Jan 2, 2026

The Beanery on Washington is my 2026 Vibe

Why an inclusive coffee shop in my hometown matters more than it might seem.

Why an inclusive coffee shop in my hometown matters more than it might seem.

Why an inclusive coffee shop in my hometown matters more than it might seem.

A round, white, wooden hanging sign for 'Beanery Coffee Cafe' is mounted against the red, clapboard siding of a building. The sign, hanging from a white post, features the words 'COFFEE CAFE' at the top, 'Beanery' in a large, dark brown, script font in the center, and 'ON WASHINGTON' below a stylized coffee cup graphic.

I grew up in Easton. I graduated from Oliver Ames in 2005, back when leaving campus during free periods meant grabbing a coffee somewhere unremarkable and heading right back, often waving to Mr. Brockman in the parking lot. There weren’t many places that felt like they invited you to linger, and there certainly weren’t spaces that openly signaled inclusivity in the way The Beanery on Washington does today.

So when I walked into The Beanery, located at 181 Washington Street in North Easton, for the first time, I felt something I didn’t expect: pride. Not just in a good cup of coffee or a thoughtfully made piece of toast, but in seeing a space like this exist, comfortably and confidently, in the town where I grew up.

That feeling deepened when The Beanery hosted a fundraiser for be; from December 8–14, donating proceeds from their “be; Buzzed” beverage to support the organization. The fundraiser itself wasn’t about numbers or totals. What mattered was the gesture. A small business choosing to stand publicly with a community organization whose mission centers inclusion, dignity, and connection, just like their own. That choice says more than a dollar amount ever could.

Visit The Beanery
Visit The Beanery
Visit The Beanery
Two young women sit facing each other on mid-century modern style furniture in a brightly-lit, vintage-decorated room with yellow walls and yellow ruffled curtains. The room features a blue sofa on the left, where a large Grogu (Baby Yoda) plush and several decorative pillows rest, and a reddish-orange upholstered armchair on the right. Between them is a dark, wooden coffee table with a beverage and books. In the background, there is a large, vintage wooden radio console, and shelves displaying small pictures and a white globe lamp. On the far left, a red 'FIRE' sign is visible.

A Place That Feels Lived In

Comfort doesn’t come from design trends. It comes from memory.

The Beanery on Washington doesn’t feel curated in the trendy sense. It feels lived in. The space reads like a homey diner crossed with a grandmother’s kitchen, not a metaphor, but a literal one. Many of the antiques and vintage objects scattered throughout the café came from one of the owner’s grandmother’s homes. An old wood-paneled AM/FM radio sits casually in the corner. Handheld manual beaters hang nearby. Worn calendars and books from the mid-20th century, complete with handwritten notes in the margins, remind you that these objects once belonged to real people with real routines.

There are diner tables, vintage shakers pulled from old Hoosier cabinets, and even a phone booth complete with a rotary payphone. It doesn’t feel staged or gimmicky. It feels like slipping into Mr. Rogers’ kitchen. You’re there for a bite, but you’re also going to leave knowing that everyone likes you ”just the way you are” (as Mr. Rogers always said).

That atmosphere matters. It lowers defenses. It makes people comfortable without asking them to perform comfort. You don’t feel like you’re walking into a brand. You feel like you’re walking into a place.

P.S. As someone who loves antiques and their cultural relevance, seeing Hoosier cabinets used as functional design elements made me smile. These cabinets were the foundation of modern kitchen cabinetry, designed to make everyday cooking more efficient and accessible. If you want to nerd out a bit, this article does a great job explaining their history.

