Select THREE (3) of the following five (5) questions to answer. Save your answers in an MS Word document and submit the document to the correct folder in UM Learn / Assessment / Assignments BEFORE t

Keywords:food security, foodscape, survival, poverty, politics Introduction The geography of food provision and consumption for very low-income and marginalized people in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside neighborhood is full of contradictions and juxtapositions. In the space of a few blocks there are dozens of free and low-cost food providers, including soup kitchens, subsidized cafeterias, and drop-in centers (Li 2010). 1On the streets, people stand in block-long line- ups for hot meals. Church groups hand out sandwiches in the parks. Social service agencies provide food to encourage participation in their programs. Corner stores advertise ice cream, soda, and 99 cent pizza while grocers in nearby Chinatown sell inexpensive produce. Food is sold or bartered on sidewalks along with used clothes, bicycle parts, and myriad other wares. Community gardens and urban farms have sprung up in previously empty lots, providing an opportunity for residents to grow their own food. Inside some of the single room occupancy (SRO) hotels where many residents live, social service organizations run community kitchens to compensate for SROs’lack of facilities and space for storing or preparing food. AntipodeVol. 46 No. 2 2014 ISSN 0066-4812, pp. 537–556 doi: 10.1111/anti.12057 © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. Despite being a low-income neighborhood, food is everywhere on the Downtown Eastside. There are soup kitchens, community gardens, corner stores and trendy cafes. Yet, many of its low-income residents are food insecure, meaning that they experience difficulty in accessing enough nutritious food through safe and predictable channels. Indeed, for low-income people on the Downtown Eastside,finding adequate shelter, healthcare, and food is often a daily struggle. The neighborhood is commonly known for homelessness, marginal housing, addiction, and mental and physical health challenges, including HIV/AIDS. Yet, as Masuda and Crabtree (2010:661) point out, residents have“a paradoxical relationship”with the neighborhood. Despite the daily challenges of living there, it“is a place that encourages healing through acceptance, solidarity, and community”(Masuda and Crabtree 2010:661).

Of course, food is central to survival for all low-income urban residents. Yet, the extensive literature on urban poverty, service provision, and everyday survival strategies in cities of the global North has tended to decenter food as a focus of analysis. While much of the literature acknowledges the importance of food access and provision in the lives of the urban poor, it tends to refer to food as one element within broader discussions of street-level survival (eg Cloke et al 2008; Wilson and Keil 2008). However, at the present conjuncture in global North cities, food is squarely on the agenda of municipal attempts to reduce greenhouse gas emissions by replacing imported goods with local food from urban agriculture and farmers’ markets while food consumption itself is a fashionable cultural marker of class dis- tinction and the basis for a restaurant industry that has long encouraged and benefited from advancing gentrification frontiers. Therefore, this is a politically and intellectually crucial time at which to focus on questions of food and the politics of daily survival in cities. Our purpose is to address the decentering of this fundamental human need in discussions of urban survival by positioning food as a central lens and focus for analyzing the everyday experience of urban poverty and for generating critical examples, ideas, arguments, and questions about how to better organize urban food systems and empower those whose daily survival depends on them.

In the next section, we elaborate on how the use of foodscapes can enhance analyses of food access in low-income communities. We go beyond a recounting of where and when food is available and begin to unpack the contradictory nature of the foodscape. We discuss the experiences of residents as they use charitable meal providers (both spaces of regulation and care), as well as locations outside of the charitable system, including restaurants, corner stores and bins. We then turn our attention to the politics and possibilities that exist as part of the foodscape.

Here, we explore issues of gentrification and food activism, both of which have the potential to alter not only how food is accessed but its meaning within the Downtown Eastside.

Critical Geographies of Foodscapes and Survival Geographers have had a long, if uneven, engagement with questions of poverty.

DeVerteuil’s (forthcoming) review, for example, notes a surge of interest in poverty 538 Antipode © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. in the 1970s, followed by a nadir in the 1990s when the term was not included in the field’s leading dictionary. Nonetheless, geographers have contributed grounded analyses of the conditions and experience of poverty. Work on homelessness has long been a key contribution in this regard (eg Dear and Wolch 1987; Rowe and Wolch 1990; Wolch and Dear 1993), as has research into the practices and institutional sites of social service provision (eg DeVerteuil and Wilton 2009; Lawson and Elwood 2013), while there are ongoing debates over the concepts used to frame analyses of poverty (DeVerteuil forthcoming; Lawson 2012; Lawson and Elwood 2013). Yet, as Milbourne (2004) and DeVerteuil (forthcoming) emphasize, there is a continued need for research into the local geographies and everyday experiences of poverty.

Recent discussions of poor people’s geographies of survival—socially produced arrangements of public and private spaces and social services that define how, and even if, people can live in a particular place (McLean 2012; Mitchell and Heynen 2009)—offer potential to deepen our analyses of the lived realities of low- income people’s lives. These discussions have, as yet, tended to focus mostly on the institutional, legal, and activist practices that define modes and spaces of survival. Scope remains for elaborating both conceptually and empirically on the experiences and practices of low-income people as they seek out food every day and on the connections that exist between those daily strategies and attempts to develop a politics of food justice in cities.

If we are to position food at the centre of a critical analysis of urban poverty, it is worthwhile to utilize and further develop an established approach or concept in our analysis. One possibility is research into“food deserts”, typically defined as a low-income area that lacks grocery stores or other retail food, often the result of income or racial inequalities (Walker et al 2010; for examples of this approach, see Kelly et al 2011). Largely based on quantitative techniques and GIS, this litera- ture has developed a rigorous and detailed approach to the analysis of food in cities (McKinnon et al 2009). Yet, its strengths in identifying neighborhoods that lack gro- cery stores etc and highlighting economic and racial inequalities in food access are undermined by its tendency to produce static and fragmentary accountings of numbers of food sources without conceptualizing the ever-changing, social, rela- tional, and political nature of landscapes of urban food consumption and provision.

For critical geographers, an alternative to this quantitative, supply-side approach is“foodways”,“the cultural and social practices that affect food consumption, including how and what communities eat, where and how they shop and what motivates their food preferences”(Alkon et al 2013:127; see also Cannuscio et al 2010). The sociality of the foodways approach is paralleled by the second, comple- mentary concept of“foodscape”, which explicitly emphasizes the spatiality of food systems. While food deserts and foodways have become well defined, the use of “foodscape”has been more diffuse; referring in its different uses to food production, retailing, and consumption and to a range of scales, from global to local (Cummins and Macintyre 2002; Mikkelsen 2011). Geographers have deployed the concept to explore“the ecological sites and social relations of food production, consumption, and distribution”in the corporate organic foodscape (Johnston et al 2009:513) and to explore foodscapes within which food has moral Foodscapes and the Geographies of Poverty 539 © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. and ethical meaning (Goodman et al 2010). Both of these approaches point to the political potential of foodscapes in elucidating the“processes, politics, spaces, and places of the praxis…embedded and produced in and through the provision- ing of food”(Goodman et al 2010:1783). Despite these interventions, it can be argued that foodscape remains a“chaotic conception”(Sayer 1992)—one that may evoke a general sense of a phenomenon but is too all-encompassing to be of great analytical value.

