Black Farmers Cultivating Change
Reclaiming land, legacy, and the future of food.
The connection between Black communities and the land runs deep, shaped by both resilience and resistance. For generations, tending the land has meant more than putting food on the table. It has been a means of survival, self-determination, and a way to preserve cultural traditions. Even as land was taken, opportunities were denied, and communities were pushed away by discriminatory policies and industrial farming, this connection never disappeared. Black farmers have held on to it, caring for the soil and passing down ancestral knowledge, often against considerable odds.
Today, a new generation is restoring their relationship with the land, rediscovering the healing power of ancestral practices, reclaiming knowledge, and creating new possibilities for the future At the heart of this movement is food sovereignty — the right of communities to access healthy, culturally meaningful food through sustainable practices, and the power to shape their own food systems. By blending ancestral wisdom with fresh vision, they’re making food sovereignty not just possible, but thriving. And what they’re growing extends beyond crops — they’re cultivating a movement for food justice and sustainable communities, one seed (or hive) at a time.
The community protects what we build because they’re part of it.
This Black History Month, we’re celebrating inspiring Black community leaders who are nurturing the next generation of farmers and growers, from Quebec to New York and California. Whether through urban gardens or regenerative farms, they are empowering communities to deepen their connection to the land and take ownership of their food systems, from seed to table.
We’re also proud to support this work by donating 1% of all our proceeds this month to Black Farmers Index, an organization dedicated to uplifting Black growers across the U.S., Canada, and beyond. Join us as we honor their stories of passion, perseverance, and lasting impact.
Harlem Grown
One of Harlem Grown's 13 farms in Harlem, NY.
Harlem Grown began in 2011 with a simple but powerful idea — sparked by a child’s question. While volunteering at a Harlem elementary school, former businessman Tony Hillery saw firsthand the challenges local kids faced — limited resources, poor nutrition, and a lack of green spaces. "The neighborhood was dominated by fast food chains, convenience stores, and pharmacies, with little to no access to fresh, healthy produce," he recalls.
Across the street from the school was an abandoned lot. One day, a kindergartener named Nevaeh asked, "Why don’t we plant something?" That question planted the seed for what Harlem Grown would become. "We stumbled on something with elementary school kids," Tony explained. "They’ll try anything, and when they grow it themselves, they eat it right off the leaf. They take ownership, bring their parents in, and suddenly, it’s not just about food — it’s about pride." Tony rallied volunteers, and together with the students, they transformed the empty lot into a thriving urban farm.
What started as a single farm has since expanded into a movement. "We started with one farm. Now, we have 14," Tony said. "We’ve given away over 190,000 pounds of food. But it’s not just about access — it’s about education, cultural relevance, and making sure kids know what to do with fresh food."
Today, Harlem Grown provides hands-on education in farming, sustainability, and nutrition while tackling food insecurity head-on. And its impact goes far beyond food. "We don’t just grow fruits and vegetables; we grow minds," Tony emphasized. "That’s the hook. The real work is exposure, showing kids there’s a world beyond their bubble."
The organization also supports students by fostering leadership skills, exposing them to new opportunities, and even helping them pursue higher education through mentorship, academic guidance, and career development support. (More than 20 Harlem Grown students are now first-generation college attendees, with some pursuing master’s degrees.)
And at the heart of it all is community. "The community protects what we build because they’re part of it. No security, no fences, no theft — because everyone eats from here," Tony said. "We’re not fixing people; we’re giving them the tools to fix things themselves. The kids are the change-makers. We plant a lot of food, but we grow people — that’s the real harvest."
Hamidou Horticulture
The Goodee Team visiting Hamidou Horticulture in October 2024.
African eggplant and red okra growing in Quebec? This is a testament to Hamidou Maïga’s vision. Originally from Niger, the former accountant has embarked on a remarkable journey since settling in Montreal about 15 years ago — cultivating carefully selected plants from ancestral and African varieties and making them accessible to the community. After all, ‘foods originating from Africa are already staples on North American dining tables,' he points out.
'Like many Afro-descendants here, I was searching for fresh produce from the continent,' he explains. This personal experience of missing familiar flavors and ingredients is what motivated him to act. Having developed a deep connection to agriculture in his homeland, Hamidou pursued formal education in the field and founded Hamidou Horticulture to provide Montreal’s immigrant and Afro-descendant communities with culturally significant, but hard-to-find, produce. By making these fresh ingredients available, Hamidou Horticulture helps people reconnect with their heritage and preserve their cultural identity through food. At the heart of this work is something deeply familiar — the ability to bring traditional dishes to life. It’s about passing down flavors and aromas through generations, keeping cultural ties strong through food. Some of Hamidou Horticulture’s produce also goes to non-profits serving the African diaspora in Quebec, directly addressing food insecurity within these communities.
