You feel that hint of warmth in the air? It’s March and it’s time to talk spring. The question for our “Ask a Farmer” series is perfectly timed for the folks thinking about keeping bees. Here it is:
I have a bee keeping question. We’ve been wanting to start bees for a while but do not have much money. My hubby is a woodworker, can he build our boxes for us?
Also, we have 4 young kiddos. How far away from their area do we need to keep the bees for the kids to be safe? But not have them too far away for us to tend to the bees? -we live on 8.5acres and didn’t know if we could keep them at the back of the property, would that be too far for us to keep them well?
Oh, to be cash poor but land rich! We’re in an urban area where land for beekeeping is nearly impossible to come by so 8.5 acres is definitely an asset that can’t be disregarded.
Most of my bees are on a farm in a rural area which I drive 45 minutes to reach. It’s a privilege to have a car that works and gas to put in it to get there, I acknowledge. It’s also a situation which makes me think a lot about how black people navigate rural spaces. There are costs which, if entered into the ledger, reveal just how expensive it is to be oneself while farming.
At a recent panel about farmers of color, I had the opportunity to candidly explore my experiences as a black person using rural spaces that I don’t own to forward my farming goals. There are many stories that I could share but most start with safety rituals that I know others don’t have to think about. I often buddy up to go on supply runs. Very often, my buddies neither know nor care much about the beekeeping. I have had friends who are afraid of bees venture with me because the knowledge between us was that there were other dangers besides stings and brambles.
I usually also tell someone back home exactly where I am going, how long it’s scheduled to take and what my exact route will be. I keep a paper map, fill up the car with gas and make sure my phone is charged and my charger works. I also have no illusions that these steps alone will do anything to keep me safe. I just do them to not feel so utterly helpless. The example below happened after I had done all of the above.
On a recent trip to an apiary (place where bees are kept), I met the man I was supposed to be getting a few starter colonies from. We had only spoken on the phone until the moment I pulled into his driveway and we were face-to-face. I had called about 30 seconds before arriving to warn him–someone whom you are expecting will be pulling up to your home soon.
Still, when I got out of the car, he kinda adjusted his eyes a bit as if he wasn’t sure if I had been the person from the phone call. He asked where I was from, said he used to live there and, being much older, knew the city at a different time. He started to tell a story, quite interesting actually which is why I indulged him with my listening, about being a young white person living in DC during 1968 riots. If you haven’t heard about the ‘68 riots, I encourage you to look into the uprisings which occurred after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King and nearly a century of struggle for dignity and civil rights by organized black communities all over the United States. I don’t know what I was expecting but what came at the end of his story–the punchline so to speak–was his conclusion that black people were at fault for “ruining the city” and “their own communities…senselessly.” His conclusion, having had a front row seat to the uprisings, were that it was all the fault of the people who had for centuries been under the foot of a powerful racist regime. He went future in saying that the rationale of the rioters, whatever it indeed was, lacked a basic logic that he could respect or understand. Hmm…
I felt a little embarrassed that I had let this guy walk me into the story. “How could I have been so stupid and trusting?” I asked myself silently. I also felt distinctly unsafe–that he would feel so comfortable unveiling his conclusion to me spoke to a less than latent possibility that he was as distinctly aware of my disadvantage–being on his land in a rural town I didn’t know–as he was. I was aware that he had most likely drawn conclusions about me that he would reveal to some poor unsuspecting soul listening to his next story. This was a few years before talk of “Stand Your Ground” laws had entered the common discourse but the awareness of this possibility was heavy on my skin.
His story was more than just a simple political discussion--it felt like a threat. My face grew hot as I closed the hatch to my car and hurriedly backed out of the driveway. My “fight or flight” reflexes kicked in and I was nearly side-swiped by a passing truck because all I wanted to do was leave. His wife actually waved us off from the porch. My friend and I took some deep breaths as the GPS reminded us of the way home. The sting came again as I realized: I had paid this guy for the bees.
Such is a spring in the life of some beekeepers. I have about a dozen of these stories now. They clog my thoughts as I plan for the season once again. My spreadsheet of bee resources looks a lot different from the one I got at the end of my first beekeeping course. Most of those sources have not passed muster in the “not racist/otherwise traumatic” category. Since sourcing bees is one of the first rituals of beginning your own apiary, these experiences have had a formative impact on my politics and strategy around beekeeping.
