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drvoke

I own the restaurant that asked Sarah Sanders to leave. Here is what I learned from it...

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Image result for red hen inn

 

 

 

"What I learned is: resistance is not futile."

 

The owner took a stand for what is right. They had to weather the storm of hatred and threats of violence, but people of goodwill ultimately won. Donations and reservations poured in. Some visit the restaurant as a monument of resistance to inhumanity.

 

 

https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/opinion/i-own-the-red-hen-restaurant-that-asked-sarah-sanders-to-leave-resistance-isnt-futile/ar-AABlGz9?ocid=spartanntp

(Full article at above link)

 

 

I’ve been getting hate mail for almost a year now, ever since I asked White House press secretary Sarah Sanders to leave my Lexington, Va., restaurant, the Red Hen, last June.

At the time, the country was in turmoil over the Trump administration’s heinous practice of separating children from their parents at our southern border. In our tiny 26-seat restaurant, the horror felt simultaneously immediate and far away. 

Faced with the prospect of serving a fine meal to a person whose actions in the service of our country we felt violated basic standards of humanity, we couldn’t do it.

I took Ms. Sanders aside and politely suggested she leave. She agreed, equally politely. She may or may not have expected this day would come, but she never showed any sign of outrage, or even much surprise. We’d drawn a line; she’d accepted it.

I’m pretty sure both of us thought that was the end of the matter.

When I awoke the next morning, social media was on fire. The incident had gone from a Facebook post to a tagged tweet to nationally trending news with the whoosh of lighter fluid to a flame.

The blowback was swift and aggressive. Within 24 hours, the restaurant’s phone line was hacked, my staff and I were doxxed, and threats to our lives and families and property were pouring in through every available channel. Protesters colonized the streets around the restaurant. Thousands of fake Yelp reviews torpedoed our ratings, and dozens of people attempted to lock up our tables with reservations they had no intention of honoring. Pundits lamented the prospect of “red restaurants” and “blue restaurants.” In less than three days, President Trump had mocked us on Twitter.

In the days following, I tried to balance fears for the safety of my family and staff against the reality of being well-protected in a small, loving community.  

When the mail started pouring in, things got weirder. For the first few days the rubber-banded bundles fit into my letter carrier’s shoulder bag. But soon he was forced to heft large white plastic totes overflowing with letters and packages up to my door.

 

The realness of that mail struck me. Paper correspondence carries all the marks of genuine humans, people who feel strongly enough about the whole event that they take on all those little tasks of letter writing — tracking down paper or card, composing their thoughts, handwriting or printing it out, locating our address and getting it into the mail.

In more than 4,000 painstakingly typed letters, hastily scrawled postcards, and feces-smeared notebook pages, I was branded a racist, a bigot and a hypocrite. A victim of “Trump Derangement Syndrome.”  

Yet, as I kept opening the letters, I saw a pattern. For every hateful message, there was one of gratitude, a note of thanks from someone lamenting Trump’s rollback of protections for marginalized people. What’s more, for every wish  that our business die a painful death, there was a dollar bill or a generous check or an order for a gift certificate.

When we opened after a 10-day hiatus, our dining room was full. In the following weeks, people who had never been to the Shenandoah Valley traveled out of their way to eat with us. Hundreds of orders for our Red Hen spice blend poured in. And the love spread far beyond our door, as supporters sent thousands of dollars’ in donations in our honor to our local food pantry, our domestic violence shelter and first responders.

After nearly a year, I’m happy to say that business is still good. Better than good, actually. And besides the boost to our area charities, our town’s hospitality and sales revenue have gone up, too.

Our haters may have believed that there were more of “them” than of “us,” but it turns out we have more than enough to keep us cooking. And to everyone who might be fearful about taking a stand, I say don’t be. Resistance is not futile, for you or your business.

Image result for red hen inn

 

 

I think the hate letters smeared with feces was a bit much, cons. Not surprising though.

 

 

 

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1 minute ago, drvoke said:

 

Image result for red hen inn

 

 

 

"What I learned is: resistance is not futile."

 

The owner took a stand for what is right. They had to weather the storm of hatred and threats of violence, but people of goodwill ultimately won. Donations and reservations poured in. Some visit the restaurant as a monument of resistance to inhumanity.

