Volunteer Kara Jongeling, 30, comes to check the Beasley community fridge and load some supplies on Wednesday, Dec. 8.Photography by Carlos Osorio/The Globe and Mail
“Take what you need, leave what you can,” instructs a colourful mural at a community fridge and pantry in downtown Hamilton.
It’s one of three locations for Community Fridges Hamilton – a project dreamed up by a group of volunteers in the summer of 2020, against a backdrop of a global pandemic, anti-police-brutality protests and economic turmoil.
“There was so much need for mutual aid,” says one of the organizers, Jacqueline Cantar. “It started being more of an emergency, that we needed to start really supporting each other.”
The initiative was inspired by a similar one in Toronto. Unlike a food bank, a community fridge is available 24/7, with no eligibility rules. It simply provides food to those who need it, courtesy of those in a position to give.
After Community Fridges Hamilton put out a call for support, a local brewery welcomed them to set up on the lot of a warehouse space they were using for storage. Someone else donated the fridge.
The demand was immediately apparent. Six months in, the fridge often sits empty, a product of the intense need within the city’s downtown area.
The group has since set up two other fridges in the city: one in the east end, and one on what’s known as the mountain area. Two additional fridges have also since been opened by other groups in the city, including one at McMaster University.
According to a report by the Ontario Public Health Association and Nutrition Connections, 13.3 per cent of households in Ontario experienced some degree of food insecurity in 2019 – a statistic that is elevated for families, and particularly those with single mothers. In the month of March alone that year, according to a snapshot by Hamilton Food Share (the most recent statistics available), almost 23,000 visits were logged at food banks across the city (by 13,292 people, or just fewer than 5,500 households).
On a national level, the most recent available Statistics Canada data show that in 2017-18, one in eight households – or 4.4 million people – experienced food insecurity. The pandemic has only compounded these struggles – and will likely continue to do so. Food prices in Canada are expected to rise as much as 7 per cent in the coming year, meaning the average family of four will pay $966 more for groceries in 2022, according to Canada’s Food Price Report.
Over the course of a snowy three days in early December, The Globe and Mail spoke with dozens of visitors to the downtown Hamilton community fridge to learn more about the role it has come to play in the neighbourhood.
The Beasley community fridge on Tuesday, Dec. 7.Carlos Osorio/The Globe and Mail
Tuesday, 5:26 p.m.
“I guess somebody got here before I did,” says Kirby Butler, 78, as he scans the empty shelves. There are some tomatoes and parsnips in the fridge’s vegetable crispers, and two bags of lentils in the pantry. The freezer is empty.
Mr. Butler stopped by on his way home after dropping a friend off at the hospital to visit a relative. He’d heard of the fridge through a friend, but so far, hasn’t had much luck.
“I’m always late,” he says, heading back to his minivan. “That’s okay. People got here before me, they’re lucky they got something to eat.”
Above, Savana Lee, 32, drops off a bag of food and some hygiene products on Wednesday morning.
Wednesday, 10:05 a.m.
Savana Lee, 32, brings a bag of household staples: a handful of sanitary pads, hair conditioners left over from her hair-dyeing adventures, a few packets of oatmeal and a frozen package of raw cat food that her pet didn’t like. It’s not much, but she likes to bring what she can. “I’m low-income myself, so I pretty much just try and trade,” she says. “If I have extra stuff that I’m not using at the house, I come here and drop it off and see what’s going on.”
Ms. Lee moved to Hamilton earlier this year from the east coast, and after going to school for social work has been trying to find work with a local shelter. So far, no luck. She much prefers the nature of a community fridge to the rigidity of formal food banks.
“I don’t think there should be a barrier. … I think you should be able to access food whenever you want food,” she says. “There shouldn’t be an application process, it shouldn’t be about whether your income is whatever.”
Rose Proper and her brother, Joe Hought, grab a few items from the mostly-empty fridge on Wednesday afternoon.
Wednesday, 4:30 p.m.
“An apple a day to keep the doctor away,” Rose Proper, 26, jokes as she tosses one to her brother, Joe Hought, 33.
He points toward the top shelf of the fridge, and she cranes her neck to look. “Butter!” she says excitedly, tossing a brick into her bag.
