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Remembering Joan Gussow

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Wednesday, March 12, 2025

Joan Dye Gussow, who died last Friday at age 96, was a fiercely independent thinker and food-system visionary whose ideas caught on and rippled outward. Starting in the 1970s, through her groundbreaking nutritional ecology class at Teachers College within Columbia University, and through books like The Feeding Web: Issues in Nutritional Ecology, she transformed our view of food from something enjoyed at the end of a fork to the entire system that created the mouthful. Photo credit: Randy Harris, courtesy of Chelsea Green Publishing Gussow helped us understand that buying locally grown, seasonal food (and raising it ourselves, if possible) connected us to the health of the land, and to our own health, too. And because of her, we began to understand the deleterious impacts of the industrialized food system—among them depleted soil, poisoned water, and metabolic disease.  She railed at politicians for setting back progress and, as she told us in an interview, “You have to keep hope alive, you have to keep moving along the way you believe in and keep telling the truth and trying to get the word out there.” In person, Gussow was formidable and funny, speaking her brilliant mind with candor, urging us to see what was going on and to never stop asking hard questions. Luckily, many of us have heeded her call, and in our work and our lives, we continue the conversation she began.  We asked some of Gussow’s many fans to celebrate and remember her with us. For those who would like to share memories or photos through this link, created by her friend Pam Koch, please do so.  Dan Barber, chef and co-owner of Family Meal at Blue Hill in Manhattan and Blue Hill at Stone Barns To Joan, the professor: You changed the way we view a single strawberry and  taught us to trust cows more than chemists. For this and many other things, Joan, we salute you. To Joan, the writer: Political or personal, your prose was always beautiful and unflinching. For this and many other things, Joan, we salute you. To Joan, the nutritionist: You proved that it is not merely safe, but sensible (and not merely sensible, but imperative) to keep slathering butter on all those potatoes. For this and many other things, Joan, we salute you. To Joan, the activist: On health food zealots, always a baffling irritation for you, you delivered a consistent message: Ignore them. Your vitality was daily proof of that simple wisdom. For this and many other things, Joan, we salute you. To Joan, the botanist: We valued your pawpaws as much as your raspberries. Your green thumb lifted our blue moods. For this and many other things, Joan, we salute you. To Joan, the cook and critic: You cooked up what you dug. For agribusiness adversaries, you cooked up trouble. For this and many other things, Joan, we salute you. To Joan, the mother: You have raised all these issues and along the way you’ve raised us, too. Here’s hoping we will do you proud. For this and many other things, Joan, we salute you. And to Joan, the hedonist: Food was your medium, but your message was a philosophy of life. You taught us something more than nutrition and agriculture—you taught us how to eat, to indulge in pleasure by way of responsibility. Thank you. Ann Cooper, chef and founder of the Chef Ann Foundation  “Joan Gussow was truly an OG of the sustainable/ organic food movement, and an amazing thinker and educator.” Joan Gussow was truly an OG of the sustainable/organic food movement, and an amazing thinker and educator. She spoke at the 1996 Chefs Collaborative Retreat and told the group that some “food” should just not be organic. “An organic gummy bear or an organic Twinkie, organic Eggo Toaster Waffles . . . they just shouldn’t be organic.”  I was so inspired by her idea that we shouldn’t have organic junk food that it shaped many of my thoughts on sustainability. Joan was instrumental in some of my thinking for my book Bitter Harvest, and when I went to the Ross School to build a healthy, nutritious, delicious school food program, Joan graciously gave of her time and energy to teach and educate our team. I will be forever grateful for all she did for food systems and sustainability.  Leslie Hatfield with Joan Gussow. Photo courtesy of Hatfield. Leslie Hatfield, Senior Partnership and Outreach Advisor at GRACE Communications Foundation Joan was brilliant, no question, but what drew me to her was her fierce honesty. Whether writing about unchecked corporate power’s impacts on diets, or her marriage and subsequent widowhood, she asked hard questions and didn’t flinch in laying out the answers. She inspired me, on both personal and professional levels, to live a more honest and authentic life.  Elizabeth Henderson, farmer and co-chair, Interstate Council policy committee of the Northeast Organic Farming Association  I came to know Joan through my work as an organic farmer and as one of the first to organize a CSA [community supported agriculture system]. I was thrilled when she agreed to write the foreword to my 2000 book Sharing the Harvest. The first edition came out in 1998, when we estimated that there were about 1,000 CSAs in the U.S. By the second edition, in 2007, that number had more than doubled, and there may be as many as 7,000 today.  As a pioneering advocate of buying from local organic farms, Joan instantly grasped the significance of CSAs. In her foreword, Joan wrote: “Across this country, a movement is spreading that acknowledges a long-ignored reality: Most of what we pay for our food goes to companies that transport, process, and market what comes off the farms, not to farmers themselves. The people who actually grow food don’t get paid enough to keep on doing it. If we hope to keep on eating, however, we need to keep farmers in business; and if we want to keep farmers in business, it’s time for all of us, ordinary citizens and policy makers alike, to begin learning how that might be done. Sharing the Harvest is a great place to start.” Joan’s words are as urgent today as when she wrote them 28 years ago. Family-scale farms continue to go out of business, and the United States Department of Agriculture just cancelled the grant that would have enabled the CSA Innovation Network, a network of CSA networks all over the country, to support more diverse farms in creating CSAs. I will be eternally grateful to Joan for her encouragement to me as a farmer and as a writer, and for transforming the discipline of nutrition from the reductionist academic analysis of the food on our plates into a training program for active participants in the international movement to wrest power over food from corporate industrial domination and return it to the people who eat, and do the hard and joyous work of growing healthy, nutritious food. Photo credit: Susan Frieman, courtesy of Chelsea Green Publishing Pamela Koch, Mary Swarz Rose associate professor of nutrition and education, Teachers College, Columbia University Joan taught her transformative course, Nutritional Ecology, in the Program in Nutrition at Teachers College, Columbia University, from 1970 to 2021. I taught with her from 2012 to 2021. Each week students received a 50–60 page packet of readings on a topic such as the “true cost (i.e., the environmental, health, and social cost) of food.” Students wrote a one-page reflection paper on the readings, which could be written as a letter to a friend. My comments are a reflection letter to you, Joan.  Dear Joan, I miss your wit, your wisdom, and how we could reflect on an old reading, such as your 1980 piece “What corporations have done to our food,” and see something totally new in today’s context. You described our industrial food system as “insane” and “absurd.” You have taught me to always speak the truth and think critically.  Case in point: The fertilizers and pesticides used on farms have to pollute our rivers, oceans, and drinking water. How could they not? The ability to ask the tough questions is what we can all do to carry your torch. This gives me hope that we can heal our ecosystem, support public health, reduce food-related chronic diseases, and treat everyone who works all along the food chain fairly and justly. Because of you, Joan, I believe we will have a better food future. We need your hope, Joan, now, more than ever. Ellie Krieger, MS RDN, Food Network and PBS show host and James Beard award-winning cookbook author I remember the feeling of having my mind blown open by Joan Dye Gussow’s teaching. It was like suddenly seeing in three dimensions when I had only been seeing in two before. Understanding that nutrition is much more than just nutrients–that [it] is agriculture, politics, the environment, and more–shaped my thinking about food and the work I do to this day. Thank you, Joan, for your brilliance, bravery, persistence, and for leading by example. I consider myself a product of the big, robust garden you cultivated. Anna Lappé, author and executive director of the Global Alliance for the Future of Food Joan was a singular, uncompromising voice for organic and local food. I’ll always appreciate her generosity of spirit as a teacher, training countless students through her courses at Columbia Teachers College and opening her door to me personally as she took the time to help me understand food systems and the power of organic practices.  I’ll never forget interviewing her at her home in upstate New York for Grub: Ideas for an Urban Organic Kitchen. While we looked out at her overflowing vegetable garden that stretched to the waters of the Hudson River, Joan shared her food philosophy, including turning me onto her seminal essay about a hypothetical organic Twinkie.  While serving on the National Organic Standards Board, she had penned, “Can an Organic Twinkie Be Certified?” Her answer was yes. One day, a Twinkie could very well be certified organic if 95 percent of its ingredients were. But, she was quick to note, it would not be healthy—nor would it reflect her vision of a food system defined by local, healthy, whole foods and not highly processed ones.  I loved the last words of her New York Times obituary, which sounded every bit like the Joan I had been inspired by for years: “The day I die, I want to have a black thumb from where I hit it with a hammer and scratches on my hands from pruning the roses.” Kate MacKenzie, Executive Director of New York City’s Mayor’s Office of Food Policy  Joan Gussow has influenced my professional life more than any other. Twenty-five years ago, I started in the public health nutrition program at Teachers College, with a BS degree in Nutritional Sciences from Cornell. I often say that at Cornell, I learned everything about food after you swallow it, and everything about food before you eat it at TC, from Joan. “Perhaps now more than ever, we have the responsibility of carrying her legacy forward, to meaningfully connect to real food for the health of our people and our environment.” It was in her classes that I was introduced to topics like the corporate consolidation of the food system (or to even consider the words “food system”), the limits to population growth, how to feed the world, agricultural inputs like pesticides and organic practices, and the concepts of sustainability and local food.  I remember one class when she was lecturing about the number of food products on grocery store shelves, and how over time, people were made to think there was just no more time to cook. Her simple response: that we have always had 24 hours in the day, and it’s the power of marketing and industry to convince us otherwise. These issues made me deeply curious and desirous to effectuate changing the food system.   I’ve been doing that ever since graduating and I have met extraordinary leaders and visionaries throughout the U.S. and beyond. Many of those people have also been students of Joan’s. Perhaps now more than ever, we have the responsibility of carrying her legacy forward, to meaningfully connect to real food for the health of our people and our environment. Marion Nestle, Paulette Goddard professor of nutrition, food studies, and public health emerita, New York University I first met Joan in the late 1970s when I heard her give a talk in the Bay Area when I was teaching at the University of California San Francisco School of Medicine. I had never heard anyone talk about the need to link agricultural production to nutrition and health—food systems, we now call that—and it felt revelatory. I am not alone in being inspired by her work. I have followed it with great admiration. Ahead of her time? Absolutely. You have discovered that the food industry influences food choices? Try Joan’s “Who Pays the Piper,” from 1980. You think food systems should be sustainable? See Joan’s “Dietary Guidelines for Sustainability,” written with Kate Clancy in 1986. Her students at Columbia were so lucky to be in her orbit. I am beyond sad at her loss.  Raj Patel, ​​author, activist, and research professor in the Lyndon B. Johnson School of Public Affairs at the University of Texas, Austin Joan was so ahead of her time, I often wondered whether she thought the food movement revival a decade or two ago was just the history of the 1970s repeating, this time as farce. But she was always gracious, ready to celebrate the wins—and hurl imprecations at those who deserved them: the food industry, their shills, and the deer who ate from her garden. Recently, I re-read her classic lecture, “Women, Food, and the Survival of the Species,” plucked from the archives by Daniel Bowman Simon, and it reminded me of the abundance of her spirit, and the depth of our debt to her.  Michael Pollan, author, journalist Joan was one of my first and most influential teachers when it came to understanding food and agriculture as a system. (The other is Marion Nestle.) Joan saw the politics in all sorts of places people had trouble spotting it, such as the field of nutrition. We first met in the 1990s at the Culinary Institute of America, at a conference about genetically modified crops. She was formidable, and though I don’t recall what she said, it galvanized the room with its penetrating clarity.  She was a master at connecting the dots, and the fact that most of us understand food and agriculture as a single system, linking policy, soil, nutrition, public health, and technology, owes in large part to the work Joan did.  But she was much more than a theorist; indeed, she walked the talk, growing much of her own food on an oft-flooded piece of land right on the Hudson–a beautiful but perilous spot I had the privilege of visiting a couple of times.  The phrase, “Eat food, not too much, mostly plants,” owes at least two words to Joan. When I was researching In Defense of Food, I asked her to sum up what she had learned about how best to eat, and she didn’t miss a beat: “Eat food.” As in, real food, whole foods, unprocessed foods. I embroidered her message a bit, with “mostly plants” and “not too much” but the basic message—which is that we don’t and shouldn’t eat nutrients–was Joan’s. She was an inspiration. Tom Philpott, senior research associate at the Center for a Livable Future, Johns Hopkins University Joan Dye Gussow has passed on, but her legacy and influence will live as long as we have ecosystems and natural resources worth defending. Like all of our best and brightest food-system intellectuals, Joan understood that humanity doesn’t exist separately from nature or ecology, but lives deeply embedded within them. We are as much a part of nature as the lion skulking the savanna, or the warbler winging it from the Adirondacks to the Caribbean islands for winter; it’s just that we exert much more influence over the ecosystems we touch.  Joan elegantly summed up this concept in the title of her 1978 book, The Feeding Web: Issues In Nutritional Ecology. “Nutritional ecology”: The idea neatly connects our sustenance with the landscapes that feed us and provide sinks for our waste. Professionally, academically, she was a nutritionist, a field that evolved over decades in tight collaboration with corporate food giants, and too often reduced nutrition to a list of essential vitamins and minerals—commodities that, once injected into highly processed food, the idea went, make a health-giving diet.  “Perhaps what I will remember most about Joan is the laughter, the caring, and the closeness we shared, sometimes verging on tears.” Today, this ideology is finally unravelling under the weight of undeniable evidence. Joan rejected it more than a half century ago, and used her perch at Columbia University to launch broadsides against it. By the time I met her in the late 2000s, Joan was a doyenne of the anti-industrial food movement, renowned for her advocacy in support of local and regional food systems, and for her legendary garden on the banks of the Hudson, not far from New York City. It meant a lot to hear her say she had read and appreciated my journalism work, and it was delightful to be able to tell her how much I had learned from her. She was a happy and inspiring warrior against the forces of industrial agriculture.  And damn it, she was right. Her vision of robust local and regional food networks, bolstered by flourishing small- and mid-scale farms and justly compensated farm labor, represents a beacon for a livable future in an increasingly dystopian age. In a 2011 Civil Eats interview, she allowed that “compared to the reception my ideas got 30 years ago, it’s quite astonishing the reception they’re getting now,” citing the extraordinary artisanal food scenes emerging in places like Brooklyn. But, she added, “whether or not there’s going to be sea change in the whole system is so hard to judge.” Hard to judge, and harder still to achieve. It’s up to us, the generations she inspired, to make it so. I never managed to take her up on the invitation to visit her Hudson Valley garden. May it flourish in her memory forever. I still hope to see it someday. Joan Dye Gussow with Urvashi Rangan. Photo courtesy of Rangan. Urvashi Rangan, founding co-chair, Funders for Regenerative Agriculture (FORA) and chief science advisor, GRACE Communications Foundation  I had the immense pleasure of sharing in Joan’s professional and personal life. As a young scientist, I remember presenting to a nutrition conference and Joan was in the front row and asked many great questions. From then, I always knew to seek her professional opinion on the harms of industrial ag practices and the benefits of organic production. She then invited me to lecture in her classes and always wanted to know the latest goings-on in food politics.    Perhaps what I will remember most about Joan is the laughter, the caring, and the closeness we shared, sometimes verging on tears. I remember one conversation about gut microbiomes and people reseeding with poop from other people. We decided that Joan’s poop would be worth more than gold since her biome had only eaten organic food forever.   Despite the 40 years between us, I found Joan to be one of my closest and dear friends and one of the youngest people I have known. I remember leaving a conference in NYC together where she gave the keynote, and while we were driving home, she looked at me and said, “My God, Urvashi, there were some really old people there.” Joan wasn’t talking about age, but mindset (and she was so right).   And while she may have been the oldest person in the room, her mind and heart were youthful, yet wise. I used to tell her that when I grew up, I wanted to be just like her. She was a teacher until the end, in the classroom and out. I will miss her immensely and will cherish all of the times we had together.  Michael Sligh, founding chair, National Organic Standards Board Joan was that rare breed of academic, activist, and farmer. She helped us bridge movements and she was always on the right side of the fight. Tough as nails and a heart of gold. She will be missed. Kerry Trueman, sustainability advocate Joan was a dear friend and mentor to me, as she was to so many people. I became a die-hard devotee of her work after reading her first memoir, This Organic Life. We became friends several decades ago when she gave a talk at The New School. After she spoke, she mingled with the attendees, and I was so excited at the prospect of meeting her that I transcended my shyness to tell her how she had inspired me to plant pawpaws in my yard. Joan, in her inimitable acerbic-yet-affectionate way, liked to say that I had “stalked” her. She once called me her “favorite beneficial pest,” which, coming from her, was a thrilling compliment. What an honor it was to collaborate with her, to be a guest at so many memorable meals in her lovely home, to work side by side with her to restore her legendary garden after the Hudson River flooded it. The second time the river rose up to swallow her garden, she rose even higher, literally, by raising the soil level to accommodate the consequences of climate change. Her refusal to throw in the trowel in the wake of such destruction was quintessential Joan.  Her perseverance was just one of Joan’s many admirable traits, another being that she was not a purist. For her, eating locally meant being a regular at her local diner, regardless of how they sourced their eggs and bacon. How grateful I am to have known her. Karen Washington with Joan Gassow. Photo courtesy of Washington. Karen Washington, farmer, activist, and co-founder of Black Urban Growers Joan was such a kind and loving person. Her first act of kindness was to invite me and my gardeners from the Bronx to come visit and have lunch. Many of them did not speak English, but were able to enjoy her company, her garden, and the food. She loved people and was willing to share her home with strangers.  We became close as board members of Just Food. Her knowledge and wisdom of the food system was incredible. She taught me to be courageous and not sit by and allow things to happen, but to challenge things that were hard. I loved her so much and will miss her, but I will carry a piece of her in my work to fight against injustice. Alice Waters, chef, author, food activist, founder of Chez Panisse and The Edible Schoolyard Joan had a HUGE influence on my life and my thinking. “Eat locally, think globally” became my motto for Chez Panisse, and now for school food purchasing everywhere. The post Remembering Joan Gussow appeared first on Civil Eats.