 

 

https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/opinion/i-own-the-red-hen-restaurant-that-asked-sarah-sanders-to-leave-resistance-isnt-futile/ar-AABlGz9?ocid=spartanntp

(Full article at above link)

 

 

I’ve been getting hate mail for almost a year now, ever since I asked White House press secretary Sarah Sanders to leave my Lexington, Va., restaurant, the Red Hen, last June.

At the time, the country was in turmoil over the Trump administration’s heinous practice of separating children from their parents at our southern border. In our tiny 26-seat restaurant, the horror felt simultaneously immediate and far away. 

Faced with the prospect of serving a fine meal to a person whose actions in the service of our country we felt violated basic standards of humanity, we couldn’t do it.

I took Ms. Sanders aside and politely suggested she leave. She agreed, equally politely. She may or may not have expected this day would come, but she never showed any sign of outrage, or even much surprise. We’d drawn a line; she’d accepted it.

I’m pretty sure both of us thought that was the end of the matter.

When I awoke the next morning, social media was on fire. The incident had gone from a Facebook post to a tagged tweet to nationally trending news with the whoosh of lighter fluid to a flame.

The blowback was swift and aggressive. Within 24 hours, the restaurant’s phone line was hacked, my staff and I were doxxed, and threats to our lives and families and property were pouring in through every available channel. Protesters colonized the streets around the restaurant. Thousands of fake Yelp reviews torpedoed our ratings, and dozens of people attempted to lock up our tables with reservations they had no intention of honoring. Pundits lamented the prospect of “red restaurants” and “blue restaurants.” In less than three days, President Trump had mocked us on Twitter.

In the days following, I tried to balance fears for the safety of my family and staff against the reality of being well-protected in a small, loving community.  

When the mail started pouring in, things got weirder. For the first few days the rubber-banded bundles fit into my letter carrier’s shoulder bag. But soon he was forced to heft large white plastic totes overflowing with letters and packages up to my door.

 

The realness of that mail struck me. Paper correspondence carries all the marks of genuine humans, people who feel strongly enough about the whole event that they take on all those little tasks of letter writing — tracking down paper or card, composing their thoughts, handwriting or printing it out, locating our address and getting it into the mail.

In more than 4,000 painstakingly typed letters, hastily scrawled postcards, and feces-smeared notebook pages, I was branded a racist, a bigot and a hypocrite. A victim of “Trump Derangement Syndrome.”  

Yet, as I kept opening the letters, I saw a pattern. For every hateful message, there was one of gratitude, a note of thanks from someone lamenting Trump’s rollback of protections for marginalized people. What’s more, for every wish  that our business die a painful death, there was a dollar bill or a generous check or an order for a gift certificate.

When we opened after a 10-day hiatus, our dining room was full. In the following weeks, people who had never been to the Shenandoah Valley traveled out of their way to eat with us. Hundreds of orders for our Red Hen spice blend poured in. And the love spread far beyond our door, as supporters sent thousands of dollars’ in donations in our honor to our local food pantry, our domestic violence shelter and first responders.

After nearly a year, I’m happy to say that business is still good. Better than good, actually. And besides the boost to our area charities, our town’s hospitality and sales revenue have gone up, too.

Our haters may have believed that there were more of “them” than of “us,” but it turns out we have more than enough to keep us cooking. And to everyone who might be fearful about taking a stand, I say don’t be. Resistance is not futile, for you or your business.

Image result for red hen inn

 

 

I think the hate letters smeared with feces was a bit much, cons. Not surprising though.

 

 

 

Intolerance will not be tolerated.

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Just now, kfools said:

Intolerance will not be tolerated.

 

Good one. It is similar to my attitude towards violence.

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"I own the restaurant that asked Sarah Sanders to leave. Here is what I learned from it..."

 

 

Judging from that article ... Not A Damn Thing.

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8 minutes ago, drvoke said:

 

Good one. It is similar to my attitude towards violence.

Denny's in Birmingham.

The sign in the window says,...….. "No Negroes Allowed Inside".

Will that be OK, with the Dems?             

Confucius say,

                            Man who live in glass house,

                            Should not throw rocks.                     🙂

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Never in my life have I been motivated to send a hate mail.
That's like bragging about impotence.

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1 minute ago, Chuck! said:

Never in my life have I been motivated to send a hate mail.
That's like bragging about impotence.

I don't know anyone who ever has. Guess the extremes are getting more vocal on both sides. I am sure there are good people on both sides. 😎

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1 hour ago, drvoke said:

 

Image result for red hen inn

 

 

 

"What I learned is: resistance is not futile."