Besides the apples and butter, the fridge is largely empty again – after being almost completely full a few hours earlier.
“If you can put stuff in, then obviously put stuff in, but usually I can’t, because I’m on ODSP [the Ontario Disability Support Program],” says Ms. Proper. “My whole cheque goes toward [rent and] groceries and stuff. So usually when I’m out of groceries, I’ll go to food banks or the fridge.”
As they get ready to leave, Ms. Proper’s brother suggests grabbing the other stick of butter for a friend they are going to see. She tosses it in the bag.
Ms. Proper, who lives nearby, adds that the Barton Street Jail is just around the corner, and some people will go directly to the fridge after they are released. “It’s been a good thing for a lot of people,” she says.
Volunteer Emma Daughton, 32, loads the fridge with produce and pantry items on Wednesday evening.
Wednesday, 5:29 p.m.
Emma Daughton, 32, brings some fresh produce, granola bars and hot chocolate and tea packets.
Both drinks were on the request board the week prior, so she made a point of picking some up during a Costco trip.
That’s also where she got the granola bars. They came in a giant box of 64, so she kept a dozen or so for herself and her partner and brought the rest down to the fridge.
She was donating to the fridge for a couple months before she signed on as a volunteer.
“I think I saw on Instagram that they were looking for people to help out with cleaning whenever they can. And I thought, ‘I can do that,’ ” she says.
The fridge often being empty has not necessarily been a surprise.
“I’ve been in Hamilton the last eight years, I’ve seen how incredibly poor a lot of areas are, and that we don’t have a lot of resources or that a lot of them are really structured in a way that’s hard,” she says. “There are a lot of churches that do really great work, and so it’s wonderful that you can go get a warm meal. But that’s not quite the same as you … say, have kids and need some snacks for school for them, on a mid-day Tuesday.”
The previous night, someone had cracked open the supply box inside the pantry, where volunteers keep paper towels and cleaning supplies, and took what was inside. An angry note was scrawled on the request board.
“My take from it was that somebody’s frustrated,” says volunteer Kady Sumner, 32, who wiped it off that morning. “It’s probably somebody who came to the fridge and saw it was empty, or watched other people take lots of stuff – that’s a big complaint at this one.”
Many have expressed frustration about people who fill up bags of stuff, leaving nothing behind for the next visitors. And Ms. Sumner gets it. “But at the same time, who are we to say who needs what?” she says.
She fires off a message to the volunteer group chat, letting them know they’re going to need a new lock for the supply box.
“It is what it is. It still serves tons of people,” she says. “It’s nice to know that we’re helping people.”
Maryann Vansickle and her son, Sam, stop by the fridge on Wednesday evening.
Wednesday, 5:46 p.m.
Maryann Vansickle and her son pass the fridge on their walk to and from school. Earlier this week, she brought some fruit snacks. The box came with both apple and blueberry flavours – but her kids wouldn’t eat the blueberry ones. So to the fridge they went.
“Every time I get something the kids won’t eat or drink, I bring it here and see if they have anything – if I need carrots or mustard or whatever,” she says. “It’s been great. A lot of times it’s empty. It clearly needs a lot more people to donate.”
On this night, they grab a few packets of oatmeal for breakfast and some granola bars.
From the pantry, her son Sam calls out excitedly: “Candy canes!”
“That’s awesome, want to grab one for your brother?” she asks. He tells her he’ll get him two.
The boy also spies a box of Kraft Dinner on the top shelf, but she tells him they’ll leave that for someone else. As someone who has used food banks, she knows how valuable an option like this is for a neighbourhood.
“[At the food banks], they give you almost-expired stuff. [Here] it’s brand-new stuff. You can’t have open stuff, expired stuff. ‘I’m just going to empty my fridge’ – no, it’s not like that,” Ms. Vansickle says. “I’m already poor, I don’t need to be like ‘oh great, I’m going to get sick because I’ve eaten something expired.’ So this is why I love this.”
There is not always a lot of wiggle room in Ms. Vansickle's family's single income budget, so when they need one thing here or there, the fridge is helpful.
Sometimes when it’s empty, she’ll see a group of people clustered around it waiting, and she worries they don’t have anything to eat. “I’ll go home and grab a thing of pasta or something,” she says. “Not that I have much, I’m not working.”
