Ya-Sin Shabazz

Gulf Coast Sustainable Growers Alliance

We started the Gulf Coast Sustainable Growers Alliance as a way of organizing and keeping on point with a lot of our work around food. We also started the Just Water Initiative, which maintains a two-and-a-half acre off bottom oyster aquaculture operation.

Aquaculture is definitely a challenge our organization is addressing that could be affected by the Farm Bill. There are other challenges in terms of land ownership, land stewardship, and retention. And then there’s the water systems and irrigation systems that can help advance farming. So, those are two of our biggest problems with regards to our food work. With aquaculture, we have challenges in terms of boats, equipment, temporary water closures, and reef closures, because of water quality on the coast, which is also a problem.

Whenever there are adverse effects—anything from severe rain to bad weather to hurricanes being the worst—that does damage to the fisheries. But also just too much rain can affect the water sufficiency because of salinity levels, and things like that. There’s what’s called the freshwater inversion from the Mississippi River. So, when the rivers are high, the Army Corps of Engineers has the ultimate decision-making power, and they can open the spillways from the river into the Gulf. Water that comes in from the spillway will eventually make its way to the Gulf and that really impacts salinity levels, sometimes creating a salty deadzone. All of this can impact different fish species that are dependent on certain salt levels in the water and, therefore, affect the livelihood of fishermen.

Without support from the Farm Bill, there would be a number of challenges. This area has weathered them and will continue to weather them. We just hope to be able to make sure to the best extent possible by promoting local farmers, fresh food, and trying to continually educate the youth on the importance of food and food systems.

The post Faces of the Farm Bill: Ya-Sin Shabazz appeared first on Modern Farmer.

Two hours into the journey, the truck stopped for fuel in South Dakota. The Animals’ Angels investigators were able to approach the truck and see the ear tags for the calves. They were about one week old, and crammed together so tightly they were stepping on each other.

The truck continued to Kansas, where it stopped again for gas. At this point, temperatures had reached 100 degrees, but at no point were the calves given water or milk. The investigators could hear the calves bellowing in discomfort.

Video courtesy of Animal Welfare Institute/Animals’ Angels

There are a few issues here, says Adrienne Craig, senior policy associate and staff attorney for the Animal Welfare Institute. First is that these calves were being transported so young—sometimes just a day or two after they are born—before they had the chance to develop mature immune systems. This makes them vulnerable to disease during transport, potentially resulting in death. In this particular truck, the calves still had their umbilical cord attached, creating a risk for infection.

Second is that the conditions of the trip are stressful. The vibrations, noise, fumes, and abrupt motion of the road cause discomfort for the calves. During the 19-hour transport that Animals’ Angels investigators documented, they witnessed this truck reach risky speeds of up to 90 miles per hour, maintaining speed on curves. The investigators felt confident the calves were tossed around in the back. 

Typically, calves this age will eat every few hours or so. During the entire trip, the investigators did not see the calves get fed even once.

“We know that they’re not being fed on these journeys, because the logistics of stopping and bottle-feeding 200 neonatal calves is entirely unfeasible,” says Craig. 

When the truck reached its final destination, Animals’ Angels was not able to follow it inside to see the condition of the calves. But they drove by the next day to see where the calves were kept. It’s called a ranch, but it’s anything but idyllic—the investigators drove by and saw row after row of confined hutches filled with calves.

Product of consolidation

The long-haul transportation of newly born calves is a practice that has become common for very large dairies with tens of thousands of cows. According to research by the Animal Welfare Institute, hundreds of thousands of newborn calves are transported long distances every year to ranches where they are raised, either to be returned to the dairy as milking cows or slaughtered for dairy beef.

The problem is that the conditions of this travel at such a young age put these calves in a vulnerable situation, says Craig. Despite this, there are virtually no enforced legal protections for calves in this position.

“Some producers don’t prioritize…feeding them in such a way that they’re in the best shape to be transported these long distances,” says Craig. “Unfortunately, there just really isn’t any oversight on this.”

The dairies that participate in this practice are the ones with tens of thousands of cows, commonly called mega-dairies. It’s unclear when exactly this practice began, says Craig, but it has likely increased since dairy cows and beef cattle began being bred together to produce cows raised for “dairy beef,” dairy industry cattle that are butchered for consumption.

Dairies require pregnant cows, but at mega-dairies, many of the calves do not remain there after they’re born. Many mega-dairies ship these calves to the southwest where they are raised. Some of the females will be returned as dairy cows and the rest, both male and female, are butchered as dairy beef.

The industry dominance of megadairies at the expense of independent farms is a factor here. These systems prioritize efficiency, and transporting calves as quickly as possible is the most expedient option.

“It is certainly a product of consolidation of the dairy industry,” says Craig.

Solutions 

Waiting until the calves are older, perhaps a month old, or at least until their navel has healed from the umbilical cord, would make transport a lot safer for them, says Craig. The AWI has filed a petition with the USDA to improve regulations for interstate transport of young animals. 

Existing protections for interstate animal transport begin and end with the Twenty-Eight Hour Law, which states that animals must be offloaded for rest, food, and water if they have been traveling for 28 hours. However, this law is not consistently enforced. 

In June, Representative Dina Titus of Nevada introduced the Humane Transport of Farmed Animals Act to Congress, a bill that, if it becomes a law, would require the USDA to come up with a way to enforce the Twenty-Eight Hour Law, and it would make it illegal to transport animals deemed unfit to travel. This could be because of sickness, injury, or being too young.

Craig recommends that shoppers who are hoping to avoid supporting these kinds of practices can look for the third-party certifications Global Animal Partnership and Animal Welfare Approved on their dairy products, both of which have a minimum age requirement for transport. Another option is the Certified Humane certification, which does not have a minimum age but does have a time limit on how long animals can be on the road. You can read AWI’s full certification guide here.

The post The 1,000-Mile Journey of a Newborn Calf appeared first on Modern Farmer.

She had never thought of herself as an organizer or an environmentalist. She ran a restaurant. She published a cookbook. She was a mom to five kids. Of all the hats she wore, organizer wasn’t one of them.

“I had no idea about any of this stuff,” says Dougherty. “Literally zero—less than zero probably. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.”

Dougherty is definitely not unique in this respect. It is very hard for most people to know what to do to organize against the threats presented by factory farming in their community. While reporting our story about some of the communities that have resisted or are currently resisting factory farms, including Dougherty’s, we came across a lot of great advice from people who themselves have been in this position. Whether you’re organizing in response to a particular factory farm site or advocating for systemic change, learning from the experiences of others can be a great place to start, so we’ve compiled some of those insights for you here. 

Align yourself with a supporting organization

Food & Water Watch addresses factory farming on a big-picture scale. Michaelyn Mankel of Food & Water Watch Iowa says connecting with others is valuable at that broader scope, too.

“If you’re really serious about getting involved in this work, the most important thing I think there is to do is to find your people.”

Jennifer Breon of Food & Water Watch Iowa echoes this point.

“I think collective action is key, whether it’s Food & Water Watch or any other environmental organization that’s working on factory farm issues, or environmental issues around agriculture, where you can have a sphere of influence. Don’t just do this on your own.” 

When Barb Kalbach became aware of a hog CAFO being planned for just up the road from her in 2002, she called on the help of Iowa Citizens for Community Improvement. After successfully resisting the CAFO, she now works with Iowa CCI. According to Kalbach, aligning yourself with an organization can help you with strategy you might miss on your own. “It’s just those little things…that you and I wouldn’t think of, and that an organization that’s worked and helps people like that, they do think of that.”

Resources

Food & Water Watch has chapters across the US and organizes at a national level as well.

Iowa CCI provides assistance on a variety of social and environmental issues in Iowa.

Socially Responsible Agriculture Project (SRAP) has a Help Hotline for communities struggling against factory farming.

Environmental organizations can also be good to reach out to, especially ones that participate in water monitoring such as the Waterkeeper Alliance.

Communication is key

Dougherty, now senior regional representative with SRAP, recommends creating opportunities for community members to talk and be heard. Listening is key early on:

“Just literally holding space for folks and listening to them talk through the incredulousness of what they’re confronting…Tell me what’s going on, how is this impacting you? Are other people concerned? For me, at least the first couple of meetings are not spent devising a plan of attack; the first couple are completely based in, ‘Tell me more,’ as opposed to, ‘Let me tell you something.’”

Communication isn’t just important at the beginning. Emily Tucker of Food & Water Watch New Mexico recommends talking to others about what you’ve observed.

“Talk to your neighbors about it. Alone, we can’t get much done. But I think that the more folks work together and just say, Hey, I’ve noticed this, have you noticed this? I think that’s really important. Even if you don’t have a background in organizing, that is a wonderful place to start—just talking to your neighbor about the issue.”

Resources

Join Food & Water Watch’s Food Action Team as a volunteer to begin connecting with others in your community.

Get the word out

It’s important to make communication as easy as possible, and have streamlined ways of disseminating information. For ongoing battles, having a means of central communication is essential, says Starla Tillinghast of Oregon. 

“Kendra immediately got up a website full of information about it. And then people got signed up to be on email notification. And I think [the] number one most important thing is central communication because then that way we can be updated with anything coming up.”

Besides websites and listservs, other common ways to share information include Facebook groups and lawn signs. Bringing information to already established groups such as faith groups, schools, and community centers can also be helpful. 

Use public information and learn the laws

The industry isn’t going to publicize their plans, so seeking out information that is in the public domain but not advertised is a skill worth learning. These may include site plans, permit applications, and more. 

However, the process for getting access to public records looks different everywhere, says Kendra Kimbirauskas of State Innovation Exchange (SiX). Figuring out the unique process for making these requests in your area is a good early step.

“For somebody who’s kind of in the position that we were in, it’s really important to figure out who the public records officer or steward is, figure out what the process is, and then follow the process. And there’s going to be probably different processes for the different bodies of government that you’re talking to. We were interested in the state and the county, slightly different processes, but we had to understand what those processes were before we could get the records.”

It’s also okay to look at what other communities have done that could be a model for your community. When Farmers Against Foster Farms wanted to increase its  “setback” distance—the required distance between CAFOs and property lines— in Linn County, Oregon,  Tillinghast began looking at other agricultural states to see what their required setbacks were. Other states had much greater setbacks, and Tillinghast thought that this information could help Oregon follow suit.

“I went and looked up setbacks all across the nation, and I wrote that out in a table,” says Tillinghast. “I brought it to the planner, and I brought it to the county commissioners.”

Resources

SRAP has compiled the relevant laws concerning industrial livestock operations in each state. Find yours here.

Here’s a tutorial on how to make a Freedom of Information Act request.

Google “How to make a public records request in (county, city, or state name)” for more information.

Find out if your county has “local control”

It’s much harder to resist the effects of CAFOs once they are already built. Ideally, people would be able to know where CAFOs are going to go so they could prepare. Unfortunately, this is hard to do.

“It’s really tough to figure out where a CAFO will go next; they are pretty opaque when it comes to their next steps,” says Dougherty “From what I’ve seen, they like to come in under the radar and try to get the process started with little to no public knowledge. They seem to prefer communities with as  [few] regulations as possible.”

