Everyone eats. In fact, in case you haven’t heard, it’s a biological requirement for survival. In a world where access to fresh, culturally relevant food remains a distant reality for many and production is dominated by industrialized systems, local communities are reclaiming the right to feed themselves in ways that nourish their bodies — while also honoring their traditions, lands, and future generations.
For leaders like Shakira Tyler, of the Black Community Food Sovereignty Network, and Joshua Hoyt, of the Native Foodways Program, food sovereignty represents a powerful path toward community resilience. Their work is not only about providing access to food, but also about restoring culturally significant relationships with the Earth, supporting local economies, and healing historical traumas.
A Food System That Undermines Sovereignty
Mainstream food systems in the United States are often failing its citizens. Arguably, none feel the brunt of that impact more than Indigenous and Black communities. Both are historically marginalized groups that — thrust into reservations or low-income urban areas — often live in food deserts miles away from healthy dietary options with unbalanced and severely limited access to fresh, nutritious choices.
In Shakira’s words, food sovereignty is about reclaiming “the right and the power to define our food systems,” from growth to distribution. For both Shakira and Joshua, this self-determination goes beyond ensuring access to food alone. It’s about empowering communities to produce sustenance through sustainable methods, preserve or rediscover cultural knowledge, and maintain control over the processes that affect their diets and health.
Cultivating Cultural and Healing Spaces
Both Shakira's and Joshua’s organizations serve as examples of food sovereignty in action, each with a unique but deeply community-entrenched mission.
Shakira’s farm in Detroit, one of many BCFSN projects, operates as a multifaceted space that is as much for healing as it is for growing flora. Located on seven acres, it grows over 30 varieties of fruits and vegetables and relies on renewable practices like solar power and rainwater collection. As she explains, the farm is designed to counteract the exploitative forces of capitalism by creating an oasis where “growing food is about sustaining our souls, not just surviving.” Here, locals can connect with ancestral farming methods, process loss, and celebrate the sacredness of the land.
In the San Francisco Bay Area, Joshua’s Native Foodways Program similarly combines food production with cultural preservation. The Native Foodway’s farm, likewise spanning seven to eight acres, serves as a cultural hub where Indigenous youth and elders gather to share knowledge, stories, and practices. Joshua highlights the importance of “reclaiming Indigenous foods” as a means of accomplishing the goal of cultural preservation.
For example, the farm’s riparian zone (a piece of land beside their stream), a designated restoration area, is filled with native edible plants to reestablish Indigenous food systems and support ecosystem health. From woodworking and basket weaving to traditional food preparation, each practice strengthens cultural identity and connects youth, and the broader community, to their heritage.
Empowering Youth Through Food Education
Education is a core pillar in both programs. Each organization hosts youth programs that explore food sovereignty and sustainable agriculture, instilling pride and agency in young people regarding their roles in agricultural production. BCFSN’s youth program, which serves children from kindergarten through high school, emphasizes the importance of “shifting the narrative” so that soil work, detaching from Black American’s historical associations of agricultural labor with exploitation, is seen as generative, joyful, and affirming. By fostering this perspective, their team helps young people see themselves not as enslaved workers but as essential stewards of the land.
Similarly, the Native Foodways program teaches Indigenous cooking techniques and food systems to minors, nurturing skills that go beyond the culinary. Their goal is to build a bridge between the younger and older generations, ensuring that traditional wisdom is not only preserved and passed down, but also that it evolves by allowing the next generation to reimagine it through their own creativity and insights.
From Pounds of Food to Ecosystem Health
Both leaders and their organizations understand the importance of measurable impact. The Native Foodways Program monitors soil health, water usage, and food distribution volume to gauge the effectiveness of its practices. Joshua and team also take note of ecosystem indicators, such as the presence of wildlife, which they view as markers of a balanced and thriving environment, indicative of the health of the farm’s produce. “We have this fox we’ve been watching for years,” he says, explaining how even the health of fauna on their grounds contributes to their understanding of ecological influence.
BCFSN, and Shakira, also track food production and community engagement, celebrating milestones such as the harvest of over a thousand pounds of produce in a season. However, success goes beyond these metrics; for Shakira, it’s also about whether people feel a sense of belonging and connection to the farm. “If we’re just growing food to survive, we’re not doing enough. It’s about creating a space that feeds our community’s heart and soul.”
Balancing Ideals with Systemic Pressures
Working toward food sovereignty within a capitalist system is an uphill battle; such a structure prioritizes cost-cutting and efficiency over sustainability and collective well-being. Thus, both the Native Foodways Program and the Black Community Food Sovereignty Network face financial and logistical constraints, often needing to meet grant funders’ demands for concrete, quantitative data.
Joshua reflects on the “time pressure” inherent in preserving Indigenous foods that are becoming increasingly scarce and notes how native communities face a complex web of cultural differences and monetary limitations that can hinder their work.
Shakira, meanwhile, expounds upon how historical traumas, particularly between Black people and Indigenous tribes (notably, the Anishinaabe in Michigan), add more layers of complexity.
“We have a lot of work to do on ourselves and in our communities to unlearn and relearn what it means to be in right relationship with each other,” she says, emphasizing the need for solidary to face against the, what can seem insurmountable, power of systemic exploitation.
A Vision for the Future: Unity and Resilience
Despite the challenges, Joshua and Shakira find hope in the resilient force of nature and the unbridled possibility inherent within the next generation. Shakira finds inspiration in the children who visit her farm, seeing in them “a catalyst of hope”.
Joshua, too, draws optimism from watching his garden, where small occurrences — like planting milkweed for monarch caterpillars – can help ecosystems grow and thrive independently. He sees these ecosystems as models for persistence, showing how communities can also flourish with the right support.
Both leaders, and their organizations, envision a future where food sovereignty becomes a foundation for collective empowerment, healing, and environmental stewardship. Shakira’s advice to others considering similar work is to start with their local neighborhood’s values and their own personal lived experiences. “Ask questions, start where people are,” she suggests, underscoring the importance of building agency and having ownership.
For communities across the country, if not the world, seeking to reclaim their food systems, the works of the Native Foodways Program and the Black Community Food Sovereignty Network, staffed by inspiring folks such as Joshua Hoyt and Shakira Tyler, serve as a guide. It reminds us that food sovereignty is about much more than just food; it’s about reimagining our relationship with each other and with the land itself. As Joshua says, “Plant a couple of seeds and watch what grows.”
