by Nyia Hawkins

Ahmad Free-Cohen, employee of Rise & Root Farm, pulling a cart of plant starts
The last weekend in September, I drove from Washington, D.C. to upstate New York for Black Farmer Fund’s annual Abundance in Autumn Festival, a special event for BFF’s community of farmers, funders, and investors. Held at queer and BIPOC-owned Rise & Root Farm, it was a day of planting, listening, eating, and remembering that investment is never just about money. It’s about people, and the networks of care that keep them going.
The festival offered simple but profound activities for funders and farmers to do together: including watercolor painting, a meditation walk, and “weeding”, which turned into planting rows of parsley and lettuce. I chose the dirt. No gloves, just soil under my french manicure and sun on my face.
One of the farmers guiding me—Ahmad Free-Cohen—laughed kindly when my rows turned out curved and a little tilted but not enough that he thought he’d need to redo them. Farming isn’t his only role. In the spring through fall, he works full-time at the farm along with growing and selling fruit-flavored sea moss gel. I got to learn from Ahmad about the rich, black soil at the farm. Here’s a clip of what he had to share.
In the winter, he works as an educator and counselor for children with special needs, and this year, he plans to launch a Black men’s mental health support group. That reality struck me: farming alone doesn’t pay enough. Ahmad was just one of several farmers I met in similar situations. Farmers who often live communally, work extra jobs, and stretch their lives across seasons of both land and labor. Yet their commitment to food, soil, and community remains unwavering.
Like Ahmad, who balances farming with other work, Wilfred “Farmer Wil” Moss’ story shows how legacy sustains farming even when the margins are thin. “Farmer Wil”, whose family story is one of legacy and resilience. He is a real estate investor who along with his sister runs Moss Fresh Fruits and Vegetables, a second-generation Black-owned farm in Western New York. Their parents immigrated from the Bahamas in the 1950s, bringing with them values of farming, self-sufficiency, and service to community. Those values remain alive today, shaping the Moss family’s work on the land and in their markets.
Farmer Wil was one of the original pilot participants of Black Farmer Fund, helping to shape the early decision-making process, and today he sits on the investment committee. His farm received a $10,000 grant for a tractor, which he says allowed their farm to expand production “exponentially.” It’s not an abstract impact—it’s the difference between sustaining and scaling, between barely holding on and building abundance.

Participants at the Abundance in Autumn Festival, listening to a speaker
Another voice that stood out was board member Rhyston Mays (they/them), who farms at Sweet Freedom Farm in Germantown, NY. Rhyston spoke candidly about the challenges of navigating government funding agreements that fell through. Their farm had already spent money on compost and straw based on commitments of reimbursement from federal programs. But when the administration shifted, climate-related reimbursements were quietly rescinded, leaving them holding the costs.
Thankfully, BFF’s Rapid Response Fund was there to cover part of the gap. As Rhyston put it, that wasn’t just financial support—it was community care that kept their farm moving forward. They highlighted the vulnerability of Black farmers who often find themselves on the edge of collapse when institutional systems fail to deliver.

Karen “Mama K” Washington, Black Farmer Fund Co-Founder and Farmer/Co-Owner of Rise & Root Farm
Toward the end of the day, Karen “Mama K” Washington, BFF’s co-founder and one of the owners of Rise & Root Farm, brought David and Veronica Houghton of Trinity Farm to stand next to her at the microphone. They didn’t speak—they just waved as Karen told their story:
The Houghtons are known in their community for giving more than they ever ask. They show up when other farmers need hands on the land, and when local families need support, they’re there. But recently, their house burned down and they have been living in a hotel for a month, waiting for the long process of rebuilding.
When Karen put the word out through farmer networks, another farmer—who was building a tiny home—offered to donate it to the Houghtons. Alongside that gift, BFF and community members launched a GoFundMe to help them rebuild and sustain themselves during this crisis.

Right (L-to-R): Veronica and David Houghton of Trinity Farm, Karen Washington
This isn’t a “direct investment” in the traditional sense. It’s not a loan or an equity stake. It’s sustaining community. It’s farmers making sure one of their own doesn’t fall through the cracks. And BFF’s role is to keep those networks resourced and resilient.
The practical side of capital isn’t the numbers, it’s the context; in this case, the people who are impacted and the relationships that are nourished. At the one-day mini market, tables lined with jars, vegetables, and syrups introduced funders and neighbors to the products of these farms. I bought collard greens and tomatoes—organic, fresh, and grown with care. It wasn’t charity; it was groceries, the same way I’d shop at my local cop-op or farmer’s market. But this time, I carried home not just food but the warmth of the relationships and resilience behind every bite.

(L-to-R): Olivia Watkins, Co-Founder and President, Black Farmer Fund, Muna Sbouh, Impact Management Officer, SK2 Fund, Olamide Goke-Pariola, Development & Investor Relations, Black Farmer Fund, Nyia Hawkins, Investment and Portfolio Coordinator, Chordata Capital.
At its core, Black Farmer Fund isn’t simply investing in agriculture. It is investing in people—farmers like Wilfred Moss, Rhyston Mays, Ahmad Free-Cohen, and David and Veronica Houghton. Each story reflects a different facet of the struggle to sustain farming lives under systems that rarely provide enough stability. Supporting them is about more than yield per acre. It’s about ensuring Black farmers continue to have a role in American agriculture, despite centuries of cultural, racial, and financial exclusion.
Next year, I hope more of our client investors and partner advisors can experience the abundance of the Black Farmer Fund’s autumn festival.

Right (L-to-R): Unnamed, Nyia Hawkins and Ahmad Free-Cohen, employee of Rise & Root Farm