The Racial Capitalism of Urban Food Insecurity

 

The Racial Capitalism of Urban Food Insecurity

May, 2019

The following is a final paper I wrote for the Brown University course titled "Race and the Politics of Nature: Intersecting Histories and Political Ecologies," taught by Professor Kai Bosworth, Visiting Assistant Professor of Environment and Society.

The course examined the historical and ongoing intersections of discourses of race and nature as social constructions, practices, and systems of thought. Considering themes of racial capitalism, liberation, toxicity, critical environmental justice, biological racism, and more, the course took an interdisciplinary approach to understanding the fundamental relationships between race, racism, and nature. The below paper represents my application of these many themes and theories to the issue of urban food insecurity. I argue that the prevalence of food insecurity in U.S. communities of color, particularly in urban areas, represents a manifestation of racial capitalism – a system which serves to deprive racially differentiated and devalued communities of both means of access and the food itself. I also begin to suggest alternative pathways (and foodways) for moving forward, led by the communities that racial capitalism has endeavored to cast aside.

The content or ideas contained below are not to be used without appropriate attribution to Francesca Gallo. This paper is not to be reproduced without the written permission of Francesca Gallo.


Slocum writes that “Food security exists when people have access to affordable, nutritious, culturally appropriate and personally acceptable food without the need to resort to emergency food or other coping strategies.”[1] Achieving food security depends on both the physical availability of the kinds of foods Slocum describes and the means (financial, transportation) with which to procure that food. This paper argues that the prevalence of food insecurity in communities of color, particularly in urban areas (where Hispanic and Black individuals comprise 44 percent of the population)[2] represents a manifestation of racial capitalism in the U.S., a system which serves to deprive racially differentiated and devalued communities of both means of access and the food itself. I suggest that urban food insecurity presents a parallel case study to that which Pulido undertakes of the lead crisis in Flint.[3] Pulido argues that the Flint city government’s pursuit of municipal fiscal solvency in the late 20th century through the present has served to devalue Black and other nonwhite bodies within the city, resulting in the poisoning of city residents through the municipal water system.[4] Within Pulido’s analysis, three sub-processes of racial capitalism emerge that support a similar analysis of the systems that reproduce urban food insecurity: differentiation and devaluation, abandonment, and slow violence. This paper will first trace these three processes and their intersections with food insecurity. I will then turn to a brief discussion of alternative modes for thinking and acting toward imaginaries outside of racial capitalism in an effort to articulate pathways (and foodways) for moving forward, led by the communities that racial capitalism has endeavored to cast aside.

Food insecurity is a condition faced by millions of U.S. households, particularly in communities of color. There are many different definitions of food security and insecurity, most of which focus on the issues of physical access to and affordability of food. Slocum provides a definition that also accounts for the quality and variety of foods that produce food insecurity, writing that “Food insecurity is present when people cannot obtain foods in sufficient quantity and quality to sustain health, well being and culture, yet they have easier access to foods that promote obesity and related illnesses.”[5] In 2017, 11.8 percent of all U.S. households were food insecure at some point, while households in principal cities experienced food insecurity at rates above the national average at 13.8 percent.[6] Meanwhile, children experienced food insecurity in 7.7 percent of households with children.[7] And, at rates almost double the national average, around one fifth of Black households and Hispanic households respectively experienced food insecurity (compared with less than 10 percent of White households).[8] Adults and children who live in poverty are at greater risk for many health issues, conditions to which food insecurity can contribute or exacerbate.[9] In children and adolescents, food insecurity is also often associated with increased behavioral and emotional issues which can contribute to long-term mental health and economic challenges as these children transition into adulthood.[10]

