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Belinda Gilmore didn’t feel particularly called to distribute food, but when the opportunity came to help her church share produce and canned food with residents in Detroit’s Islandview neighborhood, she took on the responsibility.

It didn’t take long for Gilmore, a retired social worker, to envision her work as an ad hoc food ministry, in part because of the teachings of her pastor. 

“You attend church to commune with the other people around you and hear the word, but you do church in your community, helping others,” Gilmore, 74, told Planet Detroit.

Over time, she made a routine out of driving twice a week from her home on the city’s east side to Northville to pick up boxes of groceries from big box retailers. From there it ballooned to truckbeds of food. When it became apparent the food ministry could no longer operate out of her church’s parking lot, Gilmore found a vacant property that could double as a 24/7 site for residents in need of food or clothing. 

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Roughly five years later, the Field Street Community Fridge is a neighborhood staple, welcoming locals to take or leave donated groceries at their own discretion. It’s among a patchwork of community fridges and pantries that have sprouted across the city and nation since the onset of the COVID pandemic, and continue to be stocked by mutual aid networks, food rescue operations, community organizations, and passersby.   

As food costs have surged, more people have turned to food banks and mobile distribution sites to supplement their increased grocery bills. But now, with the looming threat and application of federal funding cuts to hunger relief agencies, it’s given more weight to how community fridges and other grassroots efforts can stave off potential food supply shortages and redirect surplus food from landfills.

“We’re scrappy, and it’s exciting to see the creativity that comes out of that,” said Kazza “Kitchen” Kitchell, a lead organizer with Detroit Community Fridge, a volunteer-based mutual aid organization started in 2020 that supports Field Street and other fridge locations. 

“It makes my life better when we’re all fed and to know that if I’m down bad, I have a resource and an infrastructure that hopefully becomes more and more supportive and more sustaining.”

‘I’m glad you’re all still here’

On a bright Sunday afternoon in early March, Kitchell and a handful of volunteers arrived at Hats Galore and More on Gratiot Avenue to help paint one of the Detroit Community Fridge’s food pantries. The site has faced some challenges over the last year, whether due to stolen shelves or fridges, trash buildup, or limited supplies. 

The space will also have a fridge, Kitchell said, but for the time being, the volunteer crew loads the newly renovated pantry shelves with nonperishable goods such as rice packets, canned beans, SpaghettiOs, and powdered milk.

Mike, a 50-year-old Detroiter who grew up near the hat shop and said he stops by the pantry often when it’s stocked, greets Kitchell. 

“I’m glad you’re all still here,” Mike, who declined to share his full name, said. Before the crew is done with its finishing paint touches on the pantry, Mike picks up a freezer bag full of goods before he catches the next bus downtown.

Food distribution is nothing new, but the organizers of Detroit Community Fridge see their work as being in line with mutual aid networks such as Food Not Bombs, that aim to circumvent the bureaucracy and red tape of charity models and promote community self-sufficiency.

“It’s autonomous, it’s 24/7, and it’s as local as can be,” said Kitchell, who uses they/them pronouns. “It gives people choices in a way that’s not always offered to people seeking food.”

Since its beginnings, the network now supports six fridges spread out across Southwest Detroit and Detroit’s east side. Each location varies in traffic, and the community fridge network is not without its challenges, but Kitchell said the project has empowered residents to “create something in the world that we all need and that is done with little resources, comparatively to a nonprofit.”

For Gilmore, the idea of partnering with Detroit Community Fridge was simple. 

“We had all started from nothing,” she said. “All we had was similar interests and similar goals.” 

The Field Street Community Fridge came to life through collaboration between Gilmore and local businesses. Islandview, where Gilmore resides, is located in the 48214 zip code, which has some of the highest rates of food insecurity in the city.

When Gilmore meets somebody new, she’s quick to ask whether they have anything to donate to the community fridge. The fridge has redistributed surplus food from Trader Joe’s and Sam’s Club and received technical assistance from local businesses such as Planted Detroit and Sister Pie.

“That gave the fridge access to fresher foods, which is what our community needs,” she added.

Joy Bass, a McDougall-Hunt resident who regularly distributes goods to the Field Street Community Fridge, said it’s helping people.

“It’s helping others, not just the less fortunate, but anybody that wants to come up here and get whatever they want, bring something, drop something, and take some with them.”

While Google searches for terms such as “community fridge” and “mutual aid” saw a national spike in interest in the spring of 2020, neither phrase has remained popular. Instead, search results for “free food” and “food bank” routinely see high national engagement over the last five years.