Beyond the Supply Chain

Building Local Food Resilience Through Relationship

Photo © Hope Kelley

 

“There is no smell now, or not of fruit anyway. Many things are wrapped in plastic, the loose fruit has been chilled, the touch of the sun long gone, the earth dusted from the mushrooms.” 

— Fiona Kidman, New Zealand novelist and poet, on visiting the supermarket, from her short story titled “Red Bell”

 

When I think of food, I think of relationship: between root and soil, fruit and sun, farmer and harvest, vendor and consumer. As I read through the Local Food Count report from the New England Food System Planners Partnership, I could see shadows of these relationships—and the countless others that combine to bring our food from seed to table—folded in among the statistics and percentages. Noticing these shadows, a question took root in my mind: What role does relationship play in the journey toward 30 percent local food in New England by 2030? 

What I love about this quote by Fiona Kidman is that she recognizes and finds value in the many relationships wrought by food. She notices the presence (and the absence) of earth and environment on the food she surveys at the supermarket: the afterglow of sunlight on the skin of the vegetable, the bits of soil clinging to the spongy caps of the mushrooms. In doing so, she identifies the importance of such relationships within the food system—in this case, between the crop and the environment that birthed it. Through that recognition, she allows herself to enter into relationship with the system as well. 

It is the relationships within a food system that inspire individual consumers to buy local when given the chance, as local is where these relationships are most visible and vibrant. 

Without recognizing, uplifting, and valuing these connections inherent in a food system, we cannot assume that individuals would value or prioritize local products if they were simply placed on the shelves. Consciously and strategically considering relationship in the journey toward 30 percent local food in New England by 2030 is critical.

Photo © Hope Kelley

Let’s imagine that all the possible challenges to an individual’s participation in our food system were taken care of. Their financial needs are met, so they can comfortably afford to feed their family. They have access to fresh food, meaning they don’t have to travel far for it. They have a say in which crops are grown regionally, meaning they have a level of sovereignty over the availability of culturally-relevant foods in their communities (consider the bitter melon, the daikon radish, the amaranth). If all such barriers were removed and our food system were near perfect, what would inspire the general public to choose to buy local?

As Kidman has done through her writing, making the relationships across a food system more visible is an important start. Greater visibility of the relationships that underpin our food system can move us toward a greater collective valuing of those relationships, which is arguably the most reliable and sustaining motivation in one’s choice to buy local. If our internal compasses become geared to seek out local (i.e., to seek relationship with the community farmer, the local grocer, the squash from the field we’ve driven past) then we can realistically anticipate that the changes to both our policy landscape and the physical networks of production and distribution made in the name of 30 percent by 2030 could indeed yield real, lasting change, and that the general public will rise to meet the invitation.

What does consciously centering relationship on the path to 30 percent by 2030 look like for those of us leading the transition? This is a question we should be exploring together as we work toward systemic changes in our local food system. Whether discussing distribution channels, more equitable financial investments, or the balance between bringing more land into food production while expanding protections for natural and wild landscapes, relationship should be at the center.

We are inclined to seek out, purchase, protect, and advocate for that with which we have history, relationship, or a shared connection.

I work with the Boston Food Forest Coalition (BFFC). We are a community land trust and a network of neighbors transforming vacant lots into public, edible food forest parks, run by and for local communities. There are currently 10 of these food forest parks, with two in construction and several more slated to begin construction next year. Each park is designed, maintained, and collectively owned by a stewardship team of neighbors and community members, and each features a unique blend of perennial and annual food-producing plant species. 

In October, our network gathered to celebrate the season and share highlights, challenges, and lessons through structured peer learning sessions. As a staff member, I was lucky enough to float through these sessions, listening in on and asking questions about what each team of local neighborhood activists learned this season through their land stewardship. The most resounding reflection was the importance of connectivity in food system (and climate resilience) work. Many expressed feeling buoyed, strengthened, and inspired by the relationships at the heart of our shared work. 

It is the relationships within a food system that inspire individual consumers to buy local when given the chance, as local is where these relationships are most visible and vibrant.

Their roles within the network serve as a foundation for building a more locally oriented values system at the individual and collective level, evidenced not only by their reflections on cross-network relationships but also by their enthusiastic response to the food at the event. The refreshments table was laid out on one half with muffins and coffee from a nearby cafe (a local business but not locally sourced food), and on the other half with jars of jam made from berries sourced entirely from the BFFC food forests—species like red and champagne currant, blackberry, seaberry, and sweet cherry. Stewards flocked to the jam-laden half of the refreshments table, seeking out (at least primarily) the local option, the fruits of their labor, the yield of time spent in relationship.

By creating opportunities for community members to come together to build relationship with land, food, and each other, BFFC serves as an example of a space where people can develop connections to the production of food as they explore their role in the food system, aligning their values with and supporting their progress toward both individual and shared local food goals over time.

Photo © Hope Kelley

While it may seem esoteric or intangible, the ever-shifting dynamic between relationship, value, and choice is actually quite simple. We are inclined to seek out, purchase, protect, and advocate for that with which we have history, relationship, or a shared connection. 

Without such connection, we cannot assume that individuals would buy local if given the chance. Without such connection, food is just food, and the distinction between local and otherwise becomes, understandably, invisible. 

But by creating spaces and roles through which we can recognize relationship; by seeing the thread of connection between ourselves as consumers and the products, land, environmental factors, and people involved in our food systems; by leaving just a bit of dirt on the rounded, downy crowns of the mushrooms in our produce sections—well, then there is hope for this whole local food transition after all. 


Hope Kelley is a writer, artist, and activist based on Cape Cod. She works with the Boston Food Forest Coalition, where she directs communications, narrative strategy, and storytelling. Kelley was a member of the sixth cohort of Food Solution New England’s Network Leadership Institute, and continues to collaborate with FSNE’s communities of practice around collective narrative strategy in regional food systems work.

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