 

The owner took a stand for what is right. They had to weather the storm of hatred and threats of violence, but people of goodwill ultimately won. Donations and reservations poured in. Some visit the restaurant as a monument of resistance to inhumanity.

 

 

https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/opinion/i-own-the-red-hen-restaurant-that-asked-sarah-sanders-to-leave-resistance-isnt-futile/ar-AABlGz9?ocid=spartanntp

(Full article at above link)

 

 

I’ve been getting hate mail for almost a year now, ever since I asked White House press secretary Sarah Sanders to leave my Lexington, Va., restaurant, the Red Hen, last June.

At the time, the country was in turmoil over the Trump administration’s heinous practice of separating children from their parents at our southern border. In our tiny 26-seat restaurant, the horror felt simultaneously immediate and far away. 

Faced with the prospect of serving a fine meal to a person whose actions in the service of our country we felt violated basic standards of humanity, we couldn’t do it.

I took Ms. Sanders aside and politely suggested she leave. She agreed, equally politely. She may or may not have expected this day would come, but she never showed any sign of outrage, or even much surprise. We’d drawn a line; she’d accepted it.

I’m pretty sure both of us thought that was the end of the matter.

When I awoke the next morning, social media was on fire. The incident had gone from a Facebook post to a tagged tweet to nationally trending news with the whoosh of lighter fluid to a flame.

The blowback was swift and aggressive. Within 24 hours, the restaurant’s phone line was hacked, my staff and I were doxxed, and threats to our lives and families and property were pouring in through every available channel. Protesters colonized the streets around the restaurant. Thousands of fake Yelp reviews torpedoed our ratings, and dozens of people attempted to lock up our tables with reservations they had no intention of honoring. Pundits lamented the prospect of “red restaurants” and “blue restaurants.” In less than three days, President Trump had mocked us on Twitter.

In the days following, I tried to balance fears for the safety of my family and staff against the reality of being well-protected in a small, loving community.  

When the mail started pouring in, things got weirder. For the first few days the rubber-banded bundles fit into my letter carrier’s shoulder bag. But soon he was forced to heft large white plastic totes overflowing with letters and packages up to my door.

 

The realness of that mail struck me. Paper correspondence carries all the marks of genuine humans, people who feel strongly enough about the whole event that they take on all those little tasks of letter writing — tracking down paper or card, composing their thoughts, handwriting or printing it out, locating our address and getting it into the mail.

In more than 4,000 painstakingly typed letters, hastily scrawled postcards, and feces-smeared notebook pages, I was branded a racist, a bigot and a hypocrite. A victim of “Trump Derangement Syndrome.”  

Yet, as I kept opening the letters, I saw a pattern. For every hateful message, there was one of gratitude, a note of thanks from someone lamenting Trump’s rollback of protections for marginalized people. What’s more, for every wish  that our business die a painful death, there was a dollar bill or a generous check or an order for a gift certificate.

When we opened after a 10-day hiatus, our dining room was full. In the following weeks, people who had never been to the Shenandoah Valley traveled out of their way to eat with us. Hundreds of orders for our Red Hen spice blend poured in. And the love spread far beyond our door, as supporters sent thousands of dollars’ in donations in our honor to our local food pantry, our domestic violence shelter and first responders.

After nearly a year, I’m happy to say that business is still good. Better than good, actually. And besides the boost to our area charities, our town’s hospitality and sales revenue have gone up, too.

Our haters may have believed that there were more of “them” than of “us,” but it turns out we have more than enough to keep us cooking. And to everyone who might be fearful about taking a stand, I say don’t be. Resistance is not futile, for you or your business.

Image result for red hen inn

 

 

I think the hate letters smeared with feces was a bit much, cons. Not surprising though.

 

 

 

Her act against Sanders was that of a child.

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1 hour ago, drvoke said:

 

Good one. It is similar to my attitude towards violence.

non-violence will be met with violence?

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8 minutes ago, NeoConvict said:

I don't know anyone who ever has. Guess the extremes are getting more vocal on both sides. I am sure there are good people on both sides. 😎

no conservative sent them hate mail...she is a democrat that denied service to someone because of her job.....she is a piece of sh it and a liar....

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1 hour ago, drvoke said:

 

Image result for red hen inn

 

 

 

"What I learned is: resistance is not futile."

