Late Winter 2021: Growing Justice

Winter can be a time of rest, reflection, and hibernation—a season, in “normal” circumstances, to consider the successes (and failures) of the year’s literal and figurative harvests, to refine our visions, sketch new blueprints, revise our menus, and order seeds for the coming spring. In this period without precedent, more than a few of us may recoil at the prospect of yet more time tucked away in the relative comfort of our homes. But as we learn from the stories in this issue, there is important work to be done in the winter—in the garden, in the kitchen, in our food systems—and this year, the occasion to nourish the roots of a healthier, more just and equitable local food system has taken on renewed urgency.

Growing Justice

Winter can be a time of rest, reflection, and hibernation—a season, in “normal” circumstances, to consider the successes (and failures) of the year’s literal and figurative harvests, to refine our visions, sketch new blueprints, revise our menus, and order seeds for the coming spring. In this period without precedent, more than a few of us may recoil at the prospect of yet more time tucked away in the relative comfort of our homes. But as we learn from the stories in this issue, there is important work to be done in the winter—in the garden, in the kitchen, in our food systems—and this year, the occasion to nourish the roots of a healthier, more just and equitable local food system has taken on renewed urgency.

Throughout 2020, when the vulnerability of long supply chains became evident to almost everyone, New Mexican growers and organizers responded to the needs of our neighbors and communities, finding ways to distribute local produce and feed the roots of our communities through food. These grassroots acts of generosity have built on—are rooted in—long-standing efforts to empower local communities through increased access to healthy, locally grown food. As we see with Project Feed the Hood in Albuquerque, young people are addressing systemic racism by growing their own vegetables and taking their health, and that of their community and open space, into their own hands. Lois Ellen Frank reports on the way increased food sovereignty is taking root on an institutional level throughout the state, as local farmers serve tribal elder centers and public schools with healthy produce and cooks learn to work with fresh and indigenous ingredients. Collectively, such work is nourishing the roots of a more resilient, just, and healthy state.

This winter may not be easy. For many, it will be a time of sorrow, grief, anxiety. We have lost friends and family and, with them, an incalculable amount of wisdom. We have lost jobs, and we have lost treasured community businesses and the connections through and into which they are woven. Maybe it is because of so many hardships and losses that we take even more comfort than usual in the strength expressed in these stories. In sharing the work of socially engaged chefs and farmers, we also share the SouthWest Organizing Project’s open invitation to engage directly in changing our food systems. Together, tapping into the strength and vitality of our collective roots, we can look forward to an abundant—and resilient—season ahead.