Food for Naught
One man’s trashed, half-eaten loaf of bread is another man’s choice eat. Kip, a local dumpster diver, has unearthed everything from avocadoes to cases of wine, and each item has a past—from a grocery store, to a college student’s kitchen, to a local trash receptacle. And now, Kip and freegans worldwide are ready to salvage what consumerist-America has written off as garbage.
“I don’t know why [people] throw out half the things they do,” Kip said. Kip is one of many who has lost patience with the materialism that fuels our global economy and become part of a grassroots worldwide movement called “freeganism.” Freegans, in the most radical form, are dedicated to boycotting products sold in our economic system. A portmanteau of “free” and “vegan,” the term’s etymology is derived from the idea that people can live alternatively while promoting freedom and social consciousness.
Kip, 23, grew up in West Virginia and moved to Athens five years ago. Currently homeless, Kip is not a student at Ohio University. He lives with friends or squats in abandoned homes, and more or less thrives as a freegan.
Waiting outside Alden Library, Kip casually rearranges his corduroy kilt and tucks a stray braid behind his ear. Clearly out of his element, he seems oblivious to the attention he attracts. “I don’t know if I’d be called a ‘freegan,’” he said honestly, “because I’m not necessarily a vegan. But most of the stuff I eat does come from dumpster diving.”
Dumpster diving, or “urban foraging,” isthe most common practice among freegans — and it’s often lucrative, sometimes resulting in carloads of food.
Kip and other divers make frequent, unplanned dumpster runs. Chance meetings usually occur, and people bond while foraging for food. Dumpster diving attracts unique individuals of all ages, and Kip recalls meeting parents with their children at local dumpster spots.
“Some families do it too,” Kip said. “[And] I’ve pretty much been to every type of dumpster you can find. Restaurants, grocery stores, gas stations. I sometimes go behind thrift stores because they throw out clothes. That’s where I got the kilt I’m wearing today.”
With the exception of a baseball cap that reads “party animal,” Kip found almost everything he’s wearing in a dumpster.
But no matter how ideal the dumpster may be, uncovering real gems requires sifting beneath the topmost layer. “If it’s been recently emptied, like only a foot deep, you have to get inside,” he said.
Knowing the law also plays an important role. While the act of dumpster diving isn’t illegal, shopkeepers worry people will sue if they are hurt in the process of climbing into a dumpster.
“There are compacters that have secret doors you can open up and crawl inside. [B]ut those are sketchy because you never know when they’re going to turn it on, and if you’re inside…” Kip said.
Molly Shea, an OU junior and member of Students for a Democratic Society, take the principles of freeganism to heart. Both Molly and the members of SDS organize the local Free Store, where people are encouraged to swap unwanted valuables. Held every first and third Friday of the month at West Portico of Templeton-Blackburn Alumni Memorial Auditorium, the Free Store is built upon the basic freegan belief of mutual aid.
“It’s about people helping people. Hopefully [others] will realize the importance of giving back,” Molly said.
While we all cannot commit to Kip’s way of life, Molly sets a refreshing example of existence in between the two extremes. She left me with telling advice: “Be freegan when you can be.”