It should not be this hard to give out free groceries. Yet here I am, five years into running a nonprofit that does just that, and the barriers we face are not logistical, not about supply, and not about demand—but about systems designed to block access.
Since 2019, Change Today, Change Tomorrow has distributed food to thousands of families in Louisville. We have done this without the million-dollar budgets, without the institutional backing, and despite being displaced from five different locations. I am exhausted.
The lack of care and urgency from those in power is not just frustrating—it is infuriating. We live in a tale of two cities, and Black people in the West End will continue to die due to lacking basic necessities for a thriving life. This is not new information. Black people are not living as long as our white counterparts in this city.
We have seen countless million-dollar projects pop up in Louisville’s West End over these last five years. These projects were upholstered by public relations campaigns that stamped these spaces as needed, equitable, and reliable—in the name of community. When community members asked for housing, we were given a track. When community members asked for grocery stores, people in power opened more than five grocery stores on the other side of town and reduced folks’ access to public transportation. People in power have rather “paved paradise and put up a parking lot” than invested in actual communal needs.
If I call your community center and your community center is not doing any programming, why can’t we distribute free groceries? Why do you need to call your boss and run this up the chain? Why do we need to complete a form and wait a week? Why can’t we just pull up to your facility and distribute groceries to families navigating an active food apartheid? Why is it called a “community center” if the doors are locked in the middle of the day? Why are the community centers so empty?
We recently had to move out of our office housed under the Humana Foundation and the University of Louisville as the “Health Equity Innovation Hub.” This was a $25 million project; our lease was supposed to end in June 2025, and somehow we are displaced with no funding offered or assistance on where to relocate to on February 1, 2025. This funding is tied to equity, yet this was not an equitable experience or transition for us. Who do we submit our feedback to, and will it change their minds? Tiffany Benjamin. Dr. Doug Craddick. No, it didn’t.
Five years ago, I sat in the crowd at a Leadership Louisville event, listening to Dave Christopher share AMPED’s story. He talked about how the city invited him to a meeting, handed him a book of properties, and told him to pick any building he wanted. I was inspired—but also confused.
Because I have asked the same city for a building. And we have all but been laughed out of the room.
What determines who gets that opportunity? Why is it that some organizations are handed keys while others are left fighting for scraps? If Louisville truly values “equity,” then where is the equitable access to resources, to buildings, to long-term security?
I am concerned that funds have become so tied up in who is friends with whom that foundations and people in power are not being intentional about who they fund nor researching new organizations to support. I am afraid that nothing will change in the next fifty years because local foundations and grocers all support our local food bank, whose mission is “working together to provide pathways to end hunger in our community,” yet outright refuse to work with organizations like Change Today, Change Tomorrow.
To be clear, communal values and capitalism do not go together. Capitalism is not going to save us. It is difficult as an educated, poor Black woman to sit back and watch funders throw around terms like “equity” when they are not performing within those terms definitions. I have visited the spaces that receive the million-dollar grants, and I have been treated poorly, not served, and left unsatisfied and unaccommodated all the while that organization continues to garner funds.
There is a lack of trust and cooperation in this city that we so desperately need to acknowledge and fix. I am 34 years old, and people have a bad taste in their mouth about me because I am willing to ask questions for clarity, hold systems accountable, and have hard conversations. The reality is, people need to be mending relationships and getting over their differences for the greater good, for humanity, and for a thriving community.
Until this happens, nothing will change. There is so much going on in the world right now, and people need all the help they can get. Organizations need help. Why is it that some organizations are open from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. and do not open their facility to organizations that could utilize the space between 5 p.m. and 10 p.m.? Or even overnight? Why haven’t we figured out that pooling our resources (our staff, our volunteers, our funds, our assets, our strategic plans) would lighten our load?
People love to joke, “We are not our ancestors.” And they’re right—we aren’t. Our ancestors understood collaboration. They pooled resources, they shared space, and they operated beyond business hours because they knew survival depended on each other. They didn’t just talk about community; they lived it.
Now? We have “community centers” with locked doors at 3 PM. Nonprofits are sitting on millions, refusing to open their spaces after hours. Organizations are protecting their funding like it’s proprietary instead of redistributing it where it’s needed. The hoarding of power and resources is killing us.
But there are still real ones out here. Shoutout to Lafesa at Hip Hop Sweet Shop—her shop burned down, she bounced back, and she still opens her space for our Youth Advisory Council while she bakes for the next day. That is community.
So what’s stopping the rest of you? If you have an empty building, open the doors. If you have access, share it. If you have money, fund something that actually touches people’s lives. Our ancestors moved with urgency—we should too.
To conclude this community call-in, I’m talking directly to the people who hold power, control money, own buildings, and decide who gets access. The time to say something was five years ago. It’s time to do something.
If you have a space sitting empty, open the doors. If you’re donating to corporate nonprofits that spend more on marketing than impact, redirect your dollars to organizations actually touching the people. If you’re sitting on a funding committee, a board seat, or a grant review panel—push for real equity. If you are Tiffany Benjamin, Dr. Doug Craddick, Louisville Metro officials, foundation directors, or grocery executives—what are you actively doing to support Black-led food justice?
- If you have space that can be used for community organizing, programming, or food distribution, fill out this form now.
- If you have funds to redistribute, email me at taylor@change-today.org and let’s talk.
- If you believe in real equity, share this, tag decision-makers, and start the conversation where it matters.
There are loopholes in every system—use them to serve the people, not just to protect your position. Call your friends. Move your money. Open your space. Support Black-led projects. Because until people in power stop hoarding resources, nothing will change.
This article appears in Jan 31 – Feb 13, 2025.