Racial capitalism as a framework attends to the systems of “colonization, primitive accumulation, slavery, and imperialism” that have shaped and continue to reproduce “the modern world.”[11] Within racial capitalism, capitalist economies depend upon processes of racial differentiation and devaluation because “capitalist accumulation requires human difference.” According to Melamed, this differentiation within a population is central to capitalism’s function because “Capital can only be capital when it is accumulating, and it can only accumulate by producing and moving through relations of severe inequality among human groups.”[12] Racial capitalism thus actively creates and exploits human difference through the “formation and ordering of racial subjects”; by “classif[ying]…groups of people according to phenotypic and/or geographic characteristics,” this system renders particular bodies and groups “more or less valuable, determining whether they should be enslaved, exterminated, exploited, or assimilated.”[13] In U.S. urban history, the Federal Housing Administration and discriminatory lending practices based on “residential security maps” (“redlining”) are usually pointed to as the epitome of these kinds of processes. However, it is important to remember that racial differentiation and devaluation are rooted far deeper in U.S. history, beginning with the global colonization and trade of enslaved peoples. Within most U.S. cities, the contemporary manifestation of these ongoing processes is geographic segregation and racialized differentiation in density and quality of essential public goods and services – including water and food.

In association with mid-century histories of redlining, a second element of racial capitalism, abandonment, has entrenched the differentiation and devaluation of nonwhite communities in the urban fabric. Redlining not only separated White and nonwhite populations within cities, but also contributed to the rapid suburbanization of White urbanites and the associated abandonment of capital.[14] Large food retail establishments – grocery stores – were key participants in that abandonment. By the 1950s, retail food businesses had grown from independent grocers to large supermarkets that followed White customers to the suburbs in pursuit of larger land parcels.[15] Once the grocery stores had suburbanized, even bigger shopping centers began to anchor themselves around them, entrenching supermarkets within the landscape of suburbia.[16] In the following decades, as wealth disparities between Black urbanites and White suburbanites ballooned, cities then subjected the same people of color whom these establishments had abandoned to urban renewal projects that further decimated their communities.[17] Decades of continued physical, social, and political infrastructure neglect by cities within these communities[18] have produced “racially devalued, surplus place[s]” wherein nonwhite inhabitants are considered by the state to be expendable, disposable, and surplus.[19]

Cities act as sites of interaction for two kinds of surplus: that of nonwhite bodies and that of de-commodified food commodities (more on this in a moment). In her case study of Flint, Pulido describes three forms of surplus that characterize the Black residents of Flint and justify their bearing of the cost of destructive state policies and practices: outcast, underground, and threat.[20] As outcasts, surplus bodies are “of no value to capital.”[21] Pulido argues that this framing of surplus is alone too simplistic. As underground surplus, however, we can understand Flint’s residents as “performing unpaid labor for capital” by living in the place “where crisis is being ‘worked out’ and the newest tools and practices of neoliberalism are fashioned.”[22] In relation to food security, we can perhaps see the fear of an imminent global food shortage being experimented around through the proliferation of manufactured foods in poor urban areas that may comprise our future diet. Pulido’s third characterization, to which I will return later, is that of threat, whereby the Black radical tradition (BRT) furnishes Black city residents with power for resistance that Black communities have been exercising for generations. A category closely associated with surplus is that of waste, which is especially useful for reading the nature of urban food insecurity; food insecurity is not only about lack of nutritious food, but also about the proliferation of foods that are can be detrimental to communities’ health and cultures. Just as “Industry and manufacturing requires sinks – places where pollution can be deposited,” so too does industrial food production. “Racially devalued bodies can [and do]…function as [these] ‘sinks.’”[23]

This brings me to the particular histories and policies through which poor, urban communities of color have come to interact with surplus food products; just as the processes of racial differentiation, devaluation, and abandonment poisoned Flint’s water, so too have these processes poisoned urban communities’ diets. Lindenbaum’s discussion of food decommodification through food banks provides an example and operable framework for articulating the events by which a small number of commodity crops – namely wheat, corn, and soy – have come to poison nonwhite “surplus” bodies in U.S. cities. Linedenbaum’s frames decommodification as the process through which “an item is removed from the market such that it no longer has an exchange value.”[24] Through their participation in this system, food banks function as sites of “exclusion” and surplus within the context of capitalism. They absorb excess food from individual consumers and from large, food-producing corporations, enabling the continued accumulation of capital elsewhere in the food system.[25] U.S. federal policies of agricultural supply management have enacted this same mechanism of decommodification for almost a century. The process began during World Wars I and II, when the U.S. began an “intensive (over)production of staple grains” to fill the vacuum left by Great Britain’s retreat from global export dominance.[26] When that overproduction intersected with economic depression in the 1930s, the federal government intervened to establish mechanisms that would stabilize market prices for consumers and production costs for farmers. This included a parity policy that enabled the government to accept farmers’ crops in lieu of loan repayments[27] as well as financial subsidies for the production of certain crops (corn, wheat, soy, and several others).

