Photo courtesy of The Red Shoes.
Two new fridges, and a new community fridge shelter, at The Red Shoes on Government Street. This summer, digital creator "Uncle" Jhonn Jackson, who was connected with The Red Shoes by the nonprofit First Tuesday, tore down and rebuilt the fridge and pantry shelter.
The faith Fr. Michael Bordelon has in his congregation’s community fridge is not quite a Field of Dreams-esque—“If you build it, [they] will come.” No, it’s something more fundamental, a quiet assurance, something like the unspoken trust the disciples must have placed in Jesus when he fed the five thousand with just five loaves of bread and a couple of fish. There will be enough food. People will give. Keep the faith.
“Is it sustainable? Every time we have this conversation, four years in, we’re actually more sustainable than last year. We could always use more, but it’s not a ‘we need more,’—it’s ‘golly, look how generous people are being,’ ” said Bordelon, Rector of St. Barnabas Episcopal Church in Lafayette. “[When people were afraid about the government pausing SNAP benefits during the shutdown last fall], we probably saw a month’s worth of people coming to the pantry in a week. They were scared. They didn’t know what they were going to do. But also the response to the church mimicked it, so a four-fold increase in giving happened. Talking about scarcity and abundance—the giving matched the need of it. Because it always does.”
Community fridges like St. Barnabas’s have become—if not plentiful—increasingly common in Louisiana in the years since the COVID-19 pandemic, offering accessible, free, no-questions-asked food for the hungry. Often found in metropolitan areas, community fridges combat food insecurity and food waste by operating as a small, scrappy safety net for the individuals that local food banks and other outreach efforts miss. The concept of the community fridge resists the structure of those more formal institutions—purposefully fostering solidarity, not charity. It’s a mutual aid model of collaborative, communal care that mobilizes a broad umbrella of neighbors to share what they can, when they can, and afford a little more dignity to those who are struggling.
The folks who run these fridges know they are not working on a macrocosmic scale—this isn’t an attempt to shift policy or advocate on a legislative level. Rather, they are simply here to meet the most basic of human needs: hunger.
“All I know is that they're hungry, and as long as they’re hungry, I’m going to give them food,” Bordelon said. “Sure, there’s a lot more we could do to help out … [but] until those things happen, we’re going to feed the hungry.”
Baton Rouge
At the corner of Cane Street and North 38th Street, in a little pocket park in the Eden Park community, sits a fridge run by The Walls Project—a local nonprofit—and New Look Neighborhood Grocery, which is located across the street.
Dr. Ashlyn Harrison, executive director of The Walls Project, explained that in this neighborhood, access to food is not as reliable as it could be, and "definitely isn't equitable." This is the reality for families across America, who live in areas where grocery stores with fresh, whole foods don't exist; where transportation is a barrier; where cost is a barrier.
“The reality is that many families are navigating tough day-to-day financial decisions. At the same time, we’re also witnessing usable food going to waste,” Harrison said. “How could we bring it directly to [the] community? We created a community fridge to kind of bridge that gap and create a more powerful solution."
At its most basic level, the community fridge is an explicit, open invitation to "love your neighbor," according to Brandon.
The food in the fridge is available for free, when people need it. It’s always unlocked and, critically, does not require those in need to sign forms or answer questions, with all the stigma those barriers bring. "It’s just community taking care of community.”
Still in its infancy at just over six months old, the fridge is stocked regularly by the grocery, and The Walls Project works with Sprouts Farmers Market to fill the fridge with the store's leftover produce. Of course, members of the public can always donate to the fridge, too. When all else fails, The Walls Project harvests produce from its very own Baton Roots Community Farm at Howell Park.
"Something my mom used to always say to me is, ‘don’t be a product of your community—make your community a product of you,’" Harrison said. "When systems are built intentionally, I think it's really what breaks down those societal barriers … creating systems where we take ownership of our own spaces and are able to say, 'We will take care of us, together. We don't expect you to take care of yourself by yourself.'"
