A dark figure glances over his shoulder into the cold December blackness. The start of the grocery store exhaust fan reminds him of the sound of a rent-a-cop security patrol car. The man braces himself, grips the cold green metal of the Dumpster with his gloved hands and hoists himself up and over its 6-foot-high perimeter. He disappears from view, surrounded by bags of bread and packaged produce; he grimaces at the sight of slimy eggs that did not survive the trip into the Dumpster.
Brett Wilhelm, an international relations major, picks up a box of food while Chad Meyers, a junior philosophy major, climbs into a grocery store's Dumpster. The two students found bags of potatoes, loaves of bread, a box of strawberry jelly, boxes of orange juice and lots of produce.
Working quickly by street light, Josh Sebrasky, a senior English major, digs through the wasted cuisine and loads crates of spaghetti sauce, boxes of orange juice, bags of pita bread and green vegetables into the trunk of his car. Sebrasky is providing himself and his eight housemates with another week’s worth of sustenance.
On any given night, the Dumpsters of large grocery stores, booksellers and office suppliers are filled with products they cannot sell. Since the winter of 2003, a group of students at Kent State — who refer to themselves as ‘freegans’ — have endeavored to capitalize on this surplus, turning what would otherwise occupy space in landfills into a way of helping those who cannot afford what they need to live. Many of the students involved in Dumpster diving are eccentric and artsy. The majority of the women do not wear make-up; many of the men wear the same pair of pants for weeks on end without washing.
Sebrasky says when he first heard of freegans, he thought it was a funny idea so he and his friends decided to try it out. “We went to Giant Eagle and found three huge crates of vegetables, and we thought it was great,” Sebrasky says, wearing the same pale green plaid shirt he has worn for weeks.
“The vast majority of food never touches the Dumpster. Most of it is in huge garbage bags. Bags and bags filled with loaves of packaged bread and produce — it’s the same food anyone would buy in the store.”
Because they lived in a dorm at the time, they did not have room to store all that they found, so after one “huge feast” they gave the rest to organizations who work with “needy people.” Since that first time, the group of Dumpster divers on campus has grown to include several dozen students. They now go Dumpster diving about once per week, usually about 2 a.m., when most store managers and security guards are sleeping.
Although most people have preconceived ideas of what Dumpster diving is like, when the freegans go, they do not see rats scurrying around in sludge, nibbling on moldy food.
“New people are always shocked, they’re like, ‘I can’t believe they throw away so much,’” Sebrasky says, as he sniffs a bag of spinach leaves that may have gone bad. “The vast majority of food never touches the Dumpster. Most of it is in huge garbage bags. Bags and bags filled with loaves of packaged bread and produce — it’s the same food anyone would buy in the store and think is perfectly fine. To tell you the truth, we hardly ever see rotten food.”
John Hoffman, a third-generation Dumpster diver and the author of two books on the subject, says Dumpster diving has evolved over the past decades. He decided to write about his experiences in hopes of inspiring others to Dumpster dive.
From left, Josh Sebrasky, Tim Mayer, Elaine Hullihen, Aaron Painter and Matthew "Stewie" Coate check out bags of food rescued from Dumpsters. Sebrasky found more than 100 energy bars and eight bottles of red wine.
“When I wrote my book (Art and Science of Dumpster Diving) in 1993, it was quite obscure, unknown to the general population and not considered such a cool thing to do,” he says. “It was inextricably associated with homelessness in the public mind. Since 1993, Dumpster diving has gained a better reputation as a way to get stuff without paying for it and as a way to help the environment. In general, Dumpster diving has entered the mainstream to a much greater degree.”
Chad Meyers, a junior philosophy major and friend of Sebrasky, says it was a natural progression for him. He has been a vegetarian since he was a teenager, but only recently did he begin to think there were ethical problems with eating eggs and milk products. Since then he has become a vegan, a person who eats no animal products whatsoever, including milk, eggs and gelatin. He has also become a freegan.
“We heard of vegetarians, then vegans and finally freegans — which means eating only what you get for free,” Meyers says matter-of-factly, his shoulder-length hair covering his left eye.
The Burr is produced by students at Kent State University twice per academic year.No part of The Burr may be reprinted without permission.