Food deserts: A reflection of a failed system

By Milo Slevin Staff Writer

A refrigerator lies just off the sidewalk on Dodge Avenue, two blocks south of ETHS. It carries everything from carrots to donuts; mac n’ cheese to lemonade. It’s one of four fridges in Evanston, run by and for the community.

From that fridge, walk three blocks north, past ETHS, to the C&W Market. The store, rooted in community trust, gives out hundreds of free meals to families and elderly folks every month.

Then, from C&W, it’s a 10-minute walk to the Fleetwood Jourdain Community Center. The center is home to a community garden run by Evanston Grows, a postCOVID-19 startup that serves community owns C&W alongside his wife.

Food insecurity has been a pervasive problem in the United States since the Great Depression, when a quarter of the American workforce was unemployed and food couldn’t be sold for profit. Since then, the U.S. government has made many attempts to combat food insecurity.

One is the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP). Formerly known as food stamps, SNAP helps low-income households get the food that they need. The government also manages several child nutrition programs and food distribution programs. While government assistance has proven helpful for millions of Americans for decades, they have proven to be no more than adequate solutions members who cannot easily access or afford healthy produce.

In the context of nationwide food inaccessibility that disproportionately affects Black and brown communities, massive Chicago food deserts less than 30 miles from ETHS and big grocery stores’ refusal to offer their services to low-income communities because it’s not profitable enough, these community-based efforts have been crucial for countless Evanston residents.

“There’s enough food in America to be able to make sure people have something to eat. We’re just doing our part to contribute to make sure the families that we can get to, or they can get to us, have something more than what they had the day before,” says Clarence Weaver, who to the hunger crisis.

According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, 10.2 percent of Americans were food insecure in 2021. That number is echoed in the millions of parents who struggle to afford to feed their children, especially with fresh and nutritious fruits and vegetables.

There are two main reasons why people can’t access fresh food. The first is location. Millions of people don’t have access to nearby grocery stores with fresh produce. For example, around 30 miles from ETHS, entire neighborhoods like Riverdale on Chicago’s Far Southeast Side have no grocery stores within a 0.5-mile radius. For elderly people and people without a car, it’s very difficult to make such a long trip for fresh food. The second is affordability. Especially with recent inflation, buying fresh produce simply isn’t an option for those who can’t afford it.

“Even if there’s healthy food in walking distance, that food may not be affordable for all families. And so there’s not enough being done in the industry and at a local level to make sure that healthy food is affordable to everyone,” says Anna Grant-Bolton, the Outreach Organizer for Evanston Community Fridges.

So why is that fresh food so important? Well, when you were younger, you probably heard adults telling you to, ‘Eat your vegetables!’ They didn’t just say that to make you hate broccoli. They said it because healthy food sustains us.

Debbie O’Connor, a board member at Evanston Grows and an advocate for the nutritional education of youth emphasizes why eating healthy food matters.

“It’s really hard to [get through your day] when you’re eating all this processed cially given that the company brings in billions of dollars in revenue every year.

Among them is Chicago 16th Ward Alderwoman Stephanie Coleman.

“The fact that [Whole Foods] did this after six years when we celebrated their five-year anniversary as a part of Englewood excellence put a dagger in our hearts,” she told Block Club Chicago. ”We’re not a failure. They failed us.”

Food deserts are also rooted in systemic racism. For example, Riverdale is 95 percent African American, and that’s no coincidence. According to the Center for American Progress (CAP), “Over the past 20 years, both Black and Hispanic households have consistently been at least twice as likely as white households to experience food insecurity… In 2020, 21.7 percent of Black households experienced food insecurity, as did 17.2 percent of Hispanic households and 7.1 percent of white households.” food. But when you’re fueling your body with whole foods, it really does affect your ability to think straight, to do your homework, to go out and run and exercise and things like that,” she says.

Despite the importance of healthy food, the big grocery store chains often don’t see it as profitable to set up in low-income communities. A few months ago, a Whole Foods in the Englewood neighborhood of Chicago, a major food desert, shut down after six years in the community. Many in the area were disappointed by the decision to shut the Englewood outlet down, espe -

These numbers, CAP says, are the ramifications of centuries of decisions by politicians to “exclude Black and Hispanic families from the systems and institutions that allow many white families to build financial security, collect generational wealth and experience economic mobility.”

In Evanston, there are five big-name grocery stores across the city, but that doesn’t guarantee that all residents have easy access to them.

[Cont. on pg. 7]

Guests enter the soup kitchen to the compelling sounds of a piano, each and every note guided by passion and purpose. It is 6 p.m., which indicates the commencement of Beth Emet’s Wednesday soup kitchen. Clusters of individuals enter the doors, directing themselves to the array of tables, where chairs sit anxiously awaiting their occupants. Stained glass windows highlight a singular wall, through which the remainder of light passes before dusk arrives.

Inside the dimly lit kitchen, volunteers of all ages thoughtfully prepare Beth Emet’s Wednesday night staple: tacos. In addition to the tacos and their usual accompaniments, fresh pastries, locally sourced bread and a variety of drinks are made available to the guests.

A steady buzz of conversations creates a warm ambience. People from all walks of life discuss their days, the good and the bad. Recurring visitors embrace while strangers greet one another and connect through stories.

