Kelli on Food Justice, Her Passion

I travelled to Cluj-Napoca, Romania on a missions team when I was 20 through the Christian camp where I volunteered. Many of my teammates were close friends and I had been three times before. Yet this trip stuck out. 

There is a monument that sits in the center of town paying tribute to all those who were killed in the revolution of '89. As each of stayed with host families, we would all meet together at the top of this monument each day. We would hang out, sing songs, and take pictures.

 This monument was significant. The hundreds of stone stairs from its base to top symbolized the distance rebels marched to the country's capital and assassinated their venomous dictator, Ceceascu. It stood for bravery, victory, strength. It stood for life.

 Yet tucked into the side of this hill were two caves. You may notice them if you look close enough. But it takes on getting right up to the entrance and peering inside to see strips of worn blankets, empty glass bottles, plastic bags, and remnants of a fire. I would soon learn that street children lived here, camped out in these caves, 10-20 boys deep. Homeless, abandoned, and hungry, I was told that they huffed glue to stay warm, to numb the cold and pain. Most people would pass by without even looking.

Being young, being sensitive to injustice, my eyes were opened in an extraordinary way. That very day, some friends and I gathered as much money as we had (maybe $40?), exchanged into Romanian currency, and bought bags and bags of groceries. When we got back to the caves the next day, one boy sat inside, tucked into a dirty corner. We didn't say anything. We sat the bags at the entrance and walked away. 

It was easy one of the most profound experiences of my life.

I began learning about social justice when I was in college, but inequality, disparity, poverty, and racism were subjects I'd been familiar with for some time. I just gained the language to describe what I was feeling, learning, experiencing. At the base of all these problems, these social ills would shock me. They hurt my heart. I came back to necessity. People deserve to eat.

When I stop to consider what my passion is or what work I could do for the rest of my life, I can glance into my kitchen and look no further. I want to feed people. As I've grown older, progressed in my studies, learned about environmentalism and self-sustainability, I also desire to grow my own food as well. I believe all people should have access to fresh, organic, body-nourishing fruits, vegetables, and whole grains.

I'm a graduate student right now and I've studying Social Justice with a focus in Urban Agriculture. I see the way that community gardens can transform neighborhoods, cities, and lives. The unemployed can be put back to work through the development of organic gardens like Windy City Harvest. Those living in food deserts have access to good and healthy food like that from Fresh Moves. The City of Chicago can transform vacant lots like City Farm does. We can feed people in other countries like Feed My Starving Children.

What you may or may not have realized during TSW is that you ate vegetarian through the entire week and had the option to eat vegan as well. You ate fresh fruits and vegetables, many organic from our own gardens, and whole grains. You ate these handmade, home prepared meals and thought they were good, thought they were delicious, maybe thought they were weird. But you ate them and you had the privilege to eat. What about those who don't?

It's something for us to consider, yes?

Many of you thanked me repeatedly for the food we ate on TSW and I appreciated your gratefulness more than you know. But you may not have realized that feeding you was my service, my passion, my heart.

So thank you.