Synaptic

This assignment for the Introduction to Global Sustainability course asked students to reflect on their own sustainability values through the lens of a topic and country that interested them. In addition to academic research, students are encouraged to consider the personal, cultural, and social influences that have shaped them into more or less sustainable-living individuals up to this point in their lives. We nominated this paper because Jomar achieved these goals by thoughtfully connecting issues of food insecurity with his Puerto Rican roots, integrating scholarly evidence with meaningful personal reflection in a way that exemplifies the intent of the assignment.

– Dr. Paulina Mena and Dr. Shelley Bradfield

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At a young age, I thought sustainability was just about the 3 Rs: recycling, reusing, and reducing, but it isn’t. Sustainability is also emotional and cultural; it’s about not losing who you are. In this way, my journey toward sustainability has been about reconnection. Here, I’ll tell my story of how I came to see the food crisis in Puerto Rico as deeply tied to my family, my heritage, and the planet. Growing up in a Hispanic household, I was raised to value hard work, family, and our culture. While I’ve always been close to my Mexican side, my Puerto Rican side has felt like a puzzle I’m still putting together. I’ve been wanting to reconnect more with my family on the island, and this project gave me a meaningful way to begin that journey. When I learned that Puerto Rico “imports nearly 85% of its food” (Simos), I realized how fragile their food system is. As biologist E.O. Wilson has said, “Destroying rainforest for economic gain is like burning a Renaissance painting to cook a meal.” Puerto Rico has the tools to thrive if it embraces sustainable farming, not profit-driven economics. My definition of sustainability has changed over time. Today, I see sustainability as my 3 Rs: the power to rebuild, reconnect, and reimagine, to create systems that support people, culture, and the planet, even in the face of disaster or disconnection.

One of the biggest turning points in my sustainability journey was learning about food insecurity in Puerto Rico. I was shocked to realize how deeply the island depends on outside food sources, something I’d never thought about before. Puerto Rico is a U.S. territory located in the northeastern Caribbean. Despite a rich climate and biodiversity, “its mountainous geography and coastal urbanization make large-scale farming difficult” (Van Atten). This, combined with an economy once heavily focused on manufacturing, has caused agriculture to decline. Today, Puerto Rico “imports the majority of its food, including staples like rice, beans, and meat” (Simos). This import reliance exposes the island to external shocks like inflation, shipping delays, and especially hurricanes. I was saddened to realize how deeply Puerto Rico depends on outside food sources. It made me feel like something vital—food, culture, even identity—has been lost over time. This dependence isn’t just unsustainable because of the climate; it also represents a deeper estrangement between people and the land that once fed them. Like my own distance from my Puerto Rican family, this gap is not only environmental, but also cultural and emotional.

One of the clearest threats to Puerto Rico’s food system is its frequent exposure to natural disasters, especially hurricanes. Hurricanes regularly “damage crops, destroy infrastructure like roads and bridges, and pollute water sources, leaving rural communities especially at risk” (A National Call for Food Production). Climate change is only making these storms stronger, increasing crop losses, and weakening soil over time. As reported by the Pulitzer Center, “Hurricanes in Puerto Rico have repeatedly destroyed infrastructure and crops, leaving rural communities especially vulnerable. These storms have grown more intense due to climate change, causing ongoing soil degradation and making recovery difficult” (A National Call for Food Production). I began to realize that this was more than a weather problem; it was a problem of separation. The land was being degraded, but so was the connection between people and their food. It reminded me of my feelings of estrangement from my Puerto Rican roots. This separation from land, from identity, is what I now see as unsustainable. It’s a cycle that puts both the environment and the people in danger. Solutions can feel out of reach with the loss of crops, infrastructure, and connection. But there is hope.