Nevertheless, we argue that this weakness can and should be overcome because the concept offers a language for thinking through food–place relations in terms of geographies and politics of urban poverty and survival. The concept can be sharpened by taking seriously the situated and relational connotations of Appadurai’s (1991:33) use of“-scapes”,“which are not objectively given relations…[but] deeply perspectival constructs, inflected by the historical, linguistic, and political situatedness of different sorts of actors”. Thus, the foodscape concept both requires and rewards beingsituatedin a particular place and focused on the relationships that a particular community has with food. Its conceptual value can also be enhanced by focusing on the mutually constitutive relationships among various aspects of a food system, rather than on its separate, quantifiable, or mappable attributes (eg existence and number of food outlets). Deploying foodscape in this situated, relational way necessitates a qualitative approach that elicits interviewees’personal narratives to explain the complex, enacted, changing, and political food landscape of a particular urban neighborhood and its residents. We deploy foodscape in this way to focus on the intersections of food, survival, and politics—specifically the social, material, institutional, and classed contexts in which low-income people access and interact around food in cities.

It is in this context that food can be positioned centrally in the study of geographies of poverty and survival (Mitchell and Heynen 2009; see also Heynen 2009, 2010; McLean 2012). This is not to say that we should privilege food as the only lens through which to understand survival but to argue that, when approached in terms of social construction, relationality, and spatiality through the notion of a foodscape, the study of food elucidates the everyday agency and political potentialities of very low-income urban residents. As Mitchell and Heynen (2009:613, emphasis added) put it:

people in poverty continue toactivate their own geographies of survival, to construct pathways of survival through the urban landscape that link together places to sleep or rest (ranging from relatives’couches to their own apartments to a relatively dry place under a bridge), locations to eat a meal or forage food, hidden corners of security and safety (soup kitchens, pantries, stores friendly to food stamp recipients, restaurant dumpsters), and even sometimes such relatively permanentfixtures as homeless encampments or shanty towns.

This is a very different urban foodscape than the one featured in the glossy advertising of gentrifying condo developments or in municipal sustainability discourse. In many cities, including Vancouver, urban food policies promote some forms of food production and distribution, such as community gardens, fruit tree projects and other“green”initiatives; yet often ignore food insecurity (Mendes 2008). The power of these hegemonic discourses leads to a regard for food itself as having been 540 Antipode © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. irreparably gentrified and subsumed under neoliberal rhetorics in contemporary global North cities. This discourse is not complete, however, and it should not dissuade us from critically analyzing the experience of poverty and survival in low- income urban foodscapes and identifying the alternative politics of food being generated in places like the Downtown Eastside. After an outline of our research methods, we will discuss the contexts, strategies, and politics of food access in the changing geography of that neighborhood.

Researching Foodscapes As Alkon et al (2013:128) note in their critique of supply-side food desert approaches to understanding food insecurity, in order to“understand the compli- cated sets of variables that go into food choice, and the varied food landscapes that low-income residents navigate, a qualitative analysis is required”. Here, we draw upon a series of in-depth interviews with 47 low-income residents of the Downtown Eastside. 2Interviews were focused on how, when and where residents accessed food within the neighborhood (eg charitable food providers, stores, restaurants), any difficulties they had withfinding food, and moreover, how they felt about these sites. The interviews were arranged through a low-barrier social service agency located in the neighborhood that also helped in recruiting residents and provided a secure and confidential space for conducting the interviews. With their permission, the interviews were recorded and if permission was not granted, detailed notes were taken.

Recorded interviews were transcribed and analyzed thematically in order to draw out common (and at times divergent) experiences with the Downtown Eastside foodscape (Aronson 1994). Analysis entailed reading all transcribed data, develop- ing salient codes, and applying these codes to sections of the interview texts. The coded data were then organized into themes, which were derived from similarly coded sections of text (Aronson 1994). These dominant themes centered on the daily strategies used by residents to obtain food, why certain places were chosen over others, and what they liked and did not like about the foodscape. Using the residents’own descriptions of their experiences and strategies, we highlight the daily experiences that they identify as most salient to their ability to eat enough nutritious food on the Downtown Eastside. The names and some of the identifying information have been changed to protect the residents’identities.

The majority of those interviewed were Caucasian (51%) and male (66%), while 34% were Aboriginal, 9% of African descent, and 6% Latino. The average age of the residents at the time of the interviews was 42. The majority (98%) reported a history of drug use, although not all were current drug users and several reported being in or having completed drug rehabilitation. In addition, 72% said that they had some sort of physical or mental illness or disability. The most common of these were hepatitis C, HIV/AIDS, and mental illness. Among those residents who were interviewed, 26% were living in a private SRO, 23% were in supportive housing, 21% were in non-market housing run by a non-profit organization (often a converted SRO room), and 6% were living in a social housing apartment. Nearly all residents were receiving social assistance in the form of income assistance Foodscapes and the Geographies of Poverty 541 © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. ($235/month for a single adult), disability assistance ($531/month), or support for persons with persistent multiple barriers ($282.92/month). Individuals receiving these forms of support are also provided with $375/month for housing. According to one survey, however, only 5% of SRO units in the Downtown Eastside rent at this rate or less (Swanson and Drury 2012), which forces residents to use money that might have otherwise gone to food for housing. Only two residents reported wage labor as their primary source of income, although others engaged in informal economic work such as collecting bottle and cans, volunteering for a stipend or working odd jobs. Taken as a whole, physical and mental illness, drug use, homelessness, and poor quality housing in addition to marginal incomes suggest that these residents have a number of barriers to food access yet are also those most in need of nutritious food.

The interviews have been supplemented by ongoing participant observation in the neighborhood, consisting of working closely with several non-profitorganizations around food issues, attendance at food and social service-related meetings and public forums, organizing and being involved in working and research groups, and participating in site visits and tours to Downtown Eastside social service, housing, and health agencies. This observational method allows an understanding of food insecurity from multiple perspectives, including those of the food providers themselves.

