals to stay in. They started to destroy the door, which was locked. My wife told them that she had a key and could open it for them, but they refused her offer, and smashed down the door. It was clear that the army wanted not only to arrest me, but to leave a path of destruction in their wake.
They continued on to the second floor, where they stole Palestinian flags and shields we use to protect ourselves from harm during our weekly nonviolent demonstrations against the wall. The shields bear the image of Bassem Abu Rahme, a close friend of mine who was killed during one such demonstration in April, as he called on soldiers to hold their fire because an Israeli girl had been injured. They also took a banner we had made to welcome my brother Ratib home from studying his Ph.D. I really don’t understand how such a banner can be perceived as a threat to Israel.
But what hurts me the most is that the soldiers broke into my mother’s room, again destroying the door in the process. It was also locked, but only because my mother died a month ago. She died in al-Makassed hospital in Jerusalem. I wasn’t given a permit by the Israeli authorities to pass the checkpoints and the wall which separate Palestinians in the West Bank from Jerusalem to go visit her. My mother and I had a very close relationship, but I didn’t get to visit her as she suffered. She died alone, and I didn’t get to see her, to tell her one word, or to put my hand on her face for one moment. The Israeli occupation separated me from my mother when she was at her most vulnerable — I hate it.
Our nonviolent struggle against the wall and settlements which are being built on our land is now in its fifth year. Before she died my mother would wait at the door of our home every Friday to welcome me back from the weekly demonstration. She would ask if I was OK, and thank God that I hadn’t been injured. I love her very much, as I love my wife and daughters who the Israeli soldiers woke in the middle of the night, and as I love my land which the wall has stolen.
Finally, the army gave my wife an “invitation” for me. They told her I had to go visit the Shabak [Israel's internal security service, also known as the Shin Bet], and threatened that if I didn’t they would do the same terrible things to my home every night. They told her that I wouldn’t live to see Eid.
But it was my children and my brother’s children who were affected most by the whole experience. Particularly my nephew Mahmoud, 8, who ran screaming into the street when the soldiers invaded. Two days later he had facial spasms for more than an hour, leaving his entire family heartbroken as they tried to reassure him. How can we reassure our children when we know this will happen again and again?
My daughter Layan told me that she didn’t want to sleep at home because she was afraid that the soldiers would come to arrest her father and kill the rest of the family. Five days later she went back. But she woke up in the middle of the night and pleaded with her mother to take her away, fearing that the soldiers were on their way back.
My daughter Luma was the top student in her class at school. But two days after the invasion she told me that she hated school and didn’t want to go. I told her a joke and she burst into giggles, and I said I was happy to see her laughing. “Daddy,” she said, “I’m laughing, but inside I’m crying.”
I haven’t done anything wrong, but they want to arrest me because I am a nonviolent activist. Israel does not want our model of nonviolent resistance to spread, and this is one of the ways they are trying to crush us in Bilin — by invading the village and attacking our homes. But until we remove the wall and settlements from our land, our struggle will continue.
Abdullah Abu Rahme is Media Coordinator of the Bilin Popular Committee.
Jody McIntyre is a journalist from the United Kingdom, currently living in the occupied West Bank village of Bilin. Jody has cerebral palsy, and travels in a wheelchair. He writes a blog for Ctrl.Alt.Shift, entitled “Life on Wheels,” which can be found at www.ctrlaltshift.co.uk. He can be reached at jody.mcintyre AT gmail DOT com.
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WURD Radio interviews MOVE 9 Political Prisoners
Posted by APOC-Philly in General, Interview, Prisoners of War/Political Prisoners on September 22, 2009
WURD Radio in Philadelphia interviewed MOVE 9 members Delbert and Phil Africa, during the week of August 8, 2009 — the 31st ‘anniversary’ of the Aug. 8, 1978 police assault on MOVE’s home in Powelton Village, West Philadelphia.
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An Interview with Bryant Terry on Race, Class, Food, and Culture – Part 1
Posted by APOC-Philly in Interview on August 21, 2009
Interview by Latoya Peterson who is an editor of Racialicious

Bryant Terry is an eco chef, food justice activist, and author of Vegan Soul Kitchen (VSK): Fresh, Healthy, and Creative African-American Cuisine (Da Capo/Perseus March 2009). For the past nine years he has worked to build a more just and sustainable food system and has used cooking as a tool to illuminate the intersections among poverty, structural racism, and food insecurity. His interest in cooking, farming, and community health can be traced back to his childhood in Memphis, Tennessee, where his grandparents inspired him to grow, prepare, and appreciate good food.
Read more about Bryant here. I interviewed Bryant earlier this year for a project that never got off the ground. However, this interview was too good not to share.
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So we are here with Bryant Terry who has a new book out called Vegan Soul Kitchen, which is a collection of recipes that look at food and veganism and culture. Can you explain a little about who you are and what you do?
