Growing up in Lexington, Kentucky, I spent countless hours listening to my grandmother’s stories. She often spoke of her life in Monticello, a small town in Wayne County, deep in Appalachia. Despite the beauty of the surrounding farmland, food was often scarce. With few grocery stores, long distances between places, and unreliable transportation, my grandmother frequently relied on canned and packaged foods. Fresh produce was a rare luxury, and when it was available, it was often too expensive. The anxiety of not knowing where her next meal might come from haunted her, and her stories of hunger left a lasting impact on me.
Appalachia, a mountainous region spanning 13 states in the eastern United States, stretches from southern New York to northern Mississippi and is often associated with rural poverty, rugged landscapes, and rich cultural traditions. In Kentucky, it encompasses the state’s easternmost counties, including Wayne, one of the most economically distressed areas in the nation, where residents struggle with limited access to healthcare, education, and food.
Despite a slow decline in food insecurity from 2010 to 2020, the rate in Appalachia is still 13 percent, which remains above the national average of 11.5 percent. In the central part of the region, the issue is especially persistent, with 17.5 percent of residents sometimes lacking access to enough food for an active, healthy lifestyle. With nearly 23 percent of Black individuals in the U.S. experiencing food insecurity, a rate almost 2.5 times higher than that of white individuals, the lack of food access especially impacts Black residents of Appalachia.
Access to grocery stores varies significantly between urban and rural areas in Appalachia. In urban Appalachian counties, residents typically have multiple grocery stores within a short distance, facilitating easier access to a variety of food options. Conversely, in rural Appalachian counties, the number of grocery stores per capita is notably lower. A study by the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) Economic Research Service found that in rural non-metropolitan counties, the median number of grocery stores per capita decreased by 40 percent between 1990 and 2015, highlighting a significant decline in food retail options over time.
This disparity means that rural residents often travel considerable distances to reach the nearest grocery store, a challenge exacerbated by limited transportation options and rugged terrain. As a result, many rely on convenience stores or gas stations, which typically offer fewer healthy food choices at higher prices, contributing to poorer diets and increased health risks.
“The Thompsons often had to prioritize selling their crops to earn enough to feed themselves, which sometimes led to gaps in their own diet.”
For Black residents, these physical challenges are compounded by a history of systemic racial and economic inequities. For generations, exclusionary practices like redlining, discriminatory agricultural lending, and heirs’ property laws have undermined economic opportunities for Black residents. These policies have restricted access to land ownership and farming resources, perpetuating cycles of poverty and food insecurity.
The harsh realities I was exposed to through my grandmother stayed with me as I got older—and were a driving force behind my decision to pursue a career in combatting food insecurity on a national level. At the outset of my career, I pursued a master’s degree in community and leadership development at the University of Kentucky, with a focus on hunger disparities.
During the field research I conducted between 2015 and 2017, I visited hollers (small mountain valleys) in the state’s Appalachian region to speak with residents about the challenges they faced in accessing food. On one of these trips to eastern Kentucky, I met Mr. and Mrs. Thompson (whose names I changed to protect their identities), a Black couple in their 60s.
For more than 30 years, the Thompsons had farmed on 20 acres, growing tomatoes, green beans, and squash—basic crops meant to provide food for themselves and the local community. But with the nearest market 40 miles away, it was nearly impossible to sell their produce there consistently. And without cold storage facilities, much of their harvest spoiled before it could even leave the farm. The Thompsons often had to prioritize selling their crops to earn enough to feed themselves, which sometimes led to gaps in their own diet.
Sitting with them over a meal, I listened as they described the challenges they faced—including having to decide whether to pay for groceries or heat their home and witnessing children in their community going to bed hungry. Their resilience was palpable, but so was the ongoing struggle, and hearing them describe so many of the same issues my grandmother faced, I became convinced of the need for focused and effective interventions.
Talking with the Thompsons and others like them, I came to realize the extent to which food insecurity in Black Appalachian communities has been overlooked by policymakers and organizations at all levels.
A Playbook for Combatting Food Insecurity in Black Rural Appalachia
As the head of the Food Security Equity Impact Fund at Feeding America, a network of more than 200 food banks across the U.S., from 2022 to 2024, I managed $30 million in grant funding aimed at combating food insecurity. I channeled resources both into increasing food access and empowering communities to build their own sustainable sources of food production—funding sustainable agricultural initiatives by Black and Indigenous farmers, for example.
