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Beloved community, March is National Nutrition Month, and across the country, we’re told to read labels more closely, count nutrients more carefully, and “eat real foods.” But nutrition is not a trend cycle; it is a question of power. I invite you to join me in curiosity and ask: Who has access to what’s being recommended? Who can afford the “real” food being celebrated? Who grows it, and who gets paid? Are we treating illness, or are we transforming the conditions that produce it? Health outcomes matter, but health equity goes further. Health equity asks why certain neighborhoods have higher rates of diabetes in the first place. It asks why fresh food feels exceptional in some zip codes and ordinary in others. It asks why farmers struggle to survive while healthcare systems expand. If we do not address land access, procurement policy, and economic extraction, then “eat real” risks becoming a quiet moral judgment instead of a structural commitment. Michigan once modeled real structural commitment through 10 Cents a Meal for Michigan's Kids & Farms ; matching school dollars to buy Michigan-grown produce and making local food standard in cafeterias. It strengthened children’s health, stabilized farmers, and shifted institutional purchasing habits. This year, the program was not funded. And as a result, students miss the chance to build lifelong food memories rooted close to home. And still, we are not retreating. Together, we are building a foundation of generational health. Generational health is the long game. It is the work of ensuring that today’s third grader doesn’t just eat a fresh apple; but grows up expecting apples from Michigan orchards in their cafeteria. It is ensuring that a teen doesn’t just volunteer at the market; but understands zoning laws, farm bills, and supply chains well enough to challenge them. This is the foundation of our theory of change. We build generational health by shaping habits early and reinforcing them often; through initiatives like our Teen Leadership Program, where young people gain the skills and critical lens to navigate and influence the food system; through field trips to our urban farm and incubator kitchen, where learning is rooted in soil; through Farm to School programming that normalizes local procurement; and through Power of Produce (POP) Club, where children practice agency by choosing fresh food for themselves. This is how we shift from reactive nutrition work to regenerative nutrition culture. We do this by pairing conversations about Food as Medicine, dietary guidelines, and eating real foods, with: An insistence that farmers are part of the prescription. Guidelines that align with affordability and access. Understanding that real foods need to be reachable, culturally meaningful, and dignified. Nutrition is not simply about what’s on a plate. It is about who has the right to thrive. This National Nutrition Month, I invite you to see nutrition not as an individual burden, but as a collective project that treats fresh food not as charity, but as infrastructure. We are cultivating a community where children expect fresh produce, where farmers are stable and respected, and where health is inherited as legacy. That is generational health. And that is the future we are growing together. In solidarity, Julius P.S. Check out the FoodCorps Policy Action Map or sign up for our Farm to School Newsletter if you’re interested in building generational health.

Long before reparations entered mainstream conversation, Queen Mother Audley Moore was clear: justice required land, resources, and self-determination; not symbolic gestures. A descendant of enslaved people, Moore spent decades organizing for reparations rooted in material reality. She understood that stolen labor was tied to stolen land, and that food insecurity was not accidental; it was engineered . Moore advocated for land redistribution, cooperative economics, and community-controlled food systems as necessary steps toward repair. Her vision aligns directly with modern food sovereignty movements: returning control of food, land, and labor to the people most harmed by their removal . This is not history; it is instruction. Growing Hope’s work exists within this continuum. From urban farming to food hubs, from youth leadership to market access, we are building the kinds of systems Moore demanded, systems that repair harm by restoring agency. Food sovereignty is reparations in practice. And the work is unfinished. 

During the Montgomery Bus Boycott, when formal fundraising was surveilled and criminalized, Georgia Gilmore organized something deceptively simple: a kitchen network . Known as The Club From Nowhere , Gilmore and other Black women sold pies, cakes, and home-cooked meals to quietly raise money for the movement. Their anonymity was protection. Their food was infrastructure. For over a year, as the boycott stretched on, these funds paid for carpools, gas, and daily survival. While history often centers on speeches and marches, Gilmore reminds us that revolutions are sustained behind the scenes by those who feed people, organize logistics, and keep the lights on. Her kitchen was a site of resistance. Her recipes were tools of liberation. At Growing Hope, we honor this lineage every time we invest in food entrepreneurs, incubator kitchens, and cooperative models. When food businesses are community-rooted, they do more than generate income; they fuel movements . Never underestimate what food can do. And never forget who has always been doing the work.

