Why this is not the Farm Fight Club
Hello Big Team!
It’s been a rough few weeks in the world. Together, we’re trying to navigating COVID fatigue, the murder of Daunte Wright by the police, and the gorgeous yet ominous weather that suggests the possibility of a blistering hot summer among a million other dumpster fires both individual and collective. Personally, I’m still trying to find my footing in a post-book-taking-up-my-whole-brain-every-minute-of-the-day world, I’m reconnecting with my community after months of isolation, and remembering that people exist in more than two dimensions. I’m remembering what it’s like (very Frodo on Mount Doom vibes) to sit next to real human being, to just smile and smell them and feel like you can sense the way even their smallest movements disturb the air. To be close and together. There’s an automatic kind of safety that comes with that, a sense of safety that many of us have been deprived of for a very long time.
In the spirit of everything being hard, the theme of this week’s newsletter is sticking together. Because as Carl Sagan (art by big teammate Hopey Fink) said:
Before we get into it though, I’d like to take a moment to pour one out for the simple joy of the insane mummy voice.
#FarmFightClub
So I got a message from Gracy Olmstead on Twitter this week (the author of the NYTimes opinion piece I extolled recently). I won’t share what she said verbatim, but the gist of her message was that she was grateful for my insight and perspective, she offered some additional background about her great-grandfather’s sharecropping roots, and thanked me for my work. It was genuinely very nice.
It got me thinking a lot about the work I, and so many others, do (as did a very thoughtful conversation I got to have with a leader at A Growing Culture: check out their work, it’s rad).
It’s hard for me to put my finger on what exactly I’m doing here, but in my mind, it’s all about pushes. Mainly, the work of an ally/co-conspirator is to push our communities towards justice, in part because we’re able to get close enough to do the pushing, and also so that the work of pushing doesn’t fall to people who have already been shoved out of reach. The point is to push people away from the narrow white line that outlines the structures of racism, xenophobia, patriarchy, colonialism, and extraction. The idea being that eventually, with enough pushes, the people we care for will realize that nothing but fear and shame hold them to the line.
But the pretty universal thing is, people don’t like to be pushed. Sometimes when we get pushed, we fall down, we look stupid, we get embarrassed, we get hurt. We certainly don’t feel good about the pusher most of the time. And that’s the hard part. Because the work is not just about pushing and walking away. It’s not about going through the world knocking people on their asses, punching bigots in the face and then riding off into the sunset, victorious.
The work, if you’re up for it, is to push people, and then to deal with their (often unpleasant) knee jerk reactions, to patiently wait with them until their ego stops bleeding, to explain why you did it, and then to encourage them to come along with you after all.
I’m going to brass tax you here— this work sucks. It’s a whole lot easier to stomp around, attacking people from a position of virtue, and dismissing all your opponents as beneath your attention. It’s safer for the ego for sure. But it also doesn’t create change. If anything, it works against the goal of changing hearts and minds, because now your opponents have a perceived claim to having an injustice done to them… by you.
This is exactly why I don’t really block people on social media (exceptions being for the very short list of people who have threatened physical violence against me). It’s why I accepted an invitation to be on a panel with Maryland farmer Trey Hill and the carbon company he’s working with next month (you’ll remember him from a story I did about why we shouldn’t pay him for carbon sequestration). It’s why I’ve tried my level best (baring lost messages or tight schedules) to talk on the phone or in person with absolutely *anyone* who’s ever asked; including some of my fiercest critics. And that’s why I responded to Gracy Olmstead with this message:
“Hi Grace (or Gracy?, sorry if I got that wrong), I’m sorry it took me so long to respond! It’s been nuts. I appreciate you reaching out and your very thoughtful response. Thanks for the grace you offer here, I definitely know that there are stories like this out there, and that lots of just really hard working people make their way into agriculture. I also totally understand that writing an opinion piece for the times was probably not something you did without editors or shaping, and that you were definitely limited on word count from going into all the depth of issues that are out there. I wanted to offer the broader perspective, and to do it in a way that would resonate.
Anyway, I feel like I’m rambling, because what I want to do is apologize for what I wrote, because instinct, but I’m not going to because I put a lot of thought and care into that argument and into a very careful reading of your piece. And it was fun and work worth doing and I’d happily do it again. I’m looking forward to reading what else you write, and to remaining in dialogue with you publicly (and/or privately if you’d like!). I do think of you as part of my community, and getting this message from you made me very proud of that. Let me know if you ever want to talk more or debate anything, or please feel free to put me on blast when I inevitably misstep in the future. Fair is fair. But I really really appreciate hearing from you either way, and I look forward to the next time.”
