Freeganism in Singapore is more accessible than you think

Searching “freegan” on YouTube reveals dramatic titles with phrases like “living off trash” or thumbnails of people in spelunking gear. Even Channel News Asia’s documentary on the local freegan community starts with, “This season is all about the fanatics and the diehards.”

I didn’t know what to expect when I first met up with local freegan, Ng Xin Yi. I geared up for the worst, decked in an AIRism T-shirt and SAF running shorts combo, and masked up with a pair of gloves in hand. I was mentally ready to spend a sweltering Singaporean day knee-deep in garbage. I shared that I haven’t been in the habit of dumpster diving, to which Xin Yi kindly clarified that dumpster diving isn’t all there is to freeganism.

I then asked, “If freeganism isn’t dumpster diving, then what is all about it?”

“I default ‘freeganism’ to its Wikipedia definition – it’s a rejection of consumerism,” she replies. “We make the best use of the resources and materials already created. That could look like food rescue, dumpster diving, or making second-hand purchases.”

She proceeds to showcase examples from her own kitchen. Her fridge was full of vegetables – some deformed and others yellowed. Her under-sink kitchen cabinet was stocked with cardboard boxes filled with canned food, soft drinks, and jellies – all either collected from or given away by shop owners.

Rejecting consumerism can also mean producing food yourself. Xin Yi shows me her compost bin, which nourishes her chillies, potatoes, and an assortment of herbs growing in the little vegetable garden outside her HDB flat. Other freegan finds in her house include a Muji mirror picked up from outside her office, books from bargain bins, and a used Aeron office chair sourced at half the retail price. I wondered if scavenging is the only way to live for freegans. But Ng assures me that diving headfirst into dumpsters isn’t the only path to freeganism, especially with the risk of a S$5000 fine for raking through National Environment Agency’s (NEA) property.

The origins

Freeganism, a portmanteau of “free” and “vegan”, has anarchic roots despite its seemingly innocuous name. According to sociologist Alex Barnard, the term was coined in the 1990s by Keith McHenry, co-founder of Food Not Bombs, a loose-knit international group that shares free vegetarian food and protests against war. The movement began quite radically, with some freegan manifestos from as early as the year 2000 even advocating shoplifting as a rejection of capitalism, for example. The movement grew, with its online growth turbocharged by the New York freegan community setting up a website, freegan.info, in 2003. As freegan adherents increased, the initial anarchic practices also diminished as the freegan coalition diversified in their goals. 

Freeganism began gaining momentum in Singapore in 2017 when Daniel Tay – the face of local freeganism – set up the Freegan in Singapore Facebook page and started organising events that promoted the lifestyle. Since then, it has evolved into a loosely connected community across the island. 

Why become a freegan?

“I think many people are motivated by the environmental standpoint,” says Xin Yi. Like her, many freegans came from other environmentally friendly movements like the zero-waste community and such. 

There are other motivations: “You get to save money,” she laughs.

I then asked what got her started on her freegan lifestyle. “I feel that it’s important to protect the environment that we live in. Some people said to me, ‘How much impact can you have as one person?’ But personally, I believe that I should do what feels right to me. If I believe in something but don’t put it into action, then what does that say about me?”

That belief led to her first adopting a minimalist and zero-waste lifestyle. After being introduced to food and bread rescue efforts by Daniel, Xin Yi soon became more committed to practising freeganism.

“I embrace freeganism a bit more because I find that minimalism or zero waste can be quite restrictive,” she explains. “Some common practices of a zero-waste lifestyle include bringing your own cutlery, and reducing single-use packaging. I found those very challenging, especially in the beginning, because the zero-waste awareness in Singapore was not high. Having to repeatedly communicate this with shop owners proved to be draining.” 

She contrasts that experience with freeganism. “I think I’m making a bigger impact because I’m consuming things that might have gone to waste instead of rejecting them. There’s also a lot of sharing in freeganism, making the world seem a lot more abundant.”

Living as a freegan

However noble the cause, most people have entrenched lives they’d be reluctant to change. I then wondered – no matter how sympathetic one may be to issues like food waste, how willing are we to drop our jobs, convenience, and “makan meetups” to become a freegan?

“It’s not an extreme lifestyle where you’re forced to get everything for free,” Xin Yi affirms. “It’s more about doing what you can. You choose the [practices] that are most suitable for you and start with that first.”

I queried about the time commitment, as I recalled an article about Daniel’s widely known decision to quit his job in pursuit of a “simpler” freegan life. Is this level of commitment really necessary?

Xin Yi shakes her head, pointing to her full-time design consultant job.

“I don’t think it requires a lot of time – you spend around the same amount of time as you do when you buy groceries. And buying groceries means spending money.”

 “There are two main places where I source food from. One is at weekly rescues at a vegetable store near my home which also supports our freegan cause – we have a WhatsApp group, and the different people inside just take turns. I’d collect once every three weeks or so. Commitment-wise, it’s around an hour plus each time,” she shares. “Another one is at a distribution place nearby which is operated by a neighbour from her home, like three bus stops away. Additionally, anyone who’s interested in food rescue volunteering can also consider joining the We Love Rescued Food Facebook group, where we keep participants updated on the latest food rescue activities. Volunteers don’t only get to help out, but also get to choose a trolley of rescued food to take home.”

For non-food items, she searches in alternative places; buying first-hand is a last resort. Instead of Amazon, it’s Carousell or GoodHood (a platform for mutual community support, like sharing pre-loved items). Instead of Uniqlo, it’s heading to thrift stores and clothes swaps. These are practices many Singaporeans are already used to. 

I was still sceptical. What about eating out – wouldn’t practising freeganism and being forced into perpetual home cooking impede this fundamental Singaporean experience? 