The need for such policies emerged because “Unlike manufacturing, farm production cannot be stopped and started in response to changing demand…agriculture has frequent periods of overproduction, punctuated by shortages.”[28] As production of and demand for select commodity crops grew, managing their influence on the economy became essential to both farmers and consumers. The years of the Dust Bowl also introduced the concern that continued overproduction demanded by a free market would lead to environmental catastrophe. But this system resulted in a significant accumulation of surplus agricultural commodities by the U.S. government. Rather than reintroduce these food stores into the U.S. market, the federal government finalized their decommodification (per Lindenbaum) through humanitarian aid that redistributed them (for free) globally. The logics of this “food regime,” which persisted through the 1970s or 1980s, were that of “surplus and stability.”[29] However, the emergence of global neoliberalism has since brought about a new food regime, signaled by “The critique of ‘food aid’ as ‘dumping’” on a global scale.[30] This dumping of surplus de-commodified commodities also occurs on a local scale in U.S. cities. Because federal policies have made the production of these crops so cost-effective (and thus the market price cheap for consumers), their surplus has become a dominant food source for many communities – stocking grocery store shelves, fast food restaurants, and free school lunch programs[31] around the country. This surplus is particularly concentrated in poor, urban communities of color, where fast food restaurants and school lunch programs are often the only accessible/affordable food sources. This food is considered waste by the broader food system[32] and economy, and so nonwhite bodies already considered surplus themselves become sites for its deposition.[33]

These many histories, policies, and ongoing processes have produced a condition of slow violence in U.S. cities. “Slow violence” is a term coined by Rob Nixon to name and explicate the kinds of drawn out environmental crises identified by Rachel Carson in Silent Spring along with many other academics and activists over the past half century. Nixon defines “slow violence” as

…violence that occurs gradually and out of sight, a violence of delayed destruction that is dispersed across time and space, an attritional violence that is typically not viewed as violence at all. Violence is customarily conceived as an event or action that is immediate in time, explosive and spectacular in space, and as erupting into instant sensational visibility. We need, I believe, to engage a different kind of violence, a violence that is neither spectacular nor instantaneous, but rather incremental and accretive, its calamitous repercussions playing out across a range of temporal scales.[34]

Slow violence presents a substantial challenge for communities who experience it and practitioners who seek to raise public awareness around its effects. Nixon writes that these challenges emerge because “In the long arc between the emergence of slow violence and its delayed effects, both the causes and the memory of catastrophe readily fade from view as the casualties incurred typically pass untallied and unremembered. Such discounting in turn makes it far more difficult to secure effective legal measures for prevention, restitution, and redress.”[35] I see slow violence as occurring on two sides of urban food insecurity: the poisoning of poor, nonwhite communities through food waste dumping; and the hunger experienced by households not even able to afford that surplus. Heynen emphasizes that there is no “configuration of socionatural relations more debilitating to human potential than the one that produces hunger. Without food, human bodies simply cannot exist. Human bodies that do not consume a sufficient quantity of food, or food that does not contain sufficient nutritional quality simply cannot function.”[36]

The natural question that arises from this for me is “What can be done?” So, I return to Pulido’s third category of surplus, that of threat. The BRT to which Pulido refers is one to which Black communities (and other nonwhite communities in recent decades[37]) have been referring for generations. Indeed, there are many examples today of nonwhite food justice referring to BRT and other conceptions of Black liberation in their work. Ramírez reminds us that “For African Americans, the land and farming have always been considered the basis for black autonomy (Heynen 2009; Woods 1998); what black justice projects are doing is replanting the seeds of liberation that were misplaced after the Great Migration, reconnecting urban black geographies to the black food geographies that cultivate power through farming.”[38] In an effort to think through forms of Black liberation through food “self-reliance”[39] that do not depend “on recognition or alleviation of injury by the liberal state” (an unlikely event)[40] I would like to offer several contemporary examples of Black-led resistance to “ surplus” in the context of food insecurity. These examples include the Black Panther Party’s (BPP) Free Breakfast for Children Program and two urban gardens – Clean Greens in Seattle and the Women of Detroit Black Community Food Security Network (BCFSN).

