By Frances Rafferty (they/them/theirs, she/her/hers)
As I write this piece on a rainy autumn afternoon, I reflect on the change in weather from these past couple of weeks. Autumn, as my favorite season, brings back nostalgic memories of crisp, sunny weekends spent outside reveling in the transformation of my environment as it gives way to decomposition with the promise of fecundity. When I envision the end of the harvest season, I imagine myself in layers of workwear and flannel, topped with a beanie for warmth. This season, however, I am experiencing the grief that comes with “that unapparent summer air in early fall” as a result of climate change and industrial behavior that has gone unchecked.
As of 2020, 18.4% of global greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions are created from agriculture, forestry, and land use. As of 2019, the United States emitted 15.4% of global GHG emissions. Considering this factor, it is important to recognize that at least 44.36% of land in the United States is set aside for agricultural use. With most of this land cultivated through an industrial agricultural lens, it is time for the United States to shift its cultivation practices. Rather than continuing to invest in extractive and industrial practices, farmers in the U.S. must shift to a regenerative agricultural model to save the human race from itself, resulting in a regenerative food system.
Regenerative agriculture is defined as “farming and grazing practices that, among other benefits, reverse climate change by rebuilding soil organic matter and restoring degraded soil biodiversity – resulting in both carbon drawdown and improving the water cycle.” Some agricultural practices associated with regenerative agriculture include composting, biodiverse crop plans, and limited-to-no-tillage. While several actors in the agricultural industrial complex argue that regenerative agricultural practices are not practical or economically sustainable, recent reports have illustrated that transitioning to regenerative agricultural practices can increase a farm’s profitability. Researchers from the Ecdysis Foundation recently conducted a study where they gathered data from 20 farmers implementing regenerative agricultural techniques. From this study, they found that, although their crop yields decreased by 29%, farms with regenerative practices were 78% more profitable than conventional plots.
Transitioning to regenerative agricultural practices not only provides scientific and economic benefits to the world but also social benefits that will uplift and empower the most marginalized in our world. By transitioning to regenerative agricultural practices, communities are investing in the promise of being able to feed future generations 100 years from now.
A commitment to regenerative agriculture must include a commitment to intersectional food justice. Food justice is a vision for the future of our food system. It seeks to “ensure that the benefits and risks of where, what, and how food is grown, produced, transported, distributed, accessed and eaten are shared fairly.” This vision represents a transformation of our current food system, with eliminating disparity and inequity as paramount to the vision. By seeking to eliminate injustices in the whole food system, actors in the food justice movement are linked to and support allied movements, including the following: “the environment, land use, health, immigration, workers rights, economic and community development, cultural integrity, and social justice.” The combination of regenerative agricultural practices with the principles and vision of the food justice movement creates a synergy of intersectional, environmental justice that is necessary to manifest the vision of the world we want to create.
This synergy is paramount to me as a member of the ecological family, carrying the varied identities that impact how I live, move, and breathe in this country. I am white, able-bodied, young, middle class, and have a college degree. I am also queer, non-binary, transgender, assigned-female-at-birth (AFAB), and am a part of the working class. When I show up in agricultural and food system spaces, my whiteness and scientific knowledge of agriculture suit me very well. However, as a transgender and AFAB person, I often must consider my security in these spaces – despite my years of experience in agriculture and my leadership skills. How each of us shows up in the spaces we inhabit often depends on how others perceive us. In my current work, I am a Farm Stand Manager for Stein Learning Gardens at St. Sabina Catholic Church in Auburn-Gresham, a neighborhood on the Southside of Chicago. When I show up in this space, my whiteness and AFAB nature are what people tend to see. Neither of these identities are negative, but my whiteness in a predominantly Black community is something that I am cognizant of in my workplace.
Working in a community that is experiencing food apartheid and food insecurity, I am able to live on the Northside of Chicago comfortably with food, shelter, and security while several of the community members in Auburn-Gresham are not having these basic needs met. While my friends in Auburn-Gresham have to travel up to 1.5 miles to find a grocery store with conventional, non-nutrient-dense produce, these grocery stores are easily accessible to me. This comparison illustrates food injustice in action. As someone who is compelled to create a just future for our food system, I live with the cognitive dissonance of my reality on a daily basis.
With the work I do as the manager of a farm stand, my primary goal is to work with community members to create access to organic, fresh, and culturally appropriate food for the Auburn-Gresham community. While this farm stand only occurs once a week and we use regenerative agricultural practices to grow food only 7 months of the year, I believe that our actions on the ground contribute to the transition of a system-wide shift to a just and regenerative food system. Inspired by adrienne maree brown’s Emergent Strategy, and her illustration of systems change as a fractal, I know the following to be true: growing food regeneratively on less than half an acre of land improves the health of the ecosystem, community members, and society as a whole. While policy changes are needed from politicians and governmental systems to reinvest in disenfranchised communities, we (as members of the ecological and human community) can invest our time, talents, and capital to create a just and regenerative food system.