Growing Hope Through Food Sovereignty

Growing Hope, in Ypsilanti, Michigan, is a food systems organization that works on ushering folks into more intimate, just, joyful relationships with their food systems. Their mission is to foster food sovereignty. Food sovereignty means different things to different people, but according to the executive director, Julius Buzzard, food sovereignty means people having autonomy within the food system at all points–from seed to belly. For communities, this means being able to have self-determination over everything from the treatment of workers to the nutrition of produce, and to have both local and culturally relevant produce available.

Growing Hope has a multi-pronged approach to promoting local food sovereignty. Their programs include a farmers market, both youth and adult education programs, an incubator kitchen, and some direct food aid. The Ypsi Farmers Market is the most visible component of Growing Hope’s work, held in downtown Ypsilanti every Saturday, May through October. They pride themselves on being a market that is accessible to the people who live in the community around them, and whose diverse community is reflected in the vendors that sell at the market.

The market has much lower vendor fees than other farmers markets, which in turn allows vendors to charge less for their produce than they would at a high-fee market. The market also has multiple food assistance programs: they were the third market in the state to accept federal food assistance benefits, and it also has the Power of Produce club for children. By participating in activities such as painting farmer’s market tote bags and sampling vegetables, kids earn $5 in market tokens, which they can then spend on whatever they want.

Another component of engaging youth in the community is the youth education programming. The Growing Hope farm hosts field trips for students from Ypsi Community Schools, Lincoln Community Schools, and other youth-serving organizations such as Corner Health. The goal is to reach community kids in order to build a foundation of generational health that the kids can carry on to the rest of their families and communities.

Another component of youth education, the teen leadership program, is the longest-standing program at Growing Hope, and has been a central part of the organization since its inception over 20 years ago. It started as a school garden program, and over time has grown into a paid after-school leadership program where teens work at the farm and receive a mix of hands-on agricultural training, workshops on community organizing and food sovereignty, and guidance on job skills such as how to track and submit weekly hours and how to read the different parts of a paycheck. Regardless of whether they end up continuing to work in the food justice sector, the teens learn the crucial skills of 1) caring about the community around them and 2) knowing how to act on that care.

When it comes to adult education, Growing Hope teaches a wide variety of skills through the expertise of its staff. There is a home vegetable garden program, run by Ayanfe Jamison, which provides both the physical resources and the knowledge needed for working-class Ypsilanti residents to start or strengthen their home gardens. The teens who are part of the teen leadership program also put on workshops for the rest of the community, such as a recent corn nixtamalization workshop. Much of the adult education is community-driven or community-led; folks who are affiliated with Growing Hope but not part of its staff present on subjects that they’re passionate, experienced, and knowledgeable about. These workshops are often in response to specific requests or identified needs within the community.

There was also recently a Stepping Stones to Food Entrepreneurship workshop series organized by Deante Bland, the Incubator Kitchen Manager. Workshops covered topics such as Cottage Food Law, food business licensing, business planning and goal setting, menu and recipe optimization, and marketing and branding. The series culminated with a panel of makers who had graduated from the Incubator Kitchen sharing their experiences.

The incubator kitchen can, in some way, feel divorced from the rest of the food sovereignty work that Growing Hope does, but Julius sees local food entrepreneurship and having circular food economies as integral to creating communities with food sovereignty. He says that it is an essential step in creating new systems to empower people currently in the community to share their hopes, passions, and dreams, and to bring life to their communities in ways that are special and unique. The more that we can encourage people and give them options to spend money in ways that support their neighbors and invest in people who are part of the community, the more autonomous we make our food system.

Through the shared space and programming, the incubator kitchen provides a more accessible entry point into food business creation for people of color or anyone else who doesn’t have access to money and resources to start or scale up their food business. The kitchen supports makers in keeping their values as they build their businesses, and many of the businesses collaborate with other elements of the local food system. About 70 businesses have used the kitchen, 15 of which have graduated out to other places (and all but one of which are still local). One of these makers is Bird Dog Baking, which now has a brick and mortar space in Downtown Ypsilanti and which sources its grains locally and gets its produce from a Growing Hope-affiliated farm, Old City Acres. Another business just around the corner is Bearabakes, which also sources its fruits and vegetables from local farmers. The incubator kitchen doesn’t just foster food businesses; it fosters food businesses that are deeply integrated into the local food system.

Growing Hope’s emphasis is on food sovereignty and changing food systems, but the organization also recognizes that sometimes people need their direct, immediate needs met before they can engage in autonomy-building programs. The Growing Hope Urban Farm is located next to and across the street from some of Ypsilanti’s low-income neighborhoods, and has an on-site (recently rebuilt and expanded) free farm cart where they distribute both the produce they grow and food donated by other farms and food assistance organizations. Growing Hope alone produces and distributes more than 6,000 pounds of produce, and through donations from Old City Acres, We The People Opportunity Farm, Community Farm in Ann Arbor, and Food Gatherers, they feel like they are able to meet at least some of the needs that their community has. The need is so much more than what they can directly provide, but Growing Hope does what they can to support people in getting to a place where they can pursue food sovereignty.

