In New York City, the spread of the novel coronavirus has closely tracked the geography of segregation. Though its long-term consequences for public and economic health remain unknown, its immediate threat to the city’s most vulnerable became clear within days. Thousands found themselves suddenly out of work, sick, or housebound, and unable to make rent, buy groceries, or pay medical bills. In the face of skyrocketing need, as well as the striking inadequacy of the governmental response, New Yorkers have come together to hold one another up and, above all, keep one another fed. Dozens of so-called “mutual aid” networks have proliferated throughout the city’s neighborhoods since mid-March. Part mobile food pantry, part virtual block party, and part political education collective, a mutual aid network allows socially-distanced neighbors to pool human and economic resources, plan actions, and forge bonds. Declaring “solidarity, not charity,” collaborators have found one another through Slack and Facebook groups, phone trees, and flyers taped to front doors. They’ve navigated practical questions as well as existential ones, charting routes between grocery drop-offs and choosing software to log requests even as they confront the power dynamics of giving and receiving help in a deeply unequal city. And in the last two weeks, as the frame of the crisis has widened to include the violence suffered by Black and brown neighbors at the hands of the police, care within the newly organized “beloved community” has evolved as well. Members of mutual aid networks have been out in force, delivering PPE, food, and water to the protests’ front lines, manning jail support stations, and shuttling curfew-breakers home. Scott Heins and Cat Zhang were both early organizers of Crown Heights Mutual Aid, and now function as administrators and stewards of the group’s long-term vision — though both are quick to emphasize its horizontal, leaderless structure. Moné Makkawi is one of a small army of shoppers, drivers, and bicyclists putting food, medicine, and other essentials in the hands — or on the stoops — of their neighbors-in-need. To date, the network has completed more than 1700 grocery deliveries to families throughout Crown Heights, as well as adjacent neighborhoods like Flatlands, Canarsie, and East New York. Over the course of a few days in early May, I spoke with Scott, Cat, and Moné about the rapidly-evolving landscape of care, the importance of staying local, and the challenge of being in it for the long haul. https://urbanomnibus.net/2020/06/everyone-has-something-to-give-everyone-has-something-that-they-need/