 

The owner took a stand for what is right. They had to weather the storm of hatred and threats of violence, but people of goodwill ultimately won. Donations and reservations poured in. Some visit the restaurant as a monument of resistance to inhumanity.

 

 

https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/opinion/i-own-the-red-hen-restaurant-that-asked-sarah-sanders-to-leave-resistance-isnt-futile/ar-AABlGz9?ocid=spartanntp

(Full article at above link)

 

 

I’ve been getting hate mail for almost a year now, ever since I asked White House press secretary Sarah Sanders to leave my Lexington, Va., restaurant, the Red Hen, last June.

At the time, the country was in turmoil over the Trump administration’s heinous practice of separating children from their parents at our southern border. In our tiny 26-seat restaurant, the horror felt simultaneously immediate and far away. 

Faced with the prospect of serving a fine meal to a person whose actions in the service of our country we felt violated basic standards of humanity, we couldn’t do it.

I took Ms. Sanders aside and politely suggested she leave. She agreed, equally politely. She may or may not have expected this day would come, but she never showed any sign of outrage, or even much surprise. We’d drawn a line; she’d accepted it.

I’m pretty sure both of us thought that was the end of the matter.

When I awoke the next morning, social media was on fire. The incident had gone from a Facebook post to a tagged tweet to nationally trending news with the whoosh of lighter fluid to a flame.

The blowback was swift and aggressive. Within 24 hours, the restaurant’s phone line was hacked, my staff and I were doxxed, and threats to our lives and families and property were pouring in through every available channel. Protesters colonized the streets around the restaurant. Thousands of fake Yelp reviews torpedoed our ratings, and dozens of people attempted to lock up our tables with reservations they had no intention of honoring. Pundits lamented the prospect of “red restaurants” and “blue restaurants.” In less than three days, President Trump had mocked us on Twitter.

In the days following, I tried to balance fears for the safety of my family and staff against the reality of being well-protected in a small, loving community.  

When the mail started pouring in, things got weirder. For the first few days the rubber-banded bundles fit into my letter carrier’s shoulder bag. But soon he was forced to heft large white plastic totes overflowing with letters and packages up to my door.

 

The realness of that mail struck me. Paper correspondence carries all the marks of genuine humans, people who feel strongly enough about the whole event that they take on all those little tasks of letter writing — tracking down paper or card, composing their thoughts, handwriting or printing it out, locating our address and getting it into the mail.

In more than 4,000 painstakingly typed letters, hastily scrawled postcards, and feces-smeared notebook pages, I was branded a racist, a bigot and a hypocrite. A victim of “Trump Derangement Syndrome.”  

Yet, as I kept opening the letters, I saw a pattern. For every hateful message, there was one of gratitude, a note of thanks from someone lamenting Trump’s rollback of protections for marginalized people. What’s more, for every wish  that our business die a painful death, there was a dollar bill or a generous check or an order for a gift certificate.

When we opened after a 10-day hiatus, our dining room was full. In the following weeks, people who had never been to the Shenandoah Valley traveled out of their way to eat with us. Hundreds of orders for our Red Hen spice blend poured in. And the love spread far beyond our door, as supporters sent thousands of dollars’ in donations in our honor to our local food pantry, our domestic violence shelter and first responders.

After nearly a year, I’m happy to say that business is still good. Better than good, actually. And besides the boost to our area charities, our town’s hospitality and sales revenue have gone up, too.

Our haters may have believed that there were more of “them” than of “us,” but it turns out we have more than enough to keep us cooking. And to everyone who might be fearful about taking a stand, I say don’t be. Resistance is not futile, for you or your business.

Image result for red hen inn

 

 

I think the hate letters smeared with feces was a bit much, cons. Not surprising though.

 

 

 

I took Ms. Sanders aside and politely suggested that I'm a bigot and I discriminated against her.  

 

I’ve been getting hate mail for almost a year now because I deserve it.

 

 

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1 hour ago, drvoke said:

At the time, the country was in turmoil over the Trump administration’s heinous practice of separating children from their parents at our southern border. In our tiny 26-seat restaurant, the horror felt simultaneously immediate and far away. 

 

 

But he was Fine with obama doing the same thing or was it the msm didn't shed light on what was going on until Trump took office and then quickly blamed Trump for something that was going on for years prior.

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1 hour ago, drvoke said:

 

Image result for red hen inn

 

 

 

"What I learned is: resistance is not futile."