This post is part of a series by Emma Rose Hardy, a PhD Candidate at the University of Michigan and the Rackham Local Food Systems Intern at Growing Hope. The series aims to highlight the essential role that SNAP and other food assistance programs play in the Washtenaw County local food system.

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Mother Earth is Asking Us to be Present

By Julius Buzzard • April 1, 2026

Beloved community, April arrives the way it always does in Michigan; tentatively at first, then all at once. One morning, the ground is still stubborn and cold, and the next, something is pushing through. We call it Earth Month, but Mother Earth does not need a month. Mother Earth is always working. What Earth Month does, at its best, is return us to attention; to the slow, faithful labor happening beneath our feet, whether we notice or not. This month, I want to talk about that labor. Not just the labor of growing food, but the labor of staying whole while doing this work. The labor of belonging to one another. The labor of grief. Food sovereignty has never been only about food. It has always been about the conditions under which people live; who controls the land, who decides what is grown and for whom, whose hands are trusted to tend it, and whose labor is rendered invisible in the process. When we plant together, across our differences, we practice a different way of being in relationship with the earth and with each other. We are rehearsing the world we are trying to build. This is food sovereignty at its fullest: not a policy framework alone, but a practice of restoration. Of the land, yes. But also of people. Of community. Of self. Earth Month, then, is not just a celebration of the natural world. It is an invitation to remember that we are part of it; that the health of our soil and the health of our souls are not separate questions. This spring, I am carrying something heavier than usual. And I suspect many of you are too. Our community lost Melvin Parson. And that loss has settled into me like the coming of spring here in Michigan: quietly, then suddenly, everywhere. Melvin was a farmer, a visionary, and a neighbor. Through We The People Opportunity Farm, he built real pathways of belonging and dignity. He understood that food sovereignty is not only about growing food; it is about restoring people to possibility. Melvin planted seeds that will outlive all of us. In the soil and in the lives he helped rebuild. Rest in power, Melvin. We will keep tending what you planted. But grief does not arrive alone. And I think we need to name that. Something has been accumulating in many of us. The anxiety of not knowing whether your rent will hold, whether the program keeping your mother's medication affordable will survive the next budget cycle, whether the news tomorrow brings another cut, another threat, another loss. The weight of watching war unfold on a screen while packing your child's lunch. The low hum of uncertainty has grown so constant that many of us have stopped recognizing it as something being done to us. Mental health in our communities is rarely one dramatic moment. It is the slow erosion of the conditions that makes life feel possible. And right now, those conditions are under pressure from every direction. We are not imagining it. It is real. And it deserves to be named. I do not want to move past this moment too quickly, because I think it is asking something of us. Those of us who work in food systems, in community organizing, in the daily labor of trying to repair what has been broken, we carry a particular weight. The need is constant. The resources are not. The work is relational, which means every loss is personal. Every family facing hunger has a name. Every policy that fails our community lands in someone's body. We are not separate from the communities we serve. We are one of them. And that means the strains of this moment: economic precarity, political hostility, grief, isolation, and the relentless demand to do more with less all live within us. I have been thinking about what it means to tend ourselves the way Mother Earth tends herself. To acknowledge that fallow seasons are not failures. That rest is not retreat. That asking for help is not a weakness, but the most honest form of community care. Mother Earth is not asking us to be strong; she’s asking us to be present. This April, I am inviting Growing Hope's community into that same practice. Tend your plot, yes, but also tend your people. Check on your neighbors. Come to the farm not just to grow food, but to be held by the community. Let the soil remind you that transformation is slow, and real, and worth it. We are in this together. And together is the only way through. In solidarity, Julius P.S. If this month is weighing on you, you don't have to carry it alone. The NAMI HelpLine offers free, confidential one-on-one support, mental health information, and resources — available Monday through Friday, 10am–10pm ET. Call 1-800-950-NAMI (6264) or text NAMI to 62640. And if you need a reason to get outside and be with people, join us on April 11, 10am–1pm for our Spring Seedling Distribution.

Downtown Ypsi Deserves This

By Julius Buzzard • March 27, 2026

Beloved community, Last season, organizers of all sizes hosted 168 events at the Ypsilanti Farmers MarketPlace, from mutual aid distributions and cultural gatherings to health outreach and food policy conversations. These moments reflect how we steward shared resources to maximize good and meet multiple community needs at once. At the heart of it all is the Ypsilanti Farmers Market itself. If you’ve spent any time at the market, you know that it’s never just been a place to shop. It’s a place to linger. To listen. To organize. To feed one another, body and spirit. Together, we are building a food ecosystem where everyone has access to fresh produce and where advocacy, mutual aid, and belonging intersect. That was especially clear this year when our community faced a sudden gap in food access. When early federal funding shifts threatened nutrition dollars, our community didn’t wait. Together, we rapidly designed and launched the Ypsi SNAP Gap Program, a locally powered response that ensured hundreds of local families could continue to access food. As we move through spring, your support sustains this work; keeping vendor fees low, strengthening food access programs, and maintaining the MarketPlace as a space for belonging. Every gift sustains a place to live, organize, and nourish one another. With deep gratitude, Julius Buzzard Executive Director P.S. Your early spring support ensures we’re ready to respond when our community needs it most.

Nutrition and the Right to Thrive

By Julius Buzzard • February 26, 2026

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.

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