I went to an Oakland Food Policy Council event last night, a viewing of the documentary The Garden. Many of the screenings have a panel discussion with the director, Scott Hamilton Kennedy, and pivotal advocates, Rufina Juarez and Tezozomoc. Go see it!

It was a powerful demonstration of our legal and political system at work around preserving the land that a (mostly Latino) community in South Central Los Angeles had transformed into a 14-acre urban farm over a 12 year period.

The directing and editing were amazing. They managed to distill this nearly five year struggle into 1 hour and 20 minutes and yet captured the nature of community identity and social justice with clarity and truth. I was moved to tears throughout the story.

The story alone is gripping but I was also deeply moved by the depiction of a community which I identify with culturally. Throughout the film individuals that grow their food share why it is so important to them. I have found it hard to articulate something that runs so deep to who I am and yet each of these farmers were able to convey an essential truth. I am sure marginalized communities share a similar sensibility, but I do not know what it feels like to be anything other than what I am. I identify with a Latino community that feels that connection to the land keeps us alive, period. To lose it is to lose your soul and die. That hard work does pay off, one way or another. That you cannot let go of hope. Ever. It is simple, it is practical, it is beautiful, and it is full of a profound love and respect for life.

My heart and mind kept going back to my grandparents Guadalupe and Francisco. My grandfather, in particular, taught me my earliest lessons in nurturance, love, loyalty and hope. To see the farmers in their jeans and straw cowboy hats and to hear them speak of their connection to the land was to see my grandfather.

One man summed it up when he said our families did leave us an inheritance worth millions. They left us with the knowledge to work the land.