 

The owner took a stand for what is right. They had to weather the storm of hatred and threats of violence, but people of goodwill ultimately won. Donations and reservations poured in. Some visit the restaurant as a monument of resistance to inhumanity.

 

 

https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/opinion/i-own-the-red-hen-restaurant-that-asked-sarah-sanders-to-leave-resistance-isnt-futile/ar-AABlGz9?ocid=spartanntp

(Full article at above link)

 

 

I’ve been getting hate mail for almost a year now, ever since I asked White House press secretary Sarah Sanders to leave my Lexington, Va., restaurant, the Red Hen, last June.

At the time, the country was in turmoil over the Trump administration’s heinous practice of separating children from their parents at our southern border. In our tiny 26-seat restaurant, the horror felt simultaneously immediate and far away. 

Faced with the prospect of serving a fine meal to a person whose actions in the service of our country we felt violated basic standards of humanity, we couldn’t do it.

I took Ms. Sanders aside and politely suggested she leave. She agreed, equally politely. She may or may not have expected this day would come, but she never showed any sign of outrage, or even much surprise. We’d drawn a line; she’d accepted it.

I’m pretty sure both of us thought that was the end of the matter.

When I awoke the next morning, social media was on fire. The incident had gone from a Facebook post to a tagged tweet to nationally trending news with the whoosh of lighter fluid to a flame.

The blowback was swift and aggressive. Within 24 hours, the restaurant’s phone line was hacked, my staff and I were doxxed, and threats to our lives and families and property were pouring in through every available channel. Protesters colonized the streets around the restaurant. Thousands of fake Yelp reviews torpedoed our ratings, and dozens of people attempted to lock up our tables with reservations they had no intention of honoring. Pundits lamented the prospect of “red restaurants” and “blue restaurants.” In less than three days, President Trump had mocked us on Twitter.

In the days following, I tried to balance fears for the safety of my family and staff against the reality of being well-protected in a small, loving community.  

When the mail started pouring in, things got weirder. For the first few days the rubber-banded bundles fit into my letter carrier’s shoulder bag. But soon he was forced to heft large white plastic totes overflowing with letters and packages up to my door.

 

The realness of that mail struck me. Paper correspondence carries all the marks of genuine humans, people who feel strongly enough about the whole event that they take on all those little tasks of letter writing — tracking down paper or card, composing their thoughts, handwriting or printing it out, locating our address and getting it into the mail.

In more than 4,000 painstakingly typed letters, hastily scrawled postcards, and feces-smeared notebook pages, I was branded a racist, a bigot and a hypocrite. A victim of “Trump Derangement Syndrome.”  

Yet, as I kept opening the letters, I saw a pattern. For every hateful message, there was one of gratitude, a note of thanks from someone lamenting Trump’s rollback of protections for marginalized people. What’s more, for every wish  that our business die a painful death, there was a dollar bill or a generous check or an order for a gift certificate.

When we opened after a 10-day hiatus, our dining room was full. In the following weeks, people who had never been to the Shenandoah Valley traveled out of their way to eat with us. Hundreds of orders for our Red Hen spice blend poured in. And the love spread far beyond our door, as supporters sent thousands of dollars’ in donations in our honor to our local food pantry, our domestic violence shelter and first responders.

After nearly a year, I’m happy to say that business is still good. Better than good, actually. And besides the boost to our area charities, our town’s hospitality and sales revenue have gone up, too.

Our haters may have believed that there were more of “them” than of “us,” but it turns out we have more than enough to keep us cooking. And to everyone who might be fearful about taking a stand, I say don’t be. Resistance is not futile, for you or your business.

Image result for red hen inn

 

 

I think the hate letters smeared with feces was a bit much, cons. Not surprising though.

 

 

 

I own the restaurant that asked Sarah Sanders to leave. Here is what I learned from it...I am a cry baby slut and should never operate a business again.

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1 hour ago, drvoke said:

 

Image result for red hen inn

 

 

 

"What I learned is: resistance is not futile."

 

The owner took a stand for what is right. They had to weather the storm of hatred and threats of violence, but people of goodwill ultimately won. Donations and reservations poured in. Some visit the restaurant as a monument of resistance to inhumanity.