So, what can be done? The answer, I learned, is not just about policy or aid, it’s about rethinking the relationship between people and the land. In class, we talked about how sustainability isn’t just about preserving nature; it’s also about building systems that can survive disruption. That’s why sustainable agriculture in Puerto Rico can help improve their problem. One powerful solution I found is sustainable agroecology, a method that “extracts carbon from the atmosphere while collaborating with local conditions” to regenerate the land (Lakhani). This practice involves crop rotation, composting, organic methods, and soil conservation, all while reducing the need for chemical fertilizers. Agroecology doesn’t just help the land, it helps people and their crops to become resilient to the climate and pesticides. It can restore food sovereignty to Puerto Rico by allowing communities to grow their food in ways that are healthier and more sustainable. This solution also improves biodiversity, because it doesn’t just promote planting one crop but many, which supports pollinators, local ecosystems, and resilience to pests. Learning about agroecology changed my thinking. It showed me that sustainability isn’t just about efficiency or economics, it’s also about healing. In the same way farmers in Puerto Rico are restoring soil and biodiversity, I want to restore my connection to this part of my heritage because in a place regularly hit by hurricanes, resilience must grow from the ground up. Building on traditional knowledge, some agronomists are reviving Taíno conuco methods, using raised beds enriched with organic matter and bat guano, interplanted with sweet potatoes and peppers, to restore soil health and fight erosion (Cooper). This reconnects modern farming with ancestral wisdom, literally rebuilding the land with methods rooted in Puerto Rican heritage. It deepens my own journey of reconnection: not just reconnecting myself to the island’s culture, but reconnecting agriculture to its indigenous past. But agroecology is only one piece of the puzzle. For real change, sustainable farming must be supported by systems, policies, and creativity, especially in places like Puerto Rico, where land access and infrastructure can be challenging.

The other pieces of the puzzle are urban and vertical farming. These strategies bring agriculture into cities, onto rooftops, into backyards, and even onto walls. Simos explains how “this could help reduce transport costs and bring fresh food directly into communities.” While not every urban space is ideal for farming, especially in dense coastal areas like San Juan, the opportunity is there for innovation. In areas with limited rural land, growing food in the city becomes more than just practical; it becomes powerful. It gives communities the chance to reclaim their food systems and reduce dependence on long-distance imports. This especially matters when supply chains are threatened by storms or economic instability.

The government in Puerto Rico has also begun to take small steps. According to Anna Price, the government has started “offering incentives for organic farming, and some grants and subsidies are available for small-scale producers.” But it’s not easy. Farmers still face bureaucratic barriers and infrastructure challenges. Many of the most promising movements are led by young people or organizations in rural towns like “Añasco and Aibonito, where experimentation with agroecology is happening” (A National Call for Food Production). These organizations are putting agroecology and urban farming into action. These solutions may seem small, but they represent real resilience, and that’s what sustainability means to me; not perfection, but progress rooted in place and people.

While Puerto Rico’s food system struggles with import dependence, my home state of Iowa shows the opposite problem: overproduction and environmental harm from industrial farming. Living in Iowa and being in FFA, I’ve seen the opposite model of agriculture, large-scale industrial farming. You drive by cornfields that stretch for miles, and the machines used are massive. It’s efficient, but not always sustainable. Monoculture farming damages soil health, and the overuse of pesticides impacts biodiversity and water quality (Cody Smith). In comparison to Puerto Rico, where farming is shrinking, Iowa produces plenty, but sometimes at the cost of the environment. That made me ask myself what sustainable agriculture looks like in both places. Even though Iowa is my home, I can see how we’ve become estranged from the land in different ways through monocropping, pollution, and profit-driven practices. Looking at Puerto Rico’s food crisis also made me think about global examples of food sovereignty. In Cuba, after the collapse of the Soviet Union in the 1990s, “the island lost access to imported fertilizers and food” (Altieri et al.). Like Puerto Rico today, they had to rethink their food system. Cuban farmers embraced agroecology and urban farming, transforming empty lots into productive gardens (Altieri et al.). This shift wasn’t just practical, it was empowering. It helped local communities become more self-reliant. Seeing how Cuba used food sovereignty to rebuild their systems struck me that Puerto Rico could do the same. These stories of global resilience help me imagine what’s possible for my own communities, both on the island and here in Iowa.

