Uprooting Segregation Through Our Food System

The United States' enduring legacy of structural racism has revealed itself again and again, in painful images:  on a curb in Minneapolis ,  inside a Walmart in El Paso ,  on an apartment doorstep in Yonkers . But structural racism is also widely, more quietly imprinted in everyday American life—in streets, parks, neighborhoods, and foodscapes long segregated due to programs and policies created to uphold White power and privilege.

San Diego County is no exception. Streets and highways separate higher-income, predominantly White neighborhoods from lower-income ones where more Hispanic, Black, Indigenous, Middle Eastern, North African, and Asian people live. Neither an accident nor the relic of a bygone era, segregation is here and now—a continuation of deep-rooted institutions like forced displacement, slavery, Jim Crow, and xenophobia.

In San Diego County, health, income, occupations, and home ownership are divided along racial and ethnic lines. Communities of color experience the highest rates of poverty, food insecurity, diet-related illness, and COVID-19 cases and deaths. They continue to face disproportionate barriers to land and business ownership. And the areas where they live—from Indian Reservations forcibly created in the 1870s, to neighborhoods redlined in the 1930s—remain significantly disinvested a century later.

San Diego County residents occupy the  ancestral homeland  of Kumeyaay, Luiseño/Payómkawichum, Cahuilla, and Cupeño/Kuupangaxwichem peoples, who have lived here for at least 12,000 years. Indigenous peoples called this place home, well before genocide and successive waves of colonization from Spain, Mexico, and America reduced their land holdings to 18 inland territories on about 5% (193 square miles) of the county’s area.

In 1848, the  Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo  established the current border between the United States and Mexico. That border essentially cut Kumeyaay territory in half. From the 1870s to the 1890s, various presidential executive orders established reservations for different Kumeyaay bands. It wasn't until 1998—when a Kumeyaay Border Task Force negotiated for passports and visas for Kumeyaay members in Mexico to cross into California and stay for up to 6 months—that peoples that had been linked for 600 generations were able to reconnect.

Indigenous peoples today feel the persistent impacts of health and wealth inequities and continue to endure the legacy of displacement and deculturization.

Between 1935 and 1940, the U.S. federal government's Home Owners' Loan Corporation (HOLC) assigned grades to neighborhoods that assumed and insisted that the residency of Black, Hispanic, Asian, immigrant, and working-class White Americans compromised the values of homes and the security of mortgages.

These grades were a tool for redlining: making it difficult or impossible for people in certain areas to access mortgage financing and thus become homeowners. Redlining directed both public and private capital to native-born White families and away from immigrants and people of color. As homeownership was arguably the most significant means of intergenerational wealth building in the United States in the twentieth century, these redlining practices from eight decades ago had long-term effects in creating wealth inequalities that we still see today.

Researchers now characterize HOLC's property assessment and risk management practices—as well as those of the Federal Housing Administration, Veterans Administration, and U.S. Housing Authority—as some of the most important factors in perpetuating racial segregation, intergenerational poverty, and the continued wealth gap between White Americans and most other groups in the United States.

Most San Diegans still live in racially segregated neighborhoods today. Mapping where people live by race and ethnicity, we see that Hispanic and Black populations remain concentrated in the same neighborhoods that were once deemed "hazardous" or "undesirable" for lending in 1935. These neighborhoods, redlined decades ago, remain significantly disinvested in nearly a century later, or are at the highest risk of being erased by gentrification.

Throughout this StoryMap, you'll see these same neighborhoods shaded darkest again and again, as we visualize indicators of power and well-being across San Diego County. These communities have the lowest median household incomes, rates of home ownership, grocery store access, and nutrition security; and the highest levels of poverty, vulnerability to gentrification, and occurrences of diet-related health disparities. The effects of segregation are highly visible across all of these communities.

As in every metropolitan area in the United States, racial segregation in San Diego County was never the byproduct of urban planning—it was the intention. Today, we continue to recreate a system where we over-invest in affluent White spaces and marginalize, disempower, and disinvest in neighborhoods of color.

