Clarissa Sims demos an easy-to-make yet nutritious juice for attendees. Photo: Jack Delaney
By Jack Delaney | jdelaney@queensledger.com
“We the undersigned,” the petition begins, “are tired of living in a neighborhood that is systemically deprived of healthy choices.”
On a sunny Sunday afternoon, the Brownsville Heritage House played host to an array of community leaders and entrepreneurs who showed up in support of a bid for $200,000 in state grants to create a new hub for fresh, nutritious food in the neighborhood.
The petition, launched by nonprofit Seeds in the Middle, would combine an affordable farmers market with a community cafe, all run by Brownsville residents. Customers using SNAP benefits at the market would get double value up to $20 per day, and the cafe would serve as a one-stop shop for nourishing meals, juices, and snacks, as well as items made by local creatives.
Seeds in the Middle founder Nancie Katz says the state money would help address a problem that’s currently acute. Brownsville has been called a ‘food desert,’ though recently the term has given way among experts to ‘food swamp’ — an area that is flooded by access to unhealthy food, without a convenient or cheap means of buying alternatives. This lacuna has knock-on effects: 41% of adults in Brownsville are obese, per Foodscape data, which is nearly 20% higher than the city average and much worse than the 32% the neighborhood recorded in 2011. Residents also face rates of diabetes and infant mortality, the risk of which is tied to chronic health conditions, that are among the highest in the city.
At first, a sparse group of about ten attendees sat scattered on folding chairs throughout the room, reticent. But dozens more began to stream in around 3 p.m., and before long the space was buzzing.
The event kicked off with a tour of the recently renovated Brownsville Heritage House by Miriam Robertson, its Executive Director. The 40-year old community center and museum, located on the second floor of the Stone Avenue Library, was started by legendary historian and trailblazer Mother Gaston out of her own living room.
Next was a crash course in self defense taught by Gabriel Eugene, owner of the Lucian Dojo on Maple Street. His good-natured volunteer, Divine Pollard, threw mock blows and patiently weathered a variety of headlocks as Eugene walked the crowd through the optimal ways to defend against punches, baseball bats, and knives.
Then came a demo by Clarissa Sims of Liquid Vibes, a juice company based out of Staten Island. A year earlier, Sims underwent surgery for breast cancer, a frightening experience which spurred her to place more emphasis on her health. On stage at the event, carrots, oranges, and apples went into a juicer along with a knob of ginger — attendees were enthusiastic about the juice, but did have thoughts on the strength of the last ingredient: “The juice,” said one older man, “is very spicy.”
Sims was unfazed. “Ginger is amazing, amazing, amazing for your body,” she told onlookers, while stressing that it’s more important to add in healthy foods, at least initially, than it is to go scorched earth through dieting. “By embracing healthier habits, I’m not just transforming myself,” she wrote on Instagram. “I’m on a mission to impact the lives of my family and community.”
The lack of healthy food in Brownsville isn’t a fluke. Silvia Radulescu, a researcher at the Georgetown University Law Center, explains that “there are racial disparities in food access in Brooklyn; white residents have better access to healthy [meals] than Black and Hispanic residents.” She argues that this gap isn’t only the product of current income inequality, but “result[s] from twentieth-century segregation policies and practices—such as redlining, blockbusting, and predatory lending.” In other words, Brownsville residents have been forced into unhealthy habits over the course of decades, and by design.
“I don’t even know where to say to get it, to get fresh stuff,” said Cynthia Bishop, who was born in Wilmington, NC, and moved to Brownsville when she was five years old.
At the Brownsville Heritage House, organizer Cherokee La Dickens asks questions as Chef Shibumi Jones explains her tips and tricks for a delectable green curry. Photo: Jack Delaney.
Cooking demos followed Sims’ gingery juice. The first was a green curry how-to by veteran chef Shibumi Jones, who runs a locally sourced farm-to-table supper club in the Hudson Valley.
“It’s very important to start with your aromatics,” Jones said. Another tip for maximum flavor? Try deglazing with water, which helps incorporate “all the good stuff that’s stuck on the bottom of the pan” into the dish. And she urged the audience to try using homemade pumpkin puree as a base: “Anything you can put tomatoes in, you can do with pumpkins as well.”
Her final tip was a tactic to cut down on salt, by way of a science lesson. Acidic seasonings do the trick, because “adding acid is the same thing as adding salt, as far as where it hits on your palate.”
After a second demo on how to make the perfect pared-down Mediterranean salad by mother-daughter duo Estelle and Mona Raad, young essayist April Webster read her piece on food justice, to rousing applause.
Also present at the event was Dante Arnwine, District Manager for Brooklyn Community Board 9, who is planning to run for the City Council next year in District 41. He echoed organizer Cherokee La Dickens’ sentiments regarding the need to bridge generational divides to build a movement around adequate nutrition, which affects everyone.
“Unfortunately, people are so busy that they don’t have the time to get fresh produce,” he noted. “You’re worried about just [getting] food on the table. You’re not particularly worried about whether it’s healthy or not. And so being able to bring this to where people are is essential, right? We really need more programming like this.”
Arnwine also pointed to the intersections between issues like housing and nutrition, and saw the mayor’s citywide initiative to increase housing stock as an opportunity to advance other causes, too. “As the city continues to build under ‘City of Yes,’ or whatever that looks like, the conversations have to be had between elected officials and developers: ‘Hey, when you’re moving into communities that are clearly food deserts, they need fresh produce.’”
Models drawn from the audience, including Divine Pollard, Cynthia Bishop, and Chef Shibumi, Jones show off designer John Cheek’s latest collection. Photo: Jack Delaney
For chef Jones and wife Alix, who live in Brownsville, the push for access to healthy food is important not only in the context of a neighborhood that is starved of resources generally — including sluggish response times from city agencies for routine requests like removing abandoned cars, which Alix had experienced firsthand — but also within the broader picture of the country’s food systems.
“You see these companies putting all kinds of crap in the food that they, number one, don’t have to tell us about. And number two, it’s just not good for our health, and it’s just not good for the environment.” So Jones was supportive of any opportunity to “encourage any sort of awareness and just to take a step back and re-examine what we’re eating.”
The evening came to a dramatic close with a fashion show curated by John Cheeks, a local dance instructor, designer, and corrections officer who lost his mother, who had also been his business partner, to Covid during the pandemic.
And as residents filed out of the Brownsville Heritage House with full stomachs, still blinking the runway’s dazzle from their eyes, the limelight returned to expanding local access to high-quality produce.
“We would love to have farm to table experiences here in Brownsville,” said La Dickens. “We want healthy food options too, so we’re right here, right now.”