The BPP’s first Free Breakfast program took place at St. Augustine’s Church in Oakland in September of 1968. At the program’s peak during the next few years, “approximately forty-five [BPP] chapters across the country participated in the Breakfast Program.”[41] The BPP determined for itself what comprised a nutritious breakfast and provided those foods to the children they served.[42] The program was part of a portfolio of “mutual aid and direct action programs” that BPP leaders viewed as necessary for the survival of African Americans confronted with “the historic unwillingness of the U.S. government to provide viable welfare services to unemployed African Americans and other minorities living in inner cities.”[43] Feeding individual Black children allowed those children to survive; feeding Black communities allowed them to organize against the white-supremacist state at increasing scales toward liberation.[44]

Second, Clean Greens is a farm in the Central District of Seattle that “aim[s] to establish community-owned projects that will enable the African American community to thrive in the neighborhood they call home.”[45] As a social justice- and community-centered organization, “Clean Greens sees the land as a tool of liberation” through the “build[ing] of black autonomy in the [Central District] so that black residents can resist displacement and thrive in their home neighborhood.”[46] Although Clean Greens has struggled to consistently engage Black community members in its work, Ramírez argues that the organization still occupies “spaces with a viscosity of blackness…that makes their projects more approachable to black residents” than other White-run projects that seek to “include” Black community members in their work.[47] Clean Greens thus produces “powerful political alternatives and spatial imaginaries of a more just future.”[48]

BCFSN is also a community garden/farm who sees its work as moving “toward the liberation of African people” through “the struggles for food justice and food security.”[49] For the women farmers of this organization, food provides a way into “discussing how African Americans might gain control over other aspects of their lives, including access to affordable housing, clean water, community policing, and decent public education.”[50] Consequently, their garden functions not only as a site for food production, but also for community development, children’s education, and “a location where they are able to exercise, reflect, meditate, and farm as a stress reliever.”[51]

These examples capture two critical themes for moving forward: the possibility of Black liberation through self-reliance and a resistance to the neoliberal process of reproducing ‘alternative’ foodways that “emphasize consumer choice, localism, entrepreneurialism, and self-improvement.”[52] In each case, liberation represents a touchstone and/or objective of the organization’s work, consistent with a generational tradition of “emancipatory politics in African American communities” around “foodways.”[53] “Geographies of self-reliance “– whether as a community-based free breakfast program or urban farm – reveal “how the everyday lives of [Black community] residents disrupt the dichotomy between death and survival to reveal how hope and visions for an uncertain future inspire small-scale food justice work.”[54] The community impetus and focus of these programs also strengthens their capacity to resist reproducing “racial capitalism’s need to rework existing social relations into new socio-spatial arrangements supportive of capitalist accumulation.”[55] Indeed, “How” practices of urban agriculture or free meal programs “[are] mobilized and by whom…can make all the difference in whether [they] serv[e] to bolster racial capitalism or to undermine it.”[56] Pulido and De Lara have articulated the need for “tools to help us craft radical imaginaries”[57] in the face of a racial capitalist system that may not ever reverse, repent, or dispense reparations for the violence it has enacted. I believe these examples and emergent themes provide pathways forward for further scholarship and practice to alleviate food insecurity through the upending of racial capitalism’s practices and ideals.

Bibliography

 Allen, Patricia, and Julie Guthman. “From ‘Old School’ to ‘Farm-to-School’: Neoliberalization from the Ground Up.” Agriculture and Human Values 23, no. 4 (December 1, 2006): 401–15. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10460-006-9019-z.

Eisenhauer, Elizabeth. “In Poor Health: Supermarket Redlining and Urban Nutrition.” GeoJournal 53, no. 2 (2001): 125–33.