Gussow helped us understand that buying locally grown, seasonal food (and raising it ourselves, if possible) connected us to the health of the land, and to our own health, too. And because of her, we began to understand the deleterious impacts of the industrialized food system—among them depleted soil, poisoned water, and metabolic disease.  She […] The post Remembering Joan Gussow appeared first on Civil Eats.

Joan Dye Gussow, who died last Friday at age 96, was a fiercely independent thinker and food-system visionary whose ideas caught on and rippled outward. Starting in the 1970s, through her groundbreaking nutritional ecology class at Teachers College within Columbia University, and through books like The Feeding Web: Issues in Nutritional Ecology, she transformed our view of food from something enjoyed at the end of a fork to the entire system that created the mouthful.

Joan Gussow's Garden. Joan Gussow

Photo credit: Randy Harris, courtesy of Chelsea Green Publishing

Gussow helped us understand that buying locally grown, seasonal food (and raising it ourselves, if possible) connected us to the health of the land, and to our own health, too. And because of her, we began to understand the deleterious impacts of the industrialized food system—among them depleted soil, poisoned water, and metabolic disease. 

She railed at politicians for setting back progress and, as she told us in an interview, “You have to keep hope alive, you have to keep moving along the way you believe in and keep telling the truth and trying to get the word out there.”

In person, Gussow was formidable and funny, speaking her brilliant mind with candor, urging us to see what was going on and to never stop asking hard questions. Luckily, many of us have heeded her call, and in our work and our lives, we continue the conversation she began. 

We asked some of Gussow’s many fans to celebrate and remember her with us. For those who would like to share memories or photos through this link, created by her friend Pam Koch, please do so. 

Dan Barber, chef and co-owner of Family Meal at Blue Hill in Manhattan and Blue Hill at Stone Barns

To Joan, the professor: You changed the way we view a single strawberry and  taught us to trust cows more than chemists.
For this and many other things, Joan, we salute you.