Hoosier Cabinet
Inside a bright, modern cafe with light blue cabinets, a barista in a yellow shirt and dark apron is handing a coffee drink across a counter. He has a mustache and glasses. Behind him, to the left, a woman in a black and white checkered shirt is smiling. Further back on the right, another woman is standing behind a point-of-sale system. On the counter in the foreground, there is a small wooden bowl containing a Baby Yoda (Grogu) figurine, alongside stacks of cardboard beverage carriers and containers of sugar and sweetener packets.
A collection of framed photos, a clock, and a folded memorial card are displayed on the dark wood surface of a vintage radio console. The display is set against a yellow wall, with a tall lamp and a framed picture of a red barn and green landscape visible in the background. The items include a round, antique wooden clock, and several photo frames. On the far left is a folded memorial card for 'Janet M. Provenzano,' next to two small, gold-framed photos. To the right of the clock are two larger, decorative gold-toned photo frames containing black-and-white photos of children and a family group. Yellow, ruffled curtains are visible on the left.
Inside a commercial kitchen or cafe counter area, a barista in a dark shirt and black gloves is operating a coffee grinder or espresso machine on a stainless steel countertop. To the left, a shelf unit holds jars of ingredients and a row of metal pumps for beverage syrups and flavorings. To the right, the area features stainless steel commercial cooking equipment, including a hood and racks of stacked items. In the background, a person is partially visible behind a counter in a more open area of the cafe.
A photo of the interior wall of a coffee shop or cafe. The wall is covered in light-colored vertical wood paneling. The area displays merchandise including three hanging t-shirts—one dark gray with a yellow logo, one blue with a white logo, and one black—hanging from a black metal rod. Above the shirts, a sign on the wall reads 'WE MADE T-SHIRTS.' To the left, there are two shelves holding various items like colorful canisters and small, packaged accessories, and another small sign that says 'Poured by Danny.' In the top right, a black unit with visible white filter cartridges is labeled 'EVERPURE.' A red dustpan and a broom are leaning against the wall on the right. In the bottom left, a green and white counter displays flowers and a variety of small colorful merchandise, including a small sign that says 'The Best Coffee in' and a coffee cup graphic.
Two young women sit facing each other on mid-century modern style furniture in a brightly-lit, vintage-decorated room with yellow walls and yellow ruffled curtains. The room features a blue sofa on the left, where a large Grogu (Baby Yoda) plush and several decorative pillows rest, and a reddish-orange upholstered armchair on the right. Between them is a dark, wooden coffee table with a beverage and books. In the background, there is a large, vintage wooden radio console, and shelves displaying small pictures and a white globe lamp. On the far left, a red 'FIRE' sign is visible.

A Place That Feels Lived In

Comfort doesn’t come from design trends. It comes from memory.

The Beanery on Washington doesn’t feel curated in the trendy sense. It feels lived in. The space reads like a homey diner crossed with a grandmother’s kitchen, not a metaphor, but a literal one. Many of the antiques and vintage objects scattered throughout the café came from one of the owner’s grandmother’s homes. An old wood-paneled AM/FM radio sits casually in the corner. Handheld manual beaters hang nearby. Worn calendars and books from the mid-20th century, complete with handwritten notes in the margins, remind you that these objects once belonged to real people with real routines.

There are diner tables, vintage shakers pulled from old Hoosier cabinets, and even a phone booth complete with a rotary payphone. It doesn’t feel staged or gimmicky. It feels like slipping into Mr. Rogers’ kitchen. You’re there for a bite, but you’re also going to leave knowing that everyone likes you ”just the way you are” (as Mr. Rogers always said).

That atmosphere matters. It lowers defenses. It makes people comfortable without asking them to perform comfort. You don’t feel like you’re walking into a brand. You feel like you’re walking into a place.

P.S. As someone who loves antiques and their cultural relevance, seeing Hoosier cabinets used as functional design elements made me smile. These cabinets were the foundation of modern kitchen cabinetry, designed to make everyday cooking more efficient and accessible. If you want to nerd out a bit, this article does a great job explaining their history.

