Setting a New Table

Nutrition experts like Rosie Mensah are leading the way for a more diverse, inclusive and culturally specific approach to healthy eating.

- Abigail Cukier

OSIE MENSAH LOVED the richness and diversity of growing up in Toronto. She remembers days of playing at the park, meeting friends at the community center, chatting with seniors she passed during walks, and getting takeout from local Jamaican and Vietnamese restaurants. But throughout the vibrant community in her Jane and Finch neighborhood, there were many food banks, several fast-food spots and neighbors in their 30s and 40s suffering from chronic illnesses, like diabetes and heart disease.

The produce at the local grocery stores was “quite poor,” recalls Mensah, and her family’s budget was tight. “I remember going to school and all the kids would only have $2 for lunch. I remember going to the mall and getting fast food because that was all we could afford,” she says, adding that healthier options were just not available.

Mensah uses the term “food apartheid” to describe where she grew up, which reframes the concept of a “food desert”—a community where residents have limited access to affordable, healthy food options. Instead of grocery stores or farmers’ markets, these areas often have convenience stores, fast-food restaurants, and gas stations. Referring to these neighborhoods as food apartheids is intended to highlight the racist policies that systemically limit access to healthy food in racialized communities. Is healthy produce sold at an accessible price? Are the fruits and vegetables available appropriate for the cultural cuisines being prepared at home? Are locals able to grow their own food? In food apartheids, the answer to these questions is typically no.