Where Urban Agriculture Meets Social Justice: A Model for the Future
A Garden Born From Necessity
It started with a simple idea: if space was limited, why not grow up? In 2011, a coalition of local organizations—including Rauschenbusch Metro Ministries, Clinton Housing Development Company, and Metropolitan Community Church—transformed the roof of Metro Baptist Church into a thriving garden. With no access to heavy machinery, volunteers hauled seven metric tons of soil up narrow staircases by hand. Plastic kiddie pools, repurposed from backyard playthings, became makeshift planters. What began as a single seed planted in defiance of logistical constraints soon flourished into an oasis above the chaos of Hell’s Kitchen.
The project wasn’t born purely out of environmental idealism. For decades, Metro Baptist Church had been running emergency meal programs for its neighbors. But as food insecurity persisted and awareness of nutritional disparities grew, organizers recognized that simply feeding people wasn’t enough—they needed to empower them. The rooftop farm emerged as a way to provide fresh produce while fostering food literacy and community engagement. Today, it stands as a testament to what can be achieved when necessity meets innovation—and a lot of elbow grease.
Cultivating Food Literacy, One Plant at a Time
At the heart of the Hell’s Kitchen Farm Project is Chrisaleen Ciro, the food justice coordinator who transformed a fledgling initiative into a dynamic educational hub. Her role extends far beyond planting and harvesting; she sees herself as a bridge between people and their food sources. “The purpose of the farm is to build community and food literacy,” she explains. That means more than knowing how to grow kale—it’s about understanding where our food comes from, how systems of production have evolved, and how we can reclaim agency over what ends up on our plates.
Ciro’s journey into food justice began during her undergraduate years in Canada, where she worked at a sustainable farm before pursuing graduate studies in communications and media. Her academic background informs the way she approaches outreach, blending storytelling with hands-on learning. Whether teaching volunteers about Indigenous agricultural practices or explaining the science behind composting, she ensures every task becomes a lesson. The farm isn’t just a place to grow crops—it’s a living classroom where knowledge is sown alongside seeds.
Growing More Than Just Vegetables
Beneath the shadow of skyscrapers, the Hell’s Kitchen Farm Project has become a sanctuary—not only for plants but for people. Volunteers like Jessica Wilks, a local resident drawn in by curiosity and social media, find themselves returning week after week. “After hearing rumors of a rooftop garden in the area, I found the farm’s Instagram and decided to get involved,” Wilks recalls. What started as a casual interest turned into a regular commitment, with Wilks spending two hours each morning watering plants and chatting with fellow volunteers.
Then there’s Simone, a retired neonatal nurse whose experience nurturing life in hospital nurseries translates seamlessly to the garden. She describes her time on the rooftop as deeply fulfilling, a sentiment echoed by many who participate. For some, it’s a break from the monotony of city life; for others, it’s a chance to contribute to something greater than themselves. The farm fosters connections that extend beyond the harvest, building friendships and shared purpose among strangers.
Feeding the City, One Harvest at a Time
On a typical Saturday morning, the air buzzes with anticipation as United Talent Agency (UTA) employees arrive in jeans and gardening gloves, ready for a day of service. Under Ciro’s guidance, they divide into teams, each assigned to a different section of the rooftop. Some pluck snap peas from tangled vines, while others dig up turnips or sort through leafy greens. The scent of cilantro mingles with the earthy aroma of freshly turned soil, momentarily masking the car exhaust drifting up from the streets below.
Every harvested vegetable is carefully weighed and bagged before being added to the church’s bi-weekly food distribution program. Last year alone, the farm produced nearly 400 pounds of fresh produce, with individual harvest days yielding anywhere from 20 to 30 pounds of food. These numbers may seem modest compared to industrial farms, but in a neighborhood where access to healthy food is often limited, even a few pounds can make a difference. The bounty supplements hot meals served to migrants and low-income families, ensuring that nutrition doesn’t take a backseat to convenience.
Rooted in Diversity and Inclusion
One of the most striking aspects of the Hell’s Kitchen Farm Project is its commitment to cultural inclusivity. The garden features a wide array of crops that reflect the diverse backgrounds of the community it serves. From Asian vegetables like bok choy and mustard greens to herbs such as cilantro and oregano, the farm makes a conscious effort to grow foods that resonate with its beneficiaries. Even the choice of peppers native to African countries reflects a broader mission: to ensure that everyone sees themselves represented in the food system.
This inclusivity extends to the Lenape Nation, the Indigenous peoples of Manhattan Island. Last year, the farm grew Lenape pole beans—a variety cultivated in the region for thousands of years. “We like to acknowledge that so much of the genetic diversity of the crops we grow are the products of Indigenous communities saving seeds,” Ciro explains. Beyond symbolism, these legumes serve as conversation starters, prompting discussions about the history of food systems and the importance of preserving ancestral knowledge.
Building Resilience Through Partnerships
No garden exists in isolation, especially one perched atop a historic church in the middle of New York City. The Hell’s Kitchen Farm Project thrives thanks to a network of partners, including nonprofits like New York Cares and government-funded initiatives such as the USDA Emergency Food Assistance Program. Each source of support plays a crucial role in sustaining operations, from funding seed purchases to providing refrigeration for stored goods.
One particularly impactful collaboration is with the state-run Nourish Program, which allocates funds to buy fresh produce directly from local farmers. Ciro praises this model for its dual benefits: it supports regional agriculture while reducing the carbon footprint associated with long-distance food transport. “It’s an attempt to create a local food system and is like microdosing socialism,” she quips. More seriously, she views it as a scalable climate solution—one that could inspire similar efforts in other urban centers facing food insecurity.
Facing Uncertain Times
Despite its success, the Hell’s Kitchen Farm Project is not immune to the broader challenges affecting food security in America. Supply chain disruptions, inflation, and proposed cuts to federal assistance programs have all cast shadows over the future. Ciro notes a recent uptick in inquiries from volunteers concerned about the farm’s sustainability. “Because we have various funding sources, I think we are well protected,” she reassures, though she acknowledges the precariousness of relying on shifting political tides.
The numbers tell a sobering story: according to City Harvest, 1.4 million New Yorkers struggle with food insecurity. Defined by the U.S. Department of Agriculture as “limited or uncertain availability of nutritionally adequate and safe foods,” this crisis disproportionately affects marginalized communities. While the Hell’s Kitchen Farm Project cannot solve systemic inequality overnight, it offers a tangible example of grassroots action making a real difference—one harvest at a time.
Looking Ahead: Expanding the Vision
As the sun sets over the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen, Ciro reflects on the road ahead. Her vision includes expanding the project to multiple sites across the city, deepening partnerships with other community organizations, and continuing to educate residents about sustainable food systems. “The dream is to scale up without losing the personal touch that makes this place special,” she says.
In the meantime, the work continues. Seedlings nurtured under artificial lights in the worship hall are carried upstairs to replace harvested crops. Volunteers replant empty pools with heat-tolerant cucumbers and peppers, ensuring the cycle of growth never truly ends. Below, in the basement, shelves are stocked with donations from New York’s Community Food Connection program and other allies. And outside, a line begins to form—families waiting patiently for nourishment, community, and a little slice of hope grown high above the streets of New York.