Whether you visit one yourself, have signed up to volunteer or encounter one’s presence simply due to the passings of daily life, soup kitchens have a way of connecting a community. They help to elevate some of the burden that an individual may be facing, whether that is through food consumption or conversation. Soup kitchens are a necessary fixture, and Evanston has breathed this into existence with more than ten kitchens that serve its inhabitants every day of the week to ensure that no person goes hungry on a given day.

“I think people don’t understand just how important it is to the people that we’re serving. Being able to come and get a meal helps them get by. When it’s just three or four days before payday and someone doesn’t know what they’re going to do, they know that they can go to Beth Emet, they can go to Hemenway, they can go to St. Mark’s or St. Pauls. They know that they’ll have something warm to eat,” says Bob Carroll, an organizer at Hemenway.

Indigence and homelessness are ingrained in the Evanston community. By adapting and continuing to provide their services, Evanston’s soup kitchens are mending this complex set of wounds one hearty meal at a time.

“I see how it helps people from all walks of life. Many people think about a soup kitchen and envision people who are experiencing homelessness standing in line and getting food. But it could be your next-door neighbor,” says Susan Berube, executive director of the Interfaith Action of Evanston that organizes four of Evanston’s local kitchens.

Berube found herself sitting around a bonfire in her yard one night when she overheard her neighbor, whose husband had recently become ill, talking about the food that a lo- cal soup kitchen had provided her family in a time of need.

“[My neighbor] said, ‘I got enough carrots and potatoes to last our family for a month.’ That’s when it really hits close to home, because [that family lives] in my neighborhood. They own a home. They’re just going through a hard time right now.”

According to a Feeding America study conducted in March 2021, nearly 12 percent of Cook County residents were projected to

Richardson’s first role with the soup kitchen was as a Tuesday evening preparer, where she would extend her gratitude for serving those in need by making peanut butter sandwiches. Under the leadership of St. Mark’s late parishioner John Lucadamo and Janet Eder from St. Matthew’s, with assistance from a loyal force of volunteers, the ministry continues to function. Donna Richardson and Kati Olsen, now co-leaders of the kitchen, are committed to feeding Evanston’s inhabitants.

For those that have dedicated their lives to providing hunger relief, the desire to serve the local community was inspired by a multitude of circumstances.

“My daughter was the one who suggested it six years ago when we were talking about things that we could do to make the world a better place. She said that she thought it would be nice if we could do something at a soup kitchen. We got involved through St. Mary’s and have been consistent volunteers ever since,” says Katherine Heid, an organizer at St. Mary’s Catholic Church.

For Kris Economos, one of the co-managers at First Presbyterian, the focus is on the taste of the food that’s served.

“As far as the quality of our meals, we serve really good food,’” says Economos. “We love to take suggestions from our guests. Two weeks ago, someone said to me, ‘Kris, we haven’t had peach cobbler in a long time.’ And I said, ‘You’re right, we haven’t, so we’re going to make it in two weeks.’ I can’t wait to surprise him with the cobbler.” live in food insecure households in 2021, versus 9.3 percent in 2019, prior to the pandemic.

A soup kitchen isn’t simply transactional; it’s relational. Leslie Levin-Shulruff, Chair at Beth Emet Synagogue’s Wednesday’s soup kitchen, wants to build a community among guests and volunteers.

“[A successful soup kitchen] looks like a well-oiled machine. It looks like volunteers out talking to guests, the guests being happy and music filling the room. The vibe feels really warm and friendly and everyone’s spirits are high,” says Levin-Shulruff.

From reshaping to disrupting to dramatically altering American life, the pandemic exacerbated food insecurity. As a result, soup kitchens across Evanston had to modify their services to ensure the health and safety of those seeking food assistance. The pandemic fueled a sense of urgency, and Evanston’s soup kitchens recognized the need and tackled it head on.

“We are very proud to say that we have never missed a Saturday serving a meal here, even in the depths of COVID when no one knew what they were doing. We kept preparing and serving, and we have not missed a beat. Some of [our volunteers] had to step back for various reasons, but others have stepped up, and we feel very fortunate,” says Barb Spencer, a co-manager at First Presbyterian.

“It is indicative of the Evanston area that, through faith communities and other agencies, we’ve recognized the need and have been able to step in and fulfill that need,” voices Donna Richardson, one of the co-coordinators of the Wednesday Lunch Ministry jointly sponsored by St. Matthews and St. Mark’s Episcopal churches.

“Nobody should go hungry. For me, the opportunity to provide a good meal was just compelling. It really spoke to me as something that I was called to do. It’s a highlight of my week every week; it really is. People sitting at tables, eating, talking, enjoying each other’s company over good food; the atmosphere just feels good,” Olsen says. “We enjoy the fact that [the guests] are enjoying themselves and enjoying each other’s company. It’s like hosting a dinner.”

Virtually overnight, the typical models of the soup kitchens changed; the guests that once occupied the carefully curated spaces were forced to adapt to a grab-and-go meal. While soup kitchen coordinators were intentional in fulfilling their responsibility and serving all aspects of a hearty meal, their mission was greatly altered. As doors closed, the sense of community that was once the foundation of the soup kitchens became lost. [Cont. on pg. 7]