My latest: Farming with tenderness

Dear friends,

During last month’s trip to Louisiana, I met a farmer named Kristian Bailey whose devotion to what he calls feral landscapes—plus, his generous and gentle laugh—made our whole team melt a little. I hope you will listen to my interview with him.

https://apeaceofmymind.org/2025/08/28/kristian-bailey/

Kristian grows indigo, which he makes into dye. He teaches dyeing classes, too. This is a loaded choice: The indigo boom of the mid-18th century accelerated the importation of enslaved Africans, including his own ancestors. But for Kristian, growing indigo taps into a longer cultural tradition. “These plants have such a storied, wonderful history, but also a storied negative history,” he told us. “It's about deciding which one that I want to highlight or which one that I want to nurture.”

What stood out the most to me, though, was how Kristian rejects the idea of human dominion over nature. Instead, he works in cooperation with it. He talks about farming with “tenderness”: recognizing that Southern land carries wounds—his own farm is on a former plantation site—and that part of his job is to help heal those wounds.

Our interview is Episode 2 of “Still Here,” an eight-week multimedia collaboration with photographer John Noltner. We are sharing our conversations with Louisianans who are working to preserve the state’s wetlands, foodways, traditional farming practices, and diverse cultures even as they threaten to disappear.

The series is being published by John’s non-profit, A Peace of My Mind, which uses storytelling to bridge divides and build community. You can see the photos and video, and listen to the interview, online. You can also download the podcast with your favorite app. I hope you’ll take the time. This is good stuff.

Kristian told us that his style of farming requires “minimal intervention, deep observation, and time.” As one of John’s interns later remarked, this is true of good interviews, too.

Here’s my favorite behind-the-scenes photo from our interview. It embodies what I love about this work: 

Plus, what I’ve been reading:

• “The Unforgotten,” Tom Junod’s intimate story about two high-school quarterbacks who, decades apart, died of on-field injuries. Junod is one of the finest non-fiction writers of this century, and this one will stick with me. Published by ESPN.

• My former student Nina Moske’s story about a library of Black and African history in Tampa that became a beloved multigenerational gathering spot until Hurricane Milton blew its roof off. At a time when Black history is being targeted by the federal government, the library is urgently needed but could take $1 million to repair. Published by the Tampa Bay Times. (If you hit a paywall, try this.)

• Michelle Boorstein’s profile of Bishop Michael Pham, who as a child was a refugee from Vietnam and who is now bearing witness at federal immigration court. Published by The Washington Post.

A podcast I’ve been listening to:

“Fueling Knowledge,” a two-part series that explores the century-old bond between the petrochemical industry and Louisiana’s flagship university. What is the price of oil-and-gas money? Reported by Piper Hutchinson, Halle Parker, and Pam Radtke for the WWNO podcast Sea Change. (Part 2 is here.)

A touching radio report:

Nick de la Canal on a Charlotte gay bar that cared for its own during the AIDS crisis.

Music I’m thinking about:

September 1 marks the 80th anniversary of the publication of “This Land is Your Land,” Woody Guthrie’s response to the sentimentality and blind patriotism of “God Bless America.” Too often, its most pointed verses are omitted.

Two of of my favorite versions take the song back to its radical roots. This one performed in Yiddish by Daniel Kahn and seven other musicians recording from home, pandemic-style.

And this one, recorded right before the pandemic, brings together Tulsa soul singer Branjae with Brooklyn hip-hop/bluegrass band Gangstagrass.

An anniversary on my mind:

Tomorrow, Aug. 29, is the 20th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina’s landfall. I am holding all my Louisiana friends close. And I’m reading this beautiful and devastating essay by Jeanie Reiss about leaving New Orleans. (If you hit a paywall, use this link instead.)

Back next week with Episode 3: our interview with Ebony Woodruff, an attorney with a mission. See you Sept. 4.

All best,
Barry Yeoman