The Practices and Politics of a Low-income Urban Foodscape The Downtown Eastside has long been an important social space in Vancouver. It was originally a“space of male labour”, composed of transient or former workers in the BC resource industries (Ley and Dobson 2008:2483). SRO hotels, providing basic housing and charitable services, emerged to care for the needs of this population (Linden et al 2013; Sommers 1998). In the 1980s, other groups, such as low-income Aboriginal people, the deinstitutionalized mentally ill, and the homeless also began to use the neighborhood as it provided much needed resources, including food and shelter (Smith 2003). The Downtown Eastside is also a space where illegal drugs are easily accessed, which has given rise to high rates of health and social problems including hepatitis C, HIV/AIDS, overdose, and street crime (Linden et al 2013).

Partly through these circumstances and partly by design, the Downtown Eastside has developed a significant concentration of government and non-profit social services in a relatively small area. Indeed, over 35% of social service offices in the city are located there, as well as a high percentage of social and subsidized housing (Ley and Dobson 2008; Smith 2003).

For the low-income residents interviewed, their daily paths through the streets are both enabled and constrained by the structure of that urban space and their experience of the various ways in which food is made available there. They are most commonly involved in negotiations with the charitable food sector but they oftenfind ways to circumvent that system, with its various restrictions, regulations and stigmas, through alternative food procurement strategies. Most combine food obtained from charitable meal programs with that purchased from stores or restaurants, prepared 542 Antipode © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. in community kitchens, or traded with friends or family. While this experience, which we detail below, is specific to those interviewed and would likely differ somewhat for other individuals and groups, we argue that it generally resonates with the experience of the low-income community on the Downtown Eastside and with those in other urban settings who face similar social and economic conditions.

In the interviews, residents asserted that getting something to eat on the Downtown Eastside was relatively easy or, as Marina, a white woman in her 40s said,“You can’t starve here on Hastings”, the major neighborhood street, and that, in comparison to many other places in British Columbia, there is a relative abundance of locations to eat. This suggests that the Downtown Eastside may not be a food desert, as commonly defined in much of the literature, but it nevertheless raises a question about whether residents of this low-income neighborhood are food insecure in a place where food programs abound. Food insecurity,“the inability to obtain sufficient, nutritious, personally acceptable food through normal food channels or the uncertainty that one will be able to do so”(Davis and Tarasuk 1994:50) is about more than food deserts, or hunger in any straightforward sense. Rather, it is about the experience and political economy of food insecurity, including the spatial, social, cultural, political, and the emotional aspects of food. One way of understanding the complexity of food insecurity is to examine the forces that shape a foodscape, how that space is enacted by those who inhabit it as well as the contradictions that arise from a complex food landscape that is embedded within the political economy of food provision.

Since food is a daily necessity, accessing it is central to daily geographies of survival for low-income residents of the Downtown Eastside. When asked where he goes to eat, Willis used the term“Hasting Shuffle”to describe how he moves from one meal program to another through the day:

I start the morning at eight thirty at United Church. They serve you vegetables and soup.

And then somehow I end up here [a drop-in centre] at ten o’clock and eat here. Then I go next door to the Look Out [drop-in centre]; then I go to the United Church or Union Gospel [Mission]. It’s the Hastings shuffle (Aboriginal man, 40s).

As Cloke et al (2008:252) note in their study of homeless people in Bristol, England, soup lines and free meals“act both as significant nodes in the daily jour- neys of homeless people in the city and as strong regulatory influences on such movements…”Thus, the“Hastings shuffle”and the Bristol“food route”are both examples of the daily rounds that the homeless and marginally housed make to access food and other services. The specific character of these rounds depends upon the economic and housing circumstances of those involved, as well as their past experiences negotiating the rules and expectations of charitable food providers, their understanding of the opportunity structures in which they operate, their social networks, gender identities, and health status, among other factors.

In the following sections we explore three components of a foodscape that, in combination, are produced by and shape low-income people’s everyday geographies of survival: food availability and food programs’regulations; residents’constrained agency and choice; and the a range of responses to the political-economic constraints and growing pressures on the existing foodscape caused by a lack of state funding and increasing gentrification.

Foodscapes and the Geographies of Poverty 543 © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. “Beggars can’t be choosers”: Negotiating Rules, Regulations, and Line-ups There is no government entitlement program specifically for food in Canada, unlike the federally funded Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program in the US, for example. Therefore, charitable food providers are a crucial, yet ad hoc and largely unregulated, part of the foodscape in low-income Canadian neighborhoods (Dachner et al 2009; Riches 2002; Tarasuk and Dachner 2009; Tarasuk and Eakin 2003). In their critique of charitable food distribution in Canada, Wakefield et al (2013) note that the sector“can be seen as a fundamental component of the shadow state”; substituting“publicly provided services with private or non-profit initiatives as part of ongoing attempts to‘roll back’the state and retreat from the provision of social services in neoliberalism”[see also Warshawsky (2010) for similar trends in the US]. As in other cities in Canada, this lack of state support leaves Vancouver’s charitable programs constrained by limited funds, reliant on donations from private companies (eg grocery stores needing to rid themselves of expiring or overstocked goods) or time-limited contracts and grants.

Within the micro-sites of the food programs themselves, governance of the poor is enacted through rules, regulations, and line-ups. Residents told stories of being banned from certain food providers because they were using drugs or acting intoxicated and others complained about having to attend religious services in order to receive a meal. In other instances, individuals did notfit into the client categories—age, gender, disability, or ethnicity—defined by the food provider, which created divisions and exclusions within the wider community. In one instance, Suzi, an Aboriginal transgender woman and sex worker, recounted how she was unable to access food at a program for female sex workers because she did not always appear“female”:

When you go [to a woman-only food program] now, you have to be dressed to the hilt.

Trannies have to have high heels on and be dressed as a woman. You can’t just go there like I am right now. I am transgender. I am on hormones but I can’t go there just like this.

I have to have boobs in, hair-up, make-up on.

Thus, while this particular program welcomes some of the most marginalized and stigmatized people on the Downtown Eastside, it also excludes others who do not appear tofit into its definitions (see also Miewald et al 2010).

Although it is free or low cost and relatively abundant on the neighborhood, obtaining food takes a good deal of time, energy, and knowledge. One must know where to go and when, within a complex and constantly changing landscape of providers and other resources. Programs open and close, hours change, and providers stop serving early because they run out of food. Frank described the difficulties of accessing food on a holiday when many of the food programs are closed:

Yesterday it was difficult for being a holiday long weekend. Four places that hand out food were shut down because of the holiday. It was hard to get some decent food because that means all the other food line-ups are doubled up and they run out. I was in a line-up to get something to eat and I just got up to the window and [they told me]“we’re out”.