Food Research & Action Center. “The Impact of Poverty, Food Insecurity, and Poor Nutrition on Health and Well-Being,” December 2017. http://frac.org/wp-content/uploads/hunger-health-impact-poverty-food-insecurity-health-well-being.pdf.

Graddy-Lovelace, Garrett, and Adam Diamond. “From Supply Management to Agricultural Subsidies—and Back Again? The U.S. Farm Bill & Agrarian (in)Viability.” Journal of Rural Studies 50 (February 2017): 70–83. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jrurstud.2016.12.007.

Guthman, Julie. “Bringing Good Food to Others: Investigating the Subjects of Alternative Food Practice.” Cultural Geographies 15, no. 4 (October 1, 2008): 431–47. https://doi.org/10.1177/1474474008094315.

Heynen, Nik. “Justice of Eating in the City: The Political Ecology of Urban Hunger.” In In the Nature of Cities: Urban Political Ecology and the Politics of Urban Metabolism, edited by Nik Heynen, Maria Kaika, and Erik Swyngedouw, 129–42. New York: Routledge, 2006. https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203027523-15.

Lindenbaum, John. “Countermovement, Neoliberal Platoon, or Re-Gifting Depot? Understanding Decommodification in US Food Banks.” Antipode 48, no. 2 (March 2016): 375–92. https://doi.org/10.1111/anti.12192.

McClintock, Nathan. “Urban Agriculture, Racial Capitalism, and Resistance in the Settler-Colonial City.” Geography Compass 12, no. 6 (2018): e12373. https://doi.org/10.1111/gec3.12373.

Melamed, Jodi. “Racial Capitalism.” Critical Ethnic Studies 1, no. 1 (2015): 76–85. https://doi.org/10.5749/jcritethnstud.1.1.0076.

Nik Heynen. “Bending the Bars of Empire from Every Ghetto for Survival: The Black Panther Party’s Radical Antihunger Politics of Social Reproduction and Scale.” Annals of the Association of American Geographers 99, no. 2 (2009): 406.

Nixon, Rob. “Introduction.” In Slow Violence and the Environmentalism of the Poor, 1–44. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2011. http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/brown/detail.action?docID=3300958.

Pew Research Center. “U.S. Urban Counties Have No Racial or Ethnic Majority.” Pew Research Center Social & Demographic Trends, May 15, 2018. https://www.pewsocialtrends.org/2018/05/22/demographic-and-economic-trends-in-urban-suburban-and-rural-communities/psd_05-22-18_community-type-01-08/.

Pulido, Laura. “Flint, Environmental Racism, and Racial Capitalism.” Capitalism Nature Socialism 27, no. 3 (July 2, 2016): 1–16. https://doi.org/10.1080/10455752.2016.1213013.

———. “Geographies of Race and Ethnicity II: Environmental Racism, Racial Capitalism and State-Sanctioned Violence.” Progress in Human Geography 41, no. 4 (August 2017): 524–33. https://doi.org/10.1177/0309132516646495.

Pulido, Laura, and Juan De Lara. “Reimagining ‘Justice’ in Environmental Justice: Radical Ecologies, Decolonial Thought, and the Black Radical Tradition.” Environment and Planning E: Nature and Space 1, no. 1–2 (March 2018): 76–98. https://doi.org/10.1177/2514848618770363.

Ramírez, Margaret Marietta. “The Elusive Inclusive: Black Food Geographies and Racialized Food Spaces.” Antipode 47, no. 3 (June 2015): 748–69. https://doi.org/10.1111/anti.12131.

Reese, Ashante M. “‘We Will Not Perish; We’re Going to Keep Flourishing’: Race, Food Access, and Geographies of Self-Reliance.” ANTIPODE 50, no. 2 (March 2018): 407–24. https://doi.org/10.1111/anti.12359.

Slocum, Rachel. “Anti-Racist Practice and the Work of Community Food Organizations.” Antipode 38, no. 2 (March 2006): 327–49. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-8330.2006.00582.x.

USDA. “Key Statistics & Graphics.” United States Department of Agriculture Economic Research Service, September 5, 2018. https://www-ers-usda-gov.revproxy.brown.edu/topics/food-nutrition-assistance/food-security-in-the-us/key-statistics-graphics/.