Less than two miles away, on Government Street, The Red Shoes, a local nonprofit, has hosted a community fridge since 2021. Housed in a pink-painted shed, the fridge and an adjacent pantry are available to anyone who is hungry. A comprehensive page on the organization's website thoughtfully lists food items that are allowed to be donated to the fridge. For instance, grab-and-go foods, such as sandwiches, are preferred to meals that require cooking, which can be a barrier for some people in need. Water is especially needed in the summer, and non-food items like toiletries are always welcome.
Photo by Molly C. McNeal
While all appropriate donations are accepted, there is one standard organizers stress: Do not give the almost-expired cans, the unusual food item opened and then ignored, something tried, then turned down. "If we give, we give our best," said Dorcas Brandon, associate director of The Red Shoes. "We give what we would want somebody to give us."
When it comes to those who are utilizing the fridge, though, Brandon doesn’t sweat about enforcing any rules. “People who are in survival mode—when they see food, they want to make sure they have enough,” she said. “I’m not here to judge how much someone takes because I’m not in their position. What I can control is how many people know about this fridge.”
Brandon, who has been involved with the organization since 2023, developed a passion for the fridge's operation and upkeep after engaging time and again with community members who sought out the fridge, especially hungry children. She spends much of her time, energy, and effort lining up businesses and organizations to stock the fridge in any way they can. Fill the Fridge July, for instance, is an annual advocacy push to keep the fridge stocked for thirty-one days, coinciding with summer months when children may face the most acute food insecurity outside of school.
At its most basic level, the community fridge is an explicit, open invitation to "love your neighbor," according to Brandon.
“We're in a society that can be for [the] self," she said. "In giving, you don’t know whose life you have affected positively in that moment. You don’t know what mental state, emotional state a person may be in, and by giving to the fridge, you have imparted a part of hope, a piece of joy or promise, just by making the decision to give. It is from neighbor to neighbor. That is something special. It turns into community."
New Orleans
In a city like New Orleans, where the homeless population tallied more than 1,500 people in 2025 (the most recently available statistic from UNITY of Greater New Orleans), there are so many community fridges that the effort to fill them has evolved into truly a grassroots undertaking, existing outside of the local nonprofit or religious infrastructure. Homelessness aside, as inflation increases and food insecurity rises, approximately 70,000 residents living in the state’s most populous city are food insecure—nearly one in five New Orleanians.
The community has responded en masse. Rather than one or two dedicated fridges run by local churches or advocacy groups, New Orleans fridges can be found most everywhere—beside homes, businesses, and communal spaces. Filling them takes a village. Enter Nola Fridges (NOCF) - Community, a Facebook group harnessing more than 11,000 members to respond, as one, to the city’s hunger. Although the Facebook group began in 2022, the effort kicked off in 2020 during the height of COVID, as thousands faced new economic uncertainty and food insecurity.
Photo by Molly C. McNeal
At the corner of Cane Street and North 38th Street, in a little pocket park in the Eden Park community, sits a fridge run by The Walls Project.
Scroll down the Facebook timeline and you'll find most people are posting the items they have cooked or donated to certain fridges, often accompanied by a photo, date, and time stamp so that anyone in need can be assured of the food's freshness—as well as to assure somewhat coordinated giving between members. In one post, a community member created an interactive map of the city's community fridges; in another, someone offered extra containers for anyone looking to cook a meal; in more, people ask, urgently, constantly, “how they can start their own community fridge?” Communication among members is critical to ensuring there is always enough food—that the fridges and pantries don't go empty when people need their items the most.
There is no headquarters, no executive director, no parish priest overseeing the distribution of food, the maintenance of the fridges. This is a coordinated mutual aid movement across the entire New Orleans community, bringing together anyone who has time or energy to volunteer in service of others. Apart from donating, volunteers clean the fridges, dispose of spoiled food, and organize the remaining items for easier access.
It seems in this online community, the only rule is generosity, at any level. Give what you can, and alert those who should know. With a great need comes an even greater response—the legion of footsoldiers fighting hunger one fridge at a time could tell you that. Decisions are made, and, yes, bellies are filled, by the people who show up. Every little bit counts.
Lafayette
In late 2025, parishioners at St. Leo the Great Catholic Church in Lafayette led the charge to open a community fridge with a two-pronged mission in mind: reduce food waste, and build a better connection with those that are food insecure.