There are a few things that industry will look for when siting a CAFO, and perhaps the biggest one will be the ability to operate without being heavily regulated. One thing you can do today is find out if your state has “local control,” the ability to make certain decisions about agriculture at the county level instead of at the state level.

“Generally, CAFOs go where they can have a cluster, be within a certain distance to a processor, have access to transportation infrastructure, and feel that the local community doesn’t have the political power to prevent them from coming in. So, places are targeted where there [is] no local control—often, communities of color, often, communities with high unemployment rates so that they can sell the false narrative of job creation. Usually, the best way for communities to find out is through the community rumor mill. Sadly, a lot of times, communities don’t find out until the wheels are greased and the operations are being built,” says Kimbirauskas. 

Resources

Learn more about SB85, the recent law that gave Oregon local control here.

Think big picture, too

A lot of the work for a more sustainable food system is being done at the policy level. It’s important to go beyond individual site fights, because industry will always be looking for the next place to land. Alexa Moore of Food & Water Watch New Mexico points to the Farm Bill as a good example of legislation with a broad impact.

“There’s different levels of stuff—there’s your local level, there’s your state level, and then there’s your national level. We’re doing work on a fair Farm Bill. And so, that’s something that whether you’re in New Mexico, or Oregon, or Iowa, or Maryland, or South Carolina, or any of these states, this is going to impact you. And so, I think that’s something that whether you’re in a small community or in a very urban area, as a large farmer or small farmer or what have you, you can always connect through this larger issue that impacts everyone such as the Farm Bill.”

In your everyday life, you can support the kind of farmers you want to see, says Kimbirauskas. But beyond market-based solutions, she also encourages people to engage with legislators.

“Every single person in this country is represented by [legislators]. If you care about this issue, if you haven’t talked to them about this issue, they’re not inaccessible, typically. It’s pretty easy to connect with your state elected officials and let them know that this is something that you care about.”

Don’t think about these issues as siloed, says Rania Masri, PhD, co-director of North Carolina Environmental Justice Network.

“My advice that I have for people organizing is to make those links and not to organize in silos, not to just think about one aspect, but to make those links and then to connect them to state policies and federal policies. Have the courage to demand not a token seat at the table, but a completely different kind of table.”

Resources

The Farm System Reform Act would place an immediate moratorium on new factory farms. You can contact your legislators through Food & Water Watch about these issues here.

The House of Representatives’ Farm Bill draft has included language from the EATS Act. If included, this could take away states’ power to make decisions about the conditions of industrial animal agriculture locally. Learn more and take action here.

Avoid polarizing media narratives

Industrial farming can be an emotional topic for people involved. And according to Mankel, sharing stories with the media can be a powerful way to get the word out to others in the community.

“For the average person reading this, the best tool and the best place that you can put your focus on, at least to begin with, I think is the media…Look at local media and how you can get word out to the public and how you can get coverage on what’s going on and look to other organizations that you think might have a stake in this issue.”

Tucker advises people to tell their stories without contributing to polarizing anti-agriculture media narratives.

“I think that it’s really important to differentiate between small- and family-scale farmers and industrialized agriculture. And that’s something that can be kind of a struggle sometimes, and it can very, very easily get folks who farm small scale to be like, Well, why is this group organizing against me? And so, I think the narrative there is one that’s particularly important to challenge and say that, we want a food system that works for small farmers, and that works for consumers and works for the environment. And we think that we can do it. But that is a pretty difficult narrative to challenge in the media at times.”

Kimbirauskas of Oregon seconds the importance of this.

“A lot of times, we sort of get into these mindsets of them versus us. A lot of times, that kind of plays out as urban versus rural, and animal rights activists versus farmers. And that’s how the narrative is developed. That’s a losing battle for anyone who doesn’t like factory farms. And so, really striving to think about finding places of commonality, and not villainizing all farmers…I think our community saw this—when there’s a way for independent farmers to come together with advocates, and work together against factory farms, that is a winning strategy.”

Resources

You can contact us at Modern Farmer at contact@modfarm.com

Reach out to your local newspapers for coverage—most accept tips from the public. Try calling or emailing a reporter directly. You can usually find this contact information on the publication’s online masthead. If someone in your community is a writer, you can submit a letter to the editor—consult your newspaper’s pitch page for specific directions.

Take care of yourself, too

Organizing is hard work, and both site battles and systemic change can be long fights. Leslie Martinez, community engagement specialist for the Leadership Counsel for Justice and Accountability says that this kind of work can be hard on the mental health of organizers.

“Take care of yourself, because this is a movement. This is going to take time. It’s going to be hard. There’s going to be a lot more battles. And I’d also encourage people to remember that being selfless is not a sustainable way of doing this work.”

Martinez draws power from working closely with the community.

“I can use what I know to push back. I find strength in that.”

The post Advice From Those Organizing Against Factory Farms appeared first on Modern Farmer.

As a small farmer who formerly worked with communities to resist large corporate farms, she knew a lot about how industrial chicken operations could affect a community. She knew about the putrid smell of animal waste, she knew it wasn’t safe to drink the local water. But, in April of 2023, as she visited a midwestern farmer whose home was surrounded by dozens of industrial chicken barns producing millions of chickens, it was the sight of the trucks hurtling down the narrow roads, one after the other, that was particularly jarring. 

“If you can picture a dusty dirt road with semis barreling down, the amount of dust and dirt and God knows whatever else that comes off these trucks would literally blow into the front yard,” says Kimbirauskas. “Thinking about putting your clothes on the line, or having your windows open, that’s no longer an option because of these trucks.”

Carrying feed, new birds, and finished flocks, these trucks served as a near-constant reminder of the other things these operations bring with them—smells that make it hard to stand outside, air pollution you can feel burning your throat, not being able to trust the water coming out of your tap—the list goes on.

Just three years earlier, Kimbirauskas had gotten wind that Foster Farms was planning to move into her own home of Linn County, Oregon and decided to fight back. After a bit of digging, what she found was staggering: Foster Farms was planning three sites in the county to build concentrated animal feeding operations (CAFOs), which would collectively raise 13 million chickens per year. This visit provided Kimbirauskas with a glimpse into what she was fighting against in her own home community. 

“For me that was such an affirmation that [our] community is 100 percent going to be the target of chicken expansion,” says Kimbirauskas. “It really made me dig in and stand in my own power and agency of knowing that this is not something that would be good and beneficial for Linn County.”

CAFOs are defined by the EPA as intensive feeding operations where many animals are confined and fed for at least 45 days per year—though this is just a minimum—and where the waste from those animals poses a pollution threat to surface water. 

There are small, medium and large CAFOs, with the largest of these—housing thousands to tens of thousands of animals—embodying the truest definition of a “factory farm.” Many of the issues can be boiled down to the sheer concentration of manure they produce.

A mega-dairy CAFO can produce as much waste as a city; but whereas a city will have an advanced sewage system, CAFOs aren’t required to manage their waste in the same way.

As of 2022, there were more than 21,000 large CAFOs in the US. One estimate, informed by USDA data, suggests that 99 percent of livestock grown in the US is raised in a CAFO. Some states have particularly dense concentrations, such as Iowa, North Carolina, and Nebraska. This industry presents itself as a way to produce a lot of food while keeping costs down. But any cost saved by the consumer is a cost borne by the CAFOs’ neighboring communities, the environment, local economies, and even the contracted farmers themselves. 

Large CAFOs cause myriad problems that are currently being experienced by communities across the country. These issues include environmental pollution, drinking water poisoning, air pollution, and plummeting property values. In drought-ridden states such as New Mexico, CAFOs add insult to injury by contaminating the water and using more water than the dwindling aquifers can handle. In Winona County, Minnesota, more than 1,300 people can’t drink their water because of nitrate pollution.

There have been many instances of serious illnesses believed to be linked to living close to CAFOs, such as cancer and miscarriages, and respiratory issues such as asthma and sleep apnea are prolific in CAFO-adjacent communities. In North Carolina, living near a large CAFO has been associated with increased blood pressure. In Iowa, a study found that children raised on swine farms had increased odds of developing asthma.

Large CAFOs are often built in communities of color. This frequency with which polluting industries are built in these communities is evidence of ongoing environmental injustice. 

While the industry often associates itself with the picturesque image of American farming, the fact is that industrial agriculture has created the immense consolidation of US farms, driving farmers all over the country out of business. CAFOs are often built in clusters near each other—when a CAFO is built, more will likely follow.

The factory farm industry is expanding all the time, but communities across the country have become advocates to stop this expansion—both at individual sites, and on a systemic level—in the hopes that, one day, no one has to pay the price of factory farming. 

Foster Farms is coming to town

Linn County is tucked into the western part of Oregon and home to many family-run farms. But, in 2020, Foster Farms arrived in the county, planning to build CAFOs holding tens of thousands of birds at a time. Foster Farms is a poultry company that sells chicken and chicken products in chain grocery stores across the country. 

In Linn County, there was no public announcement of Foster Farms’ arrival.

“One of the stories that we hear time and again is people didn’t realize or don’t realize what’s going on until it’s too late,” says Kimbirauskas. “That is a tactic of the industry because nobody wants to live next to one of these things. So, they’re going to be trying to get in as quietly as possible.”

It started in 2020, when a woman working at a local feed store noticed a customer come in with Foster Farms company branding on his coat. He was a land scout, and he was in the area to try and determine suitable land for chicken operations.

She asked him some specific questions about the locations they were considering. One, she learned, was right next to her house. The land scout told her they planned to put up a buffer between the site and one of the bigger houses in the area, so they wouldn’t get complaints. But, she knew, there was also a smaller house on that road—her house. Would that house get a buffer?

Well, he told her, they don’t have enough money to do anything about it. 

Foster Farms’ behavior aligns with larger trends—data shows that CAFOs are disproportionately built in low-income areas.

After this upsetting conversation, the woman reached out to Kimbirauskas. Kimbirauskas is a bit of an anomaly when it comes to fighting CAFOs, because she’s seen similar situations play out all over the country. Growing up in Michigan, the rapid consolidation of dairy farms due to industrialized agriculture led her family to the very difficult decision to sell their dairy. Today, Kimbirauskas is the Senior Director of Agriculture and Food Systems at the State Innovation Exchange (SiX). Before that, as chief executive officer of the Socially Responsible Agriculture Project (SRAP), she had worked with communities across the country who were dealing with health and environmental issues as a result of living next to CAFOs. 

Kimbirauskas and other concerned members of the community found that there was no information available at the state level about what was going on, so the first thing Kimbirauskas began doing was submitting public records requests.

“Through those public records requests, we found that there was not two but three sites that were being proposed, which would have totaled roughly 13 million chickens within a 10-mile radius, and that was per year,” says Kimbirauskas. 

Something had to be done.

Site fights

The battle against factory farms happens at multiple scales. Some of the big-picture advocacy happens at the state and federal level, where advocates are trying to make systemic changes. Other battles happen directly over individual proposed or existing CAFOs—these are known as “site fights.” 