Hamidou is passionate about sharing his knowledge. Through a partnership with Concordia University, he teaches ancestral farming techniques — like composting, crop rotation, and intercropping — to keep the soil rich and healthy. He also runs hands-on training programs to help Afro-descendant families reconnect with agriculture in a meaningful way. For him, the direct transmission of ancestral knowledge is essential — a cornerstone of African cultures that ensures the continuity of traditions, values, and wisdom. ‘As a prominent African writer once said, “When an Elder dies, a library burns to the ground,”’ he emphasizes, underscoring the importance of passing knowledge to younger generations.
By growing food locally and sharing knowledge, Hamidou is contributing to something bigger: the Afro-Quebec Food Sovereignty movement. This movement empowers communities to take ownership of their food systems, building stronger, more resilient Black food systems. This is crucial for food security, especially in Canada's predominantly urban Black communities. His work is also helping to increase the visibility of Black farmers, a critical step toward greater representation in agriculture. And representation matters — it can influence policy, shift how resources are distributed, and drive more support for Black-led food initiatives. Ultimately, through his work, Hamidou is laying the groundwork for a more sustainable, equitable, and inclusive food system, one crop at a time.
EarthSeed Farm
The EarthSeed Farm team on the ancestral lands of the Coast Miwok and Southern Pomo Peoples.
EarthSeed Farm is more than a place where things grow — it’s where healing, community, and the next generation of Black agricultural leaders take root. For Pandora Thomas, land stewardship is deeply personal. Her Afro-Indigenous heritage shapes everything she does, grounding the farm in a philosophy that honors ancestral wisdom and respects nature’s balance. This deep respect for the land directly informs EarthSeed’s approach to regenerative farming and sustainability.
Tucked away in Sonoma County, California, EarthSeed Farm is a sanctuary. Here, farmers and community members find restoration, reconnecting with the earth in ways that are both grounding and transformative. Pandora has seen firsthand how tending the land brings peace, how young people find their passion for agriculture, and how ancestral traditions continue to thrive. EarthSeed is a place where knowledge is passed down, stories are shared, and historical wounds begin to heal.
The need for this restorative work is heightened by the challenges of climate change. As climate change intensifies, the farm is adapting with intention, conserving water, growing drought-resistant crops, and nurturing soil that not only sustains harvests but also captures carbon. These efforts don’t just protect the farm’s future — they offer real-world lessons for the broader community.
Afro-Indigenous knowledge is woven into every aspect of EarthSeed. For Pandora, honoring these traditions is a responsibility. Through traditional farming methods and educational programs, the farm ensures that this invaluable wisdom continues to shape the future of agriculture.
Beyond its own fields, EarthSeed Farm supports other Black-led agricultural initiatives, sharing resources, collaborating on projects, and amplifying the voices of Black farmers. One recent initiative — a partnership with a local youth organization — led to the creation of a community garden, offering hands-on learning and access to fresh, nourishing food.
Looking ahead, Pandora envisions EarthSeed as a thriving hub for education, healing, and empowerment. She sees it playing a key role in the food justice movement, pushing for equitable access to land and resources while modeling a more just, sustainable food system. To her, success means expanding educational programs, reaching more people, and becoming a beacon for other Afro-Indigenous-centered farms.
Backland
Backland: An educational apiary and seasonal garden in upstate New York
In the rolling hills of upstate New York, Backland is changing what beekeeping looks like. Founded by artisan candlemaker Alysia Mazzella, this Black-led apiary and seasonal garden beautifully demonstrates the power of regenerative practices and community.
Alysia’s journey began with a simple candle. Intrigued by its warm glow, she realized she knew very little about its origins. This curiosity led her first to beeswax, and then, naturally, to the bees themselves. But as she entered the world of beekeeping, she noticed its overwhelming lack of diversity. She saw an opportunity to shift the narrative and build a space where people of color could engage with agriculture, learn the craft, and deepen their connection to the natural world.
At Backland, the focus is on restoring balance – between humans, bees, and the environment. Here, regenerative apiaries are a core principle, a way of rebuilding harmony with nature, and a model for community farming. By planting diverse crops, enriching the soil, and avoiding harmful chemicals, Backland’s beekeepers are creating a healthier, more sustainable ecosystem. Every hive becomes a small act of defiance against industrial farming, proving that food production can be both ethical and good for the planet.
At Backland, the focus is on restoring balance – between humans, bees, and the environment
More than just a farm, Backland is a gathering place, a space Alysia created to make everyone feel welcome. Beekeeping isn't just taught here; it's shared and passed down like a precious heirloom. Traditions aren’t just reclaimed — they’re re-rooted, evolving into living practices that nourish both people and the land. And as future agricultural leaders find their calling, they’re reclaiming an inheritance — of knowledge, stewardship, and a legacy that is theirs to shape.
Backland is really an open invitation — to learn, get involved, and help shape a future where farming is rooted in care, sustainability, and community.
Soul Fire Farm
The Soul Fire Farm team.