As someone who wants to study animal science and eventually become a veterinarian, these questions are personal. I’ve always loved animals, especially my pets, who helped me through tough times growing up. Coming from a single-parent household, my dogs were like therapy. That bond with animals is what sparked my passion for my future career path. But now I realize I don’t just want to treat animals, I want to be part of a system that treats them and the land well. I am planning to develop an eco-friendly practice for my future veterinary clinic. My goal is to promote animal health and environmental well-being by using renewable energy, reducing waste, and encouraging responsible pet ownership. A sustainable business model will help my clinic thrive while benefiting my community and the planet. I want my clinic to be a space where care, community, and culture come together, a place that heals animals and the people who love them.

Food has always been a part of how my family shows love. In contrast to my disconnection from my Puerto Rican roots, my mom’s cooking was something I could always hold onto. It rooted me. My mom cooked homemade meals even when money was tight. I saw her reuse leftovers, save containers, and stretch ingredients. Even if she didn’t call it “sustainability,” I learned those values at home. I remember eating tamales with my relatives on my mom’s side and hearing stories about Puerto Rico from my dad’s side. But ever since I cut ties with him and his family to protect myself from negativity and manipulation, I’ve felt a distance from that part of my identity, just like how my dad once cut ties with successful family members simply because his immediate family believed they were being looked down on for not having money. My Puerto Rican heritage always felt like something I wanted to reach for but didn’t fully understand. This class helped me start reconnecting with that side. I’ve been wanting to learn more about my uncles, aunties, and cousins on the island. Understanding the food system gave me a way to begin that journey, not just through facts, but through values. Like agroecology is about working with the land, I think reconnecting with family is about listening, being present, and honoring where you come from. Programs like Upward Bound helped me grow socially and academically, but they also helped me see the value in my story. Through leadership roles in FFA and Student Advisory Board, I’ve learned that my voice matters and that sharing it is part of sustainability, too.

Before this class, I hadn’t connected my carbon footprint to the choices I grew up with, like my mom’s sustainable cooking habits, and the more harmful impacts of fast food and industrial meat. Even in the small things, like my mom reusing containers or saving leftovers, I’ve started to see that sustainability begins in the habits we inherit. But after using the EPA calculator and talking in class about sustainability categories, I realize my impact was bigger than I thought. I eat meat daily, I drive instead of biking or walking, and I buy more fast food than I probably should. According to the calculator, my biggest impact comes from diet and transportation. For example, ground beef produces 19,654 gCO2e per serving, which made me stop and think about the realistic changes I can make, especially as a future college student. One change I want to make is to eat less meat, especially beef, and try more local produce when I can afford it. I also want to ride the bus more or walk when possible. Even small things, like reducing plastic waste or using reusable containers, make a difference. My mom already does this, and I want to keep those habits going. This quote from The Story of the Hummingbird stands out to me: “…I will do the best I can.” That’s 19 my approach now. I know I won’t be perfect, but I’m trying. This effort to reconnect with the impact of my choices is part of healing the estrangement between intention and action, between the land and me, as a person who relies on it.