I wound up going to [another food provider], which I don’t like (white man, 40s).

544 Antipode © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. Line-ups for food, some of which stretch for a block or more, create anxiety and sometimes conflict, a situation that is highlighted in Jimmy’s description of line- ups:“You spend so much time in line, it’s awful…there arefights in the line, it’s horrible”(white man, mid 30s). Those with physical limitations or addictions may not have the ability to wait and therefore are excluded from these spaces. While line-ups are used pragmatically by providers to regulate theflow of program partic- ipants through dining rooms, for some they are also the most visible and stigmatizing manifestation of the rules and regulations around charitable food.

Those who use the charitable system have little say in when, what or with whom they eat and are expected not to complain about, or reject, the food provided (Tarasuk and Eakin 2003). While residents noted that the quality of charitable food is often limited and lacking in variety, they also commented that it“fills you up”and while“not really the healthiest diet…it’s better than no diet”, they acknowledged that most food providers were constrained in their ability to provide healthier food.

For example, Paul said that while he“could do without sandwiches for a while”he also understood that charitable organizations are often strugglingfinancially. He went on,“so you can’t complain. Beggars can’t be choosers”(Aboriginal man, 40s).

“The staff has class. They don’t kick you around”: Negotiating the Paradoxical Spaces of Charitable Food While the neighborhood foodscape is partly the product of the funding, inventories, missions, rules, regulations, and schedules of a range of charitable food providers, it is also produced by how food-insecure residents negotiate it, within social and economic constraints. While in some respects, Paul’s assertion that“beggars can’t be choosers”reflects an acceptance of the regulations and limitations of the charitable system, interviews also revealed many examples of residents making decisions about where to eat based on criteria that go beyond simply accessing a free meal. Therefore, here, we focus on the strategic ways in which residents utilize neighborhood food resources. In addition, we point out that these spaces themselves can act in contradictory ways, depending on who is using them, which complicates attempts to define them, and the charitable food sector in general, as either wholly positive or wholly negative.

While the charitable food sector has been critiqued for providing inadequate nutrition and failing to address the structural causes of food insecurity (Loopstra and Tarasuk 2012), it also provides spaces of care, sustenance, and survival (DeVerteuil 2012a; DeVerteuil and Wilton 2009) for low-income residents that serve as“zones of encounter”between individuals of differing class backgrounds. As such, they provide opportunities for governance of the poor as well as increased understanding across class lines (Lawson and Elwood 2013). While some programs are limited to providing meals and enforcing sobriety among participants, for example, others operate with few barriers to participation and some offer spaces where residents can access showers and phones, take yoga or art classes, cook together in community kitchens and interact with both staff and neighbors (Cloke et al 2008; Masuda and Crabtree 2010). Where residents chose to eat was often a Foodscapes and the Geographies of Poverty 545 © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. reflection of where they felt they received care in the form of good food and socia- bility, where they felt safe, and where they were treated well by staff. Perhaps most important for residents was the feeling that they were treated with respect or as Andre, an older Aboriginal man, explained when asked why he was a regular participant at one low-barrier drop-in centre:“The staff has class. They don’t kick you around. They show that they have respect for you.”One way of showing respect is by creating meal programs that do not require line-ups, provide some measure of choice in what is served, and include healthy, high-quality food.

However, this is a tall order for most charitable food providers who operate on tight budgets, rely on unpredictableflows of donations, and have little access to stable state funding.

Furthermore, the regulations that exclude some people like Suzi from certain spaces also create a sense of safety for others. Programs that only serve women, Aboriginal people, or sex workers create safe spaces for these groups, often by excluding others who do notfit certain categories. For example, many women said that they favored women-only food programs, which they identified as safer and providing better quality food. For example, when asked why she chose to largely eat at a women-only program, Kate responded:

Wellfirst of all it’s a women’s center and I don’t have to worry about guys bugging me and it’s a safe place to eat. They have a lot of other services there and it’s just a nice place to go (white woman, 30s).

Having a“nice place to go”instead of standing in an often-rainy sidewalk line-up provided a greater sense of safety and caring for Kate and other women. Additionally, Aboriginal agencies work to incorporate culturally appropriate components to their food provisioning, including gardening and traditional food preparation. These organizations are attempting to address the specific needs of the people they serve in an attempt to improve health and wellbeing. This notion of food programs as forms of caring was also expressed by some food providers who saw their role as both enhancing nutrition and creating safe spaces for their participants. In this respect, social service providers created spaces of care and sustenance (DeVerteuil and Wilton 2009) where both the material for survival are provided and acts of caring are performed that create networks and relationships between residents and staff.

Diners, Dumpsters, and Corner Stores: Strategies Beyond the Charitable Sector While the focus of most geographical research on urban poverty and survival has been on sites where social services are provided, an examination of the foodscape sheds light on places beyond these institutions. The inexpensive diners, pizza stands, and corner stores that dot the Downtown Eastside serve as alternatives to the charitable food sector because they are less restrictive, allowing for greater control over when and what to eat (see also Gaetz et al 2006). These places are often overlooked when it comes to understanding the social dynamics of low-income 546 Antipode © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. foodscape (but see Alkon et al 2013; Bedore 2010), or are viewed as sources of poor nutrition and therefore in need of intervention to increase the amount of healthy foods they sell (O’Malley et al 2013). However, residents of the Downtown Eastside are able to buy ice cream, chips, and candy for a few dollars at corner stores and inexpensive cafes and Chinese take-outs are known to provide large portions at cheap prices. James explained that although he had limitedfinancial resources, he did occasionally“splurge”on a restaurant meal as a special treat:

There’s Flowers [Café]…it’s just one of the inexpensive restaurants. If you live down here, you don’t have a whole lot of money to spend on restaurants and stuff like that so I use that one and then there’s a Chinese place over in Chinatown. You get a fair amount of food there for four dollars (Aboriginal man, 40s).

Although restaurant meals could be afinancial drain on limited resources, some preferred to eat there rather than standing in line-ups that could be dangerous, stigmatizing, and time consuming. Chuck explained that for those engaged in drug dealing or sex work, restaurants are preferable to charitable providers as they afford some level of privacy and safety:

A lot of the working girls eat restaurant food. They get their payoffs on a daily basis and they don’t have the time or the patience [to stand in line]. A lot of the working girls, they have issues with standing in line where everyone can look at them and judge them (white man, 30s).