Hoosier Cabinet
Inside a bright, modern cafe with light blue cabinets, a barista in a yellow shirt and dark apron is handing a coffee drink across a counter. He has a mustache and glasses. Behind him, to the left, a woman in a black and white checkered shirt is smiling. Further back on the right, another woman is standing behind a point-of-sale system. On the counter in the foreground, there is a small wooden bowl containing a Baby Yoda (Grogu) figurine, alongside stacks of cardboard beverage carriers and containers of sugar and sweetener packets.
A collection of framed photos, a clock, and a folded memorial card are displayed on the dark wood surface of a vintage radio console. The display is set against a yellow wall, with a tall lamp and a framed picture of a red barn and green landscape visible in the background. The items include a round, antique wooden clock, and several photo frames. On the far left is a folded memorial card for 'Janet M. Provenzano,' next to two small, gold-framed photos. To the right of the clock are two larger, decorative gold-toned photo frames containing black-and-white photos of children and a family group. Yellow, ruffled curtains are visible on the left.
Inside a commercial kitchen or cafe counter area, a barista in a dark shirt and black gloves is operating a coffee grinder or espresso machine on a stainless steel countertop. To the left, a shelf unit holds jars of ingredients and a row of metal pumps for beverage syrups and flavorings. To the right, the area features stainless steel commercial cooking equipment, including a hood and racks of stacked items. In the background, a person is partially visible behind a counter in a more open area of the cafe.
A photo of the interior wall of a coffee shop or cafe. The wall is covered in light-colored vertical wood paneling. The area displays merchandise including three hanging t-shirts—one dark gray with a yellow logo, one blue with a white logo, and one black—hanging from a black metal rod. Above the shirts, a sign on the wall reads 'WE MADE T-SHIRTS.' To the left, there are two shelves holding various items like colorful canisters and small, packaged accessories, and another small sign that says 'Poured by Danny.' In the top right, a black unit with visible white filter cartridges is labeled 'EVERPURE.' A red dustpan and a broom are leaning against the wall on the right. In the bottom left, a green and white counter displays flowers and a variety of small colorful merchandise, including a small sign that says 'The Best Coffee in' and a coffee cup graphic.
Two young women sit facing each other on mid-century modern style furniture in a brightly-lit, vintage-decorated room with yellow walls and yellow ruffled curtains. The room features a blue sofa on the left, where a large Grogu (Baby Yoda) plush and several decorative pillows rest, and a reddish-orange upholstered armchair on the right. Between them is a dark, wooden coffee table with a beverage and books. In the background, there is a large, vintage wooden radio console, and shelves displaying small pictures and a white globe lamp. On the far left, a red 'FIRE' sign is visible.

A Place That Feels Lived In

Comfort doesn’t come from design trends. It comes from memory.

The Beanery on Washington doesn’t feel curated in the trendy sense. It feels lived in. The space reads like a homey diner crossed with a grandmother’s kitchen, not a metaphor, but a literal one. Many of the antiques and vintage objects scattered throughout the café came from one of the owner’s grandmother’s homes. An old wood-paneled AM/FM radio sits casually in the corner. Handheld manual beaters hang nearby. Worn calendars and books from the mid-20th century, complete with handwritten notes in the margins, remind you that these objects once belonged to real people with real routines.

There are diner tables, vintage shakers pulled from old Hoosier cabinets, and even a phone booth complete with a rotary payphone. It doesn’t feel staged or gimmicky. It feels like slipping into Mr. Rogers’ kitchen. You’re there for a bite, but you’re also going to leave knowing that everyone likes you ”just the way you are” (as Mr. Rogers always said).

That atmosphere matters. It lowers defenses. It makes people comfortable without asking them to perform comfort. You don’t feel like you’re walking into a brand. You feel like you’re walking into a place.

P.S. As someone who loves antiques and their cultural relevance, seeing Hoosier cabinets used as functional design elements made me smile. These cabinets were the foundation of modern kitchen cabinetry, designed to make everyday cooking more efficient and accessible. If you want to nerd out a bit, this article does a great job explaining their history.