Writing my story and this paper made me see that estrangement, whether from land, culture, or identity, is deeply unsustainable. Puerto Rico’s food insecurity is a result of decades of disconnection from its agricultural roots. But my feelings of distance from my Puerto Rican family are a smaller version of that same pattern. We grow apart from what we don’t nurture. Just like agroecology is about rebuilding soil and biodiversity, I want to rebuild my relationship with that part of who I am. I want to visit the island not just as a tourist, but to learn and ask questions. I don’t know when I’ll visit Puerto Rico, but the first thing I want to do is walk on a farm and ask a local farmer what they’ve learned from the land. To support local food systems and be part of something bigger than myself. Sustainability, to me, is about reconnection, rebuilding, and reimagining. As Lindsay Hooper writes in Reuters, “Global instability isn’t a distraction from sustainability work. It is the work.” That line helped me realize that my reconnection to Puerto Rico isn’t just a personal journey, it’s part of a global movement to restore relationships between people, place, and justice. Food, family, culture, and climate are all connected, and healing one helps heal the others. It’s about honoring culture, protecting the environment, and creating systems that don’t just survive but heal. And maybe by healing the land, we heal parts of ourselves, too.

It is not enough to rely on imported goods, we must grow from within to truly nourish our people and our land and to heal.

Works Cited

“‘A National Call for Food Production:’ Sustainable Farming Seeks Revolution in Puerto Rico.” Pulitzer Center, 2021, pulitzercenter.org/stories/national-call-food-production-sustainable-farming-seeks-revolution-puerto-rico. Accessed 24 June 2025.

Aldo Leopold Foundation. “Green Fire – PBS Version.” Vimeo, 19 June 2025, vimeo.com/399913541?utm_source=Aldo+Leopold+Foundation+E-mail+List&utm_campaign=63746eaf43-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2024_01_18_03_12&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_e6a072d4aa-63746eaf43-543875425&mc_cid=63746eaf43&mc_eid=fd29256bbd. Accessed 20 June 2025.

Altieri, Miguel A., et al. “Monthly Review | The Paradox of Cuban Agriculture.” Monthly Review, 1 Jan. 2012, monthlyreview.org/2012/01/01/the-paradox-of-cuban-agriculture/.

Cooper, Dara Monifah. “Can Indigenous Agricultural Methods of Puerto Rico Mitigate Erosion and Feed the Island? – SARE Southern.” SARE Southern, 25 June 2024, southern.sare.org/news/can-indigenous-agricultural-methods-of-puerto-rico-mitigate-climate-change-and-feed-the-island/?utm_source=chatgpt.com. Accessed 1 July 2025.

Hooper, Lindsay. “Global Instability Isn’t a Distraction from Sustainability Work. It Is the Work.” Reuters, 18 June 2025, www.reuters.com/sustainability/society-equity/global-instability-isnt-distraction-sustainability-work-it-is-work-2025-06-18/.

Lakhani, Nina. “‘An Act of Rebellion’: The Young Farmers Revolutionizing Puerto Rico’s Agriculture.” The Guardian, 23 Dec. 2021, www.theguardian.com/environment/2021/dec/23/puerto-rico-agroecology-farmers.

Maathai, Wangari. “I Will Be a Hummingbird – Wangari Maathai (English).” YouTube, 11 May 2010, www.youtube.com/watch?v=IGMW6YWjMxw. Accessed 30 Nov. 2019.

Price, Anna. “The Commonwealth of Puerto Rico and Its Government Structure | in Custodia Legis.” The Library of Congress, 10 Nov. 2022, blogs.loc.gov/law/2022/11/the-commonwealth-of-puerto-rico-and-its-government-structure/. Accessed 24 June 2025.

Simos, Niko. “How Farm in the City Is Transforming Puerto Rico’s Food System.” Agritecture.com, Agritecture LLC, 19 Nov. 2024, www.agritecture.com/blog/farm-in-the-city-is-transformingpuerto-ricos-food-system.

“Sustainable Farming Revolution in Puerto Rico.” Pulitzer Center, 2021, pulitzercenter.org/projects/sustainable-farming-revolution-puerto-rico.

Van Atten, Suzann. “The Climate and Geography of Puerto Rico.” Moon Travel Guides, 28 Mar. 2025, www.moon.com/travel/planning/the-climate-and-geography-of-puerto-rico/. Accessed 24 June 2025.

Wilson, Edward O. The Future of Life. Alfred A. Knopf, 2002.