Her family lives on a single income, and there is not always a lot of wiggle room in their budget. So when they need one thing here or there, the fridge is helpful.
She’d like to see more of them pop up across the city.
“A lot of people don’t drive,” she says. “If they can walk by something, and be like, ‘hey, I can either help, or help myself,’ it’s a great idea.”
Almost as soon as Ms. Vansickle and her son leave, another mother comes by with her daughter.
Wafa Abed and her daughter Helen drop off a warm plate of homemade Iraqi food on Wednesday evening. Ms. Abed has also been cooking for a homeless man in the area.
Wafa Abed made a rice and chicken dish for dinner, and made up three individually wrapped portions to bring to the fridge.
Technically, homemade food is not allowed, unless it’s from an approved kitchen restaurant. But the smell wafting from the fridge is incredible, and it’s likely that the meals will be scooped up before another volunteer visits.
Ms. Abed is from Iraq, she says, translating through her 10-year-old daughter, Helen. She’s also been cooking for a homeless man in the area whom the family met while he was sleeping in a park. He’s been staying in a shelter lately, the young girl explains, but they have his cellphone number.
As a McMaster University student studying environmental science and geography, volunteer Keely Carruthers appreciates the sustainability aspect of the fridges.
Friday, 10:07 a.m.
Keely Carruthers, 21, brought a pair of scissors with her to divvy up packets of pudding, and individually wrapped cheese slices. Two bags of mini cucumbers are opened up, along with a box containing four sticks of butter.
Ms. Carruthers also brought yogurt cups and sliced deli meats. Crackers and boxed stuffing. A few packets of instant rice. Some bags of pasta and cans of sauce. Oatmeal. Toothpaste. Candy canes.
Ms. Carruthers works at the Ottawa Street Market, which houses another one of the city’s community fridges.
Because the fridge is marked there on the map, people often call up the store thinking it’s “their” fridge.
“We get calls a lot, and they’re like ‘is the fridge full?’ And I answer the calls, and I’m hearing these people share their stories, and my heart pulls,” she says. “I would wake up every morning, and I see how empty the fridges were and I was like, ‘I need to do something.’ It shouldn’t be hard to fill them when I know there’s so many people who throw out good food.”
Carruthers, 21, restocks the community fridge on Friday morning.
As a McMaster University student studying environmental science and geography, she also appreciates the sustainability aspect of the fridges.
So she started a food drive, collecting donations at the shop. Since early December, they’ve raised $500, and have been able to do a fill-up of each fridge, once a week.
As a result, Ms. Carruthers has started to get a sense of the in-demand items. Microwaveable meals. Frozen dinners. And there are almost always requests on the white board for milk, baby food and pet food.
“It’s heartbreaking,” she says.
She has made a concerted effort to help get the word out, posting about the fridge on social media and even explaining the concept to a bank teller when she went to have the donated coins turned into bills.
“I just wanted to amp it up. … It’s here, people just need to know more about it.”
She is always struck, after a big drop-off, to see through social-media updates how quickly the fridges empty. But she feels good knowing it’s gone. “I’ve made someone a little less hungry.”
A woman visits the fridge along with Chris Love, 71, who stopped by on his way home.
Friday, 11:08 a.m.
Chris Love, 71, was on his way from a local church, which gives out boxes of groceries each month, and stopped at the fridge on his way home to see what they had. “I just figured I’d head by here,” he says.
He takes a package of fish and some bottled water, along with some bologna and a pack of hot dogs.
While he’s there, Willow Watson, 39, jogs up to the fridge, her arms full of bananas.
“I accidentally got too many,” she says. She included “three bananas” in her online grocery order, and ended up with three bunches.
“At least someone can make banana bread,” she says.
The fridge is stocked up on Friday morning.
Mr. Love tosses a couple of the bananas in with his box.
When he gets home, Mr. Love – who is on ODSP, after decades of tough physical work as a longshoreman and in a lumber yard – will go through the box from the church, and pay it forward with any of the stuff he won’t eat.
“If there’s anything in the box I don’t need, I just put it in a bag and give it to somebody I know downtown who’ll eat it,” he says. “I won’t throw it out.”
Molly Hayes