“If you have 400 quarts of greens and gumbo soup canned for the winter, nobody can push you around.” Fannie Lou Hamer said this not as a metaphor, but as a lived experience. In 1969, after being evicted from her plantation home for registering to vote, Hamer founded the Freedom Farm Cooperative in Sunflower County, Mississippi. The goal was simple and radical: Black families deserved land, food, housing, and economic independence, without having to ask permission. Freedom Farm grew vegetables, raised livestock, built homes, and supported cooperative ownership. It addressed hunger and poverty at their roots, refusing the lie that liberation could come without material security. Hamer understood what we still grapple with today: political rights mean little without food sovereignty . Voting doesn’t protect you from hunger. Legislation doesn’t replace land. Dignity requires access to the means of survival. This is why Growing Hope centers farming, education, and entrepreneurship together. Food sovereignty is not just about what’s on your plate; it’s about who controls the systems that decide who eats .

In 1969, the Black Panther Party launched the Free Breakfast for Children Program , serving tens of thousands of children across the United States every single school day. Not as an act of charity, but as a declaration. The Panthers understood something the dominant systems refused to acknowledge: a hungry child cannot learn, organize, or imagine a future . Feeding children was a political act. It was protection. It was strategy. Volunteers cooked before dawn in church basements and community centers. Children were served breakfast while learning about Black history, self-determination, and collective responsibility. The state noticed and felt threatened. The FBI labeled the program “the greatest threat” to internal security, not because it was violent, but because it worked. And it worked so well that the U.S. government was forced to expand public school breakfast programs nationwide . Mutual aid didn’t just meet immediate needs; it reshaped public policy . This is food sovereignty in action: communities identifying harm, meeting their own needs with dignity, and building power in the process. At Growing Hope, we carry this legacy forward. When we insist on dignified access to food, when we support farmers markets as sites of connection and not extraction, when we center youth and Black leadership, we are walking a well-worn path. When communities feed themselves, systems change.

Beloved community, Many hearts, mine included, remain heavy as we enter into a new month. Right now, immigration enforcement is being used in ways that are destabilizing people’s lives, and in the process, destabilizing the food system that all of us depend on. Across the country, intensified immigration crackdowns are pushing workers into hiding. People are staying home rather than risk detention. Parents are weighing whether it’s safe to take their children to school. Farmworkers, food processors, delivery drivers, and food service workers are being forced to choose between survival and visibility. Immigrants are essential to every step of how food moves in this country. They plant and harvest crops. They process meat and produce. They transport food across regions. They cook and serve meals. When enforcement actions target farms, food facilities, or entire neighborhoods, the consequences ripple outward immediately: fields go understaffed, food rots before it’s harvested, supply chains strain, and prices rise. Families, especially those already navigating scarcity, are pushed closer to hunger. A food system built on fear cannot feed people well. And a just food system depends on more than abundance. It depends on safety. It depends on dignity. It depends on sovereignty. Here in Ypsilanti, this national climate is not abstract. Families are feeling it in their bodies. Schools have warned parents to take precautions amid reported ICE activity. That alone should stop us in our tracks. When fear follows children into classrooms, we are witnessing a profound failure of care. At Growing Hope, we refuse to accept fear as the cost of feeding one another. The Growing Hope Urban Farm and the Ypsilanti Farmers Market are built on the belief that everyone deserves a safe and welcoming place to gather, grow, and nourish one another. We affirm clearly and publicly that no person should be targeted, questioned, detained, or surveilled based on immigration status. Over the past several months, we’ve been developing response plans for our markets, events, and shared spaces that center collective care. This includes clear protocols, staff and volunteer training, and alignment with partners who understand that food access and community safety are inseparable. Safety is not separate from justice. If people are afraid to buy, sell, grow, or gather around food, then we are not talking about a functional food system; we are talking about harm dressed up as policy. As we move through Black History Month, I am reminded that Black food history has always taught us this lesson: when systems fail us, we feed each other. From mutual aid kitchens to cooperative land ownership, from feeding children before school to organizing entire communities around food, our ancestors understood that food is both care and resilience. This is the work in front of us now: to stand in solidarity across Black and immigrant communities, to reject policies that criminalize survival, and to build food systems rooted in dignity rather than disposability. I carry this responsibility with humility. I am here because others fed people when it was dangerous to do so. I am here because food has always been one of our most powerful tools for care, resistance, and imagination. And I am here because silence has never kept us safe. In solidarity, Julius P.S. How you can show up right now: Stay informed. Interrupt misinformation when you hear it. Support organizations doing accompaniment, rapid response, and food access work for immigrant families. When you come to the Ypsilanti Farmers Market, help us uphold it as a space of care and protection. And if you’re able, donate or volunteer with local groups defending immigrant dignity, because a just food system requires all of us.

