Grocery Stores Don’t Care About Black People!
The street I live on is commonly known for its prostitution activity. I have my own personal homeless guy security guard who sleeps near my car at night. I can’t go to the Circle K without someone begging me for money. On several occasions I’ve had to wait in my car for a drug deal to finish, and the participants to move out, before I could get get out and go to my apartment. The apartment complex itself is flanked by a used tire yard on one side and a vacant lot on the other. The area’s residents are predominantly those of a higher melanin content variety, and are described by Zillow.com as low-income and foreign-language-speaking urbanites; most with a high school education or lower.
Okay, I live in a shitty neighborhood. I get it. But does that mean all the grocery stores in the neighborhood have to be shitty too? Do the grungy, low-life inhabitants of our tiny little patch of Phoenix not deserve fresh produce, properly stocked shelves, or dry goods that have yet to expire? Must we be forced to first walk through cigarette-smoking store employees gathered out front before entering the store? Can a brother get a gallon of milk without dirty fingerprints all over the jug? And what the hell is that weird smell in Food City?
I’ve always wondered about the relationship between economic class and the quality of goods and services in their respective communities. Do you naturally get a substandard shopping experience in a low income neighborhood because the quality of the employees and managers isn’t up to par? Or do the people of a poor community just ruin everything no matter how nice you try to make it for them? Even if the latter were the case, that doesn’t explain why all the fruits and vegetables at my local Sprouts are consistently bruised, rotten, damaged, and discolored while the produce at the one in Paradise Valley looks like it could be used for print advertising. It’s seriously like night and day.
I think, at a corporate level, the stores set aside the B-grade products for the poor people. This may sound cynical, but I might go as far as to say that they transfer the “unpicked” produce nearing the end of its shelf life from the nicer stores to the crappy ones. Either way you look at it, in my mind, that’s discrimination! Why should my bell peppers be wrinkled and soft while others enjoy firm, unblemished ones? Why should my cilantro be limp and brown, while someone only 10 miles away gets to have lush green cilantro that snaps when you bend it? Why?!?! WHY?!?!?
Although in a way, it feels good to finally be part of an oppressed group, I believe this is an injustice that has gone ignored for way too long. I’m going to boycott!!! I’m going to plant my own fruits and vegetables in the vacant lot next to the homeless guy! I’m going to open my own Farmer’s Market! I’m going to use my own waste to fertilize my crops (and maybe to throw at my neighbors for disturbing me at night with their domestic violence!) And then we’re going to South Carolina and Oklahoma and Arizona and North Dakota and New Mexico, and we’re going to California and Texas and New York! And we’re going to South Dakota and Oregon and Washington and Michigan, and then we’re going to Washington, D.C., to take back the White House! Yeeeeeeeeeeah!!!
Who’s with me?!?!?
So true. I’ve noticed a direct correlation to area of town vs quality of grocery store and merchandise therein. I’m all for growing your own veggies. I’m in! Raising my own cattle and sheep sounds like a bloody good idea too. Hey, farming for the win.
Well I’m probably lying about growing my own food, but that won’t stop me from bottling up my anger and letting it eat away at my insides. Instead of doing something constructive, I’ve chosen to give dirty looks to the stock guy who pretends to inspect the produce before haphazardly tossing it onto the shelves. Suck on that, Sprouts!!!