In Ojo Sarco, an unincorporated village in New Mexico’s Sangre de Cristo mountains, residents say that the pandemic underscored the challenges they’d long faced as both remote and rural. Based about an hour’s drive from Santa Fe, community members had difficulty accessing essential supplies like

food, masks, and toilet paper during the early months of lockdown. The local community center stepped up when the government didn’t, transitioning from its regular services as a food pantry to delivering emergency meals twice a month and distributing thousands of masks. But even as residents leaned on one another for resources, the pandemic underlined the village’s precarious access to health care, economic markets, and crucial necessities like broadband.

Ojo Sarco is defined as a frontier community: a place that’s not only rural, but also sparsely populated and at a distance from urban centers. The frontier is diverse, ranging from Native American reservations to ranching communities to mining towns. But activists for rural, remote spaces say that they share several challenges in common, including aging populations, the outmigration of youth, a lack of job opportunities, and as one public health advocate put it, a chronic “lack of recognition from the federal government.” That lack of recognition is an old story that activists have been fighting since the ’80s, when the contemporary frontier movement kicked off.

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The word “frontier” is probably most closely associated with myth. In 1893, historian Frederick Jackson Turner helped launch the term into the popular imagination. Frontier areas, defined by their sparse populations, were characterized by Turner as spaces where “dominant individualism,” the conquest of the natural world, and American culture would prevail. Critically, Turner also argued that the frontier had closed. As western settlement continued, the most remote, low-density American spaces had apparently become a national memory.

But nearly a century later, land-use professor Frank Popper re-examined the 19th-century historian’s claim. Using Turner’s own criteria for what defined the frontier, Popper argued that rural, remote areas hadn’t disappeared at all. “We were basically saying that Turner, this huge figure in American history and American historiography and American regionalism, had misread his own data,” Popper explained. “And provably.”

Popper’s research aimed to prove not only that the frontier existed, but that it continued to be politically significant. A far cry from Turner’s nationalistic, white-dominated depiction, the remote spaces that Popper mapped were culturally and racially diverse, with economies that often relied on interdependence with — not conquest over — the environment. Although these communities had unique economic and demographic makeups, Popper found that their position as both remote and rural meant they dealt with similar challenges.

A 1985 trip to the Great Plains would bring those challenges into sharp relief for Frank and his wife and colleague, Deborah Popper. Recounting the journey west, Deborah described talking with folks about the exodus of young people in their towns, an absence of diverse job opportunities, and the distance from schools and critical health services. “What does it mean to be in a place that loses population?” Deborah recalled herself asking. “How do you reinvent it? How do you make it viable?”

In northern New Mexico, Carol Miller was asking the same questions. After studying public health in California, Miller had moved in the late ’70s to Ojo Sarco. As she recalled what drew her to the village, Miller spoke not only about the area’s natural beauty, but also about the strong sense of community. “These three older women kind of adopted me,” she marvelled, “I came when their kids were leaving, because there were no jobs. So these three women in our village were just so kind, teaching me how to deliver milk, how to do canning, what crops to grow.”

Yet even as Miller felt herself becoming “adopted” into life in Ojo Sarco, she was also cognizant of the village’s challenges, like the lack of job opportunities that had caused her friends’ children to move. When she was appointed executive director of a local health care clinic in 1982, Miller encountered political barriers to the community’s well-being: the small clinic was expected to reimburse the federal government for a share of its costs or close. “The Reagan administration was closing clinics,” she said, “Our clinic was made up of activists, so we decided to fight. We did our first lobbying trip to save our clinic and we ended up getting legislation passed.”

When Miller heard about the Poppers’ research, she said it felt like remote communities were finally being recognized as distinct from rural areas, which generally have higher population densities and easier access to urban centers. “We aren’t just rural,” Miller explained. “We’re frontier. It’s different. [Hearing about their work] was amazing, it was great. And so a whole movement came together.”

“Carol called me up out of the blue,” Frank Popper remembered. “I was really pleased that somebody was using our work. Here was somebody agreeing with me that the frontier exists and it matters.” Deborah Popper noted that Carol’s background in rural health added another dimension to their work, explaining, “She wasn’t using Turner as her definition. She wasn’t just using density. She was using things like how long it would take to get to a good hospital if you were injured or sick.”

In 1997, Miller helped found the Frontier Education Center (later renamed the National Center for Frontier Communities), enlisting Frank and Deborah Popper, as well as tribal leaders, ranchers, and rural health activists from around the country as board members. Together the organization developed a definition of frontier that took distance from health services into consideration. They also created maps that correlated communities’ economies with their access to health services. “We began promoting that economic health was really the indicator of community success,” Carol recalled.