Wow. I do a lot of things. These days, I’ve been saying I’m a creative person who does a number of things that help people be more aware of their environment, particularly their food. I call myself “the eco-chef” and a lot of people ask “well, what’s eco-chef? How did you come up with that term?” And for me, it’s about helping people become more aware of the interconnectedness of all living beings, and how we’re just part of this complex whole with the environment, the animal kingdom, the mineral kingdom, the plant kingdom. I just want to help people to see that, so we can be more compassionate and present, and see how every action we take affects the whole.
Let’s talk about your new book. When you started Vegan Soul Kitchen, what was your motive behind writing this book, and what were you trying to accomplish with it?
I’ll start by saying that I have some issues with both of those terms – both “vegan” and “soul,” meaning “soul food” because I think they can be loaded, and it brings up a lot when you use those terms. I always say “vegan” is a great way to encapsulate what I wanted to do with this book and I’m certainly aware of and very sympathetic to all of the issues that are important to people who understand themselves as vegans. While my diet is devoid of meat, I don’t call myself a vegan; I don’t call myself anything. I talk about the way I’m kind of on a continuum of consumption – I’ve been everything from an omnivore to a vegetarian to vegan to a fruitarian, I think I tried a breath-atarianism for a day. Given the fluidity of my journey, I’ve come to understand that a diet is such a personal journey. I don’t think it’s my place to say what anyone’s diet should be, and I don’t think it’s anyone’s place to say what one’s diet should be, it’s really about checking in and being on that journey with one’s self.
I don’t know if you needed to hear all that, but I wanted to share it. (Laughs)
No, that’s great to actually parse out. I know you did that a little [in your previous book] Grub, where you talked about how you didn’t want people to be sneaking around outside of their food boundaries. Can you explain that concept a bit more?
I came to that conclusion because of my own process, having been a vegetarian and then kind of moving into strict veganism and having a moment where I wanted to have some cheese and I wanted to have eggs, and I just felt like I might be hypocritical if I do that, or others might judge me, or the judgment coming from myself. And I felt a similar anxiety from other people who defined their diets in the same way, who felt that they needed to or wanted to shift their dietary pattens. I had a friend who was a strict vegan and she got pregnant, and for whatever reason, she decided that she wanted to start eating fish. And she was so anxiety-ridden about sharing that with friends, with family members, with colleagues, because she felt like it would somehow be such a departure from all the values she had been expressing about who she was. I really want people to feel free to just shift and change and not feel like they’re going to be damned to hell if they do that.
That’s fascinating, especially when you look at the conversations we’re having around food in the public sphere, especially as people are starting to realize that the issue we have around food and consumption and the issues we have concerning the environment are in some way linked. There is a lot of discussion of guilt around people’s food choices, or a lot of moralizing that it’s better to be vegetarian or it’s better to eat more vegetables. You got into that a bit in Grub – [the idea that] there are things that are better for your body, there are things that are worse for your body, but it’s more of a whole conscious eating.
Yeah, before I forget, I wanted to go back to your question about my new book and what motivated me to write it. The impetus to write this book came from me feeling so upset, almost livid, at the way in which African-American cuisine was being – and continues to be, in many ways – vilified, through the media, through public health officials, as kind of the bane of African American health. “African Americans are suffering from the highest rates of obesity and the highest rates of illnesses and it’s because of this soul food!” The big monstrous soul food. After I realized that, it pushed me to investigate the history of African American cuisine more and it hit me one day when I was reading this book, The Welcome Table, by this African American food writer/cookbook author/historian Jessica B. Harris, and she said that “African American cuisine or soul food was simply something black people ate for dinner.”
It wasn’t until the 1960s that it was given this term as a way that black activists, living in the urban north, were reclaiming the cuisine as they were reclaiming a number of cultural things that were important to African Americans – so reclaiming soul music or our roots in Africa. [The idea was] this is our food, this is our cuisine. But unfortunately, the popular media picked up on that, and a lot of white journalists only illuminated the more exotic aspects of the cuisine. So when they wrote about it in these different magazines and newspapers, they talk about pig’s feet and the internal viscera of animals. And all these things that are part of the cuisine, but it kind of reduced it to all these interesting things that “the other” was eating. What it made me realize is that what people think about is just a small part of a very complex and rich diverse cuisine that is very rooted in a lot of things food activists say we should embrace in our eating now. Food is as local as a backyard garden, as seasonal as whatever’s in season, and as fresh as being harvested right before the meal.
And when I think about growing up in Memphis and having grandparents that grew up in rural Mississippi, that brought with them this agrarian knowledge and connection to the land and the environment and all this care for the earth that they had to Memphis, which is an urban center, and having this backyard garden that was kind of like an urban farm, and having these all these fruit trees and nut trees in the backyard that was like a mini orchard, and they way that they were harvesting food for our family, and bartering, and sharing with neighbors…you know, in so many of these practices that people are touting as the way we need to move toward for environmental sustainability, the sustainability of our health, these things are part of our cultural heritage and I just wanted to help people remember. I wanted to help African-Americans remember, help the general public remember that this is as much as part of our legacy as it is anyone else’s.