To Joan, the writer: Political or personal, your prose was always beautiful and unflinching.
For this and many other things, Joan, we salute you.

To Joan, the nutritionist: You proved that it is not merely safe, but sensible (and not merely sensible, but imperative) to keep slathering butter on all those potatoes.
For this and many other things, Joan, we salute you.

To Joan, the activist: On health food zealots, always a baffling irritation for you, you delivered a consistent message: Ignore them. Your vitality was daily proof of that simple wisdom.
For this and many other things, Joan, we salute you.

To Joan, the botanist: We valued your pawpaws as much as your raspberries. Your green thumb lifted our blue moods.
For this and many other things, Joan, we salute you.

To Joan, the cook and critic: You cooked up what you dug. For agribusiness adversaries, you cooked up trouble.
For this and many other things, Joan, we salute you.

To Joan, the mother: You have raised all these issues and along the way you’ve raised us, too. Here’s hoping we will do you proud.
For this and many other things, Joan, we salute you.

And to Joan, the hedonist: Food was your medium, but your message was a philosophy of life. You taught us something more than nutrition and agriculture—you taught us how to eat, to indulge in pleasure by way of responsibility. Thank you.

Ann Cooper, chef and founder of the Chef Ann Foundation 

“Joan Gussow was truly an OG of the sustainable/
organic food movement, and an amazing thinker and educator.”

Joan Gussow was truly an OG of the sustainable/organic food movement, and an amazing thinker and educator. She spoke at the 1996 Chefs Collaborative Retreat and told the group that some “food” should just not be organic. “An organic gummy bear or an organic Twinkie, organic Eggo Toaster Waffles . . . they just shouldn’t be organic.” 

I was so inspired by her idea that we shouldn’t have organic junk food that it shaped many of my thoughts on sustainability. Joan was instrumental in some of my thinking for my book Bitter Harvest, and when I went to the Ross School to build a healthy, nutritious, delicious school food program, Joan graciously gave of her time and energy to teach and educate our team. I will be forever grateful for all she did for food systems and sustainability. 

two women sit next to each other; one is older

Leslie Hatfield with Joan Gussow. Photo courtesy of Hatfield.

Leslie Hatfield, Senior Partnership and Outreach Advisor at GRACE Communications Foundation

Joan was brilliant, no question, but what drew me to her was her fierce honesty. Whether writing about unchecked corporate power’s impacts on diets, or her marriage and subsequent widowhood, she asked hard questions and didn’t flinch in laying out the answers. She inspired me, on both personal and professional levels, to live a more honest and authentic life. 

Elizabeth Henderson, farmer and co-chair, Interstate Council policy committee of the Northeast Organic Farming Association 

I came to know Joan through my work as an organic farmer and as one of the first to organize a CSA [community supported agriculture system]. I was thrilled when she agreed to write the foreword to my 2000 book Sharing the Harvest. The first edition came out in 1998, when we estimated that there were about 1,000 CSAs in the U.S. By the second edition, in 2007, that number had more than doubled, and there may be as many as 7,000 today.  As a pioneering advocate of buying from local organic farms, Joan instantly grasped the significance of CSAs.

In her foreword, Joan wrote:

“Across this country, a movement is spreading that acknowledges a long-ignored reality: Most of what we pay for our food goes to companies that transport, process, and market what comes off the farms, not to farmers themselves. The people who actually grow food don’t get paid enough to keep on doing it. If we hope to keep on eating, however, we need to keep farmers in business; and if we want to keep farmers in business, it’s time for all of us, ordinary citizens and policy makers alike, to begin learning how that might be done. Sharing the Harvest is a great place to start.”

Joan’s words are as urgent today as when she wrote them 28 years ago. Family-scale farms continue to go out of business, and the United States Department of Agriculture just cancelled the grant that would have enabled the CSA Innovation Network, a network of CSA networks all over the country, to support more diverse farms in creating CSAs.

I will be eternally grateful to Joan for her encouragement to me as a farmer and as a writer, and for transforming the discipline of nutrition from the reductionist academic analysis of the food on our plates into a training program for active participants in the international movement to wrest power over food from corporate industrial domination and return it to the people who eat, and do the hard and joyous work of growing healthy, nutritious food.

Joan gardening (Susan Frieman)

Photo credit: Susan Frieman, courtesy of Chelsea Green Publishing

Pamela Koch, Mary Swarz Rose associate professor of nutrition and education, Teachers College, Columbia University

Joan taught her transformative course, Nutritional Ecology, in the Program in Nutrition at Teachers College, Columbia University, from 1970 to 2021. I taught with her from 2012 to 2021. Each week students received a 50–60 page packet of readings on a topic such as the “true cost (i.e., the environmental, health, and social cost) of food.” Students wrote a one-page reflection paper on the readings, which could be written as a letter to a friend. My comments are a reflection letter to you, Joan. 

Dear Joan, I miss your wit, your wisdom, and how we could reflect on an old reading, such as your 1980 piece “What corporations have done to our food,” and see something totally new in today’s context. You described our industrial food system as “insane” and “absurd.” You have taught me to always speak the truth and think critically. 

Case in point: The fertilizers and pesticides used on farms have to pollute our rivers, oceans, and drinking water. How could they not? The ability to ask the tough questions is what we can all do to carry your torch. This gives me hope that we can heal our ecosystem, support public health, reduce food-related chronic diseases, and treat everyone who works all along the food chain fairly and justly. Because of you, Joan, I believe we will have a better food future. We need your hope, Joan, now, more than ever.

Ellie Krieger, MS RDN, Food Network and PBS show host and James Beard award-winning cookbook author

I remember the feeling of having my mind blown open by Joan Dye Gussow’s teaching. It was like suddenly seeing in three dimensions when I had only been seeing in two before. Understanding that nutrition is much more than just nutrients–that [it] is agriculture, politics, the environment, and more–shaped my thinking about food and the work I do to this day. Thank you, Joan, for your brilliance, bravery, persistence, and for leading by example. I consider myself a product of the big, robust garden you cultivated.

Anna Lappé, author and executive director of the Global Alliance for the Future of Food

Joan was a singular, uncompromising voice for organic and local food. I’ll always appreciate her generosity of spirit as a teacher, training countless students through her courses at Columbia Teachers College and opening her door to me personally as she took the time to help me understand food systems and the power of organic practices. 

I’ll never forget interviewing her at her home in upstate New York for Grub: Ideas for an Urban Organic Kitchen. While we looked out at her overflowing vegetable garden that stretched to the waters of the Hudson River, Joan shared her food philosophy, including turning me onto her seminal essay about a hypothetical organic Twinkie. 

While serving on the National Organic Standards Board, she had penned, “Can an Organic Twinkie Be Certified?” Her answer was yes. One day, a Twinkie could very well be certified organic if 95 percent of its ingredients were. But, she was quick to note, it would not be healthy—nor would it reflect her vision of a food system defined by local, healthy, whole foods and not highly processed ones. 

I loved the last words of her New York Times obituary, which sounded every bit like the Joan I had been inspired by for years: “The day I die, I want to have a black thumb from where I hit it with a hammer and scratches on my hands from pruning the roses.”

Kate MacKenzie, Executive Director of New York City’s Mayor’s Office of Food Policy 

Joan Gussow has influenced my professional life more than any other. Twenty-five years ago, I started in the public health nutrition program at Teachers College, with a BS degree in Nutritional Sciences from Cornell. I often say that at Cornell, I learned everything about food after you swallow it, and everything about food before you eat it at TC, from Joan.

“Perhaps now more than ever, we have the responsibility of carrying her legacy forward, to meaningfully connect to real food for the health of our people and our environment.”

It was in her classes that I was introduced to topics like the corporate consolidation of the food system (or to even consider the words “food system”), the limits to population growth, how to feed the world, agricultural inputs like pesticides and organic practices, and the concepts of sustainability and local food. 

I remember one class when she was lecturing about the number of food products on grocery store shelves, and how over time, people were made to think there was just no more time to cook. Her simple response: that we have always had 24 hours in the day, and it’s the power of marketing and industry to convince us otherwise. These issues made me deeply curious and desirous to effectuate changing the food system.  

I’ve been doing that ever since graduating and I have met extraordinary leaders and visionaries throughout the U.S. and beyond. Many of those people have also been students of Joan’s. Perhaps now more than ever, we have the responsibility of carrying her legacy forward, to meaningfully connect to real food for the health of our people and our environment.

Marion Nestle, Paulette Goddard professor of nutrition, food studies, and public health emerita, New York University

I first met Joan in the late 1970s when I heard her give a talk in the Bay Area when I was teaching at the University of California San Francisco School of Medicine. I had never heard anyone talk about the need to link agricultural production to nutrition and health—food systems, we now call that—and it felt revelatory.

I am not alone in being inspired by her work. I have followed it with great admiration. Ahead of her time? Absolutely.

You have discovered that the food industry influences food choices? Try Joan’s “Who Pays the Piper,” from 1980.

You think food systems should be sustainable? See Joan’s “Dietary Guidelines for Sustainability,” written with Kate Clancy in 1986.

Her students at Columbia were so lucky to be in her orbit. I am beyond sad at her loss. 

Raj Patel, ​​author, activist, and research professor in the Lyndon B. Johnson School of Public Affairs at the University of Texas, Austin

Joan was so ahead of her time, I often wondered whether she thought the food movement revival a decade or two ago was just the history of the 1970s repeating, this time as farce. But she was always gracious, ready to celebrate the wins—and hurl imprecations at those who deserved them: the food industry, their shills, and the deer who ate from her garden. Recently, I re-read her classic lecture, “Women, Food, and the Survival of the Species,” plucked from the archives by Daniel Bowman Simon, and it reminded me of the abundance of her spirit, and the depth of our debt to her. 

