For those of you who have followed my journey and listened to “Justice Unshackled,” you know that my life’s work has become about tearing

The journey for a week’s worth of groceries begins for Maria long before she ever steps inside a store. It starts on a Tuesday

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store hum with a flat, indifferent buzz. It’s a sound I know well, the soundtrack to a thousand

 narrative feature on the farmworkers who put food on our tables while skipping meals themselves. We follow a day in the fields, the commute,

The cold arrives before the sun in the Central Valley, a damp chill that seeps through layers of worn clothing. It is 4:30 a.m.