Over the years, the Center helped raise awareness about federal programs that had inadvertently created structural barriers for small, remote communities; for instance, to apply for Welfare to Work funds, an organization has to be able to create 25 jobs, a number that could be unfeasible in very small communities. Today, the NCFC continues advocacy on the legislative level and coordinates local programs that promote access to healthy food, connect local farmers to markets, and report on health outcomes in southwestern New Mexico. Just a few months ago, the organization had one of their biggest wins yet, when they helped draft and pass a bill that created an official government position to advocate for rural and frontier communities in the state.

And yet, when asked how frontier issues have changed since her work began in the ’80s, Miller says that in some ways, “things are a lot worse.” In Ojo Sarco, those issues include high poverty rates, an aging population, rising housing prices, and chronic underinvestment by the federal government. Miller remembered a story from the early days of the Center, when a public health official called her community

“flyover country.” “The idea was,” she said, “you don’t have enough votes for us to care about you.” According to Miller, that oversight has manifested in a number of issues — most recently, in the community’s fight to have a post office. “The Postal Service told us that we cost them fifteen hundred a year more than we spent on stamps and money orders, and so we couldn’t keep our post office open,” she said. “I mean, how is that fair?”

Professors Frank and Deborah Popper agreed that in some cases, issues in rural and remote communities have persisted or worsened in recent years. One trend common to many remote communities is the outmigration of youth. From 2010 to 2016, rural areas “lost population in absolute terms for the first time.” A study by USDA geographer John Cromartie found that certain remote communities lost 20- to-24-year-olds at a rate nearly twice that of rural communities as a whole. Many frontier communities are resource-dependent, which may partially explain why, as the country transitions away from fossil fuels, job opportunities are declining.

Globalization is also affecting frontier communities. Jed Drolet is an NCFC board member who grew up in northwestern New Mexico. He described leaving his hometown for Albuquerque as his family’s trading post, on the outskirts of the Navajo reservation, began to see less economic traffic.“It was no longer as doable as it had been,” Drolet explained. “In previous decades, there had been increasing roads and connections to town and competition from Walmart and Safeway so that trading posts out in the sticks, like us, couldn’t really compete. And so a lot of traders around that time did give up.” Drolet now works in Alaska, where he says that reliance on traditional, local food systems is paramount to communities’ success. “There are larger grocery stores in hub communities like Bethel,” Drolet said, “But [many communities] are in really remote places, and the food that’s brought in is really expensive. So subsistence hunting, gathering, fishing is not just cultural. It really is an economic necessity.”

Despite continuing challenges, residents of frontier areas continue to fight to preserve their communities. The same USDA study that described high rates of outmigration in 20-to-24-year-olds had much higher rates of in-migration in 30-to-34-year-olds who sought to return home to raise families or bring back skills and knowledge. “Small-town social life … bolster[ed] their decisions to move home,” the authors write, “including opportunities in the community to volunteer and take on leadership roles.” Meanwhile, a report that centered on a healthcare center in southwestern New Mexico described “community interconnectedness” as one of the “greatest assets of the frontier.” The report demonstrated that when people have critical infrastructure like health clinics, they use these spaces to gather, unify, and strategize about the future of their towns.

Talking with Carol, it’s not difficult to see why people continue to love living in frontier spaces. Although she worked for several years as a lobbyist and public health official on the east coast, Miller said that she kept returning to Ojo Sarco for the sense of belonging she experienced there, beginning with the three women who had shown her how to work the land decades back and extending to the way that residents leaned on one another to help distribute resources this past year. “There’s a reality here,” she laughed, “I might not like you, but we both have to dig this ditch.” In Ojo Sarco, that sense of community is literal; in many cases, residents share communal land grants and water rights. As new, more affluent residents have tried to privatize the land, Miller says that she has seen her neighbors step up to defend their communal land and acequias. “It’s not just history,” she said, “It’s an ongoing fight.”

Stories of community, local democracy, and love for the land show that frontier spaces are neither “flyover country” nor the wellspring of American mythology that Turner had famously described in 1893.

Instead, frontier communities are diverse, resilient spaces home to over twelve million people — spaces deserving of recognition, which Miller says, “is a lot.” She says that recognition of the frontier is what the leaders of the NCFC have been fighting for since the beginning: “I see you. You’re not invisible.”

Young people today are facing unprecedented levels of stress, uncertainty, and disconnection. Whether it’s economic instability, social pressures, or a lack of opportunities in rural areas, youth in frontier communities often grapple with unique challenges that impact their overall well-being. The National Center for Frontier Communities (NCFC) is stepping up with an innovative pilot program designed to bolster youth wellness by fostering resilience, engagement, and leadership.

