When Tasha Kennard became the CEO of Thistle Farms in 2022, she was looking for a change of pace. Kennard had previously served as the farm program manager at Southall Farm and Inn in Franklin; before that she was the executive director of the Nashville Farmer’s Market for seven years.
She got a call from a recruiter about the CEO role at Thistle Farms.
“The more I talked to the recruiter, the board and the team at Thistle Farms, this opportunity felt like a clear invitation to step into work that was not just aligned with my skills, but also my calling,” she says.
She said she had to learn a lot about human trafficking but was already familiar with many of the same barriers that she saw in the food system, which was her main background in the nonprofit sector.
“We often think about leadership as something that we do … like a CEO role is about making decisions and being in charge and solving problems,” Kennard said. “But it’s really about how you care and who you care for.
“I’ve come to understand that real leadership begins with surrender, staying grounded in purpose and using the gifts that I’ve been given to serve others.”
What have you learned over the past four years that has surprised you?
I think one of the most powerful lessons that I’ve learned is that no one heals alone.
I’m a fairly independent person by nature. And before coming to Thistle Farms, I really approached challenges with the mindset that [you’ve] got to push through and figure things out, even if that means on your own. Being a part of this community has really shown me something different.
I’ve learned how much people truly thrive in relationship with one another, in the give and take and the tenderness and accountability and resilience that come from walking alongside others. Healing and growth, even leadership, are not solitary experiences. It’s something that is built in community. That’s been one of the biggest lessons.
It’s really surprised me how powerful that support can be, not only for the women that we serve, but for all of us that are a part of it in every role. And when people really feel seen, including myself, and valued and supported by a community that believes in us, I really think it creates a space for transformation. That just can’t happen alone.
Tell us a little about the work of Thistle Farms.
We’ve been around since 1997. We were founded by Becca Stevens. Many members in the community know of Thistle Farms’ work because of Becca’s big, bold vision that she had nearly 30 years ago.
The best way to describe us is that we’re a Nashville-based nonprofit that helps women survivors who have experienced trafficking, prostitution and addiction. Our role is to help them on their healing journey as they’re rebuilding their lives.
Our primary program, I often refer to it as our bread and butter, is a two-year residential program where women live in community, in a home that is provided by Thistle Farms. They get access to trauma-informed care, everything from well care, medical appointments, dental care, eye care, therapy, and they then begin their pathway towards stability and independence.
Alongside that bread-and-butter program, we operate a 30-day crisis stabilization home and offer transitional and permanent supportive housing to individuals that have completed our program. Women can come into our program by self-application or referral. It’s very common that women who are in or have completed our program will encourage [women they know need support] to come into the program. We also get referrals from judges, from justice involved agencies. We work closely with the Single-Point-of-Contact program in Tennessee and receive referrals from the agencies associated with that, as well as the TBI, and various different police departments throughout the state.
Beyond housing, we support women with case management. I mentioned all the healthcare access earlier. Then one thing that makes us stand out unique in this space is that we’ve created a job readiness program. It’s a curriculum that women can access for up to six weeks during their journey with us. After they’ve completed it, they can then go into employment, where the employment works around the program. So she can still go to all of her appointments and maintain her primary focus there as she is gaining more job skills on the job, receiving mentorship, and then career coaching along the way.
You might wonder why we offer job training when so many of the other folks in this space don’t. It is because about five years into doing this, Becca and all the volunteers that were working with the women — it was called Magdalene at that time — they noticed that the women would complete the program, they would be doing great, and then there would just be this drop-off point a couple months after completing the program. It might be a relapse. It might be a reoccurrence of exploitation. It might be a bad relationship, or a loss of safe housing. A lot of that tied back to a lack of employment.
And so, back then in 2001, the volunteers and Becca decided, “OK, let’s take the things that we’re doing together in community, like making candles and blending oils, and let’s create products where we can create jobs [not only by making the product but also] in the sale and distribution of those products.
That really birthed what we know today as Thistle Farms: this model of a justice enterprise where we’re vertically integrated. We’re sourcing from artisan partners all over the world who are doing similar work to Thistle Farms. We’re creating these products in our 25,000-square-foot manufacturing facility here in Nashville, and we’re retailing and distributing the products all over the world.
You also have a coffee shop, right?
Right. About 13 years ago, we stepped into a blended model of not just making and distributing our products but also inviting people in to learn more about the organization because so many folks thought we were just a candle company or just a lotion company.
But there’s way more to that. We are a mission with a business, and we wanted to invite people into that mission. So, the Thistle Farms Cafe was born. It was first called the Thistle Stop Cafe, and then it was rebranded after some time. It’s become one of Nashville’s favorite cafes.
That café has afforded us an opportunity to partner with other nonprofits throughout our community. We have employees from Dismas House and from Mending Hearts, in addition to [those from] Thistle Farms, working in the café every single day. It’s creating an opportunity for people to come together around a meal, learn about our mission, but also an opportunity for individuals in our community who are in a healing journey, who aren’t a part of Thistle Farms to find employment and community as well.
It seems the homelessness nonprofits and human trafficking nonprofits are working in different systems that overlap at times. Where do you see opportunities for nonprofits to work closer together when it comes to housing people in need?
They run parallel. And the populations that we’re serving definitely overlap. Many survivors of trafficking experience homelessness, housing instability, or system involvement. I think because of that, one of the biggest areas for collaboration and opportunity is housing … and mental health.