Working together, we must uproot the institutions of segregation and structural racism, and reimagine a San Diego County that includes all of us.

The impacts of segregation are deeply pervasive and visible across communities of color throughout San Diego County. We can see profound inequalities in all measurable indicators of power and well-being—including household income, poverty, home ownership, gentrification, occupation, healthy food access, food and nutrition security, and diet-related diseases.

The median household income in San Diego County was about $79,000 in 2019. Mapping median household income by neighborhood, we can see that neighborhoods where Hispanic, Black, and Indigenous communities live have median household incomes that are far lower than the County average.

In 2019, the tracts with the highest Median Household Income in San Diego County were Census Tracts 83.11 and 173.03—respectively La Jolla Mesa and Cardiff, which are 98.6% and 90.9% White—both with a value of $250,001, followed by Census Tract 171.09—Rancho Santa Fe, which is 94.7% White—with a value of $246,453.

The tracts with the lowest Median Household Income in San Diego County were Census Tract 35.02—Mountain View, a neighborhood in Southeastern San Diego that is 88.6% Hispanic/Latinx, with a value of $16,413, followed by Census Tracts 100.05 and 101.10—respectively San Ysidro, which is 95.2% Hispanic/Latinx, and a neighborhood near the Tijuana River Valley that is 93.3% Hispanic/Latinx—with values of $19,821 and $20,833.

Poverty refers to lacking enough resources to meet basic needs. Available data from the American Community Survey estimates that an average of about 12% of San Diegans lived in poverty from 2015 to 2019. Poverty disproportionately impacts San Diegans: 18.6% of Black, 16.5% of Indigenous, 12.9% of Hispanic, 9.5% of Asian, and 7.8% of White residents lived in poverty.

The U.S. Census Bureau calculates 48 different poverty thresholds for families based on family size, age of members, and income. For example, in 2021, the poverty threshold for a family of four (where two members were under the age of 18) was $27,479, while the poverty threshold for a senior living alone was $16,379. This federal definition of poverty has been roundly criticized as being  much too low  relative to the wages that are truly needed to avoid living in poverty. For example, the Economic Policy Institute’s  Family Budget Calculator  estimates that a family of 2 adults and 2 children in San Diego County would need an annual income higher than $97,547.

For many American families, home ownership is a key component of wealth. In 2019, the  median net worth  of homeowners was $255,000 while for renters, it was only $6,300. Nationally—and in San Diego County—there are  significant differences  in home ownership between White and Asian families and Hispanic, Black, and Indigenous families.

About 53% of housing in San Diego County is owner occupied, while the other 47% is renter occupied. There are, however, big differences in home ownership or renting based on race and ethnicity. For example, Census Tract 24.02 in City Heights is 72% Hispanic and 90% of housing is renter occupied. In contrast, Census Tract 171.12 in Encinitas is 92% White and 97% of housing is owner occupied.

Patterns of gentrification—the influx of higher-income people and capital coming into working class areas—are visible throughout San Diego County, especially within communities of color. For example, in Southeastern San Diego, redlining, White flight, foreclosures on Black and Hispanic homes during the Great Recession, “urban renewal” projects, and historic disinvestment have all contributed to gentrification that is displacing the Black and brown communities who have lived there for generations.

Rather than investing in community-led initiatives that increase opportunities for health, wealth, leadership, and ownership by local residents, what commonly happens is that real estate investment and higher-income residents begin to move into these neighborhoods. As San Diego State University professor Pascale Joassart-Marcelli writes in the book  The $16 Taco , gentrification “remakes neighborhoods to cater to the desires of newcomers,” in effect privileging their lives over local residents, who may be further displaced.