Hello, good people! As we crossed the threshold into this new year, I found myself holding two truths at once. The first is grief and exhaustion from a year marked by chaos, confusion, and compounding pressures on food assistance, health care, housing, and the basic dignity of our neighbors. The second is the deep knowing that we have always survived moments like this by turning toward one another. This is not a soft optimism. It is a practiced one. We are bracing for hunger and need at levels we may not have seen before. And yet, history and our own lived experience here in Ypsilanti tell us that when systems fail, community does not disappear. Together, we’re showing up with care, skill, and imagination. That is the soil from which Growing Hope was built, and it is the ground we are still tending. In 2026, we remain committed to building a food system rooted in justice, dignity, and self-determination. Here’s a peek at what some of those steps look like for us in the coming season: Building Generational Health. We are doubling down on youth leadership, working alongside teens who are already shaping the future of our food system. This year, we’re deepening partnerships that model what farm-to-school can be when it’s relational, local, and led with intention. Investing in a Community of Growers. Our Produce Cart continues to evolve into a shared ecosystem, stocked not only by Growing Hope but also by local farmers, gardeners, and home growers alike. Alongside building depth within our Home Vegetable Garden support, we are making our farm spaces more accessible and inviting. Our hope is that our farm is a place where neighbors can come to harvest, learn, and experience food sovereignty for themselves. Food Is a Human Right. You’ll hear us saying this more clearly and more often in the coming season. We’re committing to deeper education, base-building, and collective imagination around what it means to move food as a human right from value to policy to reality here in our community. A Year-Round Farmers Market in Ypsilanti. For the first time ever, the Ypsilanti Farmers Market is running downtown year-round. We’re excited to host the winter market through April and keep this vital community space alive in every season. Farmers markets are sites of care, culture, and connection, and we’re thrilled to keep those connections rolling year-round. Cooking Up Futures: The Accelerator Kitchen. I’m thrilled to publicly share Cooking Up Futures, our accelerator kitchen project, slated to break ground this month! This project will renovate the welcome center (16 S. Washington) into a kitchen that will serve as connective tissue across the Ypsilanti Farmers MarketPlace campus, linking growers, makers, and neighbors in a living, local food economy. At the heart of our theory of change is a simple truth: when we invest in the whole food system, from seed to belly, we generate lasting vibrancy, equity, and opportunity downtown and beyond. If you’d like to learn more or explore ways to support this work directly, I invite you to reach out to me. As I look forward to 2026, holding our team and our community clearly in view, I’m holding tightly to the fact that we persevere not because conditions are easy, but because community is strong. Thank you for being part of this work and helping to uncover the food system we all believe in, need, and deserve. In solidarity and hope, Julius P.S. Join me for Food Literacy for All this semester. This Tuesday evening course is open to the public, virtual, and will feature a number of phenomenal food systems advocates over the next few months.