Site fights aren’t easy to win. But it is possible. Barb Kalbach, president of the board of Iowa Citizens for Community Improvement (CCI), has experienced it firsthand. In 2002, Kalbach lived on a small farm in Adair County, Iowa—a rural community that today has a population of less than 8,000. She heard through the grapevine that just 1,970 feet up the road from her property, a massive hog CAFO was being proposed. She called a realtor she knew who lived nearby who confirmed it. The operation would consist of 10 buildings holding 7,200 sows, producing 10 million gallons of liquid manure every year. Kalbach’s farm had always been surrounded by other farms. But no regular farm produces that much manure.

Kalbach called the Iowa CCI, which had been fighting social justice issues affecting Iowans since the 1970s.

“I called the office. That was on a Friday, and they sent out on Sunday an organizer. And in that two-day period, I called all the neighbors, anybody I can think of in our community that probably wouldn’t like it very well, this confinement, and we all met over at our little local country church.”

When organizing against a CAFO, simply not wanting one near you isn’t a good enough reason to keep one out. CCI didn’t do the work for them, says Kalbach, but advised them on things they could do, such as looking for evidence in their plans that the facility wouldn’t be able to meet the environmental regulation requirements. Proof of this kind is easier said than found.

Kalbach and her neighbors went to commissioner meetings, did research, wrote letters to the editor of the local newspaper, created petitions and sought signatures. The actual turning point came to Kalbach as a phone call in the early hours of the day.

“At four o’clock in the morning, one of the guys called me and he said, ‘I’ve got a great idea,’” says Kalbach. To get permitted, this operation would have to create a manure management plan for the 10 million gallons of liquid manure per year. “The guy that called me said, ‘let’s get all the farmers within a 10-mile radius to sign a document that states they will not accept the manure.’” 

The idea was to show the Environmental Protection Commission (EPC) that all of the manure would have to be transported at least 10 miles before anything could be done with it. The CAFO would not be able to claim that nearby farms were going to use the manure as fertilizer.

The CAFO was permitted anyway. The community appealed this decision, and during this period, they brought forth everything they had—including the list of neighboring farmers who agreed to reject the CAFO’s manure. And they succeeded. In the end, the vote went in favor of the community.

“[The EPC) voted finally and we won five to four,” says Kalbach. “He was smacked down and we did not have a factory farm built by us.”

Site fight victories show what’s possible. But when denied a site, industry begins looking elsewhere. The danger is that the next community may not be as successful in resisting. And that’s why many advocates are also looking for systemic change. 

“Site fights, especially here in the state of Iowa, are never going to be adequate…We need to upend the system of prioritizing CAFOs over everything else,” says Michaelyn Mankel of Food & Water Watch Iowa.

Iowa is densely populated with CAFOs. In the last 25 years, the number of waterways in Iowa that are polluted has increased significantly. Iowa Public Radio reports that Iowa has the second-highest rate of new cancers in the country, and it leads the nation in the highest rate of new cancers. Kalbach says she believes these are connected. 

Iowa is known for its sheer density of swine CAFOs, producing one out of every three hogs raised for consumption. As a result, Iowa has to deal with more hog waste than any other state in the country. The impact is felt in both rural and urban communities.

“I think it’s a little easier in urban centers, like Iowa City and Des Moines, to feel like things are a little more normal, and that the scale of the problem isn’t quite what it is,” says Mankel. “But driving through rural Iowa, and visiting small towns, it’s really destroyed so much of our state.”

There has been a campaign for a moratorium on new or expanding CAFOs in the Iowa state legislature since 2017. It has not been passed.

Despite the lack of success in Iowa, moratoria movements are one way that some other states and counties have prevented new CAFOs being built or expanded. At a federal level, Senator Cory Booker’s Farm System Reform Act could make moratoria a reality across the country. While site fights are important, they are not always successful. In states such as Iowa, which is densely saturated with CAFOs, only systemic change will move the needle. 

“I think those folks, who are the [majority] of Iowans who are not farmers, are starting to understand why they should care about this,” says Jennifer Breon of Food & Water Watch Iowa.

Consolidation and systemic advocacy

Being near a megadairy CAFO is a visceral experience. In Clovis, New Mexico, organizer for Food & Water Watch Alexa Moore said the smell was like that of a normal farm cranked up to 10 times the potency. That smell, caused by the high concentration of manure, is more than just a bad scent; these fumes carry ammonia and hydrogen sulfide, which cause respiratory issues. Just walking through the parking lot of a Walmart, Moore’s throat was burning.

Moore’s stop in Roswell was part of a roadshow to three towns with a heavy factory farming presence: Clovis, Roswell, and Las Cruces. At each of these communities, Moore and fellow organizer Emily Tucker hosted a showing of the film “Right to Harm,” a documentary that demonstrates some of the ways communities are resisting factory farming across the country. This roadshow aimed to build awareness of the issue, and foster conversation around some of the systemic changes that need to be made, and talk about the situations in the surrounding area. Some of these locations are also near airforce and military bases, which have caused pollution as well. They found some residents knew there was water pollution, but they didn’t realize how much of it was due to the large CAFOs.

“A lot of people just assumed that all of the water contamination was from those military bases,” says Moore. 

Along the way, they were cautioned by locals not to drink the water. At a taproom in Roswell, Tucker asked the server for a glass of water. 

“I’ll just get you a bottle,” the server replied. 

In a state that experienced a decades-long drought, New Mexico doesn’t have much water to spare. But here, factory farms use an estimated 32 million gallons of water every day. This puts a particular squeeze on smaller farmers, who simply can’t farm without water.

“What we are seeing is a lot of our smaller farmers aren’t able to continue to dig wells. So, we’re seeing aquifer levels drop, their wells are going dry, and the small farmers aren’t able to compete with these big corporations who can keep drilling and keep drilling,” says Moore.

Moore’s own family feels the strain directly. “My cousin is a farmer. He lives down in Alamogordo. He’s a small family farmer, been in the family for five generations,” says Moore. “And just this year, they lost their well water and so he can no longer farm, which is a huge part of his income.”

Large-scale dairies also outcompete more sustainable operations on price, driving them out of business. In the past 20 years, New Mexico has lost half of its small-scale dairies. In this context, a small dairy is less than 500 cows. Large dairies can have tens of thousands of cows.

Consolidation isn’t just a symptom of the factory farm problem, says Sean Carroll, policy and organizing director for the Land Stewardship Project in Minnesota. It’s the root of it.

“Our system is so consolidated,” says Carroll. “But that’s a system that we created through choices made by policymakers. We can make different policy decisions that actually create a system that is better for farmers [and] better for rural communities.” 

A member organization of the HEAL Food Alliance, the Land Stewardship Project has had about 40 successful oppositions against CAFOs in just as many years. But it also engages in policy work at the state and federal level. Real change can be affected through a balance of both, says Carroll. 

“At the local level, people’s voices have a lot of power,” says Carroll. “At the same time, so much of the drivers of this system are decisions that are made at the state or the federal level.”

One of the greatest ways to battle industrial animal agriculture is by bolstering sustainable farm systems through policy. For example, the USDA is currently re-evaluating its Packers and Stockyards Act. Anyone can contact their legislators to voice their support of policies that can create long-lasting change.

“We can and need to change the language of the law so that farmers have actual legal avenues to challenge price discrimination from consolidation,” says Carroll.

Additionally, the Farm Bill is a giant piece of legislation passed once approximately every five years, and it affects everything to do with our food system. One of the Land Stewardship Project’s priorities for the Farm Bill is to stop using conservation funding for factory farms. Millions of dollars of this funding goes to large-scale CAFOs instead of helping smaller farmers expand their sustainable practices. 

The use of conservation funding for large-scale CAFOs is something that community advocates around the country know all too well. Often, this takes the shape of anaerobic digesters at large CAFOs, which convert animal manure into methane gas, to be used as energy.

Rania Masri, PhD, co-director of the North Carolina Environmental Justice Network, says that biogas gets touted as a clean energy solution when really it’s the complete opposite.

“That concept, in and of itself, sounds great, but when we look into the details, we see that in North Carolina, biogas promotion is specifically designed to financially incentivize and increase the profit of industrial agriculture,” says Masri. “So, in that way, what it ends up doing is increasing methane production rather than decreasing it, increasing pollution in communities rather than decreasing it, and threatening communities with the possibility of methane explosion.”

Organizing against false solutions

In places where clusters of large-scale CAFOs are already established, organizers try to prevent existing CAFOs from expanding. In recent years, this has included advocacy against building anaerobic biogas digesters at large CAFOs. 

Federal and state governments have put forth biogas technology as a way to cut down on greenhouse gas emissions from agriculture. But advocates such as SRAP and Friends of the Earth say that biogas production does not erase the environmental impact of CAFOs. Instead, this industry creates a market for the manure systems that are most detrimental to human health. 

By incentivizing manure production, biogas encourages mega-dairies to grow in size. 

In areas such as California’s Central Valley, parts of the midwest, and eastern North Carolina, advocates are speaking up against digesters. In this work, communities have to go up against not just industrial animal production giants, but also Big Oil—which has a direct interest in seeing the biogas market grow.

“It’s important that when you’re organizing about this stuff, you’re super clear with the community members about what you’re going up against,” says Leslie Martinez, community engagement specialist for Leadership Counsel for Justice and Accountability (LCJA). “You’re going up against Goliath.”

LCJA addresses systemic injustice, particularly in California’s rural and low-income regions, and biogas is one of the issues on which Martinez works closely with community members. Martinez is based in California’s San Joaquin Valley, where there is a high concentration of mega-dairies. In the small towns throughout the valley, people may live next to as many as two dozen of these operations. No one knows the negative impacts of living next to mega-dairies better than people who actually do. They experience the air and water pollution firsthand.

“Communities who live next to dairies have a lot of expertise,” says Martinez.

And yet, this technology is part of both state and federal plans to decrease greenhouse gas emissions. New Mexico recently passed a bill called the Clean Transportation Fuel Standard, intended to support the development of clean energy in the state. 

California has its own Low Carbon Fuel Standard, something that has turned out to bolster mega-dairy CAFOs by supporting the development of anaerobic digesters. To resist the impacts of digesters, it’s important to know how the rules surrounding the industry are made.

“If you’re an organizer, I think step one is to figure out how decisions get made,” says Martinez. “But [it’s] also important to talk to someone who has been through this, who has been through a regulation so you can also understand the weird politics about it.”

Martinez and LCJA have had individual victories against CAFO expansions, but when it comes to biogas advocacy, it has been difficult to get the California Air Resources Board to take the community’s concerns about public health into consideration. 

“It’s business as usual,” says Martinez. “But what about the fact that this business as usual is bad?”

As an organizer, Martinez has experienced how things like this frequently get presented through a narrow lens, such as focusing on creating methane gas without acknowledging community impact. She recommends organizers and communities push for a more holistic approach. A good question to keep coming back to when speaking to industry or government officials is, ‘how would that impact community?’

“The other thing I encourage organizers to do is to stop thinking about things in silos. The bureaucracy creates things in silos to make it difficult for communities to make change, and at the end of the day, we know that there needs to be comprehensive reform around how we are doing dairies in California.”

Becoming an advocate

When Mary Dougherty first heard of the plan to build a 26,000-hog CAFO in her home of Bayfield County, Wisconsin, she was concerned. Other parts of Minnesota had been through this. In Kewaunee County, there were more cows than people and nitrate pollution made the water unsafe to drink in many private wells. It’s still that way, today.