A  recent analysis  found that San Diego topped San Francisco for having the most unaffordable housing in the country. Maps from the  Urban Displacement Project , shown above, indicate that many communities in San Diego County are already exclusive or at-risk of becoming exclusive. Several neighborhoods in Southeastern San Diego have already experienced gentrification, along with many other communities of color across the region, including City Heights, Logan Heights, and Oceanside.

Research conducted by Dr. Pascale Joassart-Marcelli and the  San Diego Workforce Partnership  found that Hispanic and Black San Diegans are much more likely to work in low-wage occupations than White and Asian San Diegans, including many food system jobs. For example, fast food cooks (73% Hispanic or Black), restaurant cooks (72% Hispanic or Black), and food preparation workers (67% Hispanic or Black) are overwhelmingly held by Hispanic and Black San Diegans.

When we average the incomes of all occupations in San Diego County, we find that people with low-wage occupations disproportionately live in Southeastern San Diego to the border and Escondido. Across these neighborhoods, the average annual income ranges from $21,583 to $28,810. In contrast, more affluent San Diegans tend to live along the coast.

There is a strong relationship between food, health, and place. The built environment of neighborhoods shapes the availability of food and the overall health of residents. Supermarkets and corner stores are all features of the built environment, and the types and proximity of these businesses define our community food environment and ultimately, our health.  Research by AP  shows that major grocery chains “overwhelmingly avoid” low-income Hispanic and Black communities. In contrast, dollar stores—Dollar General, Family Dollar, and Dollar Tree—make up the majority of new stores in low-income Hispanic and Black communities. This pattern is plainly visible in San Diego County.

Food security refers to having access to enough food, while nutrition security refers to having consistent access to nutritious foods that promote health and well-being. Together,  food  and  nutrition insecurity  are a public health crisis that affects millions of people in the United States on a daily basis, and costs billions of dollars in healthcare annually. It is a deep and persistent issue that the COVID-19 pandemic has amplified.

The causes of food and nutrition insecurity are interconnected and are rooted in poverty. Low wages, unemployment, education, racism, inequality, zip code, disability, citizenship status, and family size all contribute to a household’s food and nutrition security status. Food and nutrition insecurity are also linked to diet-related diseases and physical, mental, and emotional challenges, including higher rates of diabetes, obesity, and hypertension, anxiety, depression, behavioral issues, developmental delays, lower rates of academic achievement, and reduced worker productivity. Hispanic, Black, and Indigenous communities are disproportionately impacted by food and nutrition insecurity, a pattern that is visible in research prepared by the  San Diego Hunger Coalition . 

Food can be a source of nourishment or a source of sickness. The increased prevalence of cheap food, large portion sizes, and high calorie ingredients across communities, paired with government policies and lifestyle choices, has led to an epidemic of diet-related health problems, including obesity, heart disease, and type 2 diabetes. Low income and communities of color are disproportionately impacted.

The  California Healthy Places Index  compiles indicators for social determinants of health, scoring regions along a continuum from less healthy (0) to more healthy (100). Census Tracts in Southeastern San Diego, Chula Vista, El Cajon, the border region, and rural areas all have significantly lower scores than more affluent, and predominantly White communities in San Diego County.

Research has overwhelmingly confirmed that race/ethnicity and lower socioeconomic status are associated with higher rates of diet-related illnesses and deaths. Low-income communities and communities of color also have unequal access to quality healthcare, creating compounding challenges. In response, the San Diego County Board of Supervisors declared that  racism is a public health crisis  in 2021.

By the end of March 2022, the COVID-19 pandemic had killed  nearly 15 million people  on Earth, including 1 million Americans, 89,000 Californians, and over 5,100 San Diegans, and sickened tens of millions more. Unprecedented in lived experience, the COVID-19 pandemic spiked unemployment and food insecurity for millions of people, particularly food system workers. Racism has long denied health equity—fair opportunities for economic, physical, and emotional health—to Black, Hispanic, and Indigenous Americans. As a result, Black, Hispanic, and Indigenous Americans experienced  disproportionately higher rates of COVID-19 hospitalizations and deaths  than White Americans. Hispanic people make up 34% of San Diego County’s population but 38% of total COVID-19 cases, 42% of hospitalizations, and 43% of deaths.