Focusing on housing, I think it’s an opportunity for really strong collaboration that is beginning to bud in Nashville, particularly around coordinated entry and referral systems. Homelessness providers operate within this established housing continuum. With trafficking programs like Thistle Farms, we’re often maintaining a separate specialized pathway for survivors, really focused on safety and confidentiality.
If we can create stronger connections between these systems while protecting survivors along the way, we can ensure that more trafficking survivors have access to the full range of housing resources available in the community without organizations like Thistle Farms having to create specialized housing solutions.
I mentioned mental health earlier, and I think an important opportunity is expanding the trauma-informed, survivor-informed housing model, where we’ve got transitional and permanent supportive housing solutions that walk alongside homeless and trafficking survivors who need to stay connected to case management and support. That’s something that Thistle Farms has been doing for the past several years. We have transitional housing apartments, and we have permanent supportive homes where women, after they complete, can stay connected with us. And we’ve seen a significant increase in their ability to maintain independent living and thrive in their life post-program when they stay connected to case management and therapeutic services.
When you talk about the transitional housing and permanent supportive housing programs you have, did you build them on your own outside of the homelessness system or how did you go about that?
For Thistle Farms, we actually redirected property that we had for a residential program. There was such a need for transitional housing support. And we could not get women into transitional housing apartments once they completed. So we decided to flip some residential beds into transitional housing apartments. Then we built more residential beds to support our program.
Now on the permanent supportive side, we did that through more collaborative partnerships. We’ve gotten funding from the Barnes Fund. We’ve worked with Affordable Housing Resources. We’ve also worked with other partners and sponsors in the community to help us build out permanent supportive housing options that are leasable and also permanent supportive housing where she’s the owner. That’s been a really beautiful partnership to see come online over the last five years.
What are your goals for the next five years?
My personal goal is to remain active and present in my kids’ lives. They’re going through some really formative years. I’m thankful that Thistle Farms gives me the opportunity to sit in the seat that I sit in but also sit in the right seat at home too, so that I can support them, cheer them on, and stay grounded as a family in partnership with my husband. That’s just incredibly important to me.
And for Thistle Farms, our goal is to expand our continuum of care locally, nationally, and internationally. We do that by supporting communities where love heals and creating more opportunities for women to pursue economic freedom and long-term stability. There are two major focus areas of that visionary statement there. First, we want to deepen our collaboration around housing for women survivors of trafficking.
Just for some context, we currently have three two-bedroom transitional housing units that can support women for up to two years after they complete our residential program. And even with women earning a living wage in Nashville, once they complete our program, the cost of housing makes it incredibly difficult for them to transition beyond our support and to stable independent living.
So over the next five years, we want to work alongside housing providers, developers, other nonprofits, and expand transitional and affordable housing options for women leaving our program so that they can have a clear pathway to long-term stability. We have a vision of having up to 30 transitional housing apartments for women to be able to access. And this would open it up for women outside of Thistle Farms program. Maybe they’re completing a program somewhere else. Maybe it’s with Ancora or another agency across the state of Tennessee and their goal is to move to Nashville and live their life and have a job here in Nashville. We really believe having these 30 units will improve their ability to thrive post program.
Secondly, we want to continue to grow our justice enterprise operations. That’s our body and home manufacturing, our retail e-comm, as well as our café. And we want to further develop and expand our product line while also investing in some new packaging and production equipment. This is going to advance the technical skills of the women who are seeking employment through our program. It will give them more transferable skills when they want to go work outside and stay in the type of jobs that are offered at Thistle Farms.
For local readers, how would you explain your national and international reach?
Over the past 20 years, Thistle Farms has expanded in building a national network of safe beds for women survivors of trafficking. We have partners in 33 states, and we also have 44 partners in 27 countries. These partners not only help with providing safe housing and programming but also with jobs and community for women survivors of trafficking. Many of these partners produce products just like [we do at] Thistle Farms, and we are one of their marketing and distribution partners. And so we purchase their products, and we retail them in our shop in the café as well as on our website.
Your background is in communications and marketing. What is your main advice to other nonprofit leaders on how they communicate during the current uncertain times with staff, board, and stakeholders?
I’ve always believed that communication should flow both ways. And it’s not just about what you say, but it’s about being curious, asking thoughtful questions, and really listening to the feedback you’re receiving. I think real listening creates a space for understanding, not just a response. So in uncertain times, especially, people need opportunities to feel heard. And one of the best communication tips I have is to learn how to listen.
People want to know that their perspectives matter. They want to know that they belong, that they’re contributing, valued and supported and a part of something meaningful. And as leaders, we’ve got to have the ability to demonstrate that we can listen to other people. So I think strong communication and listening really creates a sense of connection and trust.
Anything else you’d like to add?
I keep finding myself in conversations where people are worried about hitting a barrier. Maybe they’ve got a new idea and they’re anxious about pitching it. Or they need to go ask a funder for support and they’re worried that they’re going to tell them no. Now, whatever that barrier is or that obstacle or just that fear of being told no.
I just keep going back to a piece of advice that my grandmother gave me. I can remember sitting at her dining room table, which now sits in my dining room and her sipping a cup of coffee. And I was really worried about going for something, going for a promotion at work in my early 20s. And she said to me, “They can’t tell you yes if you don’t ask.”
I would just say this is so simple, but it’s also true that when you’re advocating for yourself or your community or something that you believe in, the first step is really having the courage to ask. And I would just say, go ahead, ask, make the call, start the conversation, and be ready for yes and whatever comes after that.