Dougherty knew it was bad news. What she didn’t know was what to do about it. 

She had never thought of herself as an organizer or an environmentalist. She ran a restaurant. She published a cookbook. She was a mom to five kids. Of all the hats she wore, organizer wasn’t one of them.

“I had no idea about any of this stuff,” says Dougherty. “Literally zero—less than zero probably. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.”

But she had to learn. There are only about 16,000 people in Bayfield County, so the idea of there being more hogs than humans was frightening. The town of Bayfield is perched on the edge of Lake Superior. Even though she didn’t think of herself as an environmentalist, many people in Bayfield shared the same love for the lake and the surrounding landscape. The acute threat posed by CAFO pollution had to be addressed.

Now senior regional representative for the Socially Responsible Agriculture Project, Dougherty first got involved with the organization because it was who she reached out to for assistance.

“I got involved with SRAP because I called for help,” says Dougherty. “I have such a really deep appreciation for the space [people are] in when they call because I was in that space in 2015.”

Industrial agriculture is more “industry” than “farming,” says Dougherty. “Industry is hiding behind a beloved American archetype of the American farmer. And they are causing great harm across this country, because they’re not farmers, they’re industrial operations that come with all of the risks that accompany all industrial operations.”

The impact of this is two-fold—it leads to people supporting large-scale corporate farms because they think they’re supporting the family farmer. But it also means that these operations aren’t subject to the same regulations and monitoring as manufacturing industries. As agricultural operations, large CAFOs get away with more self-reporting and self-regulation.

Dougherty receives calls about impending CAFOs, and in places where CAFOs are already established, anaerobic digesters for biogas. 

For the average person to begin organizing against a CAFO or digester is like going into a whole new world where they don’t speak the language, says Dougherty. This new world is filled with things such as public records requests, zoning codes, and manure management plans.

Having been through the situation herself and supported others in similar situations, Dougherty says the most important thing to do first is listen to the community. She calls this a “tell me more” approach.

“What the Community Support program does is … hold space for folks, as they orient themselves to this huge fight they’re gonna find themselves in,” says Dougherty. 

When things were beginning in Bayfield, these early conversations were like the community’s compass rose. They asked themselves questions such as “who are we” and “what do we value?” And only then, says Dougherty, could they move on to “what are we going to do about it?”

Bayfield residents came together on the common ground of wanting to protect Lake Superior and the surrounding landscape. And what they did about it was they started a petition to enact a moratorium on siting CAFOs in Bayfield County. 

“This is ground that we all can stand on and agree, yes, this works for us. And once we’ve defined that ground, then we go on to the work of how we’re going to protect this place.”

The county board of supervisors passed the moratorium, stopping the clock temporarily. During that time, the board set up a study committee, which ended up recommending two ordinances that would further regulate any future CAFOs in Bayfield County. The 26,000-hog CAFO was not built in Bayfield County—but it did find another home in Burnett County.

Bayfield’s victory shows what communities are capable of. And the re-siting of the CAFO in a neighboring county demonstrates why so many advocates are pushing for systemic change as well. 

Back in Linn County, Oregon, Farmers Against Foster Farms was working towards both—a bill to protect not only its county but give other Oregon counties the ability to defend themselves as well.

In Oregon, the story is not over

Finding out about the planned chicken operation galvanized Linn County residents—many of them farmers themselves—to organize into a group called Farmers Against Foster Farms. They made a website and an email listserv, created yard signs and a Facebook page. The three planned sites were a concern, but they also wanted a way to address the issue more generally, before future sites were even chosen.

Starla Tillinghast, a Linn County farmer and member of Farmers Against Foster Farms, knew that many of the issues they were concerned about, such as environmental pollution and health effects, could be partially addressed with “setbacks.” A setback is a legally required distance between a CAFO and a property line. Oregon’s was on the lower end—a couple of dozen feet. Tillinghast began looking at other agricultural states to see what their required setbacks were. Other states had greater setbacks, and Tillinghast thought that this information could help Oregon follow suit.

“I went and looked up setbacks all across the nation, and I wrote that out in a table,” says Tillinghast. “I brought it to the planner, and I brought it to the county commissioners.”

When they went to the Linn County commissioners with their concerns, they were faced with this issue: Oregon counties did not have “local control” or the ability to make decisions about these matters at the county level. When decisions about CAFOs are made at the state level, it makes it easier for industry to get a toehold in desirable areas.

They campaigned in coalition with other groups and, in August 2023, Oregon passed Senate Bill 85. One of the things it did was give counties local control. Another key part of its passing made it illegal for corporate farms to access groundwater without a permit, which Kimbirauskas suspects led two of the three potential Foster Farms sites to pull their permit applications. The third was granted and then paused—to be under review until October 2024. 

In December, the county commissioners voted in favor of a one-mile setback for any new or expanding CAFOs—a huge victory for the group.

But after the decision, there was a lot of pushback. The county commissioners, who had passed the decision but had yet to codify it, reopened the topic for public comment and set another meeting for June, wherein the commissioners would either uphold the previous decision or walk it back.

The comments poured in. The Albany Democrat-Herald reports that nearly 200 people wrote in, both supporting and opposing the setback rule, most in opposition being members of a Facebook group called “Families for Affordable Food.” This group mischaracterizes what the setback would actually do, implying it would hinder new farms and ranches in the area, when the focus is actually on large livestock operations.

It wasn’t just people in Linn County who wrote in, nor even just in Oregon. People wrote in from the Midwest and the East Coast, above Oregon in Washington and below in California, signifying the cross-country nature of the resistance to factory farming.

“The whole nation is watching us,” said Commissioner Sherrie Sprenger. “It’s a big deal.”

In the end, they voted to maintain the one-mile setback, but only for poultry CAFOs. This is a victory for the group, as well as an indication that more work will need to be done to make the case for holding that setback for dairy and hog CAFOs as well.

“I feel uneasy…This story may not be finished,” wrote Tillinghast to Modern Farmer in an email. “But probably no [Foster Farms] CAFOs in Linn County for 2024 anyway.”

The post Factory Farms Make Bad Neighbors. Meet the People Who Are Fighting Back appeared first on Modern Farmer.

That’s how a farmer who used to work for Perdue described his chicken house—a sight so upsetting that it led him to transition out of this kind of work, often referred to as “factory farming.” 

Factory farming is a colloquial term, one meant to evoke the mechanized and impersonal nature of the process—although the phrase itself is somewhat vague. How big of an operation are we talking about, and why is it a problem? To get at the heart of the issue, it helps to be more specific.

What the term is actually referring to can be more or less encapsulated in large-scale CAFOs, or concentrated animal feeding operations. 

Concentrated animal feeding operations

CAFOs are defined by the EPA as intensive feeding operations where many animals are confined and fed for at least 45 days per year (though it can be much more) and inevitably their manure and waste come in contact with ground and surface water. 

There are small, medium and large CAFOs, with the largest of these embodying the truest definition of a “factory farm.” A large CAFO is at least 1,000 “animal units. ”An animal unit is roughly 1,000 lbs of live animal so to be classified as a large CAFO an operation would need to have at least:

Or combinations of all types of animals totaling 1,000 animal units. 

The largest of these CAFOs hold tens of thousands of animals in one place. 

Rationalized as a way to feed more people, large CAFOs are pervasive in our food system. But industrial animal agriculture comes with a lot of downsides.

What’s the problem?

The main problems with concentrated animal agriculture are its impacts on human health, its impact on the environment, and its threats to animal welfare. Many of these issues can be boiled down to the fact that these operations produce a lot of manure in one place. And those pollutants are released directly into the air and water. A single large CAFO can produce as much waste as a human city but without the same sewage treatment processes in place.

Human Health

For people who live near these CAFOs, pollution of the air and water pose serious health concerns. Respiratory issues such as asthma can be caused or made worse, and nitrate pollution in water can cause conditions such as blue baby syndrome. Although it can be difficult to prove causation, there have been many instances of serious issues believed to be caused by living close to CAFOs, such as cancer, miscarriages, and more. In the US, research has indicated that the impacts of agriculture on air quality lead to 17,900 deaths per year.

Additionally, these large-scale animal operations are often built in communities of color. For example, in California’s Central Valley, people of color are 1.29 times more likely to live within three  miles of a large dairy CAFO than white residents. With examples of this spanning the country, from California to North Carolina, this kind of pollution is a pattern of environmental injustice.

Farmer Health and Well-being  

Often, the farmers who enter into contracts with big meat companies such as  Tyson or Perdue find themselves taking on extensive debt to keep up with the equipment demands of the company. Due to the pay system that some of these companies use, farmers don’t make enough money to get out of debt. Instead, the company keeps the profits while the farmers shoulder the overhead costs. Ultimately, contract farming has caused many producers to lose their farms.

Environment 

Air and waterways can be seriously polluted by CAFOs. In Iowa, the state with the most hog waste in the country, the number of polluted waterways has increased dramatically in the last few decades. In North Carolina, flooding caused by Hurricane Matthew had caused substantial pollution when hog waste overflowed from their lagoons. The reason CAFOs are designated by the EPA is because the Clean Water Act specifically regulates waste and pollutants in our water and this concentration of animals and their waste is seen as a major source of potential pollution.

Animal Welfare 

In these operations, chickens, cows, and hogs are kept in conditions where they can hardly move or stand up. They are dirty and ill for most of their lives. Animal rights groups have long sounded the alarm on these conditions, but Ag-gag laws are in place in many states in an attempt to prevent these conditions from being documented.

Additional Issues

Living near a large CAFO can impact people in a lot of other ways,  too. There is an ever-present bad smell, flies, property values go down, mental health implications, and more. Even if you do not live next to a large CAFO, the issues with this type of animal production can include the spread of disease and strain on water supply.

No. Advocates would not equate large-scale CAFOs with farming at all. There are many farms—farms that practice animal agriculture—that operate in a way that protects the environment, practices responsible animal care, and does not harm the human communities close to them. These farmers are in a different category from industrial animal agriculture, which many farmers and advocates in this space would say is actually not agriculture at all, but more similar to manufacturing—hence the “factory” moniker. 

Still, this industry will often present itself as representative of the American farmer. As a result, critics are branded as “anti-agriculture” when in fact, the opposite is true. What many advocates call for is not the end of farming, but the end of a brand of food production that harms more than it helps.

The post Factory Farms Explained appeared first on Modern Farmer.

Standing knee-deep in an emerald expanse, a row of trees offering respite from the sweltering heat, Rosa Morales diligently relocates chipilín, a Central American legume, from one bed of soil to another. The 34-year-old has been coming to the Campesinos’ Garden run by the Farmworker Association of Florida in Apopka for the last six months, taking home a bit of produce each time she visits. The small plot that hugs a soccer field and community center is an increasingly vital source of food to feed her family. 

It also makes her think of Guatemala, where she grew up surrounded by plants. “It reminds me of working the earth there,” Morales said in Spanish. 