Hoosier Cabinet
Inside a bright, modern cafe with light blue cabinets, a barista in a yellow shirt and dark apron is handing a coffee drink across a counter. He has a mustache and glasses. Behind him, to the left, a woman in a black and white checkered shirt is smiling. Further back on the right, another woman is standing behind a point-of-sale system. On the counter in the foreground, there is a small wooden bowl containing a Baby Yoda (Grogu) figurine, alongside stacks of cardboard beverage carriers and containers of sugar and sweetener packets.
A collection of framed photos, a clock, and a folded memorial card are displayed on the dark wood surface of a vintage radio console. The display is set against a yellow wall, with a tall lamp and a framed picture of a red barn and green landscape visible in the background. The items include a round, antique wooden clock, and several photo frames. On the far left is a folded memorial card for 'Janet M. Provenzano,' next to two small, gold-framed photos. To the right of the clock are two larger, decorative gold-toned photo frames containing black-and-white photos of children and a family group. Yellow, ruffled curtains are visible on the left.
Inside a commercial kitchen or cafe counter area, a barista in a dark shirt and black gloves is operating a coffee grinder or espresso machine on a stainless steel countertop. To the left, a shelf unit holds jars of ingredients and a row of metal pumps for beverage syrups and flavorings. To the right, the area features stainless steel commercial cooking equipment, including a hood and racks of stacked items. In the background, a person is partially visible behind a counter in a more open area of the cafe.
A photo of the interior wall of a coffee shop or cafe. The wall is covered in light-colored vertical wood paneling. The area displays merchandise including three hanging t-shirts—one dark gray with a yellow logo, one blue with a white logo, and one black—hanging from a black metal rod. Above the shirts, a sign on the wall reads 'WE MADE T-SHIRTS.' To the left, there are two shelves holding various items like colorful canisters and small, packaged accessories, and another small sign that says 'Poured by Danny.' In the top right, a black unit with visible white filter cartridges is labeled 'EVERPURE.' A red dustpan and a broom are leaning against the wall on the right. In the bottom left, a green and white counter displays flowers and a variety of small colorful merchandise, including a small sign that says 'The Best Coffee in' and a coffee cup graphic.
A close-up shot of a thick slice of brown toast topped with peanut butter, several round slices of banana, and a generous layer of crunchy granola. The toast is drizzled with honey or a similar syrup. The food is presented in a rectangular black plastic takeout container with a slightly ridged bottom and a clear plastic cover slightly open in the top right. The container is sitting on a dark wooden table.

Food Without the Garbage

Simple, thoughtful, and made for real people.

The food matches the philosophy.

One of the standout items, and a personal favorite, is the peanut butter and banana toast with a honey drizzle. It’s simple, generous, and deeply satisfying. It’s also emblematic of the broader menu, which prioritizes organic ingredients, made-to-order food and drinks, and real options for people with dietary restrictions.

There are multiple nut butters. Non-dairy milk options. Thoughtful substitutions that don’t feel like afterthoughts. Everything is done without filler or gimmicks. No “garbage,” just good food made with care.

It’s the kind of menu that quietly says: you’re welcome here, as you are. Complicated order and all.

View Menu
A close-up shot of a thick slice of brown toast topped with peanut butter, several round slices of banana, and a generous layer of crunchy granola. The toast is drizzled with honey or a similar syrup. The food is presented in a rectangular black plastic takeout container with a slightly ridged bottom and a clear plastic cover slightly open in the top right. The container is sitting on a dark wooden table.

Food Without the Garbage

Simple, thoughtful, and made for real people.

The food matches the philosophy.

One of the standout items, and a personal favorite, is the peanut butter and banana toast with a honey drizzle. It’s simple, generous, and deeply satisfying. It’s also emblematic of the broader menu, which prioritizes organic ingredients, made-to-order food and drinks, and real options for people with dietary restrictions.