I know I’m not always the most measured person in the world. I’ve had a hot take or two in my day. And I know that the harm that Gracy’s article did was not to me as much as it was to others, and that I cannot do reconcile on behalf of anyone but myself. But all in all, I really believe that people are probably the only thing that matter in life. Being right, being the smartest or the best or having the most followers on social media, none of that really matters if we don’t have people on our team, people who really believe in us and who we can share our passion with.
And you never know who the people you push might become. Sometimes, the people who push back the hardest end up your most loyal allies.
An Incomplete Theory of Nemeses
My best friend growing up started out as my nemesis. The long and short of it is, I, and almost everyone on our cross country team, was mean to her at summer practice because she had short hair (middle school kids are a literal menace). Then on the first day of school, she and her friend were in my science class, and they spent the whole first day blowing spit wads at me. A few days later, she farted on me in math. That’s right. She walked over to my desk after the bell rang, turned around, and farted right in my face before giggling gleefully and returning calmly to her desk. I (and my teacher) was so shocked, I don’t even think anyone said anything about it.
Three weeks later, I had to switch my schedule to get into Honors Geography (nerd!) and ended up in a PE class where I didn’t know anyone and all the girls locker room cliques were already formed. It was my worst nightmare. I was one of two odd ones out.
It was me and my nemesis.
At first, I refused to talk to her. Being a *super cool* 13 year-old, I knew I’d rather be a loner than befriend a girl who would fart on someone in school. She didn’t care though. She wanted to talk, and me being quiet and moody suited her fine. She’d tell me these long, windy, adventure-infused stories where she was always the hero and the antics were always impossibly overblown. Eventually I couldn’t help it, and I started to ask her questions, just to try and catch her in a lie and prove that they weren’t real. But it was impossible— every big fish story she told was air tight. Slowly, I started to fill in my own stories. Maybe they started out true, or with a grain of truth, but eventually they got magnificent enough to match hers, until we’d spend the whole class period one-upping each other with more and more extravagant tales.
We never really talked about that beginning, we never “made up” about it or anything. It just always was what it was, and over time, cold rejection gave way to unwilling interest, and finally, to begrudging mutual respect. And through six years of growing and changing, facing hardships and setbacks, learning and failing, injustice and pain, that respect endured in a way that it never had in another relationship I’d ever experienced. From those shared and co-constructed stories, we shaped a friendship that transformed the way I understood people and the world.
I’ve thought a lot about what made our friendship so powerful, and so impactful on me, and the conclusion I reached is that; it’s because we started out by learning all the most hatable parts of each other. It’s counter-intuitive, but it’s a powerful thing, to know the worst of a person from the start. It creates an unexpectedly firm foundation— because starting this way means you’re never going to be surprised to learn that this person you care so deeply about could do something terrible, and when they inevitably do, it’s not going to stop you from believing that they can come back from it. And it eliminates the fear that they might one day discover something about you that they find irredeemable, because they’ve already illustrated their commitment to your redemption, long before you deserved it.
In other words, pushing is hard, yes, but it can also be a pathway to something stupendous. When a relationship is forged through pushing, when the back and forth is built in, the levels of honesty, trust, and loyalty that can be reached are that much greater. (Obviously a relationship the consists only of pushing can be toxic and abusive, but so can one that can’t withstand any.)
Whatever the reasons, this friendship made me a connoisseur of nemeses. I have fewer than I’d like to have, because a good nemesis is hard to find. Like any good relationship, it takes work, it takes encountering and re-encountering a person, in this case, one who shares a passion though not a perspective. It takes holding space for them to express themselves. It takes pushing, and then sticking around in case they want to push back, and being willing to acknowledge that just as your pushing is really an act of love, so might theirs be. There’s no other way to cultivate a nemesis, a friend, or a community.
That’s why this isn’t a farm fight club. This isn’t a winner-take-all cage match where one person with one idea about our food and farm system will dominate and defeat all the challengers. This is place to share and tell stories, to learn how to tell them differently, and to tell them well. This is a place to give each other little pushes and big pushes, and then to help each other up and to keep going. This is a community, a place to remember that humility is strength, not weakness, and that confronting a problem is only half the work. The other half is to hold space for people to change and grow, and to welcome them when they do. And to be as graceful with others as our most graceful friends have been with us.
Big Team Farm Wins
I want to do some celebrating of the amazing folx we have here in our midst. First of all, Natasha Paris, ag teacher extraordinaire, surviving and thriving in the ag ed system and not only working to redefine agricultural education curriculums, but also just lighting up Twitter with her insights.
Next, another outstanding big teammate, Anthony Schultz, published a story in The Rural Reconciliation Project, astutely pointing out that Agriculture is (not) Rural.
