In New York City, the spread of the novel coronavirus has closely  tracked the geography of segregation. Though its long-term consequences  for public and economic health remain unknown, its immediate threat to  the city’s most vulnerable became clear within days. Thousands found  themselves suddenly out of work, sick, or housebound, and unable to make  rent, buy groceries, or pay medical bills. In the face of skyrocketing  need, as well as the striking inadequacy of the governmental response,  New Yorkers have come together to hold one another up and, above all,  keep one another fed. Dozens of so-called “mutual aid” networks have  proliferated throughout the city’s neighborhoods since mid-March. Part  mobile food pantry, part virtual block party, and part political  education collective, a mutual aid network allows socially-distanced  neighbors to pool human and economic resources, plan actions, and forge  bonds.

Declaring “solidarity, not charity,” collaborators have found one  another through Slack and Facebook groups, phone trees, and flyers taped  to front doors. They’ve navigated practical questions as well as  existential ones, charting routes between grocery drop-offs and choosing  software to log requests even as they confront the power dynamics of  giving and receiving help in a deeply unequal city. And in the last two  weeks, as the frame of the crisis has widened to include the violence  suffered by Black and brown neighbors at the hands of the police, care  within the newly organized “beloved community” has evolved as well.  Members of mutual aid networks have been out in force, delivering PPE,  food, and water to the protests’ front lines, manning jail support  stations, and shuttling curfew-breakers home.

Scott Heins and Cat Zhang were both  early organizers of Crown Heights Mutual Aid, and now function as  administrators and stewards of the group’s long-term vision — though  both are quick to emphasize its horizontal, leaderless structure. Moné Makkawi is one of a small army of shoppers, drivers, and bicyclists putting  food, medicine, and other essentials in the hands — or on the stoops —  of their neighbors-in-need. To date, the network has completed more than  1700 grocery deliveries to families throughout Crown Heights, as well  as adjacent neighborhoods like Flatlands, Canarsie, and East New York.  Over the course of a few days in early May, I spoke with Scott, Cat, and  Moné about the rapidly-evolving landscape of care, the importance of  staying local, and the challenge of being in it for the long haul. 

https://urbanomnibus.net/2020/06/everyone-has-something-to-give-everyone-has-something-that-they-need/