๐๐๐ญ๐ข๐จ ๐๐จ๐ง๐๐๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐ : ๐๐ซ๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก, ๐๐ซ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ญ, ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ข๐ง๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ซ ๐๐ญ๐จ๐ซ๐ฒ
I didnโt write Patio Ponderings the past three days. Iโve been working on projects and talking with friends as we prepare for World Pork Expo. Today, Iโm pondering the balance between telling the โtruthโ and the pull of toxic positivity.
When I read stories about agriculture, thereโs often a consistent tone of positivity, sometimes drifting into toxic positivity. We see idyllic images and words about how great it is to raise food for others. Even when it's hard, the message is usually, โItโs a good life.โ
Then there are stories that try to show the โtruthโ of farm life, often centered around the loss of an animal or the struggles of day-to-day work. These stories tug at the heartstrings, drawing out emotion and empathy.
Iโve talked with other ag writers about how we walk this fine line. How much do we share of the real ups and downs without offending consumers or others in ag? How far do we go in sharing the hard, uncomfortable facts of life and death, prosperity and struggle that happen on every farm?
A farmer I know lost rental agreements after being honest online about his experiences. He shared stories about broken equipment, escaped cattle, conflict with drivers on rural roads, and the pressures of urban sprawl. The landowners told him, โIt seems like you have a lot of problems. We want someone who doesnโt have so many issues.โ His effort to โtell his storyโ ended up hurting his business. Even though he was sharing struggles that happen on every farm, he was penalized for being honest. And yet, โTell Your Storyโ is the very mantra many AgVocates encourage us to follow.
So where is the line? How do we strike a balance between authenticity and perception? Between showing pride in what we do and being honest about how hard it really is?
How do you decide what parts of the ag story are safe to tell, and which truths are better left unsaid?