Reflections of an Unapologetic Native Woman

The cooler, colder, wetter months are undoubtedly the time of year to turn inward, contemplate, to engage in idleness and ultimately rejuvenation. To some extent I was forced to slow down. It was jarring to say the least. I had been going so hard for 4 years, I was no doubt burnt out in summer but by late July there is this wave of adrenaline that hauls my body through October, to the finish line. Of course there is never a “Finish” to farming, never a nice and tidy bow, there are always tools to sharpen, irrigation to roll up, next year to plan for. The hardest part of farming is that you absolutely cannot always do the planning, paperwork, dreaming while physically caught up in the season. This is an aspect of the profession that deviates from our fellow entrepreneurs in other industries. 

And farming is a business, mind you, we are entrepreneurs - farmers who organize and operate a business, take on greater than normal financial risks. If the farm isn’t a business aka concerned with posting a profit, it risks being redefined as a hobby by the IRS. In a 5 year period if you post 2 consecutive years of loss the IRS can and will reassess your business as a hobby - those business expenses become very expensive hobby purchases. Hobby farming is still all the same hard work of commercial farming but it does not carry the same financial obligations. I’ve been operating a farm that has doubled in size and revenue for every single of the 5 years it’s been in operation. While it’s been exhausting and sometimes maddening, this rapid farm growth did not feel optional to me, it was a necessity to establish a financially sustainable business. 

It’s no wonder my body completely halted me at the end of this season. Not only was I building a new business that was growing rapidly, I was building a business in a time where the economy is epically downturned. Between factors of Covid-19 stress, Climate Grief, real time physical Climate Change, not only building a business but building a business in a high stress industry as an Indigenous Woman during a social justice reckoning trying to navigate a more humane economy that currently does not exist, where code switching to capitalist language labels you a hypocrite: it feels like being beaten when you are already down. Do you feel that? Are you exhausted from just reading that?

This past November and December I had such low energy, extreme mental fog, I slogged through the best I could. But I had to, looking back now, I still had to. This farm business has been a do or die experience for me. We recently had to assess my capital investments over the life of the business. I started the business with two credit cards and $3,000 dollars and a 2nd job. I rented my apartment, I didn’t own a car. I was on food stamps. I was one of 59% of Americans that was one paycheck away from disaster. I also knew before I could even articulate it to others, I knew somewhere deep down in a recess of my soul that for me to be a bold Native Food Sovereignty business would put a target on me, on my finances, on my legality, on my authenticity and my character. 

So not only did this Farm have to succeed or … bankruptcy? It wasn’t enough for me to just build a business in continuously worsening and more difficult circumstances but this business needed to be as fortified as possible. I don’t always get to engage in only the fun parts of the business, or life for that matter. I don’t always get to be or live up to be the person I or others would like me to be. And I sure as hell make mistakes.

Upon reflecting and talking out my experiences from this year on all topics of finances, HR, Planning, Farm Operations, and all the frustrations - I feel a lot less like a failure or guilty for my shortcomings. We can only succeed if at first we don’t, if at first we fail. Actually, I feel so much better and confident in what this farm has become, I’m not even going to apologize for the blips and bumps. I didn’t make them alone, in a vacuum and they don’t dictate the future.

All I can say is January 2022 feels ok. The world is still a dumpster fire - but I can’t control others and I can’t fix their own internal perceptions and hang-ups. Only they can confront their internal demons. I have new boundaries and new expectations, it may shrink my social circle, but what I lose in quantity I’ll gain in quality. I am gaining new skills, I am saving for retirement, haha! I am planning for retirement! One day Good Rain Farm will be in the hands of youngins and I’ll be yelling from the hammock. This farm will outlive me and I’ll find a way to balance out the past 4 years. In some ways, the past four years have been the best, even if I crashed hard at the end of this season. I wasn’t so ground down that I didn’t pick myself up and create a crop plan, time mapped the farm in labor hours, and generated a projected 2022 budget. Sometimes you just gotta do the hard work, over and over again, if you want to reap the reward. 

If you’d like to join us this season- 2022 CSA Veggie shares are on sale now in the shop for Spring, Summer, Fall seasons as well as for Save Our Seed CSA. We’re excited to feed you again this season and share more indigenous food stories!