It's taken several months of trial and error to figure out the most effective location for the fridge (close to the parish office, it turns out, to build lasting relationships with those donating and those receiving), and to troubleshoot how to ensure the fridge is operating in a way that best serves everyone.
“Community is built around food, sharing meals,” said Reverend Joseph Kyle White, pastor at St. Leo. “We see that all throughout Scripture, but even outside of just religious communities, whenever you are able to share a meal together, there’s a strengthening in the community. Unfortunately, our food consumption has become very individualized with modern times. We’ve lost that connection between community and food…the fridge is teaching those in abundance how to share, and bring your leftovers to the fridge, and teaching those in scarcity how to share, and jump in, and take your part, but don’t take all of it. All that’s part of the beauty of sharing a meal, is that you are sharing.”
White added that giving to a community fridge or food pantry is a low-barrier way for anyone and everyone to get involved in service, without waiting for the next event, or handling a bunch of waivers to sign, or dealing with coordination and instruction from a supervisor: "Anybody can make a meal. It doesn’t matter how old you are—you can drop off the meal, and you’ve done something beautiful."
Serendipitously, the fridge has also created the perfect conditions for a necessary mixing and meeting of people across demographics—the givers, the receivers, the members of the church staff helping to operate the fridge, the passersby on the parish campus. White believes the natural interactions between those dropping off food, and at the same time, people regularly walking to the fridge to see if they can find a meal have increased compassion for the "other" across the board—whoever that person may be. Unexpectedly, but with a heapful of much-needed grace, the church's net has widened; what began with food has grown into meaningful relationships.
Photo by Molly C. McNeal
"A healthy community is able to notice the other individuals in the community, and share," White said. "I think there’s something really powerful and transformative that can happen when there’s a community fridge, because it involves everybody."
Across town, at St. Barnabas, Bordelon has similarly watched as his congregation's community fridge has built strong, sustainable bridges in the neighborhood and surrounding area over the last four years.
"I think it's also kind of changing our own perception about how we see our neighbor," Bordelon said. "And starting those conversations with kids from a young age about who is our neighbor, and what do they look like, right? And then there's the mandate of 'love your neighbor.' Take care of your neighbor. How you treat your neighbors says a whole lot [about] how you love your God."
In addition to encouraging locals to put their leftovers in the fridge (labeled with the date and the contents of the meal), the church has stocked the fridge through partnerships with several institutions in the city, such as Social Southern Table & Bar, Park Bistro, Great Harvest Bread Co., Panera Bread, Whole Foods, and other caterers. "You might open the fridge and you’re actually getting some fine dining," Bordelon said. "Everything is welcome, from both sides of it."
Much like at St. Leo, the emphasis at St. Barnabas has been welcoming people from all walks of life, to either contribute or receive; to be a part of a community without judgement or stigma attached, without expectation or score-keeping. Throughout the experience of hosting a community fridge, there has been a lot of active learning involved, Bordelon noted—misunderstandings about the realities of the scarcity mindset (where people who are food insecure might be desperate to stockpile items that are reliably available), and fears that people were hoarding goods or "stealing."
"It's not stealing if you give it away, right?" Bordelon said, smiling. "If you give it away, it can't be stolen."
Ultimately, Bordelon sees the community fridge (and pantry, and charging station for those experiencing electricity insecurity) as part of the broader mission of his church, and as the congregation's purpose-driven answer to a clear directive from the Gospels to feed the hungry. "Part of St. Barnabas is a place at the table," he said. "And we really focus a lot on feeding people—spiritually, bodily, and actually, literally, feeding people."
"The most unintended consequence of giving to the pantry is how much you feel for a stranger that you've never met," Bordelon added. "Do it for them, but do it for yourself...We want to love our neighbor better."
This is not, by any means, an exhaustive list of community fridge resources in these metropolitan areas. For those interested in learning more about the fridges mentioned in this article, visit the wallsproject.org, theredshoes.org, stleolafayette.com, stbarnabaslafayette.org, and Nola Fridges (NOCF) - Community on Facebook.