“If you want to go out there, go ahead. You don’t have to be too strict about it,” Xin Yi laughs.

If anything, being a freegan means that she doesn’t spend money on her needs. This means that she’s financially free to splurge occasionally on her favourite sashimi and cockles with friends. 

Dipping my toes

At Xin Yi’s urging, I found myself at Bangla Square, Lembu Road, waiting for the Little India Veggie Collection to begin.

After a briefing, I carted a trolley around the narrow roads, twisting and turning amidst migrant worker crowds, and speaking with various fruit and vegetable vendors.

You notice the shopkeeper’s connection with the collectors: They recognised us instantly. Some even prepared crates of excess or ugly vegetables or fruits beforehand.

There have been food rescues in Little India for seven years now – plenty of time for shopkeepers to build relationships with collectors, gain that awareness and realise that they can contribute, especially when their competitors do it without any loss. 

Some shopkeepers were inspired to start food rescue efforts, too: Daniel Yap, a Little India grocery shop owner, began Fridge Restock Community Singapore, which sends excess fruits and vegetables to community fridges. 

We collected 400 kg worth of food that day. As much as seeing the fruits of our labour felt gratifying, it also dawned on me how grave the food waste problem is in Singapore. This mass of food came from three stretches of shophouses – imagine how much food is wasted across the island daily. You might’ve read that NEA estimated that the total amount of food waste generated in Singapore in 2022 was 813,000 tonnes. We only salvaged a drop from that massive, hulking bucket. 

Before transporting the rescued food to community fridges and food kitchens, volunteers can pick out fruits and vegetables for themselves. I gathered enough for a week. 

It’s accessible

True to Xin Yi’s statement, the food rescue experience at Little India Veggie Collection took just over an hour. They carry out food rescues on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays after working hours. This is not the only food rescue effort you can participate in either.

Fridge Restock Community Singapore conducts food rescues every Tuesday and Wednesday from 9 am to 1 pm at Pasir Panjang Wholesale Centre. 

There’s also the Sengkang Food Rescue, where regular bread runs and food rescues are carried out at various locations – including non-Sengkang places like Toa Payoh or Yuhua – and has a mobile application for convenient communication. 

If you live near Zhenghua, you can consider Zhenghua Food Rescue’s ground-up food rescue initiative.

Corporate involvement is welcome at many organisations. For example, organisations like D2L.sg or The Food Bank Singapore redistribute all types of excess food. 

Of course, being a freegan isn’t just about food. That said, pushing back against food waste remains a fundamental part of freeganism. Many of the above efforts are inspired by or led by freegans and are gathering points for the freegan community. 

Limiting food waste is already a practice many Singaporeans are predisposed to. Xin Yi recalls, “I grew up in a family where we’ll eat leftovers from dinner the next day.”

Food safety is, of course, a concern. But this is where education and awareness help, in that there’s a difference between ugly and spoiled produce. The former is safe to eat. 

“Of course, rely on our senses and discard any spoiled produce. Just because they’re ‘ugly’, it doesn’t mean that they’re rotten. As long as the produce tastes, looks, or smells clean with no funky odours or mould, they’re most likely safe to bring back,” Xin Yi points out.

Nowadays, freegans in Singapore rescue their food directly from sellers instead of rummaging through bins, which helps with food safety. Even if you’re too squeamish for rescued vegetables or fruits, there are often giveaways for excess processed foods with expiry dates – and you can still adopt other freegan-adjacent practices like sourcing second-hand goods.

The freegan community

Seeing how the media usually portrays the most prominent and proactive members of niche communities such as freeganism, I expected the freegan community to be hardcore. But my experience with them proved otherwise. 

During my continued volunteer work with Little India Veggie Collection, I’ve encountered many likeminded people, ranging from cryptobros and German expats to semi-retired aunties and ITE students. It’s important to note that not all of them are freegans – after all, you don’t have to be one to think that food wastage is worth tackling. Like what Xin Yi mentioned earlier, freegans love to share. I’ve gotten (many) loaves of sourdough, cartons of Horlicks tetra-paks, and even scones from fancy bakeries in my experience with them. 

“I don’t usually say hi to people,” says Xin Yi. “But because of freeganism, I’ve learned to open up. This allows me to share extra food that I have with others.”

“It’s a nice way of interacting with my community –  of helping each other out, rather than living in our own HDB flat, minding our own business.”

This sense of community kept me coming back. And I think when social isolation amongst Singaporeans is such a big problem, especially among youth, such community-centric efforts are a step in the right direction. 

The freegan community has grown in recent years, and part of that is down to freegans like Xin Yi publicising the movement. “I just want to open people up to the idea that there are other ways to live your life. I think that Singapore can sometimes feel a bit restrictive about what you should or should not do. I want to challenge them on that sentiment.”

There is criticism towards freeganism. As much as it’s an anti-consumerist lifestyle and ideology, isn’t it still benefiting off the excesses of consumerism? Xin Yi argues that its current state of being reflects our current realities. 

“The end goal for freeganism is that it ceases being a niche movement,” says Xin Yi. “That freeganism is about values and practices that everybody embraces because it makes sense. Then, we no longer distinguish between freegans and non-freegans – it becomes normalised. There’s a lot of abundance in this world. But can we see it? Are we willing to share things? There’s also the aspect of building community and helping each other. Nowadays, you can pay someone to do everything, and many relationships become transactional rather than relational. It’s nice to build those connections again.”

As I walk home under the moonlight after a long day of food rescue efforts, my ah ma trolley rumbling along the narrow shophouse walkways, I’m accompanied by a retired auntie and a domestic helper. Chatting with them, I’m inclined to agree with Xin Yi.