Food is A Human Right '25

Beloved community,

There is something both ordinary and sacred about food. It is in the smell of bread fresh from the oven, the snap of beans pulled from the vine, the way a shared meal can turn strangers into neighbors. Food is how we survive, but it is also how we connect, how we celebrate, and how we remember who we are.

That is why we hold this truth at the center of our work: food is a human right. It is not a privilege. It is not a bargaining chip. It is not to be withheld, leveraged, or weaponized.

Food is life, and everyone deserves access to it.

And yet, at this very moment, that truth is being denied. Just weeks ago, the USDA quietly canceled its long-running Household Food Security in the U.S. report. For nearly three decades, this report has been one of the few consistent tools we have to measure hunger in this country. It has named the millions of households, disproportionately Black, Brown, Indigenous, and rural, that struggle to put food on the table. Without it, the crisis of hunger becomes easier to hide, easier to dismiss, easier to erase from the public record.

Why does that matter? Because when we lose the data, we lose the visibility. When hunger is invisible, so too are the families who face it. And without that accountability, policymakers can claim progress where there is none, and corporate food systems can continue to profit while communities go without.

But here is what we know in our bones: hunger is not inevitable. It is not an accident. It is the result of choices. If there are communities around the world who recognize food as a human right in their laws and policies, then it is possible here, too.

In a country of such abundance, how can we allow hunger to persist?

Every market we host, every meal we share, every seedling we pass into the hands of a neighbor is a refusal to accept that contradiction. These everyday acts help repair our community. Together, we are investing in a food system that reflects our values: one where fresh, local produce is available to all, where education builds resilience, where policies affirm food as a right, and where resources are shared freely, from our produce stand to the gardens sparked by our seedlings.

Food connects us. It grounds us. It carries the possibility of dignity, sovereignty, and joy. And in this moment, when the truth about hunger is being stripped from the record, our collective action matters more than ever. Through solidarity, we can build a system rooted in abundance and belonging.

In solidarity,

Julius

P.S. We’ve just released new Food is a Human Right shirts! You can grab yours as part of our Fall Harvest Auction. Take a look and see some of the other items you could take home to help our community achieve the right to food.

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Queen Mother Audley Moore & Reparations Through Land and Food

By Julius Buzzard • February 25, 2026

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.

Georgia Gilmore & The Club From Nowhere

By Julius Buzzard • February 18, 2026

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.

Fannie Lou Hamer & the Freedom Farm Cooperative

By Julius Buzzard • February 11, 2026

“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 .

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