Recent studies highlight the urgent need for action. A 2024 Walton Family Foundation poll surveying nearly 3,000 Americans aged 12-26 found that Gen Z is more likely than any other generation to rate their emotional well-being as poor or fair. Alarmingly, less than half of the respondents could envision a promising future for themselves. These findings underscore a growing sense of disillusionment and the need for meaningful, action-based solutions that help young people build confidence and connection.

In frontier communities like Southwest New Mexico, where NCFC operates, these challenges can be even more pronounced. With vast distances between resources, limited access to mental health services, and fewer structured youth engagement opportunities, young people in these regions often struggle to find avenues for growth and empowerment. Recognizing this gap, NCFC is launching a groundbreaking research and engagement initiative focused on supporting youth in rural and frontier New Mexico.

Our three-pronged approach includes:

1. Comprehensive Youth Wellness Survey

NCFC is conducting an in-depth survey of 200 youth aged 10-19 across Catron, Grant, Hidalgo, and Luna counties. This research will provide crucial insights into the concerns, aspirations, and stressors facing frontier youth, helping to shape programs that directly address their needs.

2. Hands-On Engagement with Local Food and Community Initiatives

Rather than developing standalone programming, NCFC is embedding youth directly into existing food systems and community-building efforts. Through partnerships with initiatives like the Frontier Food Hub, New Earth Project, and San Vicente Farm, youth will gain hands-on experience in leadership, problem-solving, and teamwork. These projects provide a sense of purpose, helping participants build confidence while contributing meaningfully to their communities.

3. Youth-Led Leadership & Advocacy

NCFC is creating a youth-led advocacy group focused on leadership development and civic engagement. Participants will research and develop policy recommendations, presenting them to local decision-makers. This initiative is designed to empower young people by giving them a voice in shaping the future of their communities.

At NCFC, we believe that the key to youth well-being is transformation through action. By leveraging the Positive Youth Development (PYD) framework, we aim to shift mindsets from passivity to purpose, helping young people develop resilience, self-efficacy, and the skills needed to navigate life’s challenges.

Our commitment is to create sustainable, scalable models for youth engagement that reach even the smallest and most remote communities across the country. By sharing our findings and methodologies, we hope to inspire a movement that prioritizes youth empowerment and long-term well-being.

We invite you to follow our progress and join us in this vital mission. Together, we can help young people in frontier communities build strong, hopeful futures—anchored in connection, purpose, and opportunity.

Remote communities have a lot to gain, or lose, from a new Farm Bill. At the National Center for Frontier Communities (NCFC), we see first hand the benefits of Farm Bill programs and their power to spur community development in the smallest and most remote communities across the nation.  This August, our CEO Ben Rasmussen represented our mission at the National Sustainable Agriculture Coalition (NSAC) summer meeting in St. Paul, Minnesota, reinforcing our commitment to shaping a Farm Bill that truly serves the unique needs of frontier communities.

What is the Farm Bill?

The Farm Bill is a comprehensive piece of U.S. legislation, renewed roughly every five years, that shapes national food and agriculture policy. It provides funding for agricultural programs, nutrition assistance, conservation efforts, and rural development. Rural development initiatives in the Farm Bill include infrastructure projects, broadband expansion, water systems, and support for rural businesses. By offering financial resources and policy support, it has the potential to strengthen rural economies, enhance food security, and promote the ongoing development of more regional food systems, which can greatly benefit frontier communities.

This legislative behemoth directs over a trillion dollars in spending and does more to shape the state of our food system and rural development than any other piece of legislation; it’s a blueprint for the future of rural America. For frontier communities, its impact reverberates through every aspect of life, from the economic vitality of local farms to the nutritional well-being of families.

Consider these critical points:

1. Agricultural Resilience: The 2018 Farm Bill authorized nearly $867 billion over ten years, with a significant portion supporting the 2.1 million farms across the nation. While there are ongoing concerns with commodity subsidies and consolidation in the agricultural sector, a portion of these funds support grant programs such as the Local Food and Farmers Market Promotion grants, Specialty Crop Block grants, Community Food Projects and more.   In frontier areas, where diversification is challenging, this support allows for dedicated resources to develop local food systems.

2. Nutritional Security: With rural food insecurity rates at 14% compared to 10% in urban areas, nutrition assistance programs—accounting for 76% of Farm Bill funding—are crucial for frontier families. At NCFC, we’re pushing for innovative approaches to bridge this gap, recognizing that food security in remote areas requires unique solutions.

3. Digital Connectivity: The $1.15 billion allocated for rural broadband in the 2018 bill was a start, but with 19 million rural Americans still lacking high-speed internet, we’re advocating for a quantum leap in connectivity funding. In the digital age, broadband isn’t a luxury—it’s essential infrastructure for education, healthcare, and economic growth.