 

 

https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/opinion/i-own-the-red-hen-restaurant-that-asked-sarah-sanders-to-leave-resistance-isnt-futile/ar-AABlGz9?ocid=spartanntp

(Full article at above link)

 

 

I’ve been getting hate mail for almost a year now, ever since I asked White House press secretary Sarah Sanders to leave my Lexington, Va., restaurant, the Red Hen, last June.

At the time, the country was in turmoil over the Trump administration’s heinous practice of separating children from their parents at our southern border. In our tiny 26-seat restaurant, the horror felt simultaneously immediate and far away. 

Faced with the prospect of serving a fine meal to a person whose actions in the service of our country we felt violated basic standards of humanity, we couldn’t do it.

I took Ms. Sanders aside and politely suggested she leave. She agreed, equally politely. She may or may not have expected this day would come, but she never showed any sign of outrage, or even much surprise. We’d drawn a line; she’d accepted it.

I’m pretty sure both of us thought that was the end of the matter.

When I awoke the next morning, social media was on fire. The incident had gone from a Facebook post to a tagged tweet to nationally trending news with the whoosh of lighter fluid to a flame.

The blowback was swift and aggressive. Within 24 hours, the restaurant’s phone line was hacked, my staff and I were doxxed, and threats to our lives and families and property were pouring in through every available channel. Protesters colonized the streets around the restaurant. Thousands of fake Yelp reviews torpedoed our ratings, and dozens of people attempted to lock up our tables with reservations they had no intention of honoring. Pundits lamented the prospect of “red restaurants” and “blue restaurants.” In less than three days, President Trump had mocked us on Twitter.

In the days following, I tried to balance fears for the safety of my family and staff against the reality of being well-protected in a small, loving community.  

When the mail started pouring in, things got weirder. For the first few days the rubber-banded bundles fit into my letter carrier’s shoulder bag. But soon he was forced to heft large white plastic totes overflowing with letters and packages up to my door.

 

The realness of that mail struck me. Paper correspondence carries all the marks of genuine humans, people who feel strongly enough about the whole event that they take on all those little tasks of letter writing — tracking down paper or card, composing their thoughts, handwriting or printing it out, locating our address and getting it into the mail.

In more than 4,000 painstakingly typed letters, hastily scrawled postcards, and feces-smeared notebook pages, I was branded a racist, a bigot and a hypocrite. A victim of “Trump Derangement Syndrome.”  

Yet, as I kept opening the letters, I saw a pattern. For every hateful message, there was one of gratitude, a note of thanks from someone lamenting Trump’s rollback of protections for marginalized people. What’s more, for every wish  that our business die a painful death, there was a dollar bill or a generous check or an order for a gift certificate.

When we opened after a 10-day hiatus, our dining room was full. In the following weeks, people who had never been to the Shenandoah Valley traveled out of their way to eat with us. Hundreds of orders for our Red Hen spice blend poured in. And the love spread far beyond our door, as supporters sent thousands of dollars’ in donations in our honor to our local food pantry, our domestic violence shelter and first responders.

After nearly a year, I’m happy to say that business is still good. Better than good, actually. And besides the boost to our area charities, our town’s hospitality and sales revenue have gone up, too.

Our haters may have believed that there were more of “them” than of “us,” but it turns out we have more than enough to keep us cooking. And to everyone who might be fearful about taking a stand, I say don’t be. Resistance is not futile, for you or your business.

Image result for red hen inn

 

 

I think the hate letters smeared with feces was a bit much, cons. Not surprising though.

 

 

 

I own the restaurant at the Mustang Ranch and I'm a dem whore.

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2 hours ago, drvoke said:

 

Image result for red hen inn

 

 

 

"What I learned is: resistance is not futile."

 

The owner took a stand for what is right. They had to weather the storm of hatred and threats of violence, but people of goodwill ultimately won. Donations and reservations poured in. Some visit the restaurant as a monument of resistance to inhumanity.

 

 

https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/opinion/i-own-the-red-hen-restaurant-that-asked-sarah-sanders-to-leave-resistance-isnt-futile/ar-AABlGz9?ocid=spartanntp

(Full article at above link)

 

 

I’ve been getting hate mail for almost a year now, ever since I asked White House press secretary Sarah Sanders to leave my Lexington, Va., restaurant, the Red Hen, last June.

At the time, the country was in turmoil over the Trump administration’s heinous practice of separating children from their parents at our southern border. In our tiny 26-seat restaurant, the horror felt simultaneously immediate and far away. 