Yet, while restaurants and corner stores offer respite from charitable meals, they too can be sites of regulation. One must have thefinancial resources to purchase food and, increasingly, these locations are policed by private security who eject those who do not appear to be“paying customers”. Therefore, some residents relied on an underground economy to access food, often buying or trading for it on the street, thereby avoiding the regulations of both the charitable and private sectors.

For those without the economic resources to buy food, retail outlets also provide a source of discarded or“dumpstered”food. Some residents said they preferred to get food from dumpsters rather than relying on soup kitchens. Dumpster diving is viewed as a way of utilizing food that would have otherwise gone to waste, rather than as an unacceptable way to access food (Eikenberry and Smith 2005). For these residents, it is at times a challenge to access the bins as increasing numbers of them are being locked or behind fences. Nonetheless, this revanchist tendency is undermined by staff of certain restaurants and grocery stores who leave food out, so that it is available to those who want it. Nadine explained her strategy forfinding otherwise wasted food:

I’ve been doing dumpster diving for years. Well, [a fast food chain] throws out stuff every night and they usually put it beside the garbage too for you and they usually have it all wrapped up for you too. Mainly downtown here, and [a coffee chain] they do the same thing. Sometimes they’ll wrap up stuff and put it near the bins for you.

This practice on the part of staff and, on some occasions, sanctioned by owners, indicates that a low-income urban foodscape is relationally produced between Foodscapes and the Geographies of Poverty 547 © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. poor and marginally housed residents and a range of other inhabitants and users of the neighborhood; not only those who work in charitable and non-profit agencies but also the staff of some retail establishments.

In the two previous sections we identified the ways low-income residents exert some power and agency over the regimen of the charitable food sector. Yet, they are constrained in their ability to access food by economic circumstance and both subtle and overt exclusion from certain spaces. A foodscape approach allows for an understanding of the diversity of strategies for obtaining food and at the same time addresses the structural constraints that limit these efforts.

The Politics of a Changing Foodscape: Pressures and Possibilities The strategies and choices Downtown Eastside residents have in accessing food and the ability of charities to provide it are constrained by the lack of secure funding for low-income food programs at all levels of the Canadian state. The longstanding absence of the state in this aspect of the neighborhood’s foodscape is compounded by its growing presence in another. At least since 2004, when a chief city planner explicitly urged Vancouver’s condo developers to turn their attention from increasingly built-out areas of the western and central downtown peninsula to the Downtown Eastside and surrounding areas, the City has encouraged and facilitated a push to gentrify the neighborhood (Beasley 2004). One element of this gentrification has been the promotion of a high-end“foodie culture”, evident in the growing number of upscale cafes, bars, bistros and restaurants that have emerged in the last decade and the media-driven rebranding of the neighborhood as the next foodie destination featuring a cadre of“top chefs”(eg seeScout Magazine2013; also Aiello forthcoming; Burnett 2013).

This“foodie gentrification”involves the displacement of the inexpensive diners and corner shops that once epitomized the neighborhood. During a tour of the Downtown Eastside given by one charitable organization, the resident tour guides pointed out several new foodie locations, such as a gourmet donut shop, noting that they could never afford to shop there (field notes 2012). Charitable organizations also feel threatened by the rapid gentrification of the neighborhood where rising rents and gentrifier NIMBYism may increasingly constrain their abilities to provide services (see also DeVerteuil 2012b). Municipal efforts to create a“social mix”in the area, the conversion of privately owned SROs into more expensive hotels and the erasure of inexpensive stores and restaurants means fewer places for people to live and eat (Funk 2012). These, according to community activists, are only some of the many high-end developments punctuating the neighborhood with “zones of exclusion”(Marquez et al )—areas and establishments that low-income residents cannot afford, are actively prevented from entering, or in which they feel uncomfortable.

These pressures have recently encouraged a politics of resistance by some neighborhood residents and community activists. Famously, a month-long picket in 2013 targeted Pidgin, a new restaurant, with a“champion”chef that opened across a narrow street from a park where homeless people congregate. The action 548 Antipode © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. was sparked in part by an opening-night review by a local blogger that praised Pidgin’s large windows, looking onto the park, offering diners a“wide angle view of the oft-sordid goings on across the street…[while] supping foie gras rice bowls and sipping Negronis in heated, cloistered comfort…” “[T]hat’s the reality of Vancouver”, he continued,“and I dig that they’re framing it instead of running from it”(Scout Magazine2013). Similar protests subsequently focused on a second restaurant, with pickets holding signs including one saying,“stop Boutique Restaurants”(Lupick 2013) (see Figure 1).

Resistance to gentrification is one form of action around food in the contemporary Downtown Eastside. Others, involving a range of activists including some also involved in the resistance, seek to reimagine the neighborhood foodscape in social, nutritional, and physical terms and to increase the range of alternatives to charitable food. Community food security programs, including community gardens and kitchens, good food boxes and coupon programs at farmers’markets have emerged. Unlike charitable meals, community programs engage participants in activities like food production or cooking and often have some skill- or community- building aspect (Heynen et al 2012). They attempt to both improve the quality of food and, in some instances, address wider structural issues of income inequality. For example, the Hastings Urban Farm operates as a social enterprise, providing employment and training, a horticultural therapy program, and is a source of fresh produce for meal programs (see Figure 2). At the same time, these urban gardens and farms are often the result of tax incentives to developers who are encouraged to“land-bank”lots that they are not ready to develop but which likely be built on in the future as part of what Quastel (2009) terms ecological gentrification.

Therefore, the long-term viability of these spaces as part of the foodscape is tenuous.

On the one hand, these initiatives represent the insecurities that emerge from reliance on the private sector to provide space for urban food production and have been critiqued for“reproducing neoliberalism in placing the economic needs of producers above food provisioning, for turning to market mechanisms to increase food access rather than demanding it of the state”(Alkon and Mares 2012:350).

Figure 1:Protesters in front of Cuchillo, one of the restaurants that have been the focus of protests in the neighborhood. Reproduced with permission of Travis Lupick, The Georgia Straight Foodscapes and the Geographies of Poverty 549 © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. Yet, they also represent the potentialities of alternative food production models since they allow residents to participate in food production that would have otherwise been impossible, given their living conditions and lack of access to land. Nonetheless, their small-scale and tenuousfinances mean that, unless they are scaled up to reach a larger number of food-insecure people and provided with secure funding and facili- ties, they are unlikely to redress the inherent inequalities that structure the food system (Dowler and O’Connor, 2012; Kirkpatrick and Tarasuk 2009).

