I’ve never been much of a church-goer. Sitting in a room with people who believed as I did and listening to someone tell us to do what it is we’re already up to… well, it’s not for me. I understand the appeal. Or, at least, I understand than many find it appealing. But I’ve never even found support groups useful. The idea that there are a mess of other people in my same predicament? Well that just bums me out more.
So when a fellow food writer (don’t worry, you’ll remain nameless) sort of peer pressured me into going to part of Slow Food Nation, which has set up camp this weekend in little ole San Fran, I thought long and hard. (Note: He did so by offering me free tickets and inviting me to dinner. Obviously I cave easily.)
So when the crowd went wild for the assertion at the panel discussion last night that slavery is bad, I wanted to pull out my hair, strand by strand, before leaping over the balcony railing. The choir was there and they were being preached to. I agreed with almost every single thing uttered on stage to one degree or another, and yet found myself antsy and annoyed. I, too, am very much against slavery of any kind (hey, wait, didn’t I write an entire dissertation on just that subject? I think I did…), and yet feel that stand is so completely obvious and unremarkable that clapping for it would have made me sad. So I sat. Gripping my pen. Wondering when the revival meeting would end and I could get a good stiff drink.
Granted, I have heard all of the panelists speak before. And enjoyed them all immensely. It was a group of intelligent, brilliant, engaging people. (Vandana Shiva, in particular, blows my mind with her insight and consistent habit of speaking plain truth about ugly facts.) But you know what? I want someone on the panel who disagrees. I want competing opinions and options and plans. I want events where I don’t (and couldn’t) agree with everything that is said. That would be one way to fight the elitist accusations so commonly thrown at any call for better food / better agriculture.
Caveat: I did not agree with several things said, but they were small, throw-away bits and provided me with no comfort.
Dissenting opinions welcome (see above). That’s what comments are for.
Dinner? At Essencia in Hayes Valley who graciously dealt with a HUGE group of food and ag writers. The ceviche was particularly tasty. I’m a fan of Peruvian ceviche, with big pieces of corn or hominy in it.
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