Michael Pollan, author, journalist

Joan was one of my first and most influential teachers when it came to understanding food and agriculture as a system. (The other is Marion Nestle.) Joan saw the politics in all sorts of places people had trouble spotting it, such as the field of nutrition. We first met in the 1990s at the Culinary Institute of America, at a conference about genetically modified crops. She was formidable, and though I don’t recall what she said, it galvanized the room with its penetrating clarity. 

She was a master at connecting the dots, and the fact that most of us understand food and agriculture as a single system, linking policy, soil, nutrition, public health, and technology, owes in large part to the work Joan did. 

But she was much more than a theorist; indeed, she walked the talk, growing much of her own food on an oft-flooded piece of land right on the Hudson–a beautiful but perilous spot I had the privilege of visiting a couple of times. 

The phrase, “Eat food, not too much, mostly plants,” owes at least two words to Joan. When I was researching In Defense of Food, I asked her to sum up what she had learned about how best to eat, and she didn’t miss a beat: “Eat food.” As in, real food, whole foods, unprocessed foods. I embroidered her message a bit, with “mostly plants” and “not too much” but the basic message—which is that we don’t and shouldn’t eat nutrients–was Joan’s. She was an inspiration.

Tom Philpott, senior research associate at the Center for a Livable Future, Johns Hopkins University

Joan Dye Gussow has passed on, but her legacy and influence will live as long as we have ecosystems and natural resources worth defending. Like all of our best and brightest food-system intellectuals, Joan understood that humanity doesn’t exist separately from nature or ecology, but lives deeply embedded within them. We are as much a part of nature as the lion skulking the savanna, or the warbler winging it from the Adirondacks to the Caribbean islands for winter; it’s just that we exert much more influence over the ecosystems we touch. 

Joan elegantly summed up this concept in the title of her 1978 book, The Feeding Web: Issues In Nutritional Ecology. “Nutritional ecology”: The idea neatly connects our sustenance with the landscapes that feed us and provide sinks for our waste. Professionally, academically, she was a nutritionist, a field that evolved over decades in tight collaboration with corporate food giants, and too often reduced nutrition to a list of essential vitamins and minerals—commodities that, once injected into highly processed food, the idea went, make a health-giving diet. 

“Perhaps what I will remember most about Joan is the laughter, the caring, and the closeness we shared, sometimes verging on tears.”

Today, this ideology is finally unravelling under the weight of undeniable evidence. Joan rejected it more than a half century ago, and used her perch at Columbia University to launch broadsides against it.

By the time I met her in the late 2000s, Joan was a doyenne of the anti-industrial food movement, renowned for her advocacy in support of local and regional food systems, and for her legendary garden on the banks of the Hudson, not far from New York City. It meant a lot to hear her say she had read and appreciated my journalism work, and it was delightful to be able to tell her how much I had learned from her. She was a happy and inspiring warrior against the forces of industrial agriculture. 

And damn it, she was right. Her vision of robust local and regional food networks, bolstered by flourishing small- and mid-scale farms and justly compensated farm labor, represents a beacon for a livable future in an increasingly dystopian age. In a 2011 Civil Eats interview, she allowed that “compared to the reception my ideas got 30 years ago, it’s quite astonishing the reception they’re getting now,” citing the extraordinary artisanal food scenes emerging in places like Brooklyn. But, she added, “whether or not there’s going to be sea change in the whole system is so hard to judge.”

Hard to judge, and harder still to achieve. It’s up to us, the generations she inspired, to make it so. I never managed to take her up on the invitation to visit her Hudson Valley garden. May it flourish in her memory forever. I still hope to see it someday.

Two woman stand in a field of tall grass with a body of water behind them, with arms around each of their shoulders and smiling in the sun

Joan Dye Gussow with Urvashi Rangan. Photo courtesy of Rangan.

Urvashi Rangan, founding co-chair, Funders for Regenerative Agriculture (FORA) and chief science advisor, GRACE Communications Foundation 

I had the immense pleasure of sharing in Joan’s professional and personal life. As a young scientist, I remember presenting to a nutrition conference and Joan was in the front row and asked many great questions. From then, I always knew to seek her professional opinion on the harms of industrial ag practices and the benefits of organic production. She then invited me to lecture in her classes and always wanted to know the latest goings-on in food politics.   

Perhaps what I will remember most about Joan is the laughter, the caring, and the closeness we shared, sometimes verging on tears. I remember one conversation about gut microbiomes and people reseeding with poop from other people. We decided that Joan’s poop would be worth more than gold since her biome had only eaten organic food forever.  

Despite the 40 years between us, I found Joan to be one of my closest and dear friends and one of the youngest people I have known. I remember leaving a conference in NYC together where she gave the keynote, and while we were driving home, she looked at me and said, “My God, Urvashi, there were some really old people there.” Joan wasn’t talking about age, but mindset (and she was so right).  

And while she may have been the oldest person in the room, her mind and heart were youthful, yet wise. I used to tell her that when I grew up, I wanted to be just like her. She was a teacher until the end, in the classroom and out. I will miss her immensely and will cherish all of the times we had together. 

Michael Sligh, founding chair, National Organic Standards Board

Joan was that rare breed of academic, activist, and farmer. She helped us bridge movements and she was always on the right side of the fight. Tough as nails and a heart of gold. She will be missed.

Kerry Trueman, sustainability advocate

Joan was a dear friend and mentor to me, as she was to so many people. I became a die-hard devotee of her work after reading her first memoir, This Organic Life. We became friends several decades ago when she gave a talk at The New School. After she spoke, she mingled with the attendees, and I was so excited at the prospect of meeting her that I transcended my shyness to tell her how she had inspired me to plant pawpaws in my yard. Joan, in her inimitable acerbic-yet-affectionate way, liked to say that I had “stalked” her. She once called me her “favorite beneficial pest,” which, coming from her, was a thrilling compliment.

What an honor it was to collaborate with her, to be a guest at so many memorable meals in her lovely home, to work side by side with her to restore her legendary garden after the Hudson River flooded it. The second time the river rose up to swallow her garden, she rose even higher, literally, by raising the soil level to accommodate the consequences of climate change. Her refusal to throw in the trowel in the wake of such destruction was quintessential Joan. 

Her perseverance was just one of Joan’s many admirable traits, another being that she was not a purist. For her, eating locally meant being a regular at her local diner, regardless of how they sourced their eggs and bacon. How grateful I am to have known her.

An African American woman farmer is hugged by an elder farmer

Karen Washington with Joan Gassow. Photo courtesy of Washington.

Karen Washington, farmer, activist, and co-founder of Black Urban Growers

Joan was such a kind and loving person. Her first act of kindness was to invite me and my gardeners from the Bronx to come visit and have lunch. Many of them did not speak English, but were able to enjoy her company, her garden, and the food. She loved people and was willing to share her home with strangers. 

We became close as board members of Just Food. Her knowledge and wisdom of the food system was incredible. She taught me to be courageous and not sit by and allow things to happen, but to challenge things that were hard. I loved her so much and will miss her, but I will carry a piece of her in my work to fight against injustice.

Alice Waters, chef, author, food activist, founder of Chez Panisse and The Edible Schoolyard

Joan had a HUGE influence on my life and my thinking. “Eat locally, think globally” became my motto for Chez Panisse, and now for school food purchasing everywhere.

The post Remembering Joan Gussow appeared first on Civil Eats.

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Dog food accounts for 1% of UK greenhouse gas emissions, study finds

Study of 1,000 products finds wet, raw and meat-free foods have substantially higher climate impact than dry kibbleDog food accounts for 1% of the UK’s total greenhouse gas emissions, according to research that finds wet, raw and meat-rich products are associated with substantially higher emissions than dry kibble.The analysis revealed striking differences in the environmental impact of commercial dog foods, with the highest-impact foods being responsible for up to 65 times more emissions than the lowest-rated options. Continue reading...

Dog food accounts for 1% of the UK’s total greenhouse gas emissions, according to research that finds wet, raw and meat-rich products are associated with substantially higher emissions than dry kibble.The analysis revealed striking differences in the environmental impact of commercial dog foods, with the highest-impact foods being responsible for up to 65 times more emissions than the lowest-rated options.The findings will leave environmentally conscious pet owners torn between giving their dogs the most delicious food and minimising their impact on the climate.“As a veterinary surgeon working on environmental sustainability, I regularly see owners torn between ideals of dogs as meat‑eating ‘wolves’ and their wish to reduce environmental harm,” said the study’s principal investigator, John Harvey, from the University of Edinburgh’s Royal (Dick) School of Veterinary Studies.“Our research shows just how large and variable the climate impact of dog food really is. It’s important for owners to know that choosing grain-free, wet or raw foods can result in higher impacts compared to standard dry kibble foods,” he added.Scientists from the universities of Edinburgh and Exeter used ingredient and nutrient labelling information to calculate the carbon footprint of almost 1,000 commercially available dog foods.Overall, they found producing the ingredients for the UK’s commercial dog foods contributes 2.3–3.7% of UK food system greenhouse gas emissions, or 0.9–1.3% of total UK emissions.If the rest of the world fed their dogs the way Britons do, it would generate greenhouse gas emissions equivalent to more than half of those from burning jet fuel in commercial flights each year.But the impact varied widely between different varieties. Using large amounts of prime meat – which could otherwise be eaten by humans – pushes up emissions, while the use of nutritious carcass parts that are in low demand helps limit environmental impact. Dry food, not marketed as grain-free, tended to have a lower impact than wet, raw or grain-free options.Dog owners who want to reduce environmental impacts but not change food type should check the label description of meat cuts used in the food, aiming for a lower content of prime meat, the researchers said.An increase in the use of plant-based dog foods could also reduce emissions – but the research team cautioned that only a small number of plant-based foods were available to test for this study.Harvey added: “The pet food industry should make sure meat cuts used are of the types not typically eaten by humans, and that labelling is clear. These steps can help us have healthy, well-fed dogs with a smaller pawprint on the planet.”