There are multiple nut butters. Non-dairy milk options. Thoughtful substitutions that don’t feel like afterthoughts. Everything is done without filler or gimmicks. No “garbage,” just good food made with care.

It’s the kind of menu that quietly says: you’re welcome here, as you are. Complicated order and all.

View Menu
A close-up shot of a thick slice of brown toast topped with peanut butter, several round slices of banana, and a generous layer of crunchy granola. The toast is drizzled with honey or a similar syrup. The food is presented in a rectangular black plastic takeout container with a slightly ridged bottom and a clear plastic cover slightly open in the top right. The container is sitting on a dark wooden table.

Food Without the Garbage

Simple, thoughtful, and made for real people.

The food matches the philosophy.

One of the standout items, and a personal favorite, is the peanut butter and banana toast with a honey drizzle. It’s simple, generous, and deeply satisfying. It’s also emblematic of the broader menu, which prioritizes organic ingredients, made-to-order food and drinks, and real options for people with dietary restrictions.

There are multiple nut butters. Non-dairy milk options. Thoughtful substitutions that don’t feel like afterthoughts. Everything is done without filler or gimmicks. No “garbage,” just good food made with care.

It’s the kind of menu that quietly says: you’re welcome here, as you are. Complicated order and all.

View Menu
A person with a mustache and glasses, wearing a bright yellow t-shirt and a black apron, stands behind a counter in a brightly-lit cafe. They are smiling at the camera and making a peace sign with both hands. To their right, a woman with dark hair and a light blue turtleneck is standing. A third person is partially visible on the far left. The background is the blurred interior of the cafe with shelving and equipment.

The People Make the Place

Hospitality is a feeling, not a transaction.

If the space sets the tone, the staff makes it stick.

Blake, who many regulars recognize immediately, is the sassy soul of The Beanery on Washington. He greets people by name when he can, remembers orders when possible, and brings a quick wit that turns a routine coffee stop into a moment of connection. It’s not performative. It’s not scripted. It’s just genuine hospitality layered with humor and warmth.

You can tell Blake goes to work and is never anyone inside of it except exactly who he is outside of it. That kind of authenticity is rare, and it’s powerful.

Angela Souto, one of the owners, has clearly shaped the culture behind the counter. There’s a shared understanding among the staff that their role isn’t just to serve coffee, but to hold space.

You don’t feel like a customer being processed. You feel like a neighbor being welcomed.

Follow on Insta
A young woman with dark hair, wearing a dark blue sweatshirt with white stripes and the word 'TIVOLI' across the chest, and a light blue turtleneck, stands smiling behind a counter in a cafe. She is looking toward a customer whose back and right side are visible on the right side of the frame. In the foreground, on the counter, there is a black point-of-sale tablet and a white, domed object, possibly a cup lid. The background is the brightly-lit interior of the cafe with blurred shelving and products visible behind the woman.
A decorative, silver-colored metal sign for 'BEANERY'S KITCHEN' hangs in a doorway or service window. The sign is intricately designed with scrolling metalwork and features the silhouettes of a fork, knife, and spoon both above and below the main text. The sign is mounted beneath a scalloped light-colored awning or valence, and is flanked by light blue trim. The background visible through the sign is the blurred interior of a kitchen area, with two people partially visible.
A Grogu (Baby Yoda) plush toy, dressed in a brown fuzzy coat, sits on a beige textured sofa. Next to Grogu are two smaller plush animals: a sloth and a monkey. To the right of the plush toys, a round white and black decorative pillow displays the text 'COFFEE CAFE Beanery' with a coffee cup graphic. The sofa is positioned in front of a window with yellow patterned curtains.
A person with a mustache and glasses, wearing a yellow t-shirt and a black apron, stands behind a stainless steel counter in what appears to be a cafe kitchen. They are holding a large, opaque, light-colored beverage bottle or shaker near their mouth and looking away from the camera with a slight smile. The shot is taken from a low angle, looking up at the person. In the background, there are shelves with containers and a window with a yellow wall visible.
A person with a mustache and glasses, wearing a bright yellow t-shirt and a black apron, stands behind a counter in a brightly-lit cafe. They are smiling at the camera and making a peace sign with both hands. To their right, a woman with dark hair and a light blue turtleneck is standing. A third person is partially visible on the far left. The background is the blurred interior of the cafe with shelving and equipment.