Tending to the peaceful community garden is a far cry from the harvesting Morales does for her livelihood. Ever since moving to the United States 16 years ago, Morales has been a farmworker at local nurseries and farms. She takes seasonal jobs that allow her the flexibility and income to care for her five children, who range from 18 months to 15 years old. 

This year, she picked blueberries until the season ended in May, earning $1 for every pound she gathered. On a good day, she earned about two-thirds of the state’s minimum hourly wage of $12. For that, Morales toiled in brutal heat, with little in the way of protection from the sun, pesticides, or herbicides. With scant water available, the risk of dehydration or heat stroke was never far from her mind. But these are the sorts of things she must endure to ensure her family is fed. “I don’t really have many options,” she said. 

Now, she’s grappling with rising food prices, a burden that isn’t relieved by state or federal safety nets. Her husband works as a roofer, but as climate change diminishes crop yields and intensifies extreme weather, there’s been less work for the two of them. They have struggled to cover the rent, let alone the family’s ballooning grocery bill. 

“It’s hard,” she said. “It’s really, really hot … the heat is increasing, but the salaries aren’t.” The Campesinos’ Garden helps fill in the gap between her wages and the cost of food.

Her story highlights a hidden but mounting crisis: The very people who ensure the rest of the country has food to eat are going hungry. Although no one can say for sure how many farmworkers are food insecure (local studies suggest it ranges from 52 to 82 percent), advocates are sure the number is climbing, driven in no small part by climate change. 

The 2.4 million or so farmworkers who are the backbone of America’s agricultural industry earn among the lowest wages in the country. The average American household spends more than $1,000 a month on groceries, an almost unimaginable sum for families bringing home as little as $20,000 a year, especially when food prices have jumped more than 25 percent since 2019.  Grappling with these escalating costs is not a challenge limited to farmworkers, of course — the Department of Agriculture says getting enough to eat is a financial struggle for more than 44 million people. But farmworkers are particularly vulnerable because they are largely invisible in the American political system.

“When we talk about supply chains and food prices going up, we are not thinking about the people who are producing that food, or getting it off the fields and onto our plates,” said Nezahualcoyotl Xiuhtecutli. 

Xiuhtecutli works with the National Sustainable Agriculture Coalition to protect farmworkers from the occupational risks and exploitation they face. Few people beyond the workers themselves recognize that hunger is a problem for the community, he said — or that it’s exacerbated by climate change. The diminished yields that can follow periods of extreme heat and the disruptions caused by floods, hurricanes, and the like inevitably lead to less work, further exacerbating the crisis.

There isn’t a lot of aid available, either. Enrolling in federal assistance programs is out of the  question for the roughly 40 percent of farmworkers without work authorization or for those who fear reprisals or sanctions. Even those who are entitled to such help may be reluctant to seek it. In lieu of these resources, a rising number of advocacy organizations are filling the gaps left by government programs by way of food pantries, collaborative food systems, and community gardens across America.

“Even though [farmworkers] are doing this job with food, they still have little access to it,” said Xiuhtecutli. “And now they have to choose between paying rent, paying gas to and from work, and utilities, or any of those things. And food? It’s not at the top of that list.”

∴

Historically, hunger rates among farmworkers, as with other low-income communities, have been at their worst during the winter due to the inherent seasonality of a job that revolves around growing seasons. But climate change and inflation have made food insecurity a growing, year-round problem. 

In September, torrential rain caused heavy flooding across western Massachusetts. The inundation decimated farmland already ravaged by a series of storms. “It impacted people’s ability to make money and then be able to support their families,” Claudia Rosales said in Spanish. “People do not have access to basic food.” 

As executive director of the Pioneer Valley Workers Center, Rosales fights to expand protections for farmworkers, a community she knows intimately. After immigrating from El Salvador, she spent six years working in vegetable farms, flower nurseries, and tobacco fields across Connecticut and Massachusetts, and knows what it’s like to experience food insecurity. She also understands how other exploitative conditions, such as a lack of protective gear or accessible bathrooms, can add to the stress of simply trying to feed a family. Rosales remembers how, when her kids got sick, she was afraid she’d get fired if she took them to the doctor instead of going to work. (Employers harassed her and threatened to deport her if she tried to do anything about it, she said.) The need to put food on the table left her feeling like she had no choice but to tolerate the abuse.   

“I know what it’s like, how much my people suffer,” said Rosales. “We’re not recognized as essential … but without us, there would not be food on the tables across this country.” 

 The floodwaters have long since receded and many farms are once again producing crops, but labor advocates like Rosales say the region’s farmworkers still have not recovered. Federal and state disaster assistance helps those with damaged homes, businesses, or personal property, but does not typically support workers. Under federal law, if agricultural workers with a temporary visa lose their job when a flood or storm wipes out a harvest, they are owed up to 75 percent of the wages they were entitled to before the disaster, alongside other expenses. They aren’t always paid, however. “Last year, there were emergency funds because of the flooding here in Massachusetts that never actually made it to the pockets of workers,” Rosales said. 

The heat wave that recently scorched parts of Massachusetts likely reduced worker productivity and is poised to trigger more crop loss, further limiting workers’ ability to make ends meet. “Climate-related events impact people economically, and so that then means limited access to food and being able to afford basic needs,” said Rosales, forcing workers to make difficult decisions on what they spend their money on — and what they don’t.  

The impossible choice between buying food or paying other bills is something that social scientists have been studying for years. Research has shown, for example, that low-income families often buy less food during cold weather to keep the heat on. But climate change has given rise to a new area to examine: how extreme heat can trigger caloric and nutritional deficits. A 2023 study of 150 countries revealed that unusually hot weather can, within days, create higher risks of food insecurity by limiting the ability to earn enough money to pay for groceries. 

It’s a trend Parker Gilkesson Davis, a senior policy analyst studying economic inequities at the nonprofit Center for Law and Social Policy, is seeing escalate nationwide, particularly as utility bills surge. “Families are definitely having to grapple with ‘What am I going to pay for?’” she said. “People, at the end of the month, are not eating as much, having makeshift meals, and not what we consider a full meal.” 

Federal programs like the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, or SNAP, are designed to help at times like these. More than 41 million people nationwide rely on the monthly grocery stipends, which are based on income, family size, and some expenses. But one national survey of nearly 3,700 farmworkers found just 12.2 percent used SNAP. Many farmworkers and migrant workers do not qualify because of their immigration status, and those who do often hesitate to use the program out of fear that enrolling could jeopardize their status. Even workers with temporary legal status like a working visa, or those considered a “qualified immigrant,” typically must wait five years before they can begin receiving SNAP benefits. Just six states provide nutrition assistance to populations, like undocumented farmworkers, ineligible for the federal program.

The expiration of COVID-era benefit programs, surging food costs, and international conflicts last year forced millions more Americans into a state of food insecurity, but no one can say just how many are farmworkers. That’s because such data is almost nonexistent — even though the Agriculture Department tracks annual national statistics on the issue. Lisa Ramirez, the director of the USDA’s Office of Partnerships and Public Engagement, acknowledged that the lack of data on hunger rates for farmworkers should be addressed on a federal level and said there is a “desire” to do something about it internally. But she didn’t clarify what specifically is being done. “We know that food insecurity is a problem,” said Ramirez, who is a former farmworker herself. “I wouldn’t be able to point to statistics directly, because I don’t have [that] data.” 

Without that insight, little progress can be made to address the crisis, leaving the bulk of the problem to be tackled by labor and hunger relief organizations nationwide.

“My guess is it would be the lack of interest or will — sort of like a willful ignorance — to better understand and protect these populations,” said social scientist Miranda Carver Martin, who studies food justice and farmworkers at the University of Florida. “Part of it is just a lack of awareness on the part of the general public about the conditions that farmworkers are actually working in. And that correlates to a lack of existing interest or resources available to build an evidence base that reflects those concerns.” 

The lack of empirical information prevented Martin and her colleagues Amr Abd-Elrahman and Paul Monaghan from creating a tool that would identify the vulnerabilities local farmworkers experience before and after a disaster. “What we’ve found is that the tool that we dreamed of, that would sort of comprehensively provide all this data and mapping, is not feasible right now, given the dearth of data,” she noted.

However, Martin and her colleagues did find, in a forthcoming report she shared with Grist, that language barriers often keep farmworkers from getting aid after an extreme weather event. Examining the aftermath of Hurricane Idalia, they found cases of farmworkers in Florida trying, and failing, to get food at emergency stations because so many workers spoke Spanish and instructions were written only in English. She suspects the same impediments may hinder post-disaster hunger relief efforts nationwide.

Martin also believes there is too little focus on the issue, in part because some politicians demonize immigrants and the agriculture industry depends upon cheap labor. It is easier “to pretend that these populations don’t exist,” she said. “These inequities need to be addressed at the federal level. Farmworkers are human beings and our society is treating them like they’re not.” 

∴

Tackling hunger has emerged as one of the biggest priorities for the Pioneer Valley Workers Center that Claudia Rosales leads. Her team feeds farmworker families in Massachusetts through La Despensa del Pueblo, a food pantry that distributes food to roughly 780 people each month.  

The nonprofit launched the pantry in the winter of 2017. When the pandemic struck, it rapidly evolved from a makeshift food bank into a larger operation. But the program ran out of money last month when a key state grant expired, sharply curtailing the amount of food it can distribute. The growing need to feed people also has limited the organization’s ability to focus on its primary goal of community organizing. Rosales wants to see the food bank give way to a more entrepreneurial model that offers farmworkers greater autonomy. 

“For the long term, I’d like to create our own network of cooperatives owned by immigrants, where people can go and grow and harvest their own food and products and really have access to producing their own food and then selling their food to folks within the network,” she said. 

Mónica Ramírez, founder of the national advocacy organization Justice for Migrant Women, is developing something very much like that in Ohio. Ramírez herself hails from a farmworker family. “Both of my parents started working in the fields as children,” she said. “My dad was eight, my mom was five.” Growing up in rural Ohio, Ramírez remembers visiting the one-room shack her father lived in while picking cotton in Mississippi, and spending time with her grandparents who would “pile on a truck” each year and drive from Texas to Ohio to harvest tomatoes and cucumbers all summer. 

The challenges the Ramírez family faced then persist for others today. Food security has grown so tenuous for farmworkers in Fremont, Ohio, where Justice for Migrant Women is based, that the organization has gone beyond collaborating with organizations like Feeding America to design its own hyperlocal food system. These hunger relief efforts are focused on women in the community, who Ramírez says usually face the biggest burdens when a household does not have enough money for food.

Migrant women, she said, “bear the stress of economic insecurity and food insecurity, because they are the ones who are organizing their families and making sure their families have food in the house.” 

Later this month, Ramírez and her team will launch a pilot program out of their office that mimics a farmers market — one in which farmworkers and migrant workers will be encouraged to pick up food provided by a local farmer, at no charge. That allows those visiting the food bank to feel empowered by choice instead of being handed a box with preselected goods, and they hope it will alleviate hunger in a way that preserves a sense of agency for families in need.

Although federal lawmakers have begun at least considering protecting workers from heat exposure and regulators are making progress on a national heat standard, so far there’s been no targeted legislative or regulatory effort to address food insecurity among farmworkers. 

In fact, legislators may be on the verge of making things worse.