The Downtown Eastside Neighborhood House (DTES NH) takes the politics of food further by focusing on the“right to food”,“urban food justice”, and“food sovereignty”to link food access to issues of democracy, citizenship, and environmental justice (cf Bedore 2010). The organization’s operating philosophy is directly political, identifying it as“activist, reformist and non-violent, critical of the poverty mentality and its handmaiden the charity model”(Downtown Eastside Neighborhood House ).

According to the organization’s Food Philosophy (Downtown Eastside Neighborhood House ), the“right to food”is central to their efforts and it directly critiques the contemporary charity model by advocating for healthier food provided in a dignified manner. In its efforts to reshape the foodscape of the neighborhood, the DTES NH, through its Kitchen Tables Project 3(http://dteskitchentables.org/), not only provides a number of community kitchens and healthy smoothies at various gathering spots in the neighborhood, but also works to empower residents through theRight to Foodzine (http://dtesnhouse.ca/zine/) and the Right to Food Mobile Mural Project which outlines their food philosophy, including the statement“Dignifying food = more food @ more places with no lineups”(see Figure 3).

This organization directly challenges the charitable food system by providing an alternative discourse to the institutionalized“beggars can’t be choosers”paradigm by“[o]ffering people a choice of the foods they ingest”. Beyond provisioning, its politics challenge the“commonly held myth that those living in poverty don’t have nutritional knowledge or aspirations”by acknowledging“food to be a communicative instrument and hence [using] its offering as an instrument of community building”.

In this respect, the organization is attempting to work to both improve the quality of Figure 2:Hastings Urban Farm, run by the PHS Community Services Society. Photograph by C. Miewald 550 Antipode © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. food provided in the short-term as well as work on long-term efforts to re-envision the foodscape (cf McEntee and Naumova 2012).

Indeed, residents in our study spoke about the wider food justice movement in the Downtown Eastside, of which the DTES NH is one part, and argued that it had made a difference in recent years. While cakes, muffins, and donuts were once the primary foods provided, there is now more fresh produce served and, increasingly, organizations are moving away from line-ups in favor of a more open door approach. Residents also expressed an awareness of the connection between food and dignity, and as noted above, strived to eat at places where they were respected through the attitudes of staff, the quality of meals, and the way in which they are served. Yet, all programs remain constrained in their abilities to improve food quality without adequate funding and as long as the reliance on donations persist, these organization may be constrained in their abilities to reform an entrenched system.

Conclusion Food is basic human need that is imbued with social meaning. It is a marker of class, signifier of health, and a symbol of caring. The provision of food can result in both zones of encounter—providing the potential for alternative politics around food, and exclusion—as in the case of gentrification. In this paper, we have used foodscape as a lens to explore the role of food in survival and to go“beyond food”to institutional structures that contribute to inequalities, including food insecurity (Passidomo 2013). In a neighborhood that has long been defined by struggle, food is both a “contested territory”(Chambers 2011) and a fundamental focus of everyday survival.

What Willis called“the Hastings shuffle”—the daily rounds in which low-income resi- dents engage tofind food and other forms of sustenance—providelittletimeforordi- nary people to do much about the overarching political-economic structures that affect the foodscape of the Downtown Eastside. Willis is homeless, has HIV/AIDS, and while no longer using“hard”drugs, occasionally drinks and uses marijuana to help his appe- tite. The charitable providers that are part of his daily rounds provide food and social spaces and he is appreciative for what he receives. Yet, while his strategies, choices, and interactions, like those of the other interviewees, have some role in shaping the neighborhood foodscape, there is much more to it than individuals can easily affect.

Figure 3:Downtown Eastside Kitchen Tables Project Mobile Mural (Detail). Reproduced with permission of Doris Chow, Downtown Eastside Kitchen Tables Project Foodscapes and the Geographies of Poverty 551 © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. Without a restructuring of the economic conditions that give rise to food insecurity, particularly the absence of predictable, secure, adequate, and long-term state funding for food programs, the charitable food sector, for all the good it does, will remain the fragile frontline of nutrition for the poor. In turn, people with very low income will continue to be forced to supplement charitable offerings with practices such as dumpster diving. Thus, our purpose in this paper has been to identify not only the daily strategies of survival and the overarching conditions that shape those strategies, but also to point to examples of collective action that seek both to improve food quality and eliminate line-ups, but also to question the neoliberalization processes that makes these meal programs necessary while using food as a strategic gathering point around which to discuss and act upon wider issues of inequality.

What makes foodscape a useful concept for positioning food as the focus of geographical research on poverty and survival is that its social constructionist, relational, and processual perspective allows us to conceptualize the complex and changing interconnections that shape food access and to point to the politics of food in ways that the mapping of specific food system attributes fails to do. Thus, through the notion of a foodscape, we can go beyond descriptions of where people can access food to narrate the experiences and strategies offinding food and unpack the political implications of its very provision. Analyses of foodscapes, hunger, and food insecurity must see beyond the food itself and must continue to approach food access as defined—but not determined—by a set of surrounding institutions and wider processes, of which housing provision, urban development, and public healthcare are only some of the most salient.

Yet, this is not to position the causes of, or opportunities for, change in the contemporary low-income urban food system at an abstract level of seemingly abstract institutions. It is important to understand the state and the charitable system as grounded, peopled, and enacted social products in themselves and to understand them as available for engagement and change at“street level” (Proudfoot and McCann 2008). Thus, the foodscape is produced through actors from various class backgrounds. Lawson and Elwood’s (2013) discussion of poverty as a relational construction indicates how some of these sites bring poor and middle class people together in the co-production of social systems. These organizational and institutional sites lie“between the micro-level of face-to-face human interaction and the macro-level of society’s structural properties”(Philo and Parr 2000:517). As residents travel the Downtown Eastside for food, they are involved, along with staff and activists, in making“‘everyday rationalities’, the effects of which then travel be- yond the local instants of their production to become generalised (even if only briefly) as agreed ways of getting things done for the organization as a whole” (Philo and Parr 2000:519). In this context, the possibility of agency by both those receiving and providing food within an overarching hegemony is worth recognizing and the actions or intentions of actors in these institutional sites cannot be read off from some a priori definition of class position or identity (Marr et al 2009).

Food is a resource and commodity around which disputes about social justice and the right to the city emerge and through which the contemporary geography of survival can be clearly identified. It remains to be seen how gentrification will 552 Antipode © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. affect this geography. While government-funded social housing and well established social services may be able to maintain their footing as the gentrification frontier advances, questions remain as to whether the often vulnerable charitable system and low-income retail can cope with rising rents. We conclude by asking will the changing character of food availability that accompanies gentrification force residents to travel outside of the neighborhood to access food, thereby altering their ability to survive in the Downtown Eastside? Furthermore, without the right to food, will residents lose their claim to a place in the city as a changing foodscape alters their connections to and sense of belonging within the neighborhood? Finally, and more starkly, can the urban future be one in which the poorest people gain or maintain a right to stay put and a right to live? These are open questions that continue to be negotiated in Vancouver and elsewhere.