The People Make the Place

Hospitality is a feeling, not a transaction.

If the space sets the tone, the staff makes it stick.

Blake, who many regulars recognize immediately, is the sassy soul of The Beanery on Washington. He greets people by name when he can, remembers orders when possible, and brings a quick wit that turns a routine coffee stop into a moment of connection. It’s not performative. It’s not scripted. It’s just genuine hospitality layered with humor and warmth.

You can tell Blake goes to work and is never anyone inside of it except exactly who he is outside of it. That kind of authenticity is rare, and it’s powerful.

Angela Souto, one of the owners, has clearly shaped the culture behind the counter. There’s a shared understanding among the staff that their role isn’t just to serve coffee, but to hold space.

You don’t feel like a customer being processed. You feel like a neighbor being welcomed.

Follow on Insta
A young woman with dark hair, wearing a dark blue sweatshirt with white stripes and the word 'TIVOLI' across the chest, and a light blue turtleneck, stands smiling behind a counter in a cafe. She is looking toward a customer whose back and right side are visible on the right side of the frame. In the foreground, on the counter, there is a black point-of-sale tablet and a white, domed object, possibly a cup lid. The background is the brightly-lit interior of the cafe with blurred shelving and products visible behind the woman.
A decorative, silver-colored metal sign for 'BEANERY'S KITCHEN' hangs in a doorway or service window. The sign is intricately designed with scrolling metalwork and features the silhouettes of a fork, knife, and spoon both above and below the main text. The sign is mounted beneath a scalloped light-colored awning or valence, and is flanked by light blue trim. The background visible through the sign is the blurred interior of a kitchen area, with two people partially visible.
A Grogu (Baby Yoda) plush toy, dressed in a brown fuzzy coat, sits on a beige textured sofa. Next to Grogu are two smaller plush animals: a sloth and a monkey. To the right of the plush toys, a round white and black decorative pillow displays the text 'COFFEE CAFE Beanery' with a coffee cup graphic. The sofa is positioned in front of a window with yellow patterned curtains.
A person with a mustache and glasses, wearing a yellow t-shirt and a black apron, stands behind a stainless steel counter in what appears to be a cafe kitchen. They are holding a large, opaque, light-colored beverage bottle or shaker near their mouth and looking away from the camera with a slight smile. The shot is taken from a low angle, looking up at the person. In the background, there are shelves with containers and a window with a yellow wall visible.
A person with a mustache and glasses, wearing a bright yellow t-shirt and a black apron, stands behind a counter in a brightly-lit cafe. They are smiling at the camera and making a peace sign with both hands. To their right, a woman with dark hair and a light blue turtleneck is standing. A third person is partially visible on the far left. The background is the blurred interior of the cafe with shelving and equipment.

The People Make the Place

Hospitality is a feeling, not a transaction.

If the space sets the tone, the staff makes it stick.

Blake, who many regulars recognize immediately, is the sassy soul of The Beanery on Washington. He greets people by name when he can, remembers orders when possible, and brings a quick wit that turns a routine coffee stop into a moment of connection. It’s not performative. It’s not scripted. It’s just genuine hospitality layered with humor and warmth.

You can tell Blake goes to work and is never anyone inside of it except exactly who he is outside of it. That kind of authenticity is rare, and it’s powerful.

Angela Souto, one of the owners, has clearly shaped the culture behind the counter. There’s a shared understanding among the staff that their role isn’t just to serve coffee, but to hold space.

You don’t feel like a customer being processed. You feel like a neighbor being welcomed.

