This is the time of year the grass starts to pop, our grazing planning begins, and the worry around ongoing drought pummels the mind and soul with extra fervor and cadence. Listening to the highlight of the Spring Confluence, seeing all of the faces, and hearing the stories, helps to ground me in my work on the land and reminds me I’m not alone unless I choose to be; I can always reach out to this community. 

 

If you have attended one of our Confluence events in the past, please consider filling out this survey, so we can continue to create programming that serves our core audience: folks caring for land, livestock, and communities. 

 

A big thank you to Erika Nunlist and Cecka Theresa Parks for their collaboration and contributions to this edition of the Digest. I hope their stories and work inspire you to continue pressing forward in your own ways to care for land, livestock, and rural communities.

 

And if you are looking for ways to gather with Women in Ranching, be sure to join our Circle in MT this September at the Crane Dance Ranch, or grab a friend and sign-up for the Kitchen Table Chats, which take place virtually every month through August.

 

Hope to see you on the dusty trail soon!

Next month we will be launching WIR’s first run of merchandise! We could not be more excited for that to include the beautiful work of artist, Erika Nunlist, along with that of Paige Callaway. 

 

Erika Nunlist is the creative behind the one-woman leather-working brand Flowers and Fringe. A 4th generation Montanan, she was born in Bozeman and raised in Northwest Montana, where she spent every weekend camping, hiking, and exploring the region’s many landscapes. Erika is now an artist and a range rider in the Centennial Valley.

Erika’s process starts with pencil and paper. She sketches out the designs she conjures up in her head, pulling inspiration from the vast landscapes, flowers, plants, and wildlife of the West. Then she selects the right piece of leather, cuts out the shapes she needs for a particular project, and gets to tooling.

After living, working, and raising my family in Minneapolis for fifteen years, nothing could have prepared me for the aftermath of George Floyd’s murder. May 25th, 2020 started out as a typical Memorial Day, as normal as you could get with a pandemic in full swing. I was working as a butcher at Seward, my local community coop, when I heard that some folks had posted a video of another person dying at the hands of police. The feeling of hearing that this happened at 38th and Chicago, mere blocks from where I work and live, changed everything. 

 

In the following days, as I explained to my kids why buildings were burning, and the news spread globally, I learned how quickly a neighborhood can become a military-controlled area. I remember college-aged National Guard members standing outside our corner coffee shop with orders not to talk to 'locals' and feeling confused at how quickly the dehumanization of both them and me could take hold. It was deeply painful to see our streets under fire and to hear helicopters overhead and sirens going off almost constantly. In response, I joined friends and neighbors in attending protests and marches as I tried to make sense of what it meant that the corner store where my kids have bought freezie pops could also be a place of such harm and violence. 

 

My household and many others near me continued to work hard in the neighborhood to build bridges of resilience and community. We stood watch at night; we walked blocks; we cleaned up the glass in the streets; we called our leaders; we watched kids; we started group chats to stay connected; we went to the outer-ring suburbs to get toilet paper for one another; we protested against violence; we built our own safety net…piece by piece. That summer changed who I am in the world. It was a challenging and revealing time that gave me both courage and caution. As I navigated through the aftermath, my passion for this city I call home deepened.

 

During this same time, I grew in my work as a butcher, desire for food and agricultural justice, and committed myself as a source of positive change through the local food scene. My work at the coop meat department was driven by my passion and connections to farmers outside the city. During this time, I read “Killing It” by Camas Davis, listened to every meat and farming podcast I could find, and visited and worked with farmers every chance I had. My passion for women and BIPOC farmers quickly grew through my experiences with on-farm slaughters and visiting rural meat lockers and processing plants. I felt compelled to learn the most I could about raising livestock, processing, and butchering, and I wanted to share what I learned with my community. Butchering also helped me fall back in love with the world in new ways and gave me purpose when I needed it most.

 

Last summer, I decided to leave the coop and start a Meat Collective in Minneapolis. A meat collective is basically a traveling butchery school, and many of you already know of Camas Davis and her work with Portland Meat Collective and the Good Meat Project. Camas (and her wonderful team of people) gave me much-needed support and guidance in those early days last summer when I was butchering whole chickens in my backyard with friends and neighbors. After a few classes, I was convinced that a meat collective could actually work and registered Minneapolis Meat Collective as an LLC in the state of MN. I never really decided that I wanted to own a business, but as I continued to put my ideas into practice, that was the natural next step for me. 

 

MPLS Meat Collective is now up and running. One of my biggest takeaways from this past year is that people are searching for an alternative economy and pathway for accessing high-quality, ethically-raised meat. As food costs rise worldwide, buying meat in bulk is an economical choice for many households. Those curious about homesteading and raising their own animals are emboldened to learn more about butchery and cooking through a whole animal. It is a hyper-local alternative system for meat and is the perfect place for a butcher who is passionate about bridging the gap between urban and rural communities through food.

 

The location for MPLS Meat Collective (MMC) has been my home until recently. My vision for hyper-local food systems came full circle when I came across City Food Studio (CFS) on my many bike rides to work at the coop during the pandemic. This community kitchen is located in what is now called “George Floyd Square.” It is a great resource for small food production businesses and was recently purchased by a local chef and business owner, Lachelle Cunningham. Lachelle and her team are change-makers in the Minneapolis food community, and I couldn’t be more excited to be working with them through CFS. Lachelle is passionate about social justice and healing through plant-based food, culinary arts, and workforce development. Among many other infinitives, Lachelle teaches cooking classes through her Healthy Roots Institute and vocational culinary training program, VoCul. Our combined passion for teaching home cooks how to process, prepare, and cook high-quality, nourishing food inspires me. I am so thankful to have a place in my neighborhood where I can host classes and continue to build a resilient, hyper-local food system around meat. 

 

The madness and violence that I witnessed in the summer of 2020 is still fresh in my mind and heart, but those of us who live and work here have the desire to build a new narrative for this place. 38th and Chicago is now George Floyd Square, and that is exactly where I want to put my energy and passion for this next chapter and what I want to see happen in the world and in my community.