A Conversation a Day…

It happened again. The evil statement. The one where I (farmer) am lectured by two people who have never been on a farm, but ironically, know more about our food supply than a lady in yoga pants and a peace-sign graphic tee (me. that’s what I was wearing. Not overalls and a straw hat. Misleading, now that I think about it).

…

I made a trip to the city yesterday. Treated myself to the many things I don’t have immediate access to since moving back: A Target run, sushi, Starbs (even tried the new Brown Sugar Oatmilk drink with REAL milk).

I spent too much time in Target and too much money on sushi. The drink was good, but the conversation to follow was better. 

The real reason I drove 150 miles (one way) was for an eye appointment. 

Little did I know, I’d learn more about the food safety concerns of a fellow 20-something female than I would about my vision.

This is how the afternoon unfolded:

During the consult, (let’s call her Katie) asked when I could schedule my appointment. 

“Do you have a Monday morning or Friday afternoon?” 

“Oh, you’re not local?”

“Nope! I live out on the plains. About three hours East.”

“Three hours? Isn’t that like, Kansas? That must be so ugly.”

(Depending on my mood that day, my response can go one of two ways):

1. “Hahaha it’s pretty desolate. No mountains.”

2. “It’s actually very beautiful. Lots of farmland. Gorgeous sunsets.”

I picked the latter.

To that, Katie responded, “Oh, that’s good! Farmland is needed, ya know?”

I giggled. (Touché, my friend. Touché).

She caught me off guard. That’s not the typical response I get. Sometimes I refrain from saying what I do altogether out of fear of having to explain myself and constantly stick up for my livelihood.

“Wow, I’m so glad you said that. I’m actually a farmer.”

She gave me the look. “Oh, cool, like veggies and stuff?” (It’s the peace-sign shirt, I’m telling you).

I giggled again. “Row crops. Like corn.”

“Well, Abraham Lincoln said that’s America. Our Farms. It’s basically our backbone and what makes us so great.” 

“But you guys aren’t as evil, right? You don’t use round-up, I hope.” 

I confidently asserted, “Oh no, we use glyphosate.” (somebody better laugh at that).

Evil?

Now, delivering a sound (less sarcastic) response to his last statement was not easy while they were tilting my head back for eyedrops and asking me to “read the bottom line,” all while telling me how factory farms are deliberately poisoning America. 

It’s a shot to the gut every time someone so blatantly insinuates these things. We’re human. We’re not evil.

Doctor C. left the room before I could expand, but Katie was still there. I had to say it.

I HAD TO.

“You know, I normally wouldn’t say anything, but farmers are not evil. We’re not poisoning America. When you said farmland was important…what did you mean?”

Katie opens the door (and I’m thinking oh my gosh, AWKWARD! She’s leaving). She peaks both ways down the hallway and shuts the door.

“It’s real quiet here today, so we’ve got time to chat.”

What transpired over the next 45 minutes was a refreshing, civil, enlightening conversation for both of us. Long story short, Katie’s understanding of agriculture had come from what she had seen on Netflix or heard from celebrities like (I can’t make this up), Kourtney Kardashian.

We both learned something in this exchange because we were both curious and open to hearing the other side. 

Read that again. 

We were open to hearing the other side. 

Katie legitimately thought farmland was important but had never considered the idea that the production of food and fiber on that land was, indeed, what Lincoln meant when he said, “Agriculture is the basis of civilization.”

Friends, though it might seem painfully unpleasant to say something, we’ve got no choice. These conversations are critical.

I’m glad I made a friend in Katie. I’m glad she asked questions and allowed me to view ag from her perspective. I’m glad she now has a toolbox of reliable resources.

I’m glad she trusts a farmer.

(More than anything, I’m glad she’s no longer relying on my least favorite Kardashian to tell her what to eat for dinner).

Moral of the story: Ask questions. Engage. Quit allowing fear-mongering marketing tactics to convince you your food isn’t the safest, most reliable, accessible food supply in the world.

Ask a farmer. Have a conversation. Who knows…we might learn something, together. 

*For those of you wanting to learn more about farming practices, follow me on Instagram @gingerlinefarms as I take you through fertilizing, spraying, planting, and harvesting crops during live Insta-stories.