Can’t we all just get along?

I’ve used this phrase in three very different scenarios in my life:

Babysitting young kids
Working in politics
Trying to get the wild and farmed seafood sectors to cooperate

My seafood journey has been neither linear nor typical.

I don’t come from a fishing family, but I do come from a seafood-eating family with deep roots in the Azores Islands. My academic background is in environmental politics, which led me to pursue fisheries science in graduate school. I began my professional seafood career working with small-scale fishermen. As I transitioned from academia to influencer (like I said, not a typical path), I broadened my involvement in the seafood world, working with larger fisheries, engaging with processors, and carefully navigating aquaculture.

I say “carefully” because I live in Canada—one of the most contentious aquaculture regions in the world. From the moment I entered the seafood industry as a bright-eyed grad student, it was clear that this was a heated topic where saying the wrong thing might get you in a lot of trouble.

Early in my graduate studies, my advisor sent me and a postdoc to a conference in Portland, Oregon. Our task was to interview fishermen for my thesis work and other science communication projects.

I was extremely nervous.

I didn’t come from a fishing family. I had no experience speaking with fishermen. I’d barely started my masters program. I worried they would see right through me and dismiss me as a fraud.

But they didn’t. The fishermen were warm, welcoming, and incredibly generous with their time, answering my questions and sharing personal stories from their time on the water. I left that experience thinking, “fishermen are remarkable story tellers.”

I loved talking to them.

While every conversation was different, there was one common thread that came up in nearly every conversation: farmed salmon. No one had anything good to say—most were outright hostile, some even wearing t-shirts or sporting bumper stickers that read “Friends don’t let friends eat farmed salmon.”

When I relayed these conversations to my colleague, she brushed them off: “That’s not useful. These guys have been saying that for years. They always will.” The industry veterans seemed resigned to this hostility as the status quo: wild and farmed sectors don’t get along, and they never will. It is what it is. Move on.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t accept it. I wanted to understand the root of this tension and how to bridge the divide.

Even back then, I had a feeling that, at some point, they were going to have to - the fate of the seafood industry depended on it.

Fast forward four years: My thesis was complete, and I was carving out my path as a social media influencer and research consultant, working with the University of Washington, the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), and running my own brand focused on seafood education. I was breaking down the science of sustainable seafood for consumers through my social channels when, in early 2021, a salmon farming company approached me.

I was cautiously curious. Despite the overwhelmingly negative industry narrative surrounding aquaculture, as a scientist, I kept coming across data that told a different story. When I presented my findings to FAO supervisors, aquaculture wasn’t just something to pay attention to—it was essential for the future growth of the seafood industry.

I spent six months questioning this salmon farming company, requesting reports, third-party audit summaries, and looking for evidence of environmental devastation that everyone spoke of, which would inevitably ruin my credibility.

But I found none.

The next logical step was to see it with my own eyes. I flew to British Columbia and traveled across the province to visit salmon farms. On the way, I stopped by a wild fisheries client—only to be met with an unexpectedly cold reception.

“We can no longer work with you because we don’t agree with your stance on farmed salmon.”

This was not my first exposure to the rivalry between wild and farmed fisheries, but it was the first time I was personally caught in the crossfire.

Stance? I was simply on a journey to learn more about farmed seafood. I didn’t realize that just by seeking knowledge, I had taken a “stance.”

This experience was my first real encounter with the deeply entrenched tensions between wild fisheries and aquaculture, and it opened my eyes to just how damaging this conflict is.

I didn’t know it at the time, but this marked the beginning of a journey to untangle this decades-long divide and attempt the seemingly impossible: uniting the global seafood industry.

That’s the stance I’m taking.

And that’s what I’ve dedicated the last three years to.

I’ve ridden a snowmobile across a frozen Lake Huron to feed rainbow trout with farmers in Manitoulin Island. I’ve dived beneath kanpachi cages in Panama and sea bass cages in Greece. I’ve spent time with salmon, oyster, and mussel farmers in New Zealand and broke bread with certification bodies on both the wild and farmed side.

And yes, I’ve still spent time with fishermen who see the value of in-place storytelling, are curious and open to conversation regardless of any so-called “stance”.

The thing I’ve noticed about both farmers and fishermen is that they are incredibly similar, particularly in their immense pride in their work. They are feeding the world and take great pride in doing so, as they should.

Yet, they can’t seem to get along. Their constant feuding has spilled over into the consumer market, where people now debate on public forums whether to choose wild or farmed seafood, often without understanding the real differences. Entire organizations have popped up dedicated to villainizing different types of seafood harvesters against one another, but to what end?

I’ve watched this futile argument play out in both consumer and industry circles for my entire career, and it’s gotten us nowhere.

I’ve sat in rooms where C-level executives, far removed from the realities of working on the water, claim they want to end the wild vs. farmed debate, only to offer no concrete action.

This thinly veiled cloak of cooperation is a band-aid that allows the industry to pretend we’re playing nice while doing nothing to address the core issues behind the divide.

This ongoing tension is why I’ve made it my mission on Seaside with Emily to feature both wild and farmed seafood, and ultimately why I co-founded InnaSea Media with my friend Bri Dwyer.

Our partnership represents a pivotal shift in the seafood narrative—one that prioritizes collaboration over competition and celebrates the symbiotic relationship between wild and farmed seafood.

The future of seafood doesn’t lie in choosing between wild fisheries and aquaculture but in fostering a cooperative relationship between the two. This coexistence is not only possible but essential.

Read more about InnaSea Media’s shared vision for a collaborative seafood industry HERE.