Whoo, that was a lot!
It was great though, and it really does start speaking to these ideas we have ingrained about food and what our own food legacy is. We’ve been examining [cultural ideas around food] and so many of us are sharing these stories about being from a Latino cultural background or a Polish cultural background, and sitting down at the table with our new food beliefs and having our families not understand why we would want to give these things up. They reject some of our food choices because they are interpreting [our rejection of meat or fatty foods] as a rejection of them. In all your work that you’ve done as an eco-chef, what have you uncovered about food in terms of culture and how we relate to each other?
When you talked about diets changing and adapting, it made me think about the way in which African-Americans, like most Americans, saw the globalization of agriculture, the mechanization of agriculture and the industrialization of food over the past three or four decades as a good thing. It’s cheap, it’s fast, it’s convenient – hey, what’s wrong with this? We’re modern and we want to be with the times. And we wholeheartedly embraced this in many ways – not everyone, but we really embraced it. And it’s not just African-Americans. It’s so many people of different backgrounds. When I have been giving talks lately about this issues, it resonates with people from Appalachia, it resonates with immigrants from Latin America, it’s something that is of concern in so many different cultures and communities that in all cases, we need to figure out how can we re-embrace those old ways. How can we get back to the ways that sustained our parents, and our grandparents?
And I think, most importantly, what we’ve lost is our sense of community and sharing and connecting, because that was so embedded and ingrained in all the other things around our food systems and those are things we have to be re-embracing in these next moments, in this period of economic strife and people tightening belts. If we’re going to get through it, I think we really have to think how can we be in relationship with our neighbors and all of these formal and informal kinship networks to help each other?
Let’s circle back to the question I posed before about how we are discussing food in the mainstream media right now. I know that food has become this huge issue and it’s a really hot topic right now. We’ve had all these people publishing books like Mark Bittman and Michael Pollan and we’re talking about food and how it impacts the Earth. I noticed that there are a lot of ideas around guilt. That people should be guilted into eating a certain way or a different way, and I think that’s where there is a lot of disconnect occurring when you try to get people to realize the issues at stake. How would you reframe the conversation?
Yeah, hmmm…
I know, it’s a tough one.
It’s just complex. I feel like I’d have to ruminate on that a bit before I could really give a distinct answer.
Well, feel free to just think about it as we talk, and if you have any thoughts later, feel free to offer them. Another thing that comes up often in these discussions is the role of the poor – and more specifically, the role of the poor as the cause of their own dietary issues. I notice this a lot on larger health blogs, like the one run by the New York Times. There seems to be this idea that the poor eat horrible food because it’s their culture or they just want to. There doesn’t seem to be any real engagement with the barriers and issues that comes with trying to eat in season, and have a healthy diet full of fruit and vegetables that people seem to take for granted that [economically disadvantaged areas] just have equal access to all of these things. Could you talk a little more about that?
One of the biggest things I uncovered in my work, especially working with young people in New York City through the organization I founded called B-healthy, is that a lot of people living in low income areas and urban areas are living in what are known as food deserts. They have very little access to fresh food – healthy, local, sustainable, all that – and have an overabundance of the worst foods, the fried things, the packaged fast food that has a negative impact on their overall health. Lack of access to healthy food is a huge issue, and it’s only one indicator of material deprivation these people are living with. In these neighborhoods, I visited, it wasn’t as if they just lacked access to healthy food and everything else was great. Usually it would be failing infrastructure, dilapidated schools, high levels of illiteracy, low income. So I think it is one issue that has to be addressed of many among these people living in these historically excluded communities are dealing with.
I certainly applaud the efforts of independent organizations – such as the Food Project in Boston, Added Value in Brooklyn, NY, The People’s Grocery in West Oakland, California. The work they are doing is important around creating healthier food systems and educating people in these communities about health food and agricultural issues. And I realized that this moment that we’re in – where we are looking at increased urbanization in the US and globally – we have to be producing more food in cities, we have to be creating more access to local food systems in urban centers, and we cannot rely on these organizations with the express goal of working around these issues to do it. It’s just too much weight for them to carry. There are so many organizations that exist in these same communities that we just described – faith based institutions, community based institutions – that people trust and go to regularly in these communities that have financial capital and land and people, and we want them to really work and help us increase the access [of] and awareness of healthy food, whether it be through community gardens, urban farms, connecting with local farms to bring more food into urban centers. I almost feel like these institutions have to take the lead. I’ve seen well meaning projects that go into low income communities to do work fall flat on their faces because they don’t really have the trust, or they don’t understand the cultural norms of the community. There is some disconnect that is happening, and I feel like it’s almost imperative for the organizations that people trust to work around these issues, and go beyond health fairs and diagnosing the problem.
We know! We know that people in these communities are suffering from the highest rates of obesity and diet related illness. We know that too many of us are dying too early. So what can we do to actually prevent this? What can we do to address it before it gets to the point where we’re just telling people they have six months to live, or they need to start taking all these pharmaceuticals.
(To be continued next week.)
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