Teammate Jenn B is over in the Big Team Farms discussion channel on slack offering some critical analysis of a new Audubon Society partnership with cattle producers (join the conversation by clicking here):
“…I admit I wouldn't have noticed the use of "regenerative grazing practices" and "historic herds" with zero reference to indigenous people. Another phrase that now pops out to me is the "fourth-generation rancher". And, of course, carbon sequestration is brought up since that's the hot topic of the day it seems. On the surface, it seems like a good idea and I'm all for protecting bird populations, but underneath...”
And another great topic for the forum, contributed by teammate Shannon Washburn:
“I was listening to this story on my way to work and thought you might be interested as well. They are doing a 3 part series on this small town in WA. [Listen here.] I was mostly intrigued to hear a farmer say he thought the deep divide between conservatives and liberals came down to a disconnect from agriculture. I haven’t heard that take before!”
Plus, all the phenom-folx in the Big Team Farm Book Club have chosen Salmon and Acorns Feed Our People // Norgaard as the first book we’re going to read. If you want to join in, be sure to fill out the availability poll. You’ll find it by clicking here. If you want to read along but can’t afford the book, we’ve got multiple folx (me included!) who’d be happy to sponsor, just reach out.
Next, teammate Errol Schweizer is absolutely k-i-l-l-i-n-g it over at The Checkout podcast and the attendant essays he writes on grocery. Think all of the tea Sarah Taber/Chris Newman spill, but grocery instead of agriculture. Get your fully-balanced food system diet, and start with learning about Kroger and the chain’s failure to protect it’s workers.
For folx looking to learn more about what the hell is going on in people’s brains when we talk about the stuff we talk about here— teammate Kelsey Jorissen Olesen recommends this listen:
“With all the moral panic happening around human trafficking online - especially among white mommy bloggers and the like - you’d think that same group shouting terrible disproven statistics from the rooftops would care about the real human trafficking problem... farm laborers!
But nope. I listened to a great You’re Wrong About podcast about this cognitive dissonance. Here’s the link.”
And finally, the funnest news— teammate, newsletter inspiration, and general life-goals-aspirational-human Caitlin Dewey continues to slay at Links I Would Gchat You if We Were Friends. Y’all. Do yourself a favor, for the joy of living and to feel like you’re actually a part of this thing we call the Internet, read just one issue and try not to click every. Single. Damn. Link. Highly recommend An extremely mediocre hell.
#FarmArt
I know I’ve been falling down *hard* on the new #farmart front, but I’m excited to share this week the final piece in our collection from Al Woody. A beautiful reminder of our inevitable interconnectedness.
Last F(ew) Things
Not really a laugh, but if what you need today is a bit of joy, definitely check out this long look at why you can’t buy a Bob Ross painting today.
You can hear me talk about the “Your Great Grandfather Doesn’t Know” story on a podcast here.
I cooked some Chicken Chimichuri last night (real casual like) and talked a bit about agriculture and grocery and stuff. You can watch it here. It was chill! If you like(d) it, let me know, I’d be happy to do something like it more regularly to answer questions, connect people, be entertaining, etc.
Related to the above; in other times, I would shortly be heading out into the world on some kind of book tour to get to meet you all in person at your local bookstore or coffee shop and shake your hand and sign your book. It is not those times, so I’ll not likely be doing much touring for the time being. That being said, if you have a virtual book club, meeting, family reunion, rap battle, pee-wee sheep lead, etc. that you would like to invite me to, to say hi and talk about agriculture and maybe hawk some books, my “Invites” tray is open.
If you’re new to Big Team Farms and want some explanation for what the F you just read, check out The Intro Newsletter and more recent additions by visiting Big Team Farms online.
Do you have announcements that would be relevant to the 1,300 or so members of the Big Team? Feel free to shoot me messages about projects, resources, job posting, etc. And to everyone who’s done that already, or who has asked questions that I haven’t yet responded to, look out for those in the next couple of newsletters.
I’ve started to really develop a lot of elaborate fan theories about Falcon and The Winter Soldier that I’m attached to. I liked WandaVision, but I have to say, I find the emotional mysteries of this series more compelling than the plot-based mysteries of that one. Should we make a slack channel specifically dedicated to pop culture theorizing? Should I make bacon-wrapped dates next week on IG live and just rant about the current, real-world cultural implications of whether Sam reclaims Cap’s shield? I don’t know, you tell me.
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Stay safe out there, dear ones. Don’t forget, if you have funny gifs, thoughts, comments, stories, questions, feedback, catchy song lyrics, good podcast recommendations, or anything else to tell me, I’m right on the other end of this email.
Rock on,
Sarah