Food and agriculture are topics about which I am passionate but I would not have those passions if it were not for my unique childhood that taught me the value of hard work and gratitude. Growing up as the youngest of six children in a lower middle class family I learned quickly that while we may have been rich in social capital, some resources can be scarce and learning how to adapt efficiently is important.  As a child I knew that my siblings were always available to be my playmates.  I also knew that sometimes the water might be shut off if that month’s budget was miscalculated.  Our tight budget forced us to be creative and resourceful.  My father, a skilled carpenter, used scraps and imperfect cabinets that were leftover from a hospital renovation and were otherwise destined for the landfill to renovate our kitchen.  My mother, a talented home economics teacher, could quickly create a Halloween costume to appease us after our yearly and inevitable night-before-school-Halloween-parade-meltdown. 

I did not realize the uniqueness of my childhood until I went to college.  Dickinson College’s values, which put a strong emphasis on sustainability, matched the life lessons I learned from watching my family adapt in tough situations.  My parents’ hard work, frugality, and innovation made it easy for me to understand the impact sustainability can have during fluctuating environmental and economic times.  For me, sustainability is all about frugality, innovation, and flexibility.  As a child, I learned to be resourceful in times of scarcity and to be appreciative in times of plenty.  I also learned first-hand that sustainability is not always about the environment.  Being socially and economically sustainable is just as important.

My current passion for sustainability lies within the topic of food.  My passion developed during a class I took my sophomore year called Nutritional Anthropology.  In that class, we learned about all aspects of sustainability—social, economic, and environmental—and how they related to the topic of food and nutrition.  I learned that everyone must eat, but not everyone has the same definition of food—a basic human necessity that has so much cultural significance. 

My understanding of food has changed significantly since attending Dickinson College.  During a summer spent as a full-time worker at the Dickinson Farm, I learned that carrots grow in all shapes and sizes and a little bit of dirt and grit gives them an interesting earthy flavor.  Participating in an ethnographic field school in Tanzania after my sophomore year taught me that our world is so much smaller than I ever thought.  Coffee farmers in rural Tanzania are just as concerned about our ever-changing global economy as a fruit farmer in Central Pennsylvania.  While studying in Perugia, Italy on a food studies program during my junior year I discovered the concept of slow food—understanding the tradition of the food we eat and savoring every morsel.  I met Dario Cecchini, a butcher with a mindful approach to his work that encourages us to eat snout-to-tail.  The lesson I learned from him goes far beyond food—discarding anything wastes all of the time, energy, and resources that went into creating it. 

I recognize that I am extremely fortunate to have had these opportunities and I am grateful to my parents for teaching me so many valuable life lessons.  I recognize that solving food insecurity is not just a matter of handing a hungry family a bag full of donated food.  Our definition of “good”, nutritious, and culturally appropriate food is subjective. Understanding food sovereignty, or the right of people to define their own healthy and culturally appropriate food and agricultural systems, is essential to solving food insecurity.  I sincerely believe that local, sustainably produced food can be available to everyone.  It is my goal to use my resourcefulness and hard work ethic to be a change-maker within our food system and to be a part of addressing the economic and cultural causes of food insecurity.