Real Change Starts When We Leave Sides Behind
Last week, I got one of those emails that makes you stop everything and think.
One of our longtime customers - someone from a multigenerational ranching family - politely told me she was done buying from us.Â
Her reason? I'd gotten too political in my criticism of Big Chicken, specifically calling out the current administration's policies when this problem has been festering for decades under administrations of every stripe. And she knew this firsthand. Her family had ranched cattle for over 100 years before having to sell to a corporation in the '70s. That beautiful ranch, built by some of the first settlers in their region, is now one of six properties owned by a corporation headquartered on the other side of the country.
One of our longtime customers - someone from a multigenerational ranching family - politely told me she was done buying from us.Â
Her reason? I'd gotten too political in my criticism of Big Chicken, specifically calling out the current administration's policies when this problem has been festering for decades under administrations of every stripe. And she knew this firsthand. Her family had ranched cattle for over 100 years before having to sell to a corporation in the '70s. That beautiful ranch, built by some of the first settlers in their region, is now one of six properties owned by a corporation headquartered on the other side of the country.
Her message landed like a hammer on an anvil:Â Stop pointing fingers at one side when both have let Big Ag gut rural America for generations.
She was right.
I chewed on those words like a cow working her cud - slow and deliberate, knowing there was nourishment in there somewhere.
Here's what struck me: This customer and I want the exact same outcome. We both watched family farms get swallowed by corporations. We both know the heartbreak of seeing land that raised generations get turned into another asset on some distant corporation's spreadsheet. We're both fighting for the same thing - we just got tangled up in the how instead of focusing on the why.
So I wrote back. Thanked her for the mirror she held up. Admitted I'd lost sight of the bigger picture.
You know what happened? She decided to stay.Â
She was right.
I chewed on those words like a cow working her cud - slow and deliberate, knowing there was nourishment in there somewhere.
Here's what struck me: This customer and I want the exact same outcome. We both watched family farms get swallowed by corporations. We both know the heartbreak of seeing land that raised generations get turned into another asset on some distant corporation's spreadsheet. We're both fighting for the same thing - we just got tangled up in the how instead of focusing on the why.
So I wrote back. Thanked her for the mirror she held up. Admitted I'd lost sight of the bigger picture.
You know what happened? She decided to stay.Â
Real food. Thriving communities. Farms that can pass to the next generation.
This exchange was a good reminder that we're stronger when we focus on what unites us rather than what divides us. Whether you're a first-generation farmer like me or someone whose great-grandfather broke prairie sod in the 1800s, whether you lean left, right, or you're too dizzy from all the spinning to lean anywhere - we all want the same thing.
Real food. Thriving communities. Farms that can pass to the next generation.
Every time we choose coming together over conflict, we're rebuilding something powerful.
Real food. Thriving communities. Farms that can pass to the next generation.
Every time we choose coming together over conflict, we're rebuilding something powerful.
Just like those chickens working together to scratch and fertilize an acre of pasture, we're stronger as a flock than flying solo.
Building a better food system isn't about taking sides - it's about taking action. Together.
Your farmer (learning something new every day),
Cody
Building a better food system isn't about taking sides - it's about taking action. Together.
Your farmer (learning something new every day),
Cody