Faced with the prospect of serving a fine meal to a person whose actions in the service of our country we felt violated basic standards of humanity, we couldn’t do it.

I took Ms. Sanders aside and politely suggested she leave. She agreed, equally politely. She may or may not have expected this day would come, but she never showed any sign of outrage, or even much surprise. We’d drawn a line; she’d accepted it.

I’m pretty sure both of us thought that was the end of the matter.

When I awoke the next morning, social media was on fire. The incident had gone from a Facebook post to a tagged tweet to nationally trending news with the whoosh of lighter fluid to a flame.

The blowback was swift and aggressive. Within 24 hours, the restaurant’s phone line was hacked, my staff and I were doxxed, and threats to our lives and families and property were pouring in through every available channel. Protesters colonized the streets around the restaurant. Thousands of fake Yelp reviews torpedoed our ratings, and dozens of people attempted to lock up our tables with reservations they had no intention of honoring. Pundits lamented the prospect of “red restaurants” and “blue restaurants.” In less than three days, President Trump had mocked us on Twitter.

In the days following, I tried to balance fears for the safety of my family and staff against the reality of being well-protected in a small, loving community.  

When the mail started pouring in, things got weirder. For the first few days the rubber-banded bundles fit into my letter carrier’s shoulder bag. But soon he was forced to heft large white plastic totes overflowing with letters and packages up to my door.

 

The realness of that mail struck me. Paper correspondence carries all the marks of genuine humans, people who feel strongly enough about the whole event that they take on all those little tasks of letter writing — tracking down paper or card, composing their thoughts, handwriting or printing it out, locating our address and getting it into the mail.

In more than 4,000 painstakingly typed letters, hastily scrawled postcards, and feces-smeared notebook pages, I was branded a racist, a bigot and a hypocrite. A victim of “Trump Derangement Syndrome.”  

Yet, as I kept opening the letters, I saw a pattern. For every hateful message, there was one of gratitude, a note of thanks from someone lamenting Trump’s rollback of protections for marginalized people. What’s more, for every wish  that our business die a painful death, there was a dollar bill or a generous check or an order for a gift certificate.

When we opened after a 10-day hiatus, our dining room was full. In the following weeks, people who had never been to the Shenandoah Valley traveled out of their way to eat with us. Hundreds of orders for our Red Hen spice blend poured in. And the love spread far beyond our door, as supporters sent thousands of dollars’ in donations in our honor to our local food pantry, our domestic violence shelter and first responders.

After nearly a year, I’m happy to say that business is still good. Better than good, actually. And besides the boost to our area charities, our town’s hospitality and sales revenue have gone up, too.

Our haters may have believed that there were more of “them” than of “us,” but it turns out we have more than enough to keep us cooking. And to everyone who might be fearful about taking a stand, I say don’t be. Resistance is not futile, for you or your business.

Image result for red hen inn

 

 

I think the hate letters smeared with feces was a bit much, cons. Not surprising though.

 

 

 

The guy didn't learn anything. It was the left doing the hatemail blamed on the right. Actual people that respect life wouldn't do what was defined being done by the "right wing hate group".  Myself I would just never eat at his diner.  Not to protest, just don't like the attitude the owner has towards real people.

 

he stereotypes actions from people he never sees and doesn't consider all things possible but whatever his social network got him to believe.

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2 hours ago, drvoke said:

 

Image result for red hen inn

 

 

 

"What I learned is: resistance is not futile."

 

The owner took a stand for what is right. They had to weather the storm of hatred and threats of violence, but people of goodwill ultimately won. Donations and reservations poured in. Some visit the restaurant as a monument of resistance to inhumanity.

 

 

https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/opinion/i-own-the-red-hen-restaurant-that-asked-sarah-sanders-to-leave-resistance-isnt-futile/ar-AABlGz9?ocid=spartanntp

(Full article at above link)

 

 

I’ve been getting hate mail for almost a year now, ever since I asked White House press secretary Sarah Sanders to leave my Lexington, Va., restaurant, the Red Hen, last June.

At the time, the country was in turmoil over the Trump administration’s heinous practice of separating children from their parents at our southern border. In our tiny 26-seat restaurant, the horror felt simultaneously immediate and far away. 

Faced with the prospect of serving a fine meal to a person whose actions in the service of our country we felt violated basic standards of humanity, we couldn’t do it.

