Reconnecting to Our Roots Through Farming

Special thanks to Christin Haynes, MSW, ABD for her contributions to this piece.

“I’m goin’ back to the South

I’m goin’ back, back, back, back

Where my roots ain’t watered down

Growin’, growin’ like a Baobab tree

Of life on fertile ground, ancestors put me on game”

-Beyonce, Black Parade

In 1910, there were over two million acres of farmland owned and cultivated by Black Families, yet today only 1.4 percent of farms are Black owned. While much literature has been dedicated to the trauma and disorientation that caused 6.5 million Africans to migrate from the South to the North between 1916-1970, less has been mentioned on the current migration back to the South and the reembracing of farming and intergenerational passage of foodways. The intergenerational passage of foodway is where knowledge concerning the economic, social, and cultural practices involving food consumption is passed from one generation to the next through a series of social interactions. Southern foodways, such as fried chicken and collard greens, can be witnessed from neon signs of Northern restaurants claiming its dishes will provide a sensory experience transporting you to the old South. Yet, rarely can such bold assertions be backed by an authentic soul food experience.

To authentically experience Southern foodways, one should pay close attention

to its relationship and connection to family, land, and community. Much like traditional African ways of dining, soul food is meant to be shared and experienced with those you love. Preparing soul food takes much time, patience, and attention, all which could be seen as opposing Northern values of fast-paced living. In the words of my 92-year-old grandmother, “A watched pot doesn’t boil”, meaning you can’t rush soul food because each dish comes alive in its own timing. For those re-migrating to the South, these lessons are imperative for the intergenerational passing of Southern foodways, as they provide context to how living in harmony with the land and those in your community are vital in nourishing the soul. Furthermore, inside our foodways are the seeds of resilience and ingenuity sown by our ancestors long ago. With so much ripped from our people during the Maafa, or the transatlantic slave trade, we as Black Southerners maintained the memory of indigenous African cultural beliefs that can be witnessed in the relationships created with the land, food, and our people.

Our connection to land, family and community date back to the Dahomian, a West African tribe who practiced dokpwe, in which each enslaved adult was given a small plot of land to farm on Sundays. Embodying the principles of Ujamaa (cooperative economics, shared work and responsibility), groups of 3-15 would collectively take turns harvesting, planting, and working on each plot of land. The practice of community farming, or konbit, continued in Haiti, and is still very present today in Black communities in the South. It is not uncommon to enter into a small farming town and experience something called ‘Harvest Day’, a communal event in which several farmers work together to harvest the crops on one plot of land before moving to the next. Our emphasis and reverence for community and our ability to collectively grow food is innate and natural. As the African proverb explains: If you want to go fast go alone, if you want to go far, go together.

Growing, picking, cooking, and eating from the land is a spiritual experience. One which humbly reminds us that we are not the most powerful force in nature, but merely a small aspect of. Part of the pain we, as displaced Africans, endured was belonging to the land, but that land not legally belonging to us. The brutality of lynching, burning, thieving, and death over this invaluable resource has caused intergenerational trauma that we must address and reverse. By reclaiming our space as food producers, educating ourselves as stewards of the land, and reprogramming how we prepare fresh foods, we are reconnecting to our ability to live, thrive, connect, commune, and embrace the planet that provides us with life.

Solace and healing can be found in a backyard garden. Listen to your ancestors calling you from the Earth and answer by walking barefoot in the grass. Acknowledge their whispers in the wind, pleading us to return to our indigenous ways of nurturing, cooking, and eating food from the land. Seek out elders with whom you can sit on the porch with, snapping peas, and listening to stories of triumph. Take a shot at growing the collard greens that your aunt cooks and serves the family every Sunday. Share the secrets of family recipes when you cook together. Take your children to farmers markets and teach them how to pick the ripest watermelons and sweetest peaches from the batch. And most importantly, I urge you to pay homage to our ancestors by remembering the connection that we, as African people, have with the land and food.

Christin Haynes, MSW, ABD is the founder and director of Black Family Scholar, INC, a non-profit dedicated to the holistic functioning of the entire Black family. Check out her latest project, Delicious Legacy, the first African American recipe heirloom designed to teach family history through food.