Author: Natalia Freeze
Editor: Sonya Doubledee
It can feel overwhelming, standing against the monolith of industrial agriculture, a system so vast and entrenched that individual action seems insignificant and helpless.
For over ten millennia, corn has been a vital staple of human agriculture, first cultivated by the Indigenous peoples of ancient Mexico. Among the Iroquois and Cherokee, corn took its place among the revered trio of crops known as “The Three Sisters,” nestled alongside beans and squash. Together, this system of planting fertilized the crops and restored nitrogen to the soil, improving yields and reciprocating gifts back to the earth. To the Taino people, corn was mahiz (maize), the very “source of life” or “life-giving seed.” Modern science (as cited in Johns Hopkins Medicine) affirms what these ancient cultures already knew: corn, abundant in fiber, macronutrients, vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants, nurtures gut health and fortifies the heart and eyes.
The recent rise of industrial agriculture and ubiquity of corn in American processed foods, however, has led to detrimental health impacts such as obesity, diabetes, cardiovascular disease, cancer, high blood pressure, high blood sugar, fatty liver disease, and colorectal cancer. Instead of eating whole, unprocessed corn, many of us are consuming its derivatives: fructose corn syrup, corn oil, and cornstarch. These processed ingredients can be found in almost every single product that lines our grocery store shelves, from soda to instant noodles, cereals, salad dressing, peanut butter, chips, baked goods, toilet paper, and toothpaste.
The land, too, bears the scars of this exploitative shift. In the United States alone, over 97 million acres–an expanse nearly the size of California–are devoted to corn, sprawling across the Midwest and the Great Plains in what is known as the Corn Belt. Between 2006 and 2011, the amount of land devoted to growing corn increased by over 13 million acres. Once, these lands had supported a diverse array of crops such as alfalfa, wheat, oats, sorghum, barely, and sunflowers. But when monoculture took root, it stripped the soil of its richness and disrupted natural ecosystems, limiting biodiversity and increasing the vulnerability of crops to disease and pests. To stave off these threats, industrial farmers now drench the fields in pesticides, which in turn seep into the soil, waterways, and local wildlife food chains. A 2010 study revealed that corn production in the U.S. alone contributes to 4,300 premature deaths related to air pollution each year, a sobering reminder of how deeply our agricultural practices impact both human and environmental health.
Most of the corn produced in the U.S. does not even land on our dinner tables. Instead, the bulk gets funneled into ethanol production or livestock feed, both industries fraught with their own harms to the environment. Ethanol, once heralded as a “renewable fuel” has been shown to release carcinogens, benzenes, and other harmful air pollutants into the environment, causing respiratory issues like asthma. Corn as cattle feed, though cheap and efficient, wreaks havoc on animals’ digestive systems. Cows, with digestive systems intended to graze on grass, suffer from bloat and acidosis when fed corn. In their Beef Cattle Handbook, Rick Stock and Robert Britton observe that cattle often wander “aimlessly in the pen or cannot stand and appear to have brain damage” as a result of acidosis. Their suffering is a grim testament to an industry that values profit over animal welfare.
It can feel overwhelming, standing against the monolith of industrial agriculture, a system so vast and entrenched that individual action seems insignificant and helpless.
Finding Hope at Emory
But there is hope, and there are ways to push back. Community gardens, local and seasonal produce, and working farms offer a path forward. Here at Emory, students and staff can embrace these alternatives. The weekly Emory Farmers Market offers “fresh, seasonal local produce, artisanal bread, honey, other artisan products and baked goods, fair trade and organic coffee options, and diverse lunch options.” Fresh produce can be found from the Emory Oxford Organic Farm, Sunshine Farms, Pop’s Produce, and more. There are also a number of local farmers markets around the city, such as the Morningside Farmers Market and Grant Farmers Market, both of which feature fresh produce from local farms. The abundance of these local farms also starkly underscores the challenges faced by some communities in Atlanta, where residents are compelled to purchase industrial corn products due to the constraints of under-resourced food deserts.
Beyond the markets, the Emory Education Gardens provide fertile ground for involvement with eight highly productive plots across Emory’s main campus. Volunteers can work the soil, and in exchange for an hour of time each week, can take home fresh produce. These small acts–planting seeds and harvesting vegetables–are not insignificant. They are gestures of defiance against the food industrial complex that dominate the landscape and also expressions of appreciation for the gifts of the Earth.
Since 2019, Emory’s partnership with the Conservation Fund’s Working Farms Fund is another example of change. By acquiring farmland within 100 miles of Atlanta and leasing it to farmers, Emory ensures a steady supply of locally sourced foods while providing farmers a ten-year pathway to eventual ownership. By dining at any of Emory’s on-campus dining halls, you are already shifting toward eating produce from local working farms. We hope,” states Monica Ponce from Love is Love Farm, “that people feel better knowing who is growing their food, that we are local and using best practices and fair labor standards.”
Monica Ponce’s sentiment rings true: knowing the hands that sow and harvest the food we eat reconnects us to the land–its ecosystems and rhythms. In these small but vital steps, we can strive toward a more sustainable, responsible, and nourishing future. Indigenous scientist and writer Robin Wall Kimmerer in her recent article, “Corn Tastes Better on the Honor System,” invites us to “renew the honorable harvest that extends beyond indigenous nations to everyone who eats. Mother Corn claims us all as corn-children under the husk; her teachings of reciprocity are for all.”
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