It’s a New Year, and that means that many of us have had those holiday conversations with friends and family we don’t see very often. And the nature of our work can provoke comments and questions that both delight and frustrate.

Like the very well-educated friend who over a holiday dinner said that raw milk was the solution for people who are lactose intolerant. Or the young family members who smirked during conversations and muttered, “Hey boomers,” and followed it with a smug grin as if age equated to losing (rather than gaining) experience, knowledge and perspective.

With us now firmly in a Presidential election year, we are also more likely to encounter tense political discussions. One of the most interesting discussions I had during the holiday season came not from a friend or family member, but from my seatmate on a flight from Newark to Quebec.

“Where are you connecting from?” he asked. “Washington, DC,” I told him. “The swamp!” he replied. At that moment, I sensed where our conversation was inevitably headed. Rather than turn away, I decided to buckle up and lean into the conversation during the short flight, even though turbulence would surely follow.

“We’ve got to clean up Washington and there’s only one person to do it,” he announced, to which I replied with a smile, “Are you referring to someone whose last name begins with a T?” He told me there was simply no other choice. I told him I was concerned about a candidate with so many legal troubles and distractions.

He then asked what I did for a living, and I told him I had spent my career in the meat industry. “Do you belong to a political party?” he said. I told him I didn’t because I simply don’t fit either of the major parties. I shared that I’ve voted both sides of the ticket, that I always stay informed and vote, but that on balance, I lean blue.

Slowly, with disbelief, he asked, “How you can you be a liberal in the meat industry?”

His question intrigued me for many reasons. “Leaning blue” immediately translated to his polar opposite: “Liberal.” As we conversed, it became clear he believed that the meat industry is comprised only of conservatives who always leaned red, who took predictable positions on an array of controversial issues, like gun control, immigration and women’s issues. He told me that under the previous administration, he had had more money in his bank account.

I listened calmly. Summoning what I’ve learned about depolarization and described in a previous blog, I didn’t interrupt or contradict his views, but at the right moment, I politely shared my own. I told him that I didn’t want to choose a candidate based simply on the impact that an administration had on my bank account. I wanted to look at the bigger picture and what I believe is best for the country and our people. I also told him that my son was a Naval nuclear officer on the USS Gerald Ford and currently sitting off the coast of Israel. I said I was proud, and I strongly supported our military. I told him about my years leading Boy Scouts.

I had clearly confounded him. My views and my values didn’t fit neatly into the “blue box.” Honestly, he confounded me, too. The difficult conversation I anticipated turned out to be cordial, kind, and warm.

Then an amazing thing happened. He smiled and said, “I must tell you, I don’t normally like liberals, but I like you,” he said. Truth be told, I liked him as well because he tried as hard as I did to be curious and to engage respectfully. He added, “Maybe we can both agree that it would be nice if we had better candidates?” I smiled and wholeheartedly agreed. We shook hands and said goodbye.

I reflected on the conversation, and I imagined how that conversation might have gone if the person in the seat next to me had leaned blue or been a member of the Green Party. Perhaps that person might have asked the same stereotype-rooted question. “If you lean blue, how can you work in the meat industry?” It’s a question I’ve heard many times.

I would have answered the question differently, speaking of meat’s nutrition, of the high standards of safety and care we have and of the affordable meat supply we enjoy in the U.S. I would have talked about the industry as starting place for New Americans. I would have told the Temple Grandin story. And I suspect I would have received the same incredulous reaction based on a stereotype. Or maybe not. Maybe, as happened on my flight to Quebec, the conversation could cause us both to think.

I know from the many conversations I’ve had with industry members over the years that we aren’t monolithic. Our backgrounds and thoughts and views are diverse in many ways. Within my circle of women friends in the meat industry, we engage in provocative conversations that defy public impressions of who we are and what we must believe. Our diversity is our strength because it provides opportunities for more connections with the diverse public, we call our customer base. If we look hard enough and lean into those conversations, I believe strongly we can find more common ground than differences.

Maybe it’s time to take the headphones off on the plane and trains and waiting rooms and introduce us. Let’s initiate conversations, hand out our cards and answer questions about our products, share our views on the future of our country and our hopes and worries for our kids. Let’s connect — and let’s correct impressions that exist about us and our industry. Imagine the friends we could make when we are open about who we are and seek common ground, no matter how hard we must dig for it. Just ask my new friend Mike from the flight to Quebec.

Political diversity in the meat industry? Probably more than people imagine

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