Food deserts: Lines in the sand

Food deserts have kicked up quite a bit of press recently for being large contributors to rising and disproportionately high rates of obesity and other health complications, particularly among inner-city residents. Several cities have taken steps to help stock healthy options (and remove unhealthy ones) in areas without nearby supermarkets, yet there are lingering questions: where do food deserts come from, and how can knowing that help us alleviate their consequences?

Unlike their sudden appearance on the news sheets, food deserts do not just emerge, without notice, like a 40-day flood. Moreover, the so-called grocery gap is not just a matter of too-few supermarkets to go around—as a recent USDA report shows, between 2% and 6% of U.S. households lie beyond walking distance (from ½ to 1 mile) of a supermarket and lack car access, making shopping difficult. In other words, food deserts not only reflect location and availability of food, they are also the symptoms of a fractured food system in which words like healthy, natural, fresh and whole exclude rather than invite people to join in eating good food.

A prime example of how a simple idea perpetuates inequalities: the food co-op. Initially branded in the same class as living co-ops, or communes, co-ops suffered their demise beginning in the 80s as people associated them with the yuppie invasion. Now, they’re coming back as eco-chic, part of the green, health-conscious spirit that belies a certain level of socioeconomic privilege.

But, this need not be the case. By definition, co-ops have nothing to do with trendy boutiques, but are means for cost sharing, consumer empowerment and community revitalization. Rather than see co-ops as pricey natural-foods havens, why not re-envision them as verdant commons to sow over the nation’s food deserts? They can roll back prices while rolling back the highly-processed wheat, corn and soy that dominate most food shelves, particularly in urban bodegas.

Reseeding a food desert is not a euphemism for selling out to a major grocery chain, but rather a call to reclaim food independence by reconstituting the rules by which we choose what to eat. By thinking of fresh food as a privilege for the wealthy, rather than a basic need that all consumers would demand, a producer or seller draws lines between people, neighborhoods and their access to food.

In New York City, for one, there are promising signs: expanded farmers markets marketed towards less-wealthy customers and food stamp recipients; initiatives to license fruit carts in low-income areas; and city-wide health and nutrition campaigns. These are the first movements in a long effort to create a more just system, one that does not differentiate nutritional value, freshness and wholesomeness based on untested assumptions.