Honoring the Earth, Honoring Our Farmers

Happy Earth Month!

Spring arrives with a quiet urgency. The thawing ground reminds us of the resilience of our land, of the ancestors who tilled it, and of the communities who still gather to nurture its abundance. But this year, as we step into Earth Month, I carry a deep and growing concern for the future of our food system—one that has been shaken by policy decisions that threaten the very foundation of food sovereignty in Ypsilanti and beyond.

The recent funding freezes and budget cuts—from the loss of the Local Food Purchase Assistance (LFPA) program to the closure of USDA offices—are not just bureaucratic shifts; they are existential threats to our farmers, our food access programs, and the families who rely on them. I have sat across the table from our legislators, pressing them on these cuts and their real-life consequences. Time and time again, I have asked them:

How will our small farmers recover from the sudden disappearance of revenue they had come to rely on? How will low-income communities access fresh, local produce when the programs designed to bridge that gap are gutted?

The answers, when they come at all, ring hollow. And the weight of these decisions falls heaviest on Black farmers. Over the past few months, I have spoken to Black farmers across the state who have lost tens, even hundreds of thousands of dollars in funding. Each has asked to remain anonymous, fearing retaliation if they speak out. We’ve spent years investing in trust—through policy change, the Washtenaw County Black Farmers Fund, and steadfast community advocacy—and now, that trust has been shattered.

The jar that held every marble of faith and progress has been smashed to the ground.

I am deeply concerned about the long-term implications of these actions—not just for our farmers but for the fight for equity in our food system as a whole. If we continue down this path, we will see more land lost, more livelihoods destroyed, and more barriers to sovereignty erected. But let me be clear: while these attacks are meant to dishearten us, they will not stop us.

Hope is not lost.

We are building and investing in a local food system that ensures the right to food for all.

We are planting, growing, and sharing. We are organizing, advocating, and refusing to be silenced. Our programs at Growing Hope continue to provide fresh, local produce to our neighbors, even as the environment shifts around us. We continue to uplift local growers, ensuring they have the resources they need to weather this storm as they have weathered past storms and will weather future storms. We demand that our legislators listen—not just to us but to the land itself, which has long whispered the truth of what justice looks like.

This Earth Month, as we honor and commune with Mother Earth and the ancestors who fought for our right to grow, we reaffirm our commitment to a just and sovereign food system. We will not let short-sighted policies or political indifference derail the work of generations. And we ask you to join us—whether by growing, sharing, advocating, or simply refusing to look away.

In solidarity,

Julius

P.S. If you’re looking for a practical way to participate and support our local food system, visit and become a friend of the market, where we’re reimagining how we invest in and support growers, eaters, and everything in between.

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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 .

The Black Panther Party & Free Breakfast

By Julius Buzzard • February 4, 2026

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.

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