A few weeks ago, my supervisor at City Slickers facilitated
a workshop that centered on the history of West Oakland and the events leading
to the establishment of City Slickers as a community organization. The workshop
covered the industrialization of West Oakland, the neglect of its communities,
and the prevalent food disparities in this area that were not so intense in
other parts of the city. Towards the end, someone asked if West Oakland would
be considered a “food desert” (an area where it’s difficult to buy affordable
or quality fresh food).
After so many discussions and papers writing about how I saw
City Slickers as an organization working within a food desert to improve
accessibility, I was prepared to hear the “Yes” and an explanation that would
hopefully be similar to what I had written before. I wasn’t expecting the
answer she gave, but I liked it.
She said, “Technically, by all of the definitions of a ‘food
desert,’ yes. West Oakland fits the description of a food desert, but we don’t
call it that. We can’t call it a food desert because the community doesn’t see
it as one.”
At first we were puzzled because she had been telling us for
weeks that the community is perfectly aware about the injustices isolated to
West Oakland, so how could they not see West Oakland as a community?
She went on to
explain that the community not only disliked the use of the term but were also
strongly offended when their community was linked to it. To them, by including the
word “desert,” the term implies that not only is there a lack of food in the
area but that the community itself is hopeless and barren, that nothing good
could ever grow in that space.
It made me think back on terms that those involved in
poverty work typically use and the terms they try to avoid. There is a constant
search and reevaluation for words that do not offend, that accurately depict, or
that empower. After the class we had on cultural sensitivity, you would think
that I would have been more careful or reflected more on the words I used to
describe the community I was working in. It made me realize that despite the
importance I put on cultural humility while working in West Oakland, I
overlooked the problems with a word that had been central to my definition of
my PE organization.
They see the use of this term as disempowering, and who can
blame them? Calling their home a desert is completely misrepresentative of the
colorful, passionate, and hopeful community that has time and time again come
together to make changes in their community. Multiple organizations have
blossomed from their community, including City Slickers, who have succeeded in
garnering support, growing leaders, and improving the wellness of the
neighborhoods. People are growing farms and gardens where factories once stood
and working for greener and safe communities. The process of growing within
West Oakland may be difficult but they have roots that couldn’t possibly
survive if the community was truly a “desert.”
I really liked your post, especially when you self-reflected and noted that even as an educated employee and global poverty student, you had overlooked the disempowering nature of the term ‘food desert’. I think this really speaks to the importance of cultural sensitivity in general, but also to the need for an ongoing, continuous process of sensitization. Just as your one cultural sensitivity class did not completely prepare you for all situations you will encounter, I think one must continuously make an effort to understand alternative perspectives and consider the implications of words from a different point of view. I also think this is a very beautiful thing in that it speaks to the constantly changing nature of language and its meanings. Terms that were formerly offensive are not empowering, and vice versa. It is a constant process that goes on without anyone really noticing, but must be always considered.
ReplyDeleteYour post also made me think about the power of discourse, something we have been talking about in GPP 115. My understanding of the power of discourse is that truth and meaning are constructed and manipulated by the way issues are framed, who is framing them, and the current context. After taking 115, I now constantly evaluate a few different things when dissecting an argument or policy recommendation. First, who is presenting the argument, and why are they doing so? Why is it that they have the power to speak about that subject with authority? Who gives them that power? Second, what words, concepts or theories do they invoke to convey their meaning? What is being omitted from their argument, and what assumptions does it rely on? To connect it to your post, who has the right to call a certain community a food desert, and does the term desert imply something is wrong with the space itself, rather than the broader political economy that Katz references?