One of the most impactful resolutions you can make in the new year

Throughout the 2010s, eating less meat and embracing plant-based food was — to many Americans — aspirational.  Large swathes of the public told pollsters they were trying to cut back on meat, lots of schools and hospitals participated in Meatless Monday, A-list celebrities dabbled in veganism, and venture capital investors bet big that plant-based meat […]

A plant-based salmon filet from Toronto startup New School Foods. | Jo-Anne McArthur/We Animals Throughout the 2010s, eating less meat and embracing plant-based food was — to many Americans — aspirational.  Large swathes of the public told pollsters they were trying to cut back on meat, lots of schools and hospitals participated in Meatless Monday, A-list celebrities dabbled in veganism, and venture capital investors bet big that plant-based meat products, like those from Impossible Foods and Beyond Meat, were the next big trend in food. And for good reason. People were concerned about what the more than 200 pounds of meat that Americans eat on average each year does to our health. Undercover investigations that exposed the cruelty of factory farms shocked us. And animal agriculture’s huge environmental footprint slowly gained attention in the news.   But now, America is “done pretending about meat,” as The Atlantic put it earlier this year. Plant-based meat sales are declining, some celebrities are backtracking on their plant-based diets, and the carnivore diet, while still fringe, is ascendant on social media. I’m not going to suggest I have a neat theory that explains this shift, but I think a few cultural dynamics explain some of it. The first is the increasingly pervasive, yet misguided, notion — especially popular on the political left — that our individual actions don’t matter and that all responsibility to fix social problems lies with corporations and governments. The second is the rightward, reactionary shift of the electorate and pop culture. The third unites people of all political persuasions: Americans’ growing obsession with protein, and especially animal-based protein. But these reasons don’t quite hold up under closer scrutiny. When individuals eat less meat, it really does make a difference by reducing demand for meat; Americans, regardless of their political beliefs, strongly oppose factory farming; and our fears of not eating enough protein are unfounded (and you can easily up your protein intake with plant-based sources).  So as we think about what direction we’d like society to take in 2026, I hope we can move past the surface-level, vibes-based dynamics that seem to influence the public debate around American meat consumption, and rediscover the airtight case that we really ought to eat less meat and more plant-based foods.  If all that speaks to you, you can sign up for Vox’s Meat/Less newsletter — a practical guide to eating less meat and more plants. It covers questions like:  What impact can one person really make? If I am going to give up one type of meat, should I cut back on chicken or steak? What are the best plant-based proteins? I’m terrible at making new habits stick…please help? Moving to a more plant-rich diet is one of the most impactful New Year’s resolutions you can make — and we’re here to help you do it.  The meat industry is probably way worse than you think (and not just for animals) I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to call what we do to animals for their meat, milk, and eggs a form of torture. It surely would be if it were done to a pet dog or cat.  They’re bred to grow so big, so fast that many have difficulty walking, or have chronic joint and heart issues. Many species’ body parts are chopped off — hens’ beaks, turkey’s snoods, cows’ horns, piglets’ tails and testicles — without pain relief. Most hens and sows (female breeding pigs) spend their entire lives in tiny cages, unable to move around. The vast majority of farmed animals will never step foot on grass or breathe fresh air. Many will die prematurely from painful diseases.   This all happens on an incomprehensible scale — over 10 billion farmed birds and mammals in the US and around 85 billion globally every year. If you count farmed fish and crustaceans, which I certainly think one should — fish are incredibly underestimated and misunderstood — the global death toll of animal agriculture gets close to one trillion animals each year. The American livestock industry spends a lot of money lobbying politicians to keep things this way, and a lot of money on advertising to assuage consumers’ concerns.   To be fair, a tiny minority of companies and farmers treat their animals better than the status quo, but it can be difficult to separate what’s real from “humanewashing,” and investigations into some of the supposedly highest-welfare companies have exposed pretty terrible conditions. Seeking genuinely higher-welfare animal products is a sensible response to the horrors of factory farming, and it should be part of the solution, but shifting to a less-meat, more plant-based diet will have much more of an impact for animals.  And the case for that dietary shift goes well beyond animal welfare. Consider the following about meat and dairy production. On the environment: It’s the leading global cause of deforestation and biodiversity loss, because so much land is cleared to graze cattle and grow feed crops for pigs, fish, and chickens. In the US, it’s very likely the leading cause of water pollution and a top cause of air pollution, which has been a blight on swathes of rural America. It accounts for 14.5 to 19.6 percent of global greenhouse gas emissions. Meat’s social consequences: Working in a slaughterhouse is one of the most dangerous and traumatizing occupations in the US. Factory farming has led to intense consolidation in the meat sector, contributing to the closure of tens of thousands of small and mid-sized farms and the hollowing out of rural economies. It’s putting public health at risk: Because disease spread is so rampant on factory farms, around 70 percent of all antibiotics in the US and globally are used in animal agriculture — accelerating antimicrobial resistance, which the World Health Organization has called “one of the top global public health and development threats.” Three out of four emerging infectious diseases in people come from animals, and increased meat production is part of the problem. While people can be perfectly healthy eating animal products, America’s meat-heavy diets contribute to our high rates of heart disease, cancer, and type 2 diabetes. Make plant-based eating aspirational again What I find most empowering about plant-based eating is that, in a world where we often feel powerless and overwhelmed, it’s something just about anyone can do that tackles so many social problems at once. Plus, everyone already eats a lot of plant-based foods; in the US, about 70 percent of our calories come from plant sources.   But getting started on shifting more of that 30 percent of animal-based calories to more plant-based foods can be daunting. What should you eat instead and how do you make new habits stick?  This is where Vox’s Meat/Less newsletter comes in, which was written to help anyone on the less-meat spectrum, from aspiring “flexitarians” to full-on vegans. Sign up and we’ll send you five newsletter emails — one per week — that’ll teach you how to easily incorporate more plant-based foods into your diet and give you evidence-based behavior strategies to make it last.  I don’t know if 2026 will be the year that plant-based eating becomes aspirational again. But if you look past the vibes, the evidence suggests a clear gap between how we eat and what we really value. Many of us just don’t know the power of plant-based eating to address so many of our social problems, and more importantly, how to begin incorporating it into our lives. There’s no better time than now to start.

Our Biggest Food Justice Stories of 2025

As a central tenet of our work, we focus on stories that highlight those issues. A fair and equitable society requires universal access to healthy and sustainable food. It also encompasses environmental factors and climate change, as both disproportionately impact poor communities and communities of color, creating additional challenges for those facing food insecurity. In […] The post Our Biggest Food Justice Stories of 2025 appeared first on Civil Eats.

Civil Eats has reported on food justice since we began publishing in 2009. At the time, many people were unaware of the critical connection between race, food, poverty, and equity. As a central tenet of our work, we focus on stories that highlight those issues. A fair and equitable society requires universal access to healthy and sustainable food. It also encompasses environmental factors and climate change, as both disproportionately impact poor communities and communities of color, creating additional challenges for those facing food insecurity. In 2025, the U.S. food system came under increasing pressure, making stories about food justice all the more critical. This year, we reported extensively on how federal budget cuts scaled back the food safety net and eliminated many farming initiatives, including climate and food justice projects. But even with fewer resources, farmers and advocates across the country are still finding ways to feed their communities, support the next generation of producers, and teach sustainable agriculture to urban farmers. Below are our biggest food justice stories from 2025, in chronological order. A 19th-century family in front of their improved homestead in Nicodemus, Kansas. (Photo courtesy of Kansas University Spencer Research Library, Nicodemus Historical Society Collection) Op-ed: Black Producers Have Farmed Sustainably in Kansas for Generations. Let’s Not Erase Our Progress. Increased federal funding for Black farmers—not less—will help US agriculture become more resilient as our climate changes. Brea Baker on the Legacy of Stolen Farmland in America The author of ‘Rooted: The American Legacy of Land Theft and the Modern Movement for Black Land Ownership’ talks about her family’s farming history, the lasting impact of land loss for Black people, and the case for reparations. Despite Cuts to DEI Initiatives, Food and Farm Advocates Say They Will Continue to Fight for Racial Justice People fighting for a fairer food system are worried and exhausted, but remain undeterred. Alien Land Laws, Created to Protect US Farmland, May Be Harming Asian Americans A Q&A with civil rights lawyer and professor Robert Chang about the laws forbidding foreign ownership of agricultural land, and how they could lead to discrimination against Asians and Asian Americans. In Chicago, an Environmental Organization Feeds a Community It took decades for Little Village Environmental Justice Organization to restore the land within its neighborhood. Now areas once considered toxic sites are a wellspring for sharing food, culture, and ancestral knowledge. Photo Essay: Standing in the Gaps With Feed Durham In Durham, North Carolina, a multifaceted mutual aid collective shows us the power of a community caring for its members through food and much more. A New Path for Small Farmers in the Southeast? The Southern Farmers Financial Association, years in the making, could be a lifeline for Black farmers and rural communities, but is in jeopardy now. ‘Dignified Food’ Eases Food Insecurity in Philadelphia The Double Trellis Food Initiative fights hunger in America’s poorest large city—and gives young people a path to employment. This Man Is Feeding California’s Incarcerated Firefighters Sam Lewis of the Anti-Recidivism Coalition discusses why good meals, better pay, and post-release support could transform the future for incarcerated firefighters—and why society should see their humanity. Established in October 2024, the final Solitary Garden is on St. Charles Avenue, a popular tourist destination in New Orleans. (Photo credit: Ben Seal) In New Orleans, ‘Solitary Gardens’ Aims to Transform Thinking About Prisons Artist and activist jackie sumell’s nonprofit, Freedom to Grow, takes a plant-powered approach to encourage radical change. Can This Baltimore Academy Continue to Train Urban Farmers? At Black Butterfly Teaching Farm, locals learn to build a climate-resilient food system with economic potential in the midst of an industrial city. Funding cuts now jeopardize that mission. Op-ed: Through Acts of Solidarity, We Can Support Immigrants in the Food Chain and Beyond Immigrant farmers, food workers, and vendors are a critical part of our food system. Here’s how to help them here in LA and nationwide. The EPA Canceled These 21 Climate Justice Projects From solar-powered greenhouses to wild rice initiatives, the Trump administration cut funding for nearly two dozen farm and food resilience projects. Volunteers Noelle Romero (left) and Corinne Smith (right) pull weeds around a row of tomato plants during a community work day at the Agroecology Commons farm. (Photo credit: Riley Ramirez) A Groundbreaking California Farming Collective Navigates the Loss of Federal Grants Due to cuts by the USDA, Agroecology Commons will offer fewer services to fewer aspiring farmers from underserved communities. Op-ed: We Need a Food Bill of Rights From Oklahoma to D.C., a food activist works to ensure that communities can protect their food systems and their future. Farmers of Color Offer Community Wellness at ‘Healing Farms’ With a focus on trauma recovery and improved health, a new farm model connects neighbors to ancestral practices. Crusading New York Community Garden Group Turns 30 A photo essay of gardens from Bette Midler’s New York Restoration Project, which for three decades has been converting neglected lots into resilient neighborhood green spaces. Op-ed: The Shutdown Threatens SNAP and WIC for the Most Vulnerable One in eight Americans rely on food assistance. For families with complex medical challenges, these programs are non-negotiable lifelines. Community Kitchen Brings Food Justice to the Table In New York City, this ambitious nonprofit restaurant serves healthy, high-quality food to all, regardless of income. Alexina Cather (right) with her brother, Ryan, in 1987 or 1988. (Photo courtesy of Alexina Cather) Op-ed: SNAP Is a Lifeline. I Know Firsthand. SNAP reduces hunger, lifts children out of poverty, improves health outcomes, and supports local economies. It is one of the most effective anti-poverty tools this country has ever created. At 91, Eva Clayton Is Still Fighting for Food Justice and Farmers’ Rights North Carolina’s first Black Congresswoman keeps making her voice heard—on gerrymandering, hunger relief, and more. The post Our Biggest Food Justice Stories of 2025 appeared first on Civil Eats.

