As a regenerative farmer, I wake each morning to the rhythm of the land—planting seeds, tending crops, and coaxing life from the soil to feed my community. This work is my calling, but it’s also my stand against a looming crisis: our nation’s food system is a house of cards, teetering on the edge of collapse. Local food is the critical infrastructure we need to secure it, not just for fresher produce or healthier communities, but as a matter of national security. Yet, this truth is being ignored, and we’re running out of time to act.
Our food supply is dangerously concentrated, leaving us vulnerable in ways most Americans don’t see. Four mega corporations, many with foreign interests, control the majority of our meat supply. When a handful of processing plants shut down in 2020, grocery shelves went bare overnight, exposing the fragility of this system. We rely on foreign fertilizers—90 percent of some types come from overseas—when we could produce them on-farm or locally using diverse, regenerative practices.
Instead of leaning on these local resources, we overproduce corn and soy, crowding out the variety of crops that could make our food system resilient. We grow monocultures that deplete our soils, while neglecting the fruits, vegetables, and grains that could diversify our plates and strengthen our security. A single trade war, cyberattack on supply chain technology, or natural disaster could bring us to our knees. This isn’t speculation—it’s a vulnerability we’ve already glimpsed.
Why is this crisis being ignored? Big Agribusiness, with its deep pockets and deeper influence, profits from centralized systems that prioritize scale over stability. These corporate giants lobby for policies that keep us tethered to their control, framing local farms as inefficient or niche. Urban policymakers, disconnected from the realities of rural life, treat food as a supermarket convenience, not a strategic asset. In Washington, the immediate threat of the day overshadows the systemic risk of a food system one shock away from failure. We’ve been lulled into a false sense of abundance, assuming our agricultural might can always scale up. It can’t—not when our soils are eroding, our supply chains are globalized, and our dependence on foreign inputs grows.
This fight is personal for me. Every seed I plant is an act of defiance against a system that’s forgotten the value of self-reliance. But I can’t do it alone—we need a national reckoning. I’m not big on subsidies, but since billions of dollars go to farm subsidies each year, they should go directly to farmers building resilient systems, diversifying our food system, and creating healthy soil. These grants should also support schools, hospitals, and communities buying local, rather than propping up Big Ag’s monocropping that degrades our soils into dust.
We need our communities to reconnect to their food—find it in their hearts and pocketbooks to support local farmers, volunteer their time, or use their social media presence to uplift the local food supply chain in their own communities. The consumer is all-powerful in this equation. If we want food security, we must support it.
Imagine the impact if every family bought just one meal’s worth of ingredients from a local farm each week. Imagine schools teaching kids to grow food, or churches hosting farm-to-table dinners. These acts, small as they seem, rebuild the ties between people and the land, creating a food system that can withstand the storms ahead. The 2020 supply chain breakdowns were a warning shot. So are today’s fuel price spikes, port disruptions, and climate shocks.
Local food isn’t a nostalgic luxury—it’s a national security imperative. As a regenerative farmer, I’m fighting to keep my community fed and my soil alive, but this is a battle we must wage together. I’m asking you, the American people, to join me. Buy local. Know your farmer. Demand a food system that strengthens our nation. Because when the next crisis hits, our survival will rest on the strength of our local farms.