In May, the Republican-controlled U.S. House of Representatives Agriculture Committee passed a draft farm bill that would gut SNAP and do little to promote food security. It also would bar state and local governments from adopting farmworker protection standards regulating agricultural production and pesticide use, echoing legislation Florida recently passed. The inclusion of such a provision is “disappointing,” said DeShawn Blanding, a senior Washington representative at the Union of Concerned Scientists, a nonprofit advocacy organization. He hopes to see the version that eventually emerges from the Democrat-controlled Senate, where it remains stalled, incorporate several other proposed bills aimed at protecting farmworkers and providing a measure of food security.

Those include the Voice for Farm Workers Act, which would shore up funding for several established farmworker support initiatives and expand resources for the Agriculture Department’s farmworker coordinator. This position was created to pinpoint challenges faced by farmworkers and connect them with federal resources, but it has not been “adequately funded and sustained,” according to a 2023 USDA Equity Commission report. Another bill would create an office within the Agriculture Department to act as a liaison to farm and food workers.

These bills, introduced by Democratic Senator Alex Padilla of California, would give lawmakers and policymakers greater visibility into the needs and experiences of farmworkers. But the greatest benefit could come from a third proposal Padilla reintroduced, the Fairness for Farm Workers Act. It would reform the 1938 law that governs the minimum wage and overtime policies for farmworkers while exempting them from labor protections.

“As food prices increase, low-income workers are facing greater rates of food insecurity,” Padilla told Grist. “But roughly half of our nation’s farmworkers are undocumented and unable to access these benefits.” He’d like to see an expedited pathway to citizenship for the over 5 million essential workers, including farmworkers, who lack access to permanent legal status and social safety benefits. “More can be done to address rising food insecurity rates for farmworkers.”

Still, none of these bills squarely addresses farmworker hunger. Without a concerted approach, these efforts, though important, kind of miss the point, Mónica Ramírez said. 

“I just don’t think there’s been a fine point on this issue with food and farmworkers,” she said. “To me it’s kind of ironic. You would think that would be a starting point. What will it take to make sure that the people who are feeding us, who literally sustain us, are not themselves starving?” 

∴

For 68-year-old Jesús Morales, the Campesinos’ Garden in Apopka is a second home. Drawing on his background studying alternative medicine in Jalisco, Mexico, he’s been helping tend the land for the last three years. He particularly likes growing and harvesting moringa, which is used in Mexico to treat a range of ailments. Regular visitors know him as the “plant doctor.” 

“Look around. This is the gift of God,” Morales said in Spanish. “This is a meadow of hospitals, a meadow of medicines. Everything that God has given us for our health and well-being and for our happiness is here, and that’s the most important thing that we have here.”

He came across the headquarters of the state farmworker organization when it hosted free English classes, then learned about its garden. Although it started a decade ago, its purpose has expanded over the years to become a source of food security and sovereignty for local farmworkers. 

The half-acre garden teems with a staggering assortment of produce. Tomatoes, lemons, jalapeños. Nearby trees offer dragonfruit and limes, and there’s even a smattering of papaya plants. The air is thick with the smell of freshly dug soil and hints of herbs like mint and rosemary. Two compost piles sit side by side, and a greenhouse bursts with still more produce. Anyone who visits during bi-monthly public gardening days is encouraged to plant their own seeds and take home anything they care to harvest. 

“The people who come to our community garden, they take buckets with them when they can,” said Ernesto Ruiz, a research coordinator at the Farmworker Association of Florida who oversees the garden. “These are families with six kids, and they work poverty wages. … They love working the land and they love being out there, but food is a huge incentive for them, too.” 

Throughout the week, the nonprofit distributes what Ruiz harvests. The produce it so readily shares is supplemented by regular donations from local supermarkets, which Ruiz often distributes himself.  

But some of the same factors driving farmworkers to hunger have begun to encroach on the garden. Blistering summer heat and earlier, warmer springs have wiped out crops, including several plots of tomatoes, peppers, and cantaloupes. “A lot of plants are dying because it’s so hot, and we’re not getting rains,” said Ruiz. The garden could also use new equipment — the irrigation system is manual while the weed whacker is third-rate, often swapped out for a machete — and funding to hire another person to help Ruiz increase the amount of food grown and expand when the garden is open to the public.

Demand is rising, and with it, pressure to deliver. Federal legislation addressing the low wages that lead to hunger for many farmworkers across the country is a big part of the solution, but so are community-based initiatives like the Campesinos’ Garden, according to Ruiz. “You do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do,” he said. “It’s always the right thing to feed somebody. Always.” 

The post Who is Feeding America’s Farmworkers? appeared first on Modern Farmer.

This story is part of our Future Farmers series, highlighting the joys and hurdles of a career in agriculture today. 

Graeme Foers

Farm Name: Lost Meadows Apiaries & Meadery
Location: Essa Township, Ontario, Canada
Age: 33
Years Farming: 13

Tell us a bit about your farm: 
My farming season begins early February with the maple syrup season. I make maple syrup more traditionally with buckets and flat pans over fires outside. The season then turns to bees with my first queen graft right at the beginning of May. I produce around 100 queens per week for 12 weeks which are sold to beekeepers across Ontario. My queens are bred for a number of traits, but the most important being hygienic, mite resistant and overwintering ability. Aside from the queens my 200 hives make honey from around mid may to September. I keep the honey separate from each meadow and each month. This makes a huge range of different tasting honeys based on what was blooming and in what quantities when the bees collected it. I try and keep my bees away from commercial agriculture to help minimize the impact it has on my bees and also on influencing the flavor of the honey. I also own a small meadery on the farm with my sister, we use the honey from my hives to make the mead and have won several awards for it at the Royal Winter Fair in Toronto.

Why farming? What drew you to it as a livelihood?
I want to work at something that I find meaningful in life and that I feel I can leave behind as my contribution to society. For me that is through beekeeping and specifically breeding queen bees. My first beehive I had died and I was devastated. I decided that if I was going to have bees again I never wanted another hive to die, so I would have to be the best beekeeper I possibly could be. This lead me to queen rearing and eventually queen breeding and finding bees that are resistant to varroa mites, and other brood diseases, that are gentle and can thrive in this changing climate.

What advice or insight do you have for young people interested in farming?
Don’t stop believing in yourself, and try and be around people who believing you. Don’t be afraid to be part of the change even if a more experienced farmer tells you that’s not how to do it or its not the conventional way of doing it. Doing it your way may be the small difference you need to have customers buy your product and gain market share.

What are the barriers to being a young farmer, and how are you dealing with or overcoming them?
The biggest barrier for me is the extreme cost of everything from equipment to land and anything else involved like fuel and gas. I have had family members lend me some money for equipment purchases and I try not to expand too much at one time so I don’t stretch my resources too thin.

Greg & Amber Pollock

Farm Name: Sunfox Farm
Location: Concord, NH & Deerfield, NH
Years Farming: 5 years at Sunfox and total of 17 years of experience farming

Tell us a bit about your farm: 
Sunfox Farm is a small family operation in Central New Hampshire with a focus on sustainable and environmentally responsible agricultural practices. We specialize in growing sunflowers for oilseed production. A huge part of our business is agritourism, with our Annual Sunflower Bloom Festival being a quintessential summer event in the capital city of New Hampshire. We love reuniting people with the land and encouraging them to bring the whole family out to the farm! We grow using organic practices, and we’re currently working towards organic certification. We believe that by taking care of the earth, we can produce delicious and nutritious food that nourishes both the body and the soul. 

Our 2024 Sunflower Festival is August 10-18th. We have live music, local food trucks, and an artisan craft fair, with over 20 acres of sunflowers! In addition to the festival, Amber is a professionally trained chef and orchestrates seven-course, fine dining, farm-to-table meals in the sunflowers.

Why farming? What drew you to it as a livelihood?
There’s something truly magical about working outside and growing nutritious food for our community and family. It’s rewarding to see something through from start to finish—watching someone taste our sunflower oil for the first time and seeing their eyes light up makes us so proud. The work is hard, the days are long, our hands and feet are callused, and we wear our farmer tans with pride. We’re drawn to farming because it’s honest work, and it feels good to do it.

What advice or insight do you have for young people interested in farming?
You learn so much by doing. If you’ve never grown pumpkins, try it. If you’ve never set up an irrigation system, try it. If you’ve never changed the oil on a tractor, try it (with a little help from the owner’s manual). Farmers are jacks and jills of all trades, masters of none. It’s a perfect career for the curious mind. If you have even the slightest interest in farming, try it. The things you can learn are endless and it will always keep you on your toes. Farming isn’t ever perfect, but you can always find joy in the life of a farmer.

What are the barriers to being a young farmer, and how are you dealing with or overcoming them?
The biggest barrier we face as young farmers is land accessibility. Our dream is to someday own our own property, however, as of now we’ve only be able to secure leased or rented land. Finding a place to farm can make the adventure nearly impossible for many young farmers.

Another barrier is funding for equipment and infrastructure. Something that helped us was having a solid business plan. Within a year or two of starting our farm, we were able to provide well thought out projections and accounting documents. Being confident while discussing these items was integral in helping us acquire a loan to purchase our own equipment.

Sean Pessarra

Farm Name: Mindful Farmer
Location: Conway, Arkansas
Age: 36
Years Farming: 15

Tell us a bit about your farm: 
Mindful Farmer emerged from my desire to empower, educate, and equip the next generation of growers with appropriate technologies and tools tailored to small-scale farmers and gardeners, as well as sustainable and productive techniques. This inspiration struck when I worked at Heifer International and witnessed the challenges faced by small and mid-scale farms in the Southern US. Many struggled to find regional supplies and resorted to expensive shipping for products from distant sources. I also noticed that existing tools were often unsuitable for small-scale and beginning farmers, including many female farmers who make up a majority of newcomers to the field. In response, I designed multifunctional, scalable, high-quality tools with inclusivity in mind, setting the foundation for Mindful Farmer. I also set out to design high tunnels that were more affordable and approachable for beginning farmers.

Why farming? What drew you to it as a livelihood?
I’ve been in the farming industry for over a decade, starting my journey with part-time beekeeping while working as an environmental scientist in Texas. My passion for sustainable land stewardship led me to transition into sustainable agriculture in Central Arkansas. During this time, I managed organic vegetable production, conducted research, and hosted workshops. Farming, for me, represents a way to positively impact our environment, communities, and health. Witnessing the challenges conventional farming practices posed to our world’s health and the growing emotional and physical disconnect between people, their food, and the natural world, I felt a deep calling to be a part of the solution by promoting sustainable, regenerative agriculture. Farming as a whole is a dying trade, with the average age of farmers increasing and many farms consolidating under corporations and foreign entities. I believe that when farms are owned and operated locally, they are more motivated to steward the land well. This not only benefits the land and the farmer but also the local economy, public health, and the community as a whole.

What are the barriers to being a young farmer, and how are you dealing with or overcoming them?
Just as with the housing market, inflated prices, high-interest rates, and corporate competition have put farms and raw land out of reach for most young and beginning farmers. My wife and I dreamed early on in our marriage of raising our future kids on a farm of our own. Our oldest is 10 now, and we still have a ways to go. Without starting with a large sum of money or family land, the path is extremely steep. There is also a bit of a Catch-22 in that the jobs that give you the most agricultural knowledge often offer little in the way of disposable income to save up for a farm of your own.

