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| "Look, Ma! I grew it myself!" |
hung a hand off of my mother's metal cart as she filled it with plastic, packaging, carbohydrates and sugar.
Bright orange boxes of Trix cereal.
Plastic jugs of 2% cow's milk.
Frozen containers of peas and carrots.
Small pints of corn syrup and juice.
Slabs of red meat bleeding onto styrofoam.
Down the frozen aisle, we would traverse - my salivating tongue imagining hot pockets and toaster strudels, Toasty O's and Entenmann's, Dorito's and, maybe, some ice cream too.
I wasn't raised to cook, and I certainly wasn't taught how to choose the ripest fruit or the firmest vegetable. I appreciated my parent's attempts at Sunday night dinners of steak and potatoes, while the weeks were pockmarked by alternating BLTs, Taco Salads and hamburgers. My college years guided me towards steamed zucchini and broccoli over rice as well as bowls of granola for breakfast. And though I always consciously knew that food came from the Earth, my relationship to and with it was distantly removed. I still struggle with being present to my food - especially when I am eating it.
It drove my ex nuts how I would just come home to hunt and peck through the kitchen refrigerator, looking for anything to put into my mouth. He was the chef and I was the consumer. "Mira," he instructed, as he taught me the Mexican ways of fruit salad y chili, of bbq'ed corn, and mole verde.
Today, my habits are better than they've ever been. A root stock soup sits on the stovetop. I relish strolling through the Little Italy Mercato as I buy local avocados, walnuts and butternut squash. I hug my farmers and I play with their children. I especially enjoy breaking bread with friends as we remember how to give "thanks" and how to offer a little ceremony for all the time that came before - growing.
So, I guess, FOOD JUSTICE for me is simply the reminder that the very beet that grows in the Earth is the very same as the heart that grows in my chest. And, I guess, FOOD JUSTICE can be the notion that the closer I come to tilling the soil and churning the land, to planting the seeds and growing the plant, the closer I'll come to me. Growing food in a pot is an easy, first step. All you need is a container (like a 5-gallon bucket or a milk container), some seeds (you can even harvest your seeds from the fruits you eat and plant them!) and nutritious soil. Add water, allow for lots of sunlight (windowsills work great!) and watch the magic unfold.
Yes, my beets may be small and, perhaps, my still unfolding heart is too, yet there is little that compares to the knowing that I can feed myself by cultivating and growing that which I need.
(Which is LOVE. Always love.)
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| I grew it in a pot, on the rooftop. |