4. Environmental Stewardship: The $60 billion dedicated to conservation programs over ten years is crucial, but frontier communities need tailored approaches. We support innovative programs that recognize the unique environmental challenges and opportunities in remote areas, from sustainable rangeland management to innovative water conservation techniques.

5. Next Generation of Farmers: Support for beginning and minority farmers is critical in frontier areas where demographic shifts threaten agricultural continuity. We’re pushing for expanded mentorship programs and accessible financing options to ensure the legacy of frontier farming endures.

6. Local Food Systems: The Local Agriculture Market Program (LAMP), with its $50 million annual funding, has shown promise. However, we envision a more robust framework that addresses the unique logistical challenges of food distribution in frontier areas. Our Frontier Food Hub model serves as a blueprint for how local food systems can thrive even in the most isolated communities.

As we look towards the next Farm Bill, NCFC is not just participating in the conversation—we’re leading it. Our work has educated dozens of congressional offices on the potential impact of farm bill programs in remote communities. Through our food systems programs, NCFC is demonstrating how thoughtful, targeted interventions can catalyze systemic change in frontier America.

The challenges facing our most remote communities are complex, but they’re not insurmountable. We are committed to crafting solutions that are as nuanced and resilient as the frontier.

In *Worlds Apart*, Cynthia Duncan powerfully illustrates how persistent rural poverty stems from systemic underinvestment, perpetuating cycles of deprivation in places like Appalachia, the Mississippi Delta, and the U.S.-Mexico border. Duncan shows how this neglect, often enforced by local elites, has historically restricted education, economic mobility, and civic participation. Her analysis sheds light on the structural barriers that still exist today in many rural areas, including frontier communities like those we serve at the National Center for Frontier Communities (NCFC).

NCFC was born out of the realization that not all rural places are the same.  Many discussions about rural poverty tend to group all rural regions together, but the level of rurality matters—especially in frontier communities, which are the most isolated and sparsely populated regions in the country. Frontier areas, which are “more rural than rural”, face unique challenges that differ significantly from those in more connected rural regions. The physical isolation, lack of infrastructure, and minimal access to healthcare, education, and markets make the needs of frontier communities distinct. Accurate data is essential in understanding these unique challenges, as traditional data often lumps frontier areas together with more accessible rural communities, masking the specific hardships frontier populations face.

Collecting and analyzing precise data that separates varying degrees of rurality is critical. Without accurate data, the frontier’s specific needs remain hidden, and solutions that work for other rural areas may fall short. Frontier communities are often invisible in national discussions about rural poverty, infrastructure, and development, and that invisibility extends to the policy level. Policymakers, armed with inaccurate or insufficient data, often fail to recognize the deep isolation and chronic underinvestment in frontier areas, leading to a continued cycle of neglect. To make meaningful progress, we need to define frontier communities distinctly from other rural spaces and ensure they receive the tailored investment and attention they deserve.

The work we do at NCFC addresses these unique challenges by taking a regional approach to development, fostering collaboration across sectors, and focusing on innovative, community-driven solutions. Programs like the Upper Gila Watershed Alliance’s (UGWA) composting initiatives and dynamic seed libraries are examples of frontier ingenuity—using local resources to build resilience. Our regional food distribution networks connect small farmers with markets across the state, providing economic opportunities that would otherwise be inaccessible to many in these isolated regions. Organizations like The Commons and Colores United also spearhead community-led food security efforts in southwest New Mexico, addressing local needs with creativity and resourcefulness.

In addition to addressing the symptoms of poverty NCFC seeks to transform the systems that got us here in the first place. Frontier communities, much like the areas Duncan describes, have been under-resourced for decades. Yet, we know that with the right kind of investment, especially in education, infrastructure, and civic engagement, these communities can thrive. This is where NCFC steps in—not just to advocate for policy changes, but to mobilize resources and build relationships that can lift entire regions.

Frontier communities need to be understood, counted, and supported as their own unique ecosystem. When we invest in frontier areas, we bring services to isolated populations—and help create sustainable economies, stronger communities, and a more interconnected region. Accurate data, informed policy, and sustained investment in frontier areas can make a lasting difference in these “super rural” communities, breaking cycles of poverty and creating a future of opportunity and resilience.

In line with Duncan’s findings, NCFC believes that breaking the cycle of poverty in frontier areas requires both a top-down and bottom-up approach: policy advocacy combined with community empowerment. By investing in people and building local capacity through innovative projects and partnerships, we are committed to ensuring that even the most remote and overlooked communities have the tools and opportunities to thrive. The frontier may be geographically isolated, but through collaboration, data-driven solutions, and investment, we can help these communities become connected, resilient, and self-sustaining.