I took Ms. Sanders aside and politely suggested she leave. She agreed, equally politely. She may or may not have expected this day would come, but she never showed any sign of outrage, or even much surprise. We’d drawn a line; she’d accepted it.

I’m pretty sure both of us thought that was the end of the matter.

When I awoke the next morning, social media was on fire. The incident had gone from a Facebook post to a tagged tweet to nationally trending news with the whoosh of lighter fluid to a flame.

The blowback was swift and aggressive. Within 24 hours, the restaurant’s phone line was hacked, my staff and I were doxxed, and threats to our lives and families and property were pouring in through every available channel. Protesters colonized the streets around the restaurant. Thousands of fake Yelp reviews torpedoed our ratings, and dozens of people attempted to lock up our tables with reservations they had no intention of honoring. Pundits lamented the prospect of “red restaurants” and “blue restaurants.” In less than three days, President Trump had mocked us on Twitter.

In the days following, I tried to balance fears for the safety of my family and staff against the reality of being well-protected in a small, loving community.  

When the mail started pouring in, things got weirder. For the first few days the rubber-banded bundles fit into my letter carrier’s shoulder bag. But soon he was forced to heft large white plastic totes overflowing with letters and packages up to my door.

 

The realness of that mail struck me. Paper correspondence carries all the marks of genuine humans, people who feel strongly enough about the whole event that they take on all those little tasks of letter writing — tracking down paper or card, composing their thoughts, handwriting or printing it out, locating our address and getting it into the mail.

In more than 4,000 painstakingly typed letters, hastily scrawled postcards, and feces-smeared notebook pages, I was branded a racist, a bigot and a hypocrite. A victim of “Trump Derangement Syndrome.”  

Yet, as I kept opening the letters, I saw a pattern. For every hateful message, there was one of gratitude, a note of thanks from someone lamenting Trump’s rollback of protections for marginalized people. What’s more, for every wish  that our business die a painful death, there was a dollar bill or a generous check or an order for a gift certificate.

When we opened after a 10-day hiatus, our dining room was full. In the following weeks, people who had never been to the Shenandoah Valley traveled out of their way to eat with us. Hundreds of orders for our Red Hen spice blend poured in. And the love spread far beyond our door, as supporters sent thousands of dollars’ in donations in our honor to our local food pantry, our domestic violence shelter and first responders.

After nearly a year, I’m happy to say that business is still good. Better than good, actually. And besides the boost to our area charities, our town’s hospitality and sales revenue have gone up, too.

Our haters may have believed that there were more of “them” than of “us,” but it turns out we have more than enough to keep us cooking. And to everyone who might be fearful about taking a stand, I say don’t be. Resistance is not futile, for you or your business.

Image result for red hen inn

 

 

I think the hate letters smeared with feces was a bit much, cons. Not surprising though.

 

 

 

I approve of this op. 

Moo.

Moo.

Moo.

Moo.

Moo. 

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12 minutes ago, sole result said:

The guy didn't learn anything. It was the left doing the hatemail blamed on the right. Actual people that respect life wouldn't do what was defined being done by the "right wing hate group".  Myself I would just never eat at his diner.  Not to protest, just don't like the attitude the owner has towards real people.

 

he stereotypes actions from people he never sees and doesn't consider all things possible but whatever his social network got him to believe.

They wouldn't let you eat there, either, so STFU!

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38 minutes ago, personreal said:

I own the restaurant at the Mustang Ranch and I'm a dem whore.

Jealous ^ 

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4 minutes ago, TDS said:

They wouldn't let you eat there, either, so STFU!

They wouldn't know who I was if I would go in.

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Just now, sole result said:

They wouldn't know who I was if I would go in.

We have spies everywhere. We know everything about you. Even which hand you beat off with.

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Just now, TDS said:

We have spies everywhere. We know everything about you. Even which hand you beat off with.

I don't care. Worlds are ruled by deniers. Life in inhabited by ancestors not citizens of artificial intelligence.

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1 minute ago, sole result said:

I don't care. Worlds are ruled by deniers. Life in inhabited by ancestors not citizens of artificial intelligence.

Carry on!

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Being a filthy lying cult member has consequences. Boycott all South Carolina and Kentucky goods. If they want to support people like Graham and McConnell, they don't deserve our support.

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This is the left's official position. If you disagree with us, it's ok to discriminate against you. We say it's ok because we will label you a fascist hater. 

 

The left is disgusting and antiAmerica to their core. 

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