Follow on Insta
A young woman with dark hair, wearing a dark blue sweatshirt with white stripes and the word 'TIVOLI' across the chest, and a light blue turtleneck, stands smiling behind a counter in a cafe. She is looking toward a customer whose back and right side are visible on the right side of the frame. In the foreground, on the counter, there is a black point-of-sale tablet and a white, domed object, possibly a cup lid. The background is the brightly-lit interior of the cafe with blurred shelving and products visible behind the woman.
A decorative, silver-colored metal sign for 'BEANERY'S KITCHEN' hangs in a doorway or service window. The sign is intricately designed with scrolling metalwork and features the silhouettes of a fork, knife, and spoon both above and below the main text. The sign is mounted beneath a scalloped light-colored awning or valence, and is flanked by light blue trim. The background visible through the sign is the blurred interior of a kitchen area, with two people partially visible.
A Grogu (Baby Yoda) plush toy, dressed in a brown fuzzy coat, sits on a beige textured sofa. Next to Grogu are two smaller plush animals: a sloth and a monkey. To the right of the plush toys, a round white and black decorative pillow displays the text 'COFFEE CAFE Beanery' with a coffee cup graphic. The sofa is positioned in front of a window with yellow patterned curtains.
A person with a mustache and glasses, wearing a yellow t-shirt and a black apron, stands behind a stainless steel counter in what appears to be a cafe kitchen. They are holding a large, opaque, light-colored beverage bottle or shaker near their mouth and looking away from the camera with a slight smile. The shot is taken from a low angle, looking up at the person. In the background, there are shelves with containers and a window with a yellow wall visible.
Four people are seated around a small, speckled white table in a brightly-lit, retro-styled cafe with light blue walls. On the left, a woman in glasses and a dark sweater is smiling. Next to her, a woman in a beanie and plaid jacket looks off-camera. On the right, a bearded man in a black jacket has a neutral expression. The back and shoulder of a fourth person are visible in the immediate foreground. The table holds several clear plastic cups with light purple drinks and a small yellow bowl filled with red coffee beans or berries. The background features a shelf with various items like jars of fruit slices and a coffee pot. Signs are visible on the wall that read 'ALL BEEF' on the left and 'COFFEE BAR' at the top.

Why Hosting the Fundraiser Mattered

Inclusion works best when it shows up quietly.

During the December fundraiser, be; birds filtered in and out of the café. Community members supporting the cause, connecting casually, blending seamlessly into the regular rhythm of the shop. There were no speeches, no signage screaming for attention, no pressure.

That subtlety is the point.

Hosting a fundraiser like this in a space like The Beanery places inclusion into the everyday. It allows people who may never seek out an LGBTQIA+-centered event to be gently and mundanely exposed to difference in a way that feels normal and unthreatening.

This kind of exposure is powerful precisely because it isn’t dramatic. It doesn’t ask anyone to change who they are. It simply asks them to exist together.

Growing up, a space like this didn’t exist in my hometown. I don’t dwell on that, but I do recognize how meaningful places like this are. Especially for young people learning how to embrace who they are by seeing others do the same.

Support be;
Four people are seated around a small, speckled white table in a brightly-lit, retro-styled cafe with light blue walls. On the left, a woman in glasses and a dark sweater is smiling. Next to her, a woman in a beanie and plaid jacket looks off-camera. On the right, a bearded man in a black jacket has a neutral expression. The back and shoulder of a fourth person are visible in the immediate foreground. The table holds several clear plastic cups with light purple drinks and a small yellow bowl filled with red coffee beans or berries. The background features a shelf with various items like jars of fruit slices and a coffee pot. Signs are visible on the wall that read 'ALL BEEF' on the left and 'COFFEE BAR' at the top.

Why Hosting the Fundraiser Mattered

Inclusion works best when it shows up quietly.

During the December fundraiser, be; birds filtered in and out of the café. Community members supporting the cause, connecting casually, blending seamlessly into the regular rhythm of the shop. There were no speeches, no signage screaming for attention, no pressure.

