I Am a Weed
The Urban-(ish) Farmer | July 2026
I Am a Weed
And I mean that as the highest compliment I could possibly give someone.
Yup. I said it. And I mean it as the highest compliment I could possibly give someone.
I am a weed.
Think about what a weed actually is: a wild plant that grows where it is not wanted, thriving in disturbed soil without anyone tending to it, without permission, without invitation. It just shows up. Rooted, stubborn, and alive.
That sounds a lot like US!
The Curated Garden Doesn't Want Us Here
Today we live in arguably one of, if not the most, curated environments humans have ever created.
Nothing about modern society is accidental or natural, for that matter.
Water. Soil. Food. Shelter. All things once in natural abundance and free are now commodified, structured, and highly curated for your consumption and convenience.
Where grocery stores are built. Which neighborhoods get investment. What kinds of businesses receive support. Which voices are considered professional.
Everything is managed. Everything is categorized. Everything has its place.
And then we showed up.
Ol' Devious Grevious popped up to talk some shit. A weed in a curated environment.
We popped up in Northwest Aurora, not because anyone invited us, not because the system created space for us, but because the soil was disturbed and something needed to grow.
We started with a folding table, a tent, and 7 vendors in a park. That's it. Shout out to the first 7!
Seven years later...
We built a community center.
We built a storefront.
We built a farmers market.
We built an urban farming school.
We built a local food network.
We are building a community.
Nobody handed us permission.
We kept showing up whether the ground was warm or cold. We would not go away.
Here Is What Weeds Actually Do
Weeds do not show up to destroy the garden. They show up to heal the soil. When land has been stripped, compacted, and damaged, weeds are the first responders. They break up hardpan. They pull nutrients back to the surface. They provide cover so the soil underneath does not dry out and blow away. They attract pollinators. They feed the ecosystem quietly, without asking for recognition.
Dandelions, one of the most despised weeds in a manicured lawn, have roots that go two feet deep, pulling up minerals that grass cannot reach. They are a pharmacy and a food source. They have been used medicinally for centuries. The only reason we see them as a problem is because someone decided a monoculture of grass was the goal.
That Is the Work We Are Doing
Disturbed soil does not happen by accident.
Neither do food deserts. Neither does food apartheid.
They are both the result of decisions. And just like damaged soil, damaged communities begin to heal when life starts growing back.
Our community's soil has been disturbed. Decades of disinvestment and systemic neglect have compacted the ground so tight that most things cannot grow. We are not the pretty planted garden with the Instagram backdrop and the perfect programs. Shit, I do not even have a proper professional headshot and I cuss in my newsletters.
I AM A WEED.
We Are Not Going Anywhere
The thing about weeds is this: you can pull them. You can spray them. You can cover them with cardboard and wood chips. And they will still find a crack. They are not there because someone let them in. They are there because the conditions called for them.
The conditions of Northwest Aurora called for us. The conditions of this city called for us. We are going to keep coming back up through the cracks, keep offering what this soil needs, keep being inconvenient to the curated vision of who gets to thrive and who gets left out.
We may not look how you think we should look. But just know, we are a weed doing weed shit!
The funny thing about weeds is that people spend billions of dollars every year trying to get rid of them.
Nature spends every spring bringing them back.
Because weeds are not mistakes.
They are the land remembering how to heal itself.
Maybe that is who we have been all along.
Maybe Urban Symbiosis was never supposed to fit neatly into someone else's carefully curated garden.
Maybe Rebel Marketplace was never supposed to wait for permission.
Maybe Rebels in the Garden was always supposed to grow through the cracks.
So call us weeds.
We will take that as a compliment.
Because weeds do not ask permission.
They heal the ground.
And they always come back.
Be a weed, my friends, and heal your neighborhood.