Dunedin’s inner-city greening project shows even small spaces can be wildlife havens

Medium-density housing has limited green spaces, but even small planted patches can provide enough food and habitat to enhance urban biodiversity.

Even small green spaces can bring nature back into cities, as our project in Ōtepoti Dunedin has shown. Over the past two years, Dunedin’s city centre has become greener and more biodiverse thanks to the installation of street-side planters. This change, though modest, proves popular with a range of insects that have moved in even though the city centre remains dominated by grey non-permeable surfaces. This real-world example shows that urban dwellers with limited green spaces can still have a positive impact on urban biodiversity through the use of planters and raised garden beds. Since most New Zealanders live in urban areas, these are the places where people frequently interact with and experience nature. The way we design cities shapes our experience of the natural world, and it should include habitat for our native flora and fauna. As housing pressure rises, stand-alone homes with private gardens are increasingly replaced by medium-density housing with limited greenspace. If we want to keep our living environments green, we have to find ways to enhance biodiversity in increasingly smaller spaces. Opportunities to connect with nature are linked to increased mental and physical wellbeing, sense of place and pro-environmental behaviours. In fact, having a connection to nature was deemed equally important as income in a recent Australian survey that ranked life satisfaction. Planning with biodiversity in mind Amid the growing recognition of biodiversity’s importance, the Dunedin City Council has started weaving it into city planning, despite the absence of national policies for modified urban habitats. The council partnered with local agency Aukaha to incorporate mana whenua values of environmental guardianship into the design of the city’s main shopping street. The native ground-covering bidibid can be used with plants of different heights to create new habitats. Author provided, CC BY-ND The upgrade of Dunedin’s George Street comprises three consecutively installed blocks, each with a slightly different theme. The first block is dominated by native plants, the second features more flowering species, and the third has a mixture of both. In total, the planters include more than 2,500 plants representing close to 60 species, of which more than half are native. These offer a variety of resources for wildlife, from food (pollen, nectar, fruit) to habitat niches created through the plants’ varying heights and physical structures. Each block’s planters have either loose stone or bark as the ground medium. Urban insect colonisation To test whether George Street’s planters actually do enhance biodiversity we conducted a two-year study of insect colonisation. Insects were sampled in traps and by vacuuming leaves. Author provided, CC BY-ND We used pitfall traps buried in the ground and hand-held vacuuming of plants to catch insects and assessed whether the planters act as stepping-stone habitats – small patches that connect fragmented urban landscapes to more natural ones, thus enhancing biodiversity and ecosystem health. Our results are promising. As expected in a harsh, disturbed urban environment, we found the insect communities in the George Street planters differ from those found in more extensive natural areas such as the Town Belt or Ross Creek, which tend to have more specialised species. However, several groups have successfully colonised the planters, including spiders, flies, native wasps, beetles and other insects. Beetles, New Zealand’s largest insect group, are good indicators of ecosystem health. We found a small population of Scopodes fossulatus, a native ground-dwelling carnivorous beetle, also present in the surrounding natural areas. Its presence indicates sufficient food resources (other smaller insects) and a functioning micro-ecosystem. Gardening for wildlife The George Street planters offer practical guidance for urban dwellers on how to enhance biodiversity in their own outdoor spaces, regardless of size. Bark was found to be more successful in attracting insects than loose stone as the planter medium. Planting vegetation of varying heights is one of the best ways to enhance urban biodiversity. This can be achieved by planting a native ground cover such as Aceana microphylla (bidibid), together with a variety of structurally complex plants between 30 centimetres and more than two metres in height. Plants with more leaf surface area and complex shapes and forms, such as Polystichum vestitum (prickly shield fern), are more likely to offer habitat, and thus attract insects, compared to structurally simple plants like Libertia (New Zealand iris) species. While non-native plants add colour, including native plants will attract native insects as they have co-evolved. George Street demonstrates that even in a small space, staggering flowering times throughout the year to provide continuous food resources is achievable: native Veronica (formerly Hebe) “Beverly Hills”, for instance, produces bright purple flowers throughout spring and summer, while non-native Lenten roses flower from late winter to spring. When sourcing native plants for pots, planters or gardens, growers should consider supporting local nurseries. They often offer a greater genetic diversity and in-depth knowledge on local climatic preferences. Most importantly, it’s good to take time to connect with nature, be it on a balcony, backyard or the seats around the George Street planters, and enjoy the species these small but mighty green spaces can attract. Jacqueline Theis receives funding from the Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment. She is affiliated with the Entomological Society of New Zealand. Barbara I.P. Barratt receives funding from the Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment for research on border biosecurity, risk assessment for biological control agents and native grassland ecology; from the Department of Conservation for research on endangered insect species; and from Environment Canterbury for expert advice on terrestrial invertebrates.Connal McLean is affiliated with the Entomological Society of New Zealand and a trustee of the Moths and Butterflies of NZ Trust. Yolanda van Heezik receives funding from the Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment.

At 91, Eva Clayton Is Still Fighting for Food Justice and Farmers’ Rights

As the first Black woman to represent North Carolina in Congress, elected to the House in 1992 to serve the district now under threat, Clayton had broken the racial barrier, and in every election since, constituents there had elected a Black Democrat to represent them. The new maps, developed mid-decade at the urging of Donald […] The post At 91, Eva Clayton Is Still Fighting for Food Justice and Farmers’ Rights appeared first on Civil Eats.