White, Monica M. “Sisters of the Soil: Urban Gardening as Resistance in Detroit.” Race/Ethnicity: Multidisciplinary Global Contexts 5, no. 1 (2011): 13–28. https://doi.org/10.2979/racethmulglocon.5.1.13.

Wright, Willie Jamaal. “As Above, So Below: Anti-Black Violence as Environmental Racism.” Antipode, September 24, 2018. https://doi.org/10.1111/anti.12425.

Notes

[1] “Anti-Racist Practice and the Work of Community Food Organizations,” Antipode 38, no. 2 (March 2006): 328, https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-8330.2006.00582.x.

[2] Pew Research Center, “U.S. Urban Counties Have No Racial or Ethnic Majority,” Pew Research Center Social & Demographic Trends, May 15, 2018, https://www.pewsocialtrends.org/2018/05/22/demographic-and-economic-trends-in-urban-suburban-and-rural-communities/psd_05-22-18_community-type-01-08/.

[3] Laura Pulido, “Flint, Environmental Racism, and Racial Capitalism,” Capitalism Nature Socialism 27, no. 3 (July 2, 2016): 1–16, https://doi.org/10.1080/10455752.2016.1213013.

[4] Pulido.

[5] Slocum, “Anti-Racist Practice and the Work of Community Food Organizations,” 328.

[6] USDA, “Key Statistics & Graphics,” United States Department of Agriculture Economic Research Service, September 5, 2018, https://www-ers-usda-gov.revproxy.brown.edu/topics/food-nutrition-assistance/food-security-in-the-us/key-statistics-graphics/.

[7] USDA.

[8] USDA.

[9] Food Research & Action Center, “The Impact of Poverty, Food Insecurity, and Poor Nutrition on Health and Well-Being,” December 2017, http://frac.org/wp-content/uploads/hunger-health-impact-poverty-food-insecurity-health-well-being.pdf.

[10] Food Research & Action Center.

[11] Laura Pulido, “Geographies of Race and Ethnicity II: Environmental Racism, Racial Capitalism and State-Sanctioned Violence,” Progress in Human Geography 41, no. 4 (August 2017): 526–27, https://doi.org/10.1177/0309132516646495.

[12] “Racial Capitalism,” Critical Ethnic Studies 1, no. 1 (2015): 77, https://doi.org/10.5749/jcritethnstud.1.1.0076.

[13] Nathan McClintock, “Urban Agriculture, Racial Capitalism, and Resistance in the Settler-Colonial City,” Geography Compass 12, no. 6 (2018): 3, https://doi.org/10.1111/gec3.12373.

[14] Pulido, “Flint, Environmental Racism, and Racial Capitalism,” 5.

[15] Elizabeth Eisenhauer, “In Poor Health: Supermarket Redlining and Urban Nutrition,” GeoJournal 53, no. 2 (2001): 127.

[16] Eisenhauer, 127.

[17] Willie Jamaal Wright, “As Above, So Below: Anti-Black Violence as Environmental Racism,” Antipode, September 24, 2018, 26–27, https://doi.org/10.1111/anti.12425.

[18] I want to recognize here the importance of the argument that “a narrow focus on racial violence can reinforce racist differentiation by essentializing the Black experience as tantamount to death and dying” (McClintock, N, “Urban Agriculture, Racial Capitalism, and Resistance in the Settler-Colonial City,” Geography Compass 12, no. 6 (2018): 7). This is why the end of this paper will examine examples of programs that have “emerge[d] in opposition to racial capitalism’s assault on Black life” (McClintock).

[19] Pulido, “Flint, Environmental Racism, and Racial Capitalism,” 8.

[20] “Flint, Environmental Racism, and Racial Capitalism.”

[21] Pulido, 11.

[22] Pulido, 11.

[23] Pulido, “Geographies of Race and Ethnicity II,” 529.

[24] “Countermovement, Neoliberal Platoon, or Re-Gifting Depot? Understanding Decommodification in US Food Banks,” Antipode 48, no. 2 (March 2016): 378, https://doi.org/10.1111/anti.12192.