Also in upstate New York, Soul Fire Farm is an Afro-Indigenous centered community farm and training center working to empower BIPOC farmers — and aspiring farmers — to reclaim food sovereignty. Rooted in ancestral growing practices, it uses regenerative practices that not only sustain communities but also heal the land — a philosophy reflected in the acronym FIRE, Farming In Relationship to the Earth. “We use raised beds from the Ovambo people of Namibia, or polycultures from Haiti (our ‘jaden lakou’) — practices that make our soil healthier and more resilient,” explains Cheryl Whilby, Co-Executive Director of Communications & Development at the farm. “We really thank our ancestors for these brilliant technologies.”
Only 1.2% of farms in the U.S. are operated by Black farmers
How did this innovative farm come to be? “[It] was founded by Leah Penniman and Jonah Vitale-Wolff, who were living in Albany's South End, a community facing food apartheid. Their neighbors asked: 'Would you consider starting this farm for community, so that we can have access to this life-giving food, fresh fruits and vegetables?' That's how we began, responding to a direct community need."
Cheryl Whilby, Co-Executive Director of Communications & Development at Soul Fire Farm with kale.
Soul Fire Farm first launched with a sliding-scale CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) model. “People paid what they could, making it possible for those with fewer resources to receive food from the land,” Cheryl explains. During the pandemic, it transitioned to a solidarity share model, providing food free of charge to families most in need. Today, through partnerships with organizations like Free Food Fridges, the farm continues expanding its impact, delivering produce to other communities, while investing directly in BIPOC farmers. One key initiative, the Braiding Seeds Fellowship in collaboration with the Federation of Southern Cooperatives, provides stipends, mentorship, re-grants for alumni, and a menu of other professional development opportunities, helping emerging farmers expand their skills and train others.
Soul Fire Farm also works to dismantle the systemic barriers that limit Black and Brown farmers’ access to land and resources. “Only 1.2% of farms in the U.S. are operated by Black farmers,” Cheryl notes, pointing to the long history of discrimination that has shaped the agricultural landscape. Through coalition-building and policy work, the farm has helped push forward legislative changes that support BIPOC farmers. “We worked on the Justice for Black Farmers Act in collaboration with hundreds of other Black farmers, and pieces of that legislation were included in the Inflation Reduction Act,” she says. The fight is far from over. “Our work is cut out for us — ensuring that hard-won policy changes aren’t erased.”
The work ahead requires all of us. “If you know a Black or Brown farmer, buy from them,” Cheryl says. “If you have legal or administrative expertise, offer your skills.” Every contribution makes the movement stronger.
Growers
Reconnecting with the land doesn’t always mean tending acres of farmland. Sometimes, the journey begins on a much smaller scale — one plant, one story, one moment of reflection at a time. For Justin Bridges, a New York-based entrepreneur and creative, what started as a way to share plant care tips (mostly because friends wouldn’t stop asking) quickly evolved into something far more layered. Over time, his newsletter, Growers became less about strict plant care and more about the conversations that bloomed around it, turning into a space where reflections on plants intertwine with reflections on life, society, and current events — a space where tending to greenery becomes an act of tending to oneself.
For Justin, plants offer a powerful lesson in presence. “Nothing is linear; nothing is fast,” he reflects. “The desire for things to change rapidly, especially when they hurt or don’t feel good, often forces us to rush. Plants remind us of the twists and turns, and the time it takes to heal and chart a path toward the sunlight.”
This understanding of healing through nature wasn't always intuitive. His own journey with plants has been one of reframing a relationship that was once fraught with negative associations. As a child, yard work felt like a chore imposed rather than an experience of joy. “The symbolic connection wasn’t rooted in positivity; it was rooted in fear, scarcity, and trouble,” he shares. Rediscovering plants on his own terms became an act of repair. “[It] showed me that I could change, that I could repair old connections. It also showed me I was capable of expansion.”
Plants remind us of the twists and turns, and the time it takes to heal and chart a path toward the sunlight
Yet, healing isn’t just a personal journey. Growers has become a bridge between personal reflection and communal restoration. “I don’t believe healing can happen in a vacuum,” Justin says. Through storytelling, he creates space for others to reconnect with nature in their own way, reminding us that tending to plants — and ourselves — is part of a larger process.
“At best, I hope that being transparent and visible in such vulnerable ways helps others find their voice privately and publicly,” he reflects. Maybe it inspires future farmers, gardeners, and plant parents to share their love and engage in their own ways with the larger conversation.”
Discover Justin's weekly Substack, GrowersXO.
Every contribution, big or small, makes a difference. This February, we're donating 1% of all our proceeds to Black Farmers Index to further support Black growers across the U.S., Canada, and beyond.
Discover more Black farmers and agricultural stewards: The Ron Finley Project, Rise & Root Farm, UJAMAA Farms, YES Farm.
About Alexia Jacquot
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