Agriculture, especially small-scale sustainable agriculture, is a high-risk and low-margin industry. Most young farmers bootstrap the best they can as financial resources are hard to come by, often growing on leased land or going the route of small and intensive production.

Keaton Sinclair & Alanna Carlson

Farm Name: AKreGeneration
Location: Treaty Six Territory at Fiske, Saskatchewan, Canada
Age: 32 and 33
Years farming:  5 years (20+ years experience as a 3rd generation farmer)

Tell us a bit about your farm: 
We are connected to our family farm and do grain cropping and custom grazing using regenerative agriculture practices that prioritize plant and soil health. AKreGeneration is committed to restoring the land for generations to come, acre by AKre. Using the seven generations principle, we remember whose who came before us, and our decisions are guided by the seven generations that will come after us. Some of the different practices we use include: diverse crop rotation, cover crops, intercropping, low chemical use, biological fertilizer and seed treatment, soil amendments, and livestock incorporation.

Why farming? What drew you to it as a livelihood?
We grew up farming with our families and thrived working on the land and being connected to and learning from the plants and animals and other farmers. We see the regenerative farm as a good way to listen to the land, improve the soil health, natural ecosystem, nutrient integrity of the plants, improve profitability and enhance our lifestyle. We both got educations and live in the city, but are drawn back to the land, and want to farm in a way that is sustainable for us and the ecosystem. 

What advice or insight do you have for young people interested in farming?
Go get your hands dirty and get experience working on the land, any land. You might not get much for clear answers if you directly ask for advice. Build relationships. Join groups and unions. Find farmers that will spend time talking or working with you so you can learn different practices and principles; everyone does things different. Listen to their stories and wisdom and follow what you think is aligned with your plan. Nothing happens in a hurry.

Nick DiDomenico & Marissa Pulaski (DAR) || Azuraye Wycoff (Yellow Barn Farm)

Farm Name: Elk Run Farm | Yellow Barn Farm
Location: Longmont Colorado
Age: All are 33
Time Farming: Elk Run since 2015, over 9 years; Yellow Barn since 2020. 
 

In 2015, Nick DiDomenico set out to farm 14 deeply degraded acres in the foothills near Lyons, Colorado. There was only enough well water to irrigate less than an acre of de-vegetated property. When Nick reached out to the NRCS for advice on how to restore the land to a farmable state, they advised him to find another piece of land; without irrigation potential, there was no documented way to revitalize the land. From that moment, Elk Run Farm became a living experiment in how to restore deeply degraded land in a semi-arid climate without irrigation.
‍
Today, Elk Run Farm is a thriving oasis in the high desert. Using passive water harvesting contour swales, 1000 trees and shrubs have been planted without irrigation, demonstrating a 79% survival rate across four years. What was a compact gravel parking lot is now five inches of rich topsoil that supports bioregional staple crops including blue corn, dry beans, amaranth, and grain sorghum. An average of 10 interns and residents eat 90% of a complete diet year round from the integrated forest garden, staple grain, and silvopasture systems on site.

In 2015, Drylands Agroecology Research (DAR) took over management of 14 deeply degraded acres on the Front Range of Colorado. The unprecedented regeneration of this land set the stage for our organization to grow.

Established in 1865, Yellow Barn Farms was originally Allen’s Farm– an international equestrian center operating as a large-scale event and boarding facility with over 50 horses and 100 riders. Yellow Barn revitalized the land for low-scale, high-quality food production, community-supported agriculture, and sustainability education. In partnership with Drylands Agroecology Research (DAR), Yellow Barn researches, implements, and practices regenerative farming, animal management, carbon sequestration, soil health, and dynamic/adaptable organizational structures.

For too long modern agriculture has ignored the call of the land, exploiting its gifts and decimating thousands of species — species integral to the health of our ecosystem — to serve a single one.

Now, it’s time to make amends with the land, its inhabitants, and its original stewards. By implementing circular, regenerative, closed-loop systems, we’re engaging in a reciprocal relationship with the land, offering services like composting, workshops, farm-to-tables, indigenous-led celebrations.

Why farming? What drew you to it as a livelihood?
This work is for the future. This work is so that our children can have a future. Not just any future, but a future worth getting up in the morning for. A future to take pride in, to savor, to relish, to enjoy the sweet victory of laughter that glows on late into a summer night. The taste of fruit off the vine. Together with music and the smell of warm food and smiles. That’s what we want our children to remember us by.

In the last 4 years, it has become even more clear to us the distress that so many are facing in this time. It has become even more clear what is at stake. It has become even more clear what we have to gain. But throughout, the original instructions continue to anchor us: take care of our home, this Earth; take care of each other.

The post Young Farmers Cultivating Change appeared first on Modern Farmer.

At nine years old, I started a rabbitry. Raising my trio of Dutch rabbits to take to the fair, I fell in love with the breed and raising them. Before long, I expanded to include Polish rabbits, Dorset advantage sheep and Welsh Harlequin and Call ducks. I eventually added horses and hogs to my growing small business, raising animals for sale in my community. I named my business Diamond B Show Stock, a nod to my family farm, Diamond B farms. The family business started in the 1970s and is still running strong today. I’m proud to be the next link in the chain for my family’s agricultural business, and I hope to keep it going for the generations that come after me. And I got here with the help of 4-H. 

I grew up in a farm family and, as a result, I’m entirely hooked on agriculture. There’s something special about watching a newborn lamb’s first steps, seeing it grow and ultimately feeling the satisfaction after its sale on a humid August county fair day, knowing that I’ve given it a life full of long evening walks, gentle hands, tasty treats and security. Those moments reassure me that agriculture will always be a part of my life; now, as I work through my plethora of 4-H projects, I’m in college studying to be a veterinarian and eventually working to protect and improve the lives of livestock. 

But not every kid has the opportunities I’ve had. Our industry is suffering from an inability to summon enough youth passion to join its ranks. I attended the National 4-H Conference in Washington, D.C. this April, where US Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack explained it best: The average age of a farmer is close to 60 years old. To protect the future of America’s food, youth must become involved in agriculture, and organizations such as 4-H are the solution. 

More than just agriculture

Established in 1912, 4-H (collectively, head, heart, hands and health) was originally conceived to introduce youth to agricultural work through after-school programs. More than 100 years later, it’s grown to encompass so much more. Each regional 4-H club hosts a variety of programs, with a focus on hands-on learning. You can raise animals, like I do, but you can also learn about all sorts of things, such as photography, public speaking, sewing or technology.

McKenzie Diamond, a recent high school grad from New York, is looking at college. A few years ago, she saw agriculture as just a hobby, not what she thought she could pursue as a career. But that changed last year. 

Along with her other 4-H projects in nutrition, art and community service, she raised goats with her mother. After one of the goats needed to have her leg amputated, Diamond and her family met with vets from Cornell University to discuss their best course of action. It was this meeting where she realized that her hobby could become her career. “My mom grew up in a very agricultural family, and I think that it implanted on me at a young age that [agricultural] lifestyle and goals in life. Truthfully, I don’t think I would be who I am without ag in my life.” Now, Diamond intends to major in either agricultural education or agribusiness. 

Fighting for the future

As lawmakers open their ears to youth voices, 4-H members have been put on the front lines in advocating for farming practices. Wyatt Morrow, a 4-H alumni and college freshman from Ohio, was selected for Citizenship Washington Focus, a nationwide 4-H opportunity recruiting teens to share their thoughts with legislators on Capitol Hill. 

Morrow got to speak to the office of Ohio Senator J.D. Vance in 2023 on behalf of 4-H. Upon his return home and starting his first year at Wilmington College, he was trusted with a position by the college, one of only three freshmen in the group, to again travel to D.C., this time to advocate for the passage of the Farm Bill. Morrow called the lobbying “one of the most eye-opening experiences I’ve ever had. It showed me that advocating for issues you and others are passionate about can really make a difference in shaping our country.” 

Through 4-H, he not only was given a life-altering opportunity to gain hands-on experience working with legislators, but he was able to use it to foster growth in the industry. 

But it can be difficult to get kids involved in agriculture, especially urban kids or people who don’t grow up in farm families. “Kids are involved in so many different activities that demand their time. Oftentimes, coaches and teachers are not allowing them to have the time off from school or extracurricular activities that they need to fully engage in 4-H since it’s not a school-sponsored activity,” says Kathy Bruynis, an Ohio State University Extension 4-H educator. 

Fortunately, one thing 4-H does have going for it is choices. With more than 200 projects available in the state of Ohio alone, such as livestock, gardening, robotics, nutrition, financial management, welding and more, there are topics for nearly every kid. Additionally, keeping with 4-H’s traditional creative spirit, 4-H professionals and volunteers are working hard to come up with new ways to recruit members. Jamie Stacy, an Ohio 4-H advisor and Junior Fair Board director, hosts bowling or swimming parties and always brings snacks. “Offering some type of food is usually a pretty good way to pull kids in when they get free food and fun,” says Stacy. 

Becoming royalty

Fair or 4-H royalty serve as another valuable tool for recruiting new 4-H members. I was chosen as my county’s queen nearly a year ago after completing a lengthy application and interview process. On the first day of our county fair, I was presented with my crown and sash and given the job of representing 4-H not only to others in agriculture but the general public as well. After a week of helping out at shows, sales and other fair events, I was tasked with visiting other local fairs and festivals. When the fair season wrapped up, I made it a priority to involve myself in the community in other ways. I passed out candy at a Trunk-or-Treat, taking time to socialize with each child and talk to them about why 4-H really mattered to me. I read a book at my local library and eagerly answered the questions fired at me from kids and parents alike. I hugged a veteran as he accepted a quilt made by a 4-H-er at my fair’s annual quilts for veterans and first responders event, and I later connected with Wreaths for Veterans to place wreaths at a nearby cemetery at Christmas. One of my favorite experiences was taking a few baby rabbits and a baby goat with a 4-H friend to a nursing home and seeing the reactions of the residents.

All of these experiences helped 4-H project a positive image onto the local community. Prior to my visits, many of the people I met didn’t even know what 4-H was, but I left them knowing more and feeling good about it. Keeping 4-H present in the community is essential to its survival.

The post Young People Need to Find Farming. 4-H is the Answer appeared first on Modern Farmer.

That’s a tall order. In 2021, approximately 33.8 million Americans were living in food-insecure households and approximately 600,000 Americans died annually from diet-related disease.

But across North America is a growing cohort of hospitals taking on the challenge and turning hospital food from a blob of green Jell-O to a fresh and tasty meal. Working with FIM, hospitals are filling doctor referrals for farm-share boxes of fresh produce and supplying hospital kitchens with organically grown crops. 

These farms are not simply growing kale. They are producing medicine. 

BMC’s Power Plant Farm

At Boston Medical Center (BMC), sustainability matters. On the roof of BMC’s natural gas-powered heat and electrical power plant, there is a 2,658-square-foot outdoor container farm, aptly named Power Plant Farm. Growing more than 30 varieties of crops, including cucumbers, peppers, tomatoes, squash, herbs and leafy greens, the farm harvested 4,000 pounds of organically grown produce last year.

