Posts By: Amber Burns

Compassion

Where is your compassion…and if you claim to have it, when does it connect to your actions You fooled me into believing I was born in a land overflowing with milk and honey, A land of plenty, your propaganda neglected to say that those who are impoverished or live in disadvantaged circumstances are not promised… Read more »

Thanksgiving Traditions

The aroma of macaroni and cheese, collard greens, chicken, ham, green beans, potato salad, yams, corn pudding and corn bread slithers up my nostrils. Four generations of my family form a circle and link hands. We bow our heads for prayer. My uncle asks God to bless the food and the hands that prepared it. We whisper our thanks and say “Amen” in unison. We part and create a path for the elders to make their plates then the children. Everyone has a place at the table. We eat and laugh for hours. Plates are licked clean. Stomachs are full. Pants are bursting at the seams. We find comfort at the table, where our family congregates and share the fruit of their labor. Never do we discuss where our dinner comes from. Never do we discuss the health related consequences of the food we eat. All that seems to matter is the taste and the fact that we have plenty.

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Reflection: How Food Justice Has Changed My Activism

I am an AmeriCorps VISTA with the Presbyterian Hunger Program. I am also known as a Community Food Justice Cultivator. Eight months ago I was simply Amber Burns; activist, Black feminist and poet. For the past five years I have read many books and articles with the hope of becoming more socially and racially conscious…. Read more »

Putting the “Community” in Community Gardens

A few weeks ago I had the privilege of helping to facilitate a family garden workshop. The workshop took place in a community garden located in West Louisville. Due to spontaneous rain showers there was a low turn-out but five enthusiastic souls blessed us with their presence. My co-worker and I were responsible for leading… Read more »

My Temple

    My body is my God given temple …. From my chipped toe nails to my uncombed head, back down to my ashy un-lotioned knees, My body is starving, yearning for something to cure its thirst, Screaming for attention that must penetrate passed skin, beyond outer appearance, My body could care less what clothes… Read more »

I Saw God

I saw God….I stood on the moist soil of Bahr Farm and felt the earth slightly sink under my weight. All I saw was green, lush as far as the eye could see, hill after hill. I was in awe that this slice of paradise was only a few short steps from a busy interstate…. Read more »

Food Justice?

Food Justice…. The combination of these words does not evoke much if any emotion in my parents’ household.  The phrase flows through uninterested ears who are more concerned with keeping their refrigerator full than finding out where their food comes from.  My parents trained my younger sisters and me to eat everything they placed on… Read more »