A Life of Purpose• Eva Clayton, the first Black woman to represent North Carolina in Congress, first found her calling during the Civil Rights era, in 1963, organizing farmers. • She went on to serve five sequential terms in Congress, sitting on the Agricultural Committee throughout her tenure. • Clayton paved the way for Pigford vs. USDA, the most consequential decision for Black farmers in history. She also expanded food stamps under the 2002 Farm Bill. • In 2003, at 69, she joined the United Nations in Rome, and for several years led a global anti-hunger effort. • While pursuing her political career, Clayton raised four children with her husband, a lawyer. Eva Clayton was outraged. It was late October, and the North Carolina legislature had just introduced a swiftly moving plan to redraw the congressional map for the First District, where she lived, to dilute Black voting power and favor Republicans. As the first Black woman to represent North Carolina in Congress, elected to the House in 1992 to serve the district now under threat, Clayton had broken the racial barrier, and in every election since, constituents there had elected a Black Democrat to represent them. The new maps, developed mid-decade at the urging of Donald Trump, cut majority-Black counties out of the First District and lumped them into the conservative Third District. This virtually ensured that Clayton’s district could not elect a Democrat, especially a Black Democrat, again. Never one to stay silent, 91-year-old Clayton put on a gray suit, arranged a pink-and-green scarf around her shoulders, and rode an hour and a half south from her home in rural Warren County to Raleigh. Clayton walks with a metal cane, and at five feet, she wasn’t much taller than the wooden podium in the legislative office building’s meeting room. But her tone was fierce as she addressed the lawmakers. While some may not have heard of her, within her home state, Clayton is a towering figure in food politics. “Shame on this General Assembly,” she said, an edge to her deep, smooth voice, “for silencing the will of the people in northeastern North Carolina, a true swing district that reflects the diversity of the state . . . . What you are doing today means you are against democracy.” While some may not have heard of her, within her home state, Clayton is a towering figure in food politics—someone who has transformed people’s lives for the better on the local, regional, national, and international levels. After her Congressional win in the early ’90s, Clayton went on to serve five terms, sitting on the Agriculture Committee her entire tenure and fighting for food access and the rights of small farmers. In 1999, she was instrumental in pushing through the historic Pigford discrimination lawsuit against the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), which awarded the plaintiffs, all Black farmers, more than $1 billion—the largest civil rights settlement ever awarded at that time. She also expanded food stamps to include documented immigrants in the 2002 Farm Bill, helping strengthen food security for thousands of families. After her political service, Clayton, then 69, took her work to a global level, leading the United Nations in an effort to reduce hunger worldwide. And now, she helps guide the Eva Clayton Rural Food Institute, a regional nonprofit that increases food access for rural families and small farmers in her community. On that October day in Raleigh, as the Assembly moved to dismantle the district she had championed for most of her life, an interviewer for the North Carolina Black Alliance caught up to her in the hallway. “She is a powerful force, but also a gentle force. She has the soul of a great warrior.” Clayton had more to say, now speaking directly to her community, mired in the ongoing government shutdown: “They’re taking so many things away, taking food from hungry people, taking help from people who need help . . . and taking the right to determine who represents you, all at the same time,” she said, sweeping her arm for emphasis. “In spite of that, folks, stand up. Speak up for democracy. We need you.” The following day, despite Clayton’s impassioned argument, the legislature formally approved the new maps, and the First District is predicted to go Republican in the 2026 election. Virginia farmer Michael Carter compares Clayton to leaders before and after the Antebellum Era, motivated not by ego but by doing what was right. “She is a powerful force, but also a gentle force,” he says. “She has the soul of a great warrior.” Finding Her Footing Born in 1934, Clayton was raised in Savannah and Augusta, Georgia, by a charismatic, outgoing father who worked as a life insurance agent (“he could sell life insurance to a tombstone!” says Clayton) and a stern but loving mother who, as a PTA president, organized daily fresh fruit for Clayton’s school, which lacked even a cafeteria. It was Clayton’s first glimpse of food justice, something she came to see later as a foreshadowing of her own hunger relief efforts. Clayton at home in Savannah, Georgia, after her kindergarten graduation. (Photo courtesy of Eva Clayton)
 As she matured, Clayton began questioning the racism of the segregated South, and a spiritual awakening at a bible camp during high school gave her an abiding approach to countering injustice. “I understood Christ was for love, and I could show that,” she said. “I could be a beacon.” Intent on becoming a medical missionary in Africa, Clayton studied biology at Johnson C. Smith University, a historically Black college in Charlotte. There she met her future husband, Theaoseus Theaboyd “T.T.” Clayton, a charming senior from a farming family. Both went on to earn master’s degrees—he in law, she in biology and general science. Between getting her degrees, Clayton traveled to Chicago to intern with the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC), a Quaker peace and social justice organization. Their seminars and forums helped shape her worldview. “They tried to teach me how to speak up against the policy of the person without taking down the person,” she said. “That experience sharpened my insight on how to be engaged with people, not only in terms of presenting [ideas to them] but also listening. The Quakers have a sense of the long view . . . They’re committed not only to peace but to peaceful ways.” Building a Voice for the First District When I met Clayton recently at her Warren County home, a tidy, split-level ranch on the shores of Lake Gaston, she welcomed me in with a broad smile and the same direct gaze I’d seen in her many Congressional portraits. Her once-dark hair was cropped short and mostly white, and she was well put together in a navy striped dress shirt, round silver necklace, and dangly silver earrings. She had been sorting through papers and photographs to make space for her son Martin and his wife, who were about to move in, but the walls of her basement den were still covered in pictures of herself with presidents, dignitaries, and Pope John Paul II. “It’s like spending the night in the Eva Clayton Museum,” her daughter Joanne told me later, chuckling. “I know what MLK’s children must have felt like.” Most of her collection, though, was in her sunroom, packed into file boxes scattered across the floor. Clayton delightedly unearthed an artifact: a newspaper article about a voter registration project she organized in Warren County, back in 1963. That summer changed the course of her life—and the future of her district. Clayton, T.T., and their two young children had moved to the county the year before, when T.T. accepted a law partnership in the town of Warrenton, creating the first integrated firm in the state’s history. Proud to finally have a Black lawyer in town, the community embraced the Clayton family. And Clayton found her small-town neighbors—who sometimes paid her husband in meat from their farms—to be warm and kind. “I fell in love with them, and they showed the love to me too,” she said. The countryside around Warrenton was lush, but poor. Two out of three people were Black, nine out of ten lived on farms, and many were sharecroppers who had to turn over a portion of their monthly income to their white landlords. With the Voting Rights Act of 1965 still a few years from passing and Southern states still employing tactics like literacy tests to suppress votes, few Black people in the area were registered to vote, and none served in government. Farmers harvesting tobacco in the Warren County Hecks Grove community, 1960s. (Photo courtesy of Judith Beil Vaughan)
 In 1963, Clayton helped drive student volunteers to isolated pockets of Warren County to try to convince rural residents, including tenant farmers like the woman in this photo, to register to vote. “Without knowing,” Clayton said recently, “I was teaching myself that I could be engaged with people, I could lead.” (Photo courtesy of Judith Beil Vaughan)
 At 29, Clayton quickly realized that, rather than pursue her dream of being a missionary in Africa, she could help and heal her new community instead. She decided to launch a voter registration project, inviting the Quaker group she had interned with in Chicago to help. Fourteen college students and three leaders—the first integrated group the area had ever seen—moved into a six-room apartment above Brown’s Superette grocery store downtown. Over the summer, the volunteers held workshops at rural churches and community centers throughout the region to educate would-be voters about the Constitution and the voting process, even holding mock elections. Clayton helped the young volunteers understand local customs and took them to buy groceries. When the segregated laundromat kicked them out, she let them do laundry at her house, and when the Klan showed up outside their downtown apartment to intimidate them, she invited them over to sleep on her floor. In her puttery Renault, she drove the volunteers through the tobacco, cotton, and peanut fields of Warren, Franklin, and Vance counties to find unregistered voters recommended by church and community leaders. Meeting tenant farmers in bare-bones wooden houses with no electricity or running water was eye-opening for Clayton—“I didn’t know people lived that way,” she said—and the task was tall: to persuade them to overcome their lack of confidence, fear, or distrust of the political system and take action. A voter education workshop at Brookston Baptist Church, Warren County, 1963. To build familiarity and confidence with the voting process, student volunteers held several mock elections, where they playacted as candidates and participants cast their ballots. (Photo courtesy of Judith Beil Vaughan) That summer, Clayton discovered ways of working with people that she would use throughout her career. She learned that the farmers were most likely to sign up and vote when she used “we,” asking them to join her rather than telling them what to do or doing it for them. “Part of my strategy in life has been [to say] not that I’m doing this for your good, but we’re doing it together,” she said. “People bring their strength when they know they’re needed.” By the summer’s end, the group had conducted more than 30 workshops throughout the region. When the Claytons moved to Warrenton in 1962, the town had a newspaper, a movie theater, two grocery stores, and a department store. (Photo courtesy of Judith Beil Vaughan)
 Like everywhere in the South at the time, segregation was the rule in Warrenton in the 1960s. (Photo courtesy of Judith Beil Vaughan) Clayton then turned her sights to matters in town, organizing a protest against the sandwich shop that her husband’s law partner ran downstairs from their office on Market Street. A favorite spot in town for Black and white people alike, the counter served hot dogs, hamburgers, barbecue, and milk shakes—and everyone knew what the partition along the counter was for. “It needed to go,” Clayton said firmly. “I mean, if you’re integrated upstairs, why couldn’t you be integrated downstairs?” T.T. and his law partner were working upstairs when they looked out the front windows and noticed Clayton in a group of picketers on the sidewalk. “My husband’s partner said, ‘Clayton, is that your wife down there? What’s she doing? Tell her not to do that!’ [And my husband said,] ‘YOU tell her!’” Soon after that, Clayton said, “The partition left—it quietly went away.” It was her first time standing up against injustice. “I thought to myself that I had talent, and I had an obligation to try to make a difference,” she said. “And I still feel that way, if I’m being honest with you.” Clayton Goes to Congress Clayton took her first run at Congress in 1968, purely to encourage people to register to vote. “I ran and lost royally,” Clayton said. “But I registered people all throughout the district, and that was the beauty of it.” Voter registration increased by 25 percent in Warren County—the highest increase until then and since. “I saw, in many small towns where they had a majority, Blacks became mayors.” They began to hold other offices too, she added. “They saw the strength of their constituency.” Clayton dedicated the next couple of decades to working in local and state politics, all while she and T.T. raised a family of now four children. One of her most notable efforts was her support of the landmark Warren County toxic-waste protests in 1982, considered the beginning of the national environmental justice movement. Clayton put up bond for those arrested. Hundreds participated in the protest, and according to Cosmos George, former president of the Warren County NAACP, Clayton’s extensive voter registration work over the years was a big reason why. “To me, the major thing she did was christen Warren County to become politically aware,” he said. “To me, the major thing she did was christen Warren County to become politically aware.” Then, 24 years after her first national run, in 1992, Clayton entered the Democratic primary to represent those neighbors, the people of North Carolina’s First Congressional District. “The Best for the First,” her campaign wrote on T-shirts, plaques, and the sides of their cars. Despite her optimism, racism shadowed the campaign—at one point, a man spat toward her as she shook hands with constituents. Joanne remembers her mother rising above the disrespect and never reacting to it, summing up her attitude with, “You want more [from people], but you’re ready for it.” Ultimately, Clayton prevailed, advancing to the national stage and becoming the first Black woman to represent North Carolina in Congress. “The Lord is good,” she told The Virginian-Pilot as she moved ahead of her Republican rival. A Fierce Advocate for Farmers Soon after Clayton took office, she was elected president of her freshman class—and earned a spot on the Agricultural Committee, the most effective way she saw to serve her constituents. At the time, the Ag Committee was an old-boys club; their dismissive attitude toward her made her angry and indignant. “They tolerated me,” Clayton told a Congressional historian for a recording in 2015, frustration in her voice. “They treated me as an outsider; I had to prove to them I was worthy of negotiating with.” Eva Clayton, top right, on the floor of Congress in the 1990s. (Photo courtesy of Eva Clayton)
 Because the committee during most of her tenure was almost all white and controlled by Republicans, Clayton had to quickly learn how to work with people who didn’t agree with her. “They need you sometimes, and you need them,” she said in an interview with PBS. “You have to begin to understand the value of being able to communicate with a variety of people, not just your friends—and respect their views . . . because you want to persuade them to respect your views.” Saxby Chambliss, a Republican from Georgia who served in the House from 1995 to 2003 before becoming a Senator, worked with Clayton on the Ag Committee and negotiated with her on two farm bills. “Eva is a really nice lady, but she was forceful in her opinion about the issues she cared about,” Chambliss remembered. “Republicans were in control, so when it came to her issues, she knew she was going uphill. But she never wavered.” Ellen Teller, who has worked with the Washington, D.C.–based Food Research and Action Center since 1986 and met with Clayton frequently during her years on the Ag Committee, remembered how Clayton invoked “this air of authority and knowledge tempered with just the right amount of intimidation . . . Being one of the first African American women on the House Ag Committee, she needed to be collaborative and wonderful to work with. But she wasn’t going to let those guys walk all over her.” In her third term, Clayton was essential to advancing one of the most consequential decisions for farmers in U.S. history. In 1997, Timothy Pigford, a Black soybean and corn farmer in Cumberland County, North Carolina, filed a class-action lawsuit charging the USDA with racial discrimination in its lending and assistance programs. The 400 plaintiffs held that the local county commissioners charged with doling out federal money at the beginning of each growing season—which they relied on to purchase seed, fertilizer, and farm equipment—would delay or deny their applications based on their race or apply more restrictions to the money. Many of the plaintiffs faced financial ruin and lost their farms as a result. When Pigford first filed, the plaintiffs ran up against the Equal Credit Opportunity’s statute of limitations, which excluded them from pursuing compensation for discrimination more than two years in the past. The Ag Committee—which was predominantly white—refused to vote on removing the limiting statute, which would have allowed the lawsuit to proceed. Clayton was determined that these farmers have a chance to seek justice. She found a strategy mentor in John Conyers, a Black Democrat from Michigan who was the ranking member of the House Judiciary Committee. He advised her to try introducing the removal of the statute of limitations as an amendment on the floor of the Appropriations Committee. When the agriculture appropriations bill came up, Clayton asked the speaker for permission to introduce the amendment, which he granted her. Not wanting Clayton’s amendment to stand in the way of passing their budget, the members of her committee voted for it. “I thank God for Conyers,” Clayton said. “That’s how we got the statute of limitations removed,” she said, enabling the historic lawsuit to proceed. It grew to include more than 22,700 plaintiffs across the South, seeking restitution for decades of discrimination that had led to massive land loss among Black farming families. In 1999, a federal judge approved a settlement agreement for more than $1 billion. Just over 15,500 claimants have received compensation, most getting $50,000, though the disbursal of funds has been far from perfect and many believe the per-farmer sum is not nearly enough to compensate for the damage. For farmers like Warren County’s Arthur Brown—who was part of the second round of Pigford claims—Clayton was a critical voice in Washington. “Eva Clayton spoke for him,” Brown’s son Patrick said. “She went to the local town halls and got information [from farmers] to carry back to Washington to advocate on their behalf.” Pigford II claims were settled in 2010, for an additional $1.25 billion. Clayton said she made a point of meeting with the people in her district at least six times a year, and more often during extended recesses. Hearing directly from those impacted by policies, she said, helped strengthen her arguments and helped her see, as she put it, “where you’re being effective and where there’s possibility.” She also pushed for qualified Black people to lead at least four USDA agencies in North Carolina, including the Farm Service Agency and the Risk Management Agency, said Archie Hart, a special assistant to the North Carolina commissioner of agriculture. For the first time, this opened the door for Black farmers to participate in programs like crop insurance and environmental incentive programs. Between 1978 and 2000, Black farmers in North Carolina had lost 70 percent of their land, Hart said. Clayton’s efforts to connect farmers to federal assistance, he said, “stopped the bleeding.” Protecting and Expanding Federal Food Assistance Clayton was equally dedicated to food access. The welfare reform law that Republicans passed in 1996 made deep cuts to the food stamp program, lowering the maximum benefit, eliminating eligibility for many documented immigrants, and adding work requirements. In the years that followed, Clayton played a key role in the movement to restore food stamps, said Teller. As the senior Democrat on the Ag subcommittee responsible for nutrition programs, she helped author the 2002 Farm Bill which, among other things, expanded food stamp eligibility to documented immigrants in the U.S. and to their children, providing vital assistance to an additional one million legal immigrants working for a better life. Clayton meets with Newt Gingrich, speaker of the House, in the mid 1990s. “FEED the FOLKS” was her campaign to protect the federal school lunch program from drastic cuts proposed by Republicans. (Photo courtesy of Eva Clayton) Former Rep. Chambliss remembers Clayton sharing the lived experiences of her constituents with the committee. “Because she represented a poor district, she had a lot of anecdotes she could use to back up her position” that the government needed to strengthen its social safety net, he said. As a negotiator, he said, she was very effective: “Just look at the numbers—in the ’02 bill, we bumped up food stamps pretty good.” As Clayton advocated for nutrition assistance, she consistently countered the prevailing stereotypes about Black people, said Hart of North Carolina’s agriculture department. “A lot of other cultures have you down as ‘Black people are just lazy,’” he said. “There are so many prejudices, and she was able to say, ‘Let me explain my culture. People aren’t asking for a handout—they’re asking for their God-given right as citizens.’” Balancing Politics and Motherhood Clayton manages to combine intense focus and determination with grandmotherly warmth and a quick sense of humor. During my visits, she called me “darling,” chatted easily about her grandkids and garden, ribbed me for asking too many questions, and once offered me lunch from her fridge so I wouldn’t drive home on an empty stomach. Throughout her career, she was raising her daughter and three sons in rural Warren County. As they grew, she drove them to piano, dance, karate, and basketball practices in nearby towns, Joanne remembers, and when they got sick, she would put washcloths on their foreheads, rub menthol on their chests, and hum them to sleep. Clayton at her house on Lake Gaston, North Carolina. While pursuing a political career, she and her husband raised four children; she now has six grandchildren, too. (Photo credit: Christina Cooke) While Clayton expressed her love in many ways, cooking was not one of them, Joanne continues. “My mother could not cook with a damn,” she said, laughing. (Her father, on the other hand, was excellent in the kitchen.) “My mother burnt toast so much that my father would order burnt toast in restaurants. You know you’re a good husband when you accept defeat: ‘She can’t cook, and not only do I have burnt toast, I want burnt toast. That’s how much I love you, baby.’” Clayton’s feeling of responsibility to her community often drew her away from her family. She was consistently busy with meetings and functions. And sometimes, her drive to better the world came at the expense of her children’s feelings. In 1963, T.T. filed a lawsuit to desegregate the Warren County Schools, and the Claytons sent Joanne to first grade at the all-white Mariam Boyd Elementary. Joanne simply “got through it,” she said, as the other kids subjected her to spitballs and other insults. “I probably should have been more concerned about my kids, but I thought they could handle it,” said Clayton, who sent Theaoseus Jr. and Martin to the same school later. In preparing her kids beforehand, Clayton focused more on the courage required than the harm they might face. Despite the difficulty, Clayton is exceedingly proud to have played a part in integrating the schools and feels the hardship her kids endured was worth it. “Nobody really harmed them,” she said. “They were isolated, I’m sure of that. But they did all right.” Combatting Hunger Worldwide—and at Home Clayton had long said she would serve in Congress for only 10 years. And when that anniversary arrived in 2002, she stepped aside. A year later, she was appointed the assistant director-general of the UN’s Food and Agriculture Organization, based in Rome—fulfilling, in a way, her childhood dream of helping others abroad. At the FAO, she worked on a coalition to cut world hunger in half by 2015, a goal set at the 1996 World Food Summit. The group did not meet its ambitious goal, but, said Clayton, “we organized alliances and partnerships in 24 countries and got people to see the value of working together. That is one thing I still look back on with great pride.” Clayton met with Pope John Paul II to engage the Catholic church in the United Nations effort to halve world hunger, circa 2004. (Photo courtesy of Eva Clayton) Various international organizations, including Rotary International, signed on to the hunger-reduction effort. Clayton met with the pope to get the Catholic church involved, and groups like Bread for the World, a U.S.-based Christian anti-hunger advocacy organization, enlisted as well. Though she is back in Warren County now, Clayton has not given up on the wish to make a dent in food insecurity. “I’ll go to my grave not having fulfilled the goal,” she said, “but I do want to end my existence still trying.” And that is exactly what she is doing, lending her support to a food-security effort closer to home. In 2023, the Green Rural Redevelopment Organization (GRRO), a nonprofit that tackles poverty, food insecurity, and chronic disease in north-central North Carolina, launched a food justice network and named it the Eva Clayton Rural Food Institute to build on her legacy. Clayton is focusing on food in her own life too. T.T. died in 2019, a blow to her heart and spirit. In his absence, she has started teaching herself to cook. “Now I’m wanting to cook the special things,” she said, “like salmon cakes for breakfast.” A Life of Purpose Clayton, who still speaks publicly on a regular basis, stands in front of the stately red-brick county courthouse in Warrenton in a mid-calf pink and navy dress. The town is celebrating Juneteenth today, and its leaders have requested she speak. “She looks good!” the woman beside me whispers to her friend as Clayton begins. Clayton speaking at the Juneteenth celebration at the Warrenton county courthouse this year. (Photo Credit: Christina Cooke) “This is a day of freedom we are celebrating,” Clayton tells the crowd. “But freedom is really not free.” Citizens are the most vital part of a democracy—more important that elected leaders, she continues. “Citizens elect officials. But we elect them and leave them; we don’t hold them accountable.” Engage with your elected officials, she entreats, pointing her cane in the air. “Freedom requires us collectively to walk forward.” She hands off the mic to a vigorous round of applause and cheers. After mingling and saying goodbye to well-wishers, Clayton heads toward her car parked a few blocks from the courthouse, making her way with care down the uneven sidewalk. On the left, its façade chipped and faded, stands the building that housed T.T.’s law office and his partner’s sandwich shop, where she protested segregation more than 60 years ago. Clayton says she feels grateful to have the desire to still be involved. “At some point, people say, ‘I don’t want to be bothered with certain things,’” she says. “But I do want to be bothered with things. I think that’s a blessing, to live with a purpose.”   The post At 91, Eva Clayton Is Still Fighting for Food Justice and Farmers’ Rights appeared first on Civil Eats.

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