Acknowledgements We would like to thank the participants in this study for their valuable insights and willingness to talk about their lives. We also acknowledge Judy Graves, Joyce Rock, Doris Chow, and Shane Turner (among others) for their work around food in the Downtown Eastside and thank them for their support and guidance. This paper has benefited greatly from comments by Vicky Lawson and Geoff DeVerteuil and from broader conversations with Vicky, Sarah Elwood, and Lucy Jarosz. We are also indebted to Nik Heynen and two anonymous reviewers for their helpful comments.

Endnotes1There is, however, no food bank depot in the neighborhood although some programs do provide canned and packaged food to their participants. Therefore, the primary source of food is meal programs.

2We use the term resident to describe individuals who participated in an interview. In some instances, individuals actually lived outside of the neighborhood—for example, in homeless camps in nearby parks—but made regular visits in order to access needed services.

3The Kitchen Tables Project is jointly run by the DTES NH and the Potluck Café Society, a social enterprise that provides food skills training to residents as well as meal programs and a community kitchen (http://www.potluckcatering.com/).

References Aiello D (forthcoming)“Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside: An ethnography of restaurants and neighborhood change.”Unpublished Master’s thesis, Department of Geography, Simon Fraser University Alkon A H, Block D, Moore K, Gillis C, DiNuccio N and Chavez N (2013) Foodways of the urban poor.Geoforum48:126–135 Alkon A H and Mares T M (2012) Food sovereignty in US food movements: Radical visions and neoliberal constraints.Agriculture and Human Values29(3):347–359 Appadurai A (1991) Global ethnoscapes: Notes and queries for a transnational anthropology.

In R G Fox (ed)Recapturing Anthropology: Working in the Present(pp 191–210). Santa Fe:

School of American Research Press Aronson J (1994) A pragmatic view of thematic analysis.The Qualitative Report2(1):1–3 Beasley L (2004)“Vancouver’s shift east: A new reality and new forms of development.” Speech to the Vancouver Urban Development Institute, 22 April. http://pricetags.files.

wordpress.com/2012/05/price-tags-26.pdf (last accessed 27 August 2013) Foodscapes and the Geographies of Poverty 553 © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. Bedore M (2010) Just urban food systems: A new direction for food access and urban social justice.Geography Compass4(9):1418–1432 Burnett K (2013)“Culinary adventure tourism: Dining in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside.” Paper presented at the Association of American Geographers annual meeting, Los Angeles Cannuscio C, Weiss E and Asch D (2010) The contribution of urban foodways to health disparities.Journal of Urban Health87(3):381–393 Chambers M (2011) Examining the delicate balance between revitalization and gentrification in Vancouver’sDowntownEastside.The Dependent Magazine. http://thedependent.ca/featured/ gentrifiers/ (last accessed 18 September 2013) Cloke P, May J and Johnsen S (2008) Performativity and affect in the homeless city.Environment and Planning D: Society and Space26(2):241–263 Cummins S and Macintyre S (2002) A systematic study of an urban foodscape: The price and availability of food in greater Glasgow.Urban Studies39(11):2115–2130 Dachner N, Gaetz S, Poland B and Tarasuk V (2009) An ethnographic study of meal programs for homeless and under-housed individuals in Toronto.Journal of Health Care for the Poor and Underserved20(3):846–853 Davis B and Tarasuk V (1994) Hunger in Canada.Agriculture and Human Values11:5057 Dear M and Wolch J (1987)Landscapes of Despair. Princeton: Princeton University Press DeVerteuil G (forthcoming) Being poor in the city. In R Paddison and E McCann (eds)Cities and Social Change. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage DeVerteuil G (2012a) Does the punitive need the supportive? A sympathetic critique of current grammars of urban injustice.AntipodeDOI: 10.1111/anti.12001 DeVerteuil G (2012b) Resisting gentrification-induced displacement: Advantages and disadvantages to“staying put”among non-profit social services in London and Los Angeles.

Area44(2):208–216 DeVerteuil G and Wilton R (2009) Spaces of abeyance, care, and survival: The addiction treatment system as a site of“regulatory richness”.Political Geography28(8):463–472 Dowler E and O’Connor D (2012) Rights-based approaches to addressing food poverty and food insecurity in Ireland and the UK.Social Science and Medicine74(1):44–51 Downtown Eastside Neighborhood House (nd a) Operating philosophy. http://dtesnhouse.

ca/operating-philosophy/ (last accessed 23 August 2013) Downtown Eastside Neighborhood House (nd b) Food philosophy. http://dtesnhouse.ca/ food-philosophy/ (last accessed 23 August 2013) Eikenberry N and Smith C (2005) Attitudes, beliefs, and prevalence of dumpster diving as a means to obtain food by Midwestern, low-income, urban dwellers. Agriculture and Human Values22(2):187–202 Funk R (2012) Whose new Vancouver? What’s at stake with gentrification in the Downtown Eastside.Megaphone Magazine. http://megaphonemagazine.com/magazine/467/whose- new-vancouver-what-s-at-stake-with-gentrification-in-the-downtown-eastside (last accessed 23 August 2013) Gaetz S, Tarasuk V, Dachner N and Kirkpatrick S (2006)“Managing”homeless youth in Toronto: Mismanaging food access and nutritional well-being.Canadian Review of Social Policy58:43–61 Goodman M K, Maye D and Holloway L (2010) Ethical foodscapes? Premises, promises, and possibilities.Environment and Planning A42(8):1782–1796 Heynen N (2009) Bending the bars of empire from every ghetto for survival: The Black Panther Party’s radical antihunger politics of social reproduction and scale.Annals of the Association of American Geographers99(2):406–422 Heynen N (2010) Cooking up non-violent civil disobedient direct action for the hungry: Food Not Bombs and the resurgence of radical democracy.Urban Studies47(6):1225–1240 Heynen N, Kurtz H E and Trauger A (2012) Food Justice, Hunger and the City.Geography Compass6(5):304–311 Johnston J, Biro A and MacKendrick N (2009) Lost in the supermarket: The corporate-organic foodscape and the struggle for food democracy.Antipode41(3):509–532 Kirkpatrick S I and Tarasuk V (2009) Food insecurity and participation in community food programs among low-income Toronto families.Canadian Journal of Public Health 100(2):135–139 554 Antipode © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. Kelly B, Flood V M and Yeatman H (2011) Measuring local food environments: An overview of available methods and measures.Health and Place17(6):1284–1293 Lawson V (2012) Decentring poverty studies: Middle class alliances and the social construction of poverty.Singapore Journal of Tropical Geography33(1):1–19 Lawson V and Elwood S (2013)“Encountering poverty: Space, class, and poverty politics.” Working paper, Department of Geography, University of Washington Ley D and Dobson C (2008) Are there limits to gentrification? The contexts of impeded gentrification in Vancouver.Urban Studies45(12):2471–2498 Li J (2010)Downtown Eastside (DTES) Kitchen Tables: A Community Led Food Action Plan.