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The difficulty of some would-be beekeepers at accessing the basic resources for beekeeping may seem like a logistical issue to some but to me it is an environmental and ecological issue of the highest degree. Think about it, if concern for my personal safety keeps me from keeping bees, what does that do for my community’s access to honey, to bee-related therapy, to natural body products or green space? If the type of people I have met along my journey are the ones who have been gate-keeping in the apiculture community, is it any wonder that pollinators are on the brink of collapse? Don’t see a connection? I do and so do others.
Listen to Sista Vegan’s talk, “On Sundown Towns, Trayvon Martin, and Environmental Justice.” She is a geographer, academic and black scholar making connections between environmental justice, sundown towns and the cellular awareness of navigating the outdoors in a racialized body.
This is precisely why I want to take this time to talk about the ways that people of color--particularly queer folks of color--are building resilient networks which reflect our best hope for the survival of our foodways and the pollinators that help make them possible:
Building a more resilient sustainable “Bee-conomy” by engaging other tradespersons of color with talents that complement the beekeeping industry
People act like the maker movement is new. It’s not and has existed out of necessity, especially in low-wealth communities. Around my third incident, I started looking around for local carpenters, woodworkers and folks in the building trades and found quite a few. I approached folks with my idea–I need someone to build beehives locally. I wanted to keep my money in my community, stay safe and support other makers. I’m still in the search so if you have any leads on carpenters of color, readers, let a keeper know!
I even formed a group specifically for folks of color interested in learning carpentry skills in the winter. I got my hives built and we made some other things, too.
“All I need in this life of sin, is me and my table saw.” - Tupac Shakur
Most importantly, we shared the equipment and taught each other about safety. I feel closer to having a network of artisans around me that have my back in more ways than one.
Want to invite Good Sense Farm for a workshop or speaking engagement? Email us at [email protected].
Learning and Teaching In Culturally Affirming Ways
Food–how we eat it, prepare it and share it–is a core part of all cultures. Yet, through he lens of prevailing sustainability and ecology systems, culture is ancillary to saving the planet and feeding people.
I believe the “culture as a side issue” paradigm is what has gotten us into this mess of a food system. There are brilliant folks who are working to recenter culture–particularly the culture of black and indigenous people in the conversation about food.
As we learn more, I see it as our role to make sure the people who approach us to learn about beekeeping should learn about it with that perspective in mind. We do it for the girl scouts…
who seriously want to know what bees and people can learn from each other.
We do it for our friends who help us harvest every year who learn traditional methods of harvesting like the crush and strain method, used to make a thicker, textured honey.
We’re sharing the art of creation with people who we already know to be creators. We use the space of the workshop not to teach people how to do anything. We use it to set the stage for collective imagining.
Creating Human-centered Sustainability Frameworks and responses that address the need for local production through a racial, gender and economic justice lens
The beekeeping industry has survived on practices which I think marginalize communities of color financially, environmentally and socially. When we rage about the use of neonicotinoid pesticides near bee colonies, what’s often left out is that the workers in a commercial bee operation or orchard are sprayed right along with that. That and a host of labor rights issues make sustainable beekeeping not just about the bees.
Beekeeping as it exists now is not sustainable and is quite expensive to get into as a hobby. The honeybees, by the way, are an invasive species of pollinators who just happen to have made themselves at home here in our psyche about local and sustainable food. We could never attain environmental balance if we only pay attention to the honeybees but that’s for another day.
The price of starter colonies climbs every year and the sources are often the very commercial apiaries I have described above. The beekeepers of color in my area are trying to build better pathways for everyone who wants to get into beekeeping to have access. This includes developing and testing their own strains of local bees suited to our region. The “local queens, local bees” idea is catching on in the beekeeping community at large and, in this region.
The successes establishing local bee strains may have an impact on the balance of resources between the commercial industry and the small-holder beekeeper community. Whenever possible, you should try to look for the folks creating this resource in your community.
Well, that’s all for now. I hope this was helpful. To recap, bee like a bee and find your swarm, the rest will come naturally.