Beloved Community, As the seasons turn and the last leaves let go, I’m thinking about how much of this work depends on people who choose to show up. Food sovereignty is held together by the steady, everyday commitments of folks who believe their time can help build a more just and nourished community. Our volunteers carry our community with a kind of grounded generosity that can’t be measured but can absolutely be felt. You welcomed neighbors, supported vendors, helped distribute SNAP Gap tokens, handled surprises with grace, and made the market a place where people felt a sense of belonging. That is a rare and powerful contribution. Among these dedicated volunteers, we’re honored to recognize Matthew Bacon as our Volunteer of the Year . Matthew came to southeast Michigan without long-standing ties, yet quickly became one of the anchors of our market season. His presence was consistent, thoughtful, and rooted in genuine care for the mission. In his own words: “I chose to volunteer with Growing Hope at the Ypsilanti Farmers Market because Growing Hope’s mission greatly appealed to me, and I wanted to support the cause. What stood out to me and drew me in was the mission’s emphasis on access to nourishing food and community empowerment. I enjoyed learning about the ways the mission is carried out through the urban farm, incubator kitchen, and community outreach. I loved seeing it come full circle, bringing people together at the farmers market and other community events. As a newcomer to Southeast Michigan with no prior connections to the area, volunteering at the market has been a great way to meet and connect with people in the community. Thank you to Growing Hope for the opportunity to get involved this summer and fall, and I look forward to continuing to do so in the future!” Matthew reflects exactly what strengthens the fabric of this work: folks who arrive with open eyes, steady hands, and a willingness to weave themselves into the community’s story. We’re profoundly grateful. As we move into winter, the Ypsi SNAP Gap continues to play a critical role in expanding food access with dignity. Through the end of November, shoppers impacted by SNAP cuts and the government shutdown could receive $40 in SNAP Gap tokens each market week. Beginning in December, that shifts to twenty dollars per week so we can sustain our community through the end of the year. Tokens can be used at both Ypsilanti Farmers Markets and Old City Acres Farm Stand on Emerick Street. They’re valid on all food, fresh, prepared, hot, and remain usable through March 2026. Programs like SNAP Gap thrive because volunteers, donors, and neighbors insist on a community where everyone eats well. People like Matthew, and so many of you, turn that vision into something real and tangible. Thank you for walking alongside us, for carving out time from full lives, and for fueling the kind of food system that honors each person’s dignity. The season may be winding down, but the work continues, rooted in your care. In solidarity, Julius P.S. If you’re looking for a tangible way to strengthen food access this winter, consider making a monthly gift or signing up for a volunteer .

November 2025 Food insecurity is a quiet crisis, until it’s at your doorstep. In Michigan, one in six adults and one in five children are struggling to afford food. Here in Washtenaw County, one in seven of our neighbors face the daily choice between groceries, childcare, and medicine. This year has brought more than hardship; it has brought disruption . Federal work requirements are forcing parents and elders to choose between groceries, healthcare, and childcare. Budget cuts and policy whiplash have shredded what remains of our fragile safety net. And yet, this is not the end of the story. We are reminded, once again: hunger isn’t just a matter of policy. It’s a matter of power. At Growing Hope, we are working toward a different future. A future rooted in justice, joy, and food sovereignty. Food is not a commodity. It is a human right. It is a relationship. It is a powerful tool for reclaiming what is ours: the ability to nourish ourselves, our families, and our community. “I want to learn how to do all kinds of stuff. We live in an unpredictable world.” She paused, laughed, and shrugged. “I need to grow my own food. That’s where my head is.” —Amorita, hands in the soil at our urban farm Your gift today will double to ensure families across our region can access, grow, and share fresh, culturally-relevant food. This year, your generosity has sown resilience: Over 6,000 pounds of produce and 10,000 food plants were shared with neighbors. A farmers market that reimagines food assistance with dignity and choice. An incubator kitchen that seeds new food businesses, stitching equity into our local economy. Teens empowered to lead, teach, and grow, becoming catalysts for generational health. “I know that I’ve been able to make an impact in my community while working with the teen program, probably more than I would have if I hadn’t worked here. Part of it is because it made me believe I could. The other is probably all of the connections and opportunities Growing Hope has in the community, that I’ve been privileged to take advantage of.” —Youth Leader, Growing Hope Teen Program Together, we are not just growing food. We are growing future. When a young person harvests food for their neighbors… When an elder shares recipes that carry memory and meaning… When families gather to eat from the soil they stewarded together… That is how chaos gives way to hope. Dr. C.R. Snyder reminds us that hope is not simply a feeling. It requires vision, possibility, sustained effort, and the belief that our actions shape the future. That’s the kind of hope we are cultivating at Growing Hope, and we can only do it together. This season, you can ensure our community is not defined by chaos and confusion, but remembered as a season of hope. Your year-end gift will be doubled to strengthen our shared work for food justice and sovereignty. Will you stand with us in planting the seeds of hope that will grow for generations? In solidarity and gratitude, Julius Buzzard Executive Director P.S. Your gift will be doubled thanks to a generous donor match. Together, let’s move from chaos to hope.