What Makes a Space "Safe"?

What I wanted to talk about was the Batonnage Forum I attended this past Saturday. About how there were several panels that left me with more questions than answers, a renewed sense of spirit and community, and a reminder that none of us are having the same experience. I wanted to talk about how refreshing and inspiring it was to be at a conference with over 450 people who were genuinely interested in having difficult conversations about how we can create a more equitable culture within the wine and hospitality industry. I wanted to tell you about the all of the wonderful black women who attended the forum thanks to the scholarships provided by Julia Coney and the staff of Batonnage.

Instead, what I find myself circling back to is this idea of “safe space.” It is a phrase I myself use frequently in describing my intention for an event or gathering. When I label my retreats and workshops as a “safe space,” what I’m trying to communicate is that this is a space where your humanity is honored and cherished. That it is a place where you will be respected and listened to. That it is a place where you can be free to stumble in your words and your art. That this is a place where I am willing to be honest and vulnerable with you if you will be honest and vulnerable with me, and that my goal is to withhold judgement and shame.

And so at the start of the conference this phrase, “safe space,” was used, most likely to mean the same things I mean. Yet, I’m curious to know if it really and truly did feel safe for some of those who were in attendance. When issues of race, sexuality, and equity were brought to the table, how many felt truly safe?

For the black women in the audience who came alone, how safe did the space feel?

For the queer women who traveled alone, unsure of how many other queer women would be there, did they feel safe?

How safe did the woman who made a controversial statement about young women in tight and revealing clothing feel once she made her statement and was met with groaning disapproval?

Did any of the men in attendance feel safe at a conference that is, at its essence, challenging their status of power?

These questions are not really about the forum specifically, but about a deeper inquiry into what it means when we who organize events label a gathering as a “safe space.”

To me, feelings of safety require a certain level of intimacy with the people and the place I am in. Feelings of safety are most likely to occur when we are in true community with whom we are sharing space. In what ways is it possible to check in with folks to gauge their feelings of safety, with genuine care and without crossing boundaries, especially when the length of an event doesn’t allow for deep connection? How do we ensure that everyone does indeed feel safe? Is it even possible to make all participants feel truly safe?

Collecting Beauty in Wine Country

I don't want to claim the title "Lifestyle Blogger." It doesn't feel natural on my tongue. Instead, I'm going to call myself a "Collector of Beauty." Yes. A Collector of Beauty. This rephrasing gives me the space to do what I do best which is notice. Really, isn't that what a writer and a photographer should be doing? Noticing?

There's this really fine and faint line between capturing life and noticing it. One can become so consumed with trying to find what they should capture that they miss the real beauty of what's occurring around them. It's why I rarely photography my food before eating it. I want to eat my gnocchi with black truffle shavings while it's still hot. And I want to drink my rosé while it still has its chill. Instead of trying to find the highlights and shadows in the barrel room, I want to listen to her tell me about the fermentation experiments she's conducting. And when I meet her for coffee on Washington Street, instead of thinking about the Instagram-worthiness of the courtyard, I'd rather listen to her tell me about the one time the police got called while she was celebrating her birthday.

Ultimately, I do believe that it's my desire to be so fully present in my life that gives me the ability to see the truly extraordinary moments that exist in the every day. I have to somehow trust that the most important moments will find their way into the little crevices of memory for when I need them most. Because this life is really too good and too big for the viewfinder.

Alas, here are some of the moments that I collected during my most recent trip to Yountville in August.

The North Block Hotel sits at one end of Washington Street in Yountville. Spanish tiles line the staircases and the doors are wooden and heavy and it's so quiet. It's become my favorite little retreat.

Redd Wood is known for its wood-fired pizzas but I love the simple breakfast served here each morning for the guests at North Block. Coffee and pastries from Bouchon Bistro are the perfect start to an early morning, but the granola is killer. I'm still trying to get my hands on a recipe.

Isn't this vintage truck just the coolest? Hunter Gatherer is new boutique in Yountville. 

After seeing people line up each night before it opened, we decided to give Ciccio's a chance. It's Napa Valley so of course there's great wine, but the cocktails and pizza can't be beat. Cool vibe. It's where the locals go (which is always a good sign). 

I could spend all day sitting in front of The French Laundry Culinary Gardens. 

It had been awhile since I'd been in wine country in the summer when everything is green and ripening. It was such a treat to be able to touch and taste the fruit. The rolling hills of B.R. Cohn in Sonoma are so beautiful this time of year. Really, any time of year.