[25] Lindenbaum, 384.

[26] Garrett Graddy-Lovelace and Adam Diamond, “From Supply Management to Agricultural Subsidies—and Back Again? The U.S. Farm Bill & Agrarian (in)Viability,” Journal of Rural Studies 50 (February 2017): 74, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jrurstud.2016.12.007.

[27] Graddy-Lovelace and Diamond, 76.

[28] Graddy-Lovelace and Diamond, 73–74.

[29] Graddy-Lovelace and Diamond, 79.

[30] Graddy-Lovelace and Diamond, 79.

[31] Patricia Allen and Julie Guthman, “From ‘Old School’ to ‘Farm-to-School’: Neoliberalization from the Ground Up,” Agriculture and Human Values 23, no. 4 (December 1, 2006): 401–15, https://doi.org/10.1007/s10460-006-9019-z.

[32] Lindenbaum, “Countermovement, Neoliberal Platoon, or Re-Gifting Depot?,” 385.

[33] I want to make clear that I apply this language of top-down agency and dehumanization to emphasize the ways in which these systems operate. These systems seek to disempower and dehumanize nonwhite citizens, but they cannot ultimately deprive individuals of their fundamental human agency.

[34] Rob Nixon, “Introduction,” in Slow Violence and the Environmentalism of the Poor (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2011), 2, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/brown/detail.action?docID=3300958.

[35] Nixon, 8–9.

[36] “Justice of Eating in the City: The Political Ecology of Urban Hunger,” in In the Nature of Cities: Urban Political Ecology and the Politics of Urban Metabolism, ed. Nik Heynen, Maria Kaika, and Erik Swyngedouw (New York: Routledge, 2006), 129, https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203027523-15.

[37] Laura Pulido and Juan De Lara, “Reimagining ‘Justice’ in Environmental Justice: Radical Ecologies, Decolonial Thought, and the Black Radical Tradition,” Environment and Planning E: Nature and Space 1, no. 1–2 (March 2018): 76–98, https://doi.org/10.1177/2514848618770363.

[38] “The Elusive Inclusive: Black Food Geographies and Racialized Food Spaces,” Antipode 47, no. 3 (June 2015): 759, https://doi.org/10.1111/anti.12131.

[39] Ashante M. Reese, “‘We Will Not Perish; We’re Going to Keep Flourishing’: Race, Food Access, and Geographies of Self-Reliance,” ANTIPODE 50, no. 2 (March 2018): 407–24, https://doi.org/10.1111/anti.12359.

[40] Pulido and De Lara, “Reimagining ‘Justice’ in Environmental Justice,” 77.

[41] Nik Heynen, “Bending the Bars of Empire from Every Ghetto for Survival: The Black Panther Party’s Radical Antihunger Politics of Social Reproduction and Scale,” Annals of the Association of American Geographers 99, no. 2 (2009): 407.

[42] Nik Heynen, 407.

[43] Nik Heynen, 410.

[44] Nik Heynen, 407, 416.

[45] Ramírez, “The Elusive Inclusive,” 755.

[46] Ramírez, 757.

[47] Ramírez, 757.

[48] Ramírez, 759.

[49] Monica M. White, “Sisters of the Soil: Urban Gardening as Resistance in Detroit,” Race/Ethnicity: Multidisciplinary Global Contexts 5, no. 1 (2011): 16, https://doi.org/10.2979/racethmulglocon.5.1.13.

[50] White, 19.

[51] White, 22.

[52] Julie Guthman, “Bringing Good Food to Others: Investigating the Subjects of Alternative Food Practice,” Cultural Geographies 15, no. 4 (October 1, 2008): 437, https://doi.org/10.1177/1474474008094315.

[53] McClintock, “Urban Agriculture, Racial Capitalism, and Resistance in the Settler-Colonial City,” 8.

[54] Reese, “We Will Not Perish; We’re Going to Keep Flourishing,” 408.

[55] McClintock, “Urban Agriculture, Racial Capitalism, and Resistance in the Settler-Colonial City,” 8.

[56] McClintock, 9.

[57] Pulido and De Lara, “Reimagining ‘Justice’ in Environmental Justice,” 92.