Vancouver: Potluck Café Society, DTES Neighborhood House Linden I A, Mar M Y, Werker G R, Jang K and Krausz M (2013) Research on a vulnerable neighborhood: The Vancouver Downtown Eastside from 2001 to 2011.Journal of Urban Health90(3):559–573 Loopstra R and Tarasuk V (2012) The relationship between food banks and household food insecurity among low-income Toronto families.Canadian Public Policy38(4):497–514 Lupick T (2013) Protesters target Cuchillo as another symbol of gentrification in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside. http://www.straight.com/news/398401/protesters-target-cuchillo- another-symbol-gentrification-vancouvers-downtown-eastside (last accessed 23 August 2013) Marquez R, Malena B, Kupferschmidt S and Diewert D (nd) Zones of exclusion: A project of the Downtown Eastside Neighbourhood Council Action Committee. http://dl.dropbox.

com/u/11175341/DNC/Project%20ZOE%20report.pdf (last accessed 8 February 2013) Marr M, DeVerteuil G and Snow D (2009) Towards a contextual approach to the place–homeless survival nexus: An exploratory case study of Los Angeles County.Cities26:307–317 Masuda J R and Crabtree A (2010) Environmental justice in the therapeutic inner city.Health and Place16(4):656–665 McEntee J C and Naumova E N (2012) Building capacity between the private emergency food system and the local food movement: Working toward food justice and sovereignty in the global North.Journal of Agriculture, Food Systems, and Community Development 3(1):235–253 McKinnon R A, Reedy J, Morrissette M A, Lytle L A and Yaroch A L (2009) Measures of the food environment: A compilation of the literature, 1990–2007.American Journal of Preventive Medicine36(4):S124–S133 McLean K (2012) Needle exchange and the geography of survival in the South Bronx.

International Journal of Drug Policy23(4):295–302 Mendes W (2008) Implementing social and environmental policies in cities: The case of food policy in Vancouver, Canada.International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 32(4):942–967 Miewald C, Ibanez-Carrasco F and Turner S (2010) Negotiating the local food environment:

The lived experience of food access for low-income people living with HIV/AIDS.Journal of Hunger and Environmental Nutrition 5(4):510–525 Mikkelsen B E (2011) Images of foodscapes: Introduction to foodscape studies and their application in the study of healthy eating out-of-home environments.Perspectives in Public Health131(5):209–216 Milbourne P (2004) The local geographies of poverty.Geoforum35:559–575 Mitchell D and Heynen N (2009) The geography of survival and the right to the city:

Speculations on surveillance, legal innovation, and the criminalization of intervention.

Urban Geography30(6):611–632 O’Malley K, Gustat J, Rice J and Johnson C C (2013) Feasibility of increasing access to healthy foods in neighborhood corner stores.Journal of Community Health38:741–749 Passidomo C (2013) Going“beyond food”: Confronting structures of injustice in food systems research and praxis.Journal of Agriculture, Food Systems, and Community Development.http:// dx.doi.org/10.5304/jafscd.2013.034.009 (last accessed 18 September 2013) Philo C and Parr H (2000) Institutional geographies.Geoforum31:513–521 Proudfoot J and McCann E (2008) At street-level: Bureaucratic practice in the management of urban neighborhood change.Urban Geography29(4):348–370 Quastel N (2009) Political ecologies of gentrification.Urban Geography30(7):694–725 Foodscapes and the Geographies of Poverty 555 © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. Riches G (2002) Food banks and food security: Welfare reform, human rights, and social policy - lessons from Canada?Social Policy and Administration36(6):648–663 Rowe S and Wolch J (1990) Social networks in time and space: Homeless women in Skid Row, Los Angeles.Annals of the Association of American Geographers80:184–205 Sayer A (1992)Method in Social Science: A Realist Approach. London: Routledge Scout Magazine (2013) A look inside Chef Makoto Ono’s stylish“PiDGiN”on the Downtown Eastside. http://scoutmagazine.ca/2013/02/03/diner-a-look-inside-chef-makoto-onos-stylish- pidgin-on-the-downtown-eastside/ (last accessed 23 August 2013) Smith H A (2003) Planning, policy, and polarisation in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside.

Tijdschrift voor Economische en Sociale Geografie94(4):496–509 Sommers J (1998) Men at the margin: Masculinity and space in Downtown Vancouver, 1950–1986.Urban Geography19:287–310 Swanson J and Drury I (2012)“We’re trying to get rid of the welfare people”: 2012 hotel survey and housing report. http://ccapvancouver.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/2012_ccap- hotel-report_cover.jpg (last accessed 1 May 2013) Tarasuk V and Dachner N (2009) The proliferation of charitable meal programs in Toronto.

Canadian Public Policy35(4):433–450 Tarasuk V and Eakin J (2003) Charitable food assistance as symbolic gesture: An ethnographic study of food banks in Ontario.Social Science and Medicine56:1505–1515 Wakefield S, Fleming J, Klassen C and Skinner A (2013)Sweet Charity, revisited: Organiza- tional responses to food insecurity in Hamilton and Toronto, Canada.Critical Social Policy 33(3):427–450 Walker R E, Keane C R and Burke J G (2010) Disparities and access to healthy food in the United States: A review of food deserts literature.Health & Place16(5):876–884 Warshawsky D N (2010) New power relations served here: The growth of food banking in Chicago.Geoforum41(5):763–775 Wolch J and Dear M (1993)Malign Neglect: Homelessness in an American City. San Francisco:

Jossey-Bass Wilson D and Keil R (2008) The real creative class.Social and Cultural Geography9(8):841–847 556 Antipode © 2013 The Authors.Antipode© 2013 Antipode Foundation Ltd. Copyright ofAntipode isthe property ofWiley- Blackwell anditscontent maynotbecopied or emailed tomultiple sitesorposted toalistserv without thecopyright holder'sexpress written permission. However,usersmayprint, download, oremail articles forindividual use.