Small, local businesses create economic opportunity within neighborhoods, increase local employment opportunities, and can lead to higher levels of income growth within neighborhoods. For small neighborhood businesses to start and grow, they need access to capital. Restricting the same neighborhoods from investment and enterprise year after year, decade after decade, creates a vicious cycle that has spanned generations: New businesses don't get started. Existing ones don't expand. Residents turn to predatory lending. Employment in the area stays depressed. The neighborhood's built environment stays unchanged. Communities become vulnerable to gentrification.

The Urban Institute has estimated the total volume of per capita funding from private, federal, and mission financing sources to single-family housing, multifamily housing, nonresidential real estate, and small businesses for each county among the 250 largest counties between 2005 and 2019. Results are presented below for the largest counties in California by population.

In the table below, the volume of investments measures how much investments each county received per household, housing unit, or employee. Racial equity measures how evenly investment is distributed across neighborhoods with different racial and ethnic demographics. Income equity measures how evenly investment is distributed across neighborhoods with different poverty levels. Higher percentiles mean more investment and more equitable investment in communities. San Diego County is in the 91st percentile of all US counties for the overall volume of investments, but rankes relatively low for racial equity (47th percentile) and income equity (16th percentile).

There is no question that segregation persists in San Diego County, and disinvestment and marginalization based on race and neighborhood continue to endure.

Acknowledging this, we can now turn to logical mechanisms for uprooting this institution; for example, leveraging food—the thing that deeply intersects with our economy, policies, land and water use, built environments, health, and culture—to invest in and restore power and well-being to Hispanic, Black, Indigenous, and other communities of color.

Food can be a powerful lever for transforming our communities, and provides significant opportunities to elevate social, environmental, and economic equity for all. Transforming the way we grow food, move food, share food, and think about food ultimately transforms the way we treat the planet and each other.

Rather than gentrifying and pushing out residents, we can invest in existing communities of color and celebrate their diverse food cultures.

Rather than relying on global imports and an industrialized food system that fails to provide for everyone, we can build a local food economy that centers equity and community ownership, and supports the viability of local farmers, fishermen, food business owners, and the communities they serve.

Rather than undervaluing farm and food labor, we can pay livable wages and improve the quality of life for food system workers.

Rather than expecting the food of immigrants to be "cheap," we can pay fair prices and support their businesses.

Segregation continues to thrive on certain cultural assumptions—that affluent space is earned and living in a low-income area is the deserved consequence of individual behavior. In reality, the system has been stacked against groups by design.

Uprooting segregation will require an intersectional approach that centers the needs and aspirations of residents of segregated neighborhoods and build community power. Acknowledging and preserving the life, traditions, values, and potential of a diverse San Diego County, and promoting food sovereignty, must all be the centerpiece of any attempt to uplift long-segregated communities.

In spite of segregation and institutionalized efforts to erase, co-opt, and gentrify their existence, Indigenous, Asian, Black, Hispanic/Latinx, Middle Eastern, North African, Pacific Islander, and other communities of color have made their mark in San Diego County—inseparable from our region's culture and economy, and at the center of efforts to cultivate a healthier, more sustainable, and more just region that includes all San Diegans.

This StoryMap concludes with their important stories. Producers, distributors, food business owners, and organizers of color are working every day on small, grassroots, yet transformational efforts—bringing back once-belittled ancestral wisdom, drawing on generational resilience, and reclaiming sovereignty by planting literal seeds.

These efforts not only serve neighborhoods and communities most impacted by segregation, they pave the way for greater regional efforts for transformation in the face of climate change and emerging risks, like COVID-19. They are in need of greater investment.

Following their lead, we have an opportunity to cultivate justice, fight climate change, and build resilience in San Diego County through food.