“[This] represents a more holistic approach to care,” says Sarah Hastings, farm manager. “We are starting from square one, making the message clear that fresh foods help us heal and maintain our well-being.” 

The Preventive Food Pantry is the anchor of BMC’s FIM initiative. “We have more than 1,600 families, who receive about four days worth of food with each visit,” says Hastings. Used by cancer patients, those with heart disease, diabetes or other chronic health conditions, they are referred to the food pantry by their primary caregivers, who write prescriptions for foods promoting physical health, recovery from illness or as a preventative for future health issues. 

Throughout the hospital, patients and families are continually connected to the farm, reinforcing the message that healthy food matters. A large glass window in the waiting area of one of BMC’s buildings allows patients and their families to see the farm. “There is an especially heartwarming connection when patients or their families make it down to the farmer’s market in the foyer after observing the crops from the waiting area,” says Hastings. The farmer’s market operates once a week, with the produce sold at subsidized prices to staff, patients and their families. 

BMC’s Teaching Kitchen also incorporates farm produce into recipe tutorials for patients and their families to help them learn healthy ways of preparing food. For example, patients can attend a class at the Teaching Kitchen before bariatric surgery to help them learn simple ways to prepare food that will help their stomachs heal post-surgery and prevent nutritional deficiencies. 

“The farm brings a lot of excitement to the hospital,” says Hastings. 

The Farm at Trinity Health Ann Arbor

Established in 2010, the Farm at Trinity Health Ann Arbor in Ypsilanti, MI is one of the oldest hospital farms in the US. Leaders of Ann Arbor hospital, according to farm manager Jae Gerhart, started to see an increased rate of diet-related chronic diseases such as cardiovascular disease, cancer and diabetes. They decided to use a small portion of the hospital campus to grow nutritional food and act as a community and educational resource geared towards disease prevention. The farm sits on five acres, four of which are used as community gardens or for events. One acre produces food that is designated for FIM’s programs. 

During the growing season, the farm hosts school field trips and summer camps for children aged four to 10. There is a farm-share box program that runs for 36 weeks over the growing season, for which anyone can sign up. For those struggling to afford fresh food, there is the option to sign up for the Farm Share Assistance Program or the Produce Prescription program at no cost. 

“Doctors love the program,” says Gerhart. “More and more, they are asking those social needs questions at a patient’s appointment.”

Gerhart says FIM and farm programs can reduce overall health-care costs associated with diet-related health conditions. “More and more data supports that,” she says.

Researchers at the FIM Institute at Tufts University concur. A 2023 report suggests that FIM interventions, such as medically tailored meals, could eliminate 1.6 million hospitalizations in the US annually and save $13.6 billion in health-care costs per year. Traditionally, individuals experiencing food insecurity spend an extra $1,800 per year in health-care expenditures. Farm share assistance programs could help reduce those costs. 

Salish Sea Regenerative Urban Farm

Changing the paradigm that hospital food has to be mushed peas and frozen carrots, the seven-acre Salish Sea Regenerative Urban Farm (SSRUF) sold organically grown cucumbers, tomatoes and 1,000 pounds of potatoes to British Columbia’s Sechelt Regional Hospital in 2023.

The American Medical Association has long advocated for adding a variety of healthy food choices, including plant-based meals and foods low in fat, sodium and added sugars to hospital menus to assist in better outcomes for patients.

But providing better hospital meals is not as simple as it sounds. The cost of local, sustainably grown foods can be more expensive than tins of marinara sauce or bags of frozen peas, especially for small hospitals with limited budgets. Large hospitals prepare food for hundreds of patients daily, with little turnaround time between breakfast, lunch and dinner. It takes time to chop, wash and cook fresh produce as opposed to opening and plating a bag of prepared salad mix. Many hospitals also have contracts with outside vendors, which makes it hard to incorporate other sources.

The SSRUF was aware of all of these concerns when it approached the small 38-bed hospital with its offer to sell its organically grown food from a farm 30 yards away from the hospital’s kitchen. But, according to Dave Ryan, a board member for the farm society, both the hospital and the regional health authority were very receptive. 

Surveys of the kitchen and care staff at the hospital were done to gauge the response of having local produce available to patients. “The kitchen staff were really excited,” says Barbara Seed, another board member of the farm society. 

The head of hospital food services also did a waste audit with preliminary results indicating that, when the fresh produce was added to meal trays, less food was thrown away. More audits will be needed to provide reliable data, but SSRUF is positive that it will concur with them about the benefits of farm to hospital food.

“It’s obvious,” says Ryan, “where nutrient-dense quality food should be—in a hospital where people have metabolic issues and should be served nutritious food to help recover.” 

The post On the Ground With the Farms Feeding Hospitals and Their Patients appeared first on Modern Farmer.

In 1992, Jeff Ditzenberger walked into an abandoned building near his farm in Monroe, Wisconsin and lit it on fire. His intent was that he wanted to die in there, but as the building continued to go up in flames, he changed his mind and escaped the blaze. 

Later charged with arson, he was able to get help in a psychiatric ward, where he was able to talk without judgment. However, with those he knew, Ditzenberger found it less embarrassing to have a felony on his record than to admit that he was attempting suicide, and he kept it a secret for years. 

In 2014, Ditzenberger, wrote a blog post about those moments for the Wisconsin Farm Bureau to bring awareness to his and others’ struggles. It went viral. A year later, he started an informal support group called TUG.S, which stands for Talking, Understanding, Growing, Supporting. The name was inspired by his time in the Navy on a large displacement ship, where, when things went awry, they would call in a small tugboat for help. He thought: “Why can’t life be like that?”

Now a community nonprofit with a bricks-and-mortar location in Monroe, TUGS works directly with individuals and community groups that emphasize peer connection and support, letting them know that “it’s OK not to be OK.” Due to media attention over the years, the nonprofit receives calls for peer support not just from Wisconsin but from all over the world. 

“Farmers have always been stoic, prideful people that don’t want to talk about stuff,” says Ditzenberger. “The stigma around mental health is what is causing us to not have the conversation. We all need that tugboat that we can call, that can throw a life preserver and pull us to shore safely.”

Part of the work of TUGS is also mental health training to better understand how to handle situations where someone might be struggling. “You don’t have to have a BS behind your name to help people in need; you just need to be able to ask questions.”

At risk

According to the National Rural Health Association, farmers are 3.5 times more likely to die by suicide than the general population. A recent CDC study of occupational suicide risk also found that male farmers, ranchers and other agricultural managers had a suicide rate more than 50 percent higher than the overall suicide rate of men in all surveyed occupations.

Farming and ranching are physically and emotionally demanding jobs with high risks of chronic stress, anxiety and depression due to a number of challenging factors—many out of their control—including extreme weather, outbreaks of pests and diseases and market volatility. Many deal with the stresses of potentially losing farms that have been in their family for generations. 

With all of these pressures, there are also several barriers to getting help, including stigma and many producers feeling like they should be able to handle the situation themselves. Along with a lack of anonymity in small towns, there’s also often a lack of access to proper providers or support in rural areas. According to a survey from the American Farm Bureau Federation, 46 percent of farmers and farmworkers surveyed said it was difficult to access a therapist or counselor in their local communities. The rest of the survey also revealed barriers due to cost prohibitiveness of treatment and embarrassment. 

As a response, Ditzenberger’s organization is one of many across the US that has emerged to provide mental health training and peer-to-peer support in person and online.

Prioritizing peer-to-peer

In January, the Farm Family Wellness Alliance, a coalition of organizations including the American Farm Bureau, announced the availability of Togetherall, an anonymous, clinically moderated online peer-to-peer community with a special section for farmers and ranchers. Typically expensive, the alliance came together to make Togetherall free for farm country.

“In a peer-to-peer community, you seek that sense of belonging and that sense of being able to express yourself without judgment,” says Jessica Cabrera, staff lead for the American Farm Bureau’s Farm State of Mind campaign. 

Clinicians monitor posts 24-7 and are available to talk privately if necessary. If support needs to be escalated, they will be referred to someone who specializes in agricultural support. 

There are also courses for self-assessment, as well as access to services outside the platform, including consultants that handle legal, financial, childcare and many other concerns. “It’s important to keep working to break the stigma around mental health challenges and just encourage people to reach out for help,” says Cabrera, who adds that the American Farm Bureau has already seen a 22-percent shift in farmers being more comfortable talking about mental health. 

Learning to speak the language

Learning to take on the mental health challenges of farmers is a specialized and intricate process. In 2003, a group of rural nurses formed AgriSafe to offer that training to health-care providers. 

“People in ag tell us that they don’t want to have to explain their work,” says Tara Haskins, who oversees Agrisafe’s Total Farm Health initiative and mental health programming. “They don’t need to get advice to take a couple [of] weeks off, which is self-defeating.” The organization created training that gives health-care professionals a peek into the agriculture field and the challenges that come with it. They can then better understand what drives the mental health crisis.

The nonprofit has since partnered with the University of Kentucky to develop agriculture-centric training in QPR (Question, Persuade, Refer), a suicide prevention training program. AgriSafe has done the training on webinars with more than 2,000 people all over the US and Canada. 

Haskins says anyone who is connected with somebody in agriculture could benefit from the program. People are often afraid they might say the wrong thing to someone who is suicidal, but training helps develop those skills. She also says farmers they’ve interviewed who either attempted suicide or thought about it wished for someone to reach out. 

Cultivating community

“Ultimately, it’s about preventing suicide, but we don’t want to wait until that happens. We want to go all the way upstream, and that takes both skill and effort,” says Dr. Thao Le.

Le is the project director for Seeds of Wellbeing (SOW), a farmer wellness initiative through the University of Hawai’i Manoa, which provides peer-to-peer support through a growing Ag Mentor training program. 

The program, which started more than two years ago, began with a survey of more than 400 farmers across the archipelago to study the state of mental health in Hawai’i’s agriculture scene. The results that came back showed that many were under a lot of pressure, with one third suffering from depression. 

Le wanted to start a project that builds relationships and creates safe spaces for that to unfold.

The program has 62 mentors across the Hawaiian Islands. The mentors can be reached individually, but they also hold regular meetings on their respective islands for community workdays and potlucks. There is also an additional Ag Navigators program that requires navigators to visit two farms monthly for six months to build relationships.

Le says the program allows the mentors to become role models with their willingness to be open and vulnerable. “[This] is the crisis of our time,” says Le. “We really do need a solution to help build community and leaders to help us navigate.”

“Everybody struggles with basic needs, the frustration to navigate the bureaucracy, policy and legislation, the crazy financial restraints,” says Le.

Le is waiting to hear about a $2.5-million federal grant from the Department of Health and Human Services to fund the next three years, which involves not just training for farmers but also first responders.

“We need to have more innovative ways to do this, because we will never have enough mental health professionals; there [are] never going to be enough first responders. Each of us needs to cultivate being a place of refuge for other people.”

The post Farmers Face a Mental Health Crisis. Talking to Others in the Industry Can Help appeared first on Modern Farmer.