That subtlety is the point.

Hosting a fundraiser like this in a space like The Beanery places inclusion into the everyday. It allows people who may never seek out an LGBTQIA+-centered event to be gently and mundanely exposed to difference in a way that feels normal and unthreatening.

This kind of exposure is powerful precisely because it isn’t dramatic. It doesn’t ask anyone to change who they are. It simply asks them to exist together.

Growing up, a space like this didn’t exist in my hometown. I don’t dwell on that, but I do recognize how meaningful places like this are. Especially for young people learning how to embrace who they are by seeing others do the same.

Support be;
Four people are seated around a small, speckled white table in a brightly-lit, retro-styled cafe with light blue walls. On the left, a woman in glasses and a dark sweater is smiling. Next to her, a woman in a beanie and plaid jacket looks off-camera. On the right, a bearded man in a black jacket has a neutral expression. The back and shoulder of a fourth person are visible in the immediate foreground. The table holds several clear plastic cups with light purple drinks and a small yellow bowl filled with red coffee beans or berries. The background features a shelf with various items like jars of fruit slices and a coffee pot. Signs are visible on the wall that read 'ALL BEEF' on the left and 'COFFEE BAR' at the top.

Why Hosting the Fundraiser Mattered

Inclusion works best when it shows up quietly.

During the December fundraiser, be; birds filtered in and out of the café. Community members supporting the cause, connecting casually, blending seamlessly into the regular rhythm of the shop. There were no speeches, no signage screaming for attention, no pressure.

That subtlety is the point.

Hosting a fundraiser like this in a space like The Beanery places inclusion into the everyday. It allows people who may never seek out an LGBTQIA+-centered event to be gently and mundanely exposed to difference in a way that feels normal and unthreatening.

This kind of exposure is powerful precisely because it isn’t dramatic. It doesn’t ask anyone to change who they are. It simply asks them to exist together.

Growing up, a space like this didn’t exist in my hometown. I don’t dwell on that, but I do recognize how meaningful places like this are. Especially for young people learning how to embrace who they are by seeing others do the same.

Support be;
Inside a retro-styled cafe with light blue walls and white wainscoting, three people are gathered around a small, speckled white table. A bearded, tattooed person is seated at the table, looking directly at the camera with a neutral expression. On the table in front of him are a yellow bowl filled with red berries or coffee beans and a clear beverage cup. A person in a green and white hoodie stands to the left, and the back of a third person is visible on the right. Above the seated person, a sign on the wall reads 'COFFEE BAR,' and decorative metal rooster and utensil art pieces are mounted on the wall.

A Note on be;

The organization behind the fundraiser.

be; is a community-based organization creating affirming spaces and connections for LGBTQIA+ adults and adults with differing abilities. Through social meetups, support groups, creative events, and community programming, be; centers dignity, belonging, and the belief that everyone deserves a place where they feel seen and valued.

If you want a deeper look at their story and impact, you can read my blog Finding be; and How a Chance Connection Became a Firefly Project, which explores how a chance connection grew into a long-term partnership.

Including this context matters, because it explains why a fundraiser like this, even a small one, carries weight. It’s about alignment, not optics.

About be;
Inside a retro-styled cafe with light blue walls and white wainscoting, three people are gathered around a small, speckled white table. A bearded, tattooed person is seated at the table, looking directly at the camera with a neutral expression. On the table in front of him are a yellow bowl filled with red berries or coffee beans and a clear beverage cup. A person in a green and white hoodie stands to the left, and the back of a third person is visible on the right. Above the seated person, a sign on the wall reads 'COFFEE BAR,' and decorative metal rooster and utensil art pieces are mounted on the wall.

A Note on be;

The organization behind the fundraiser.

be; is a community-based organization creating affirming spaces and connections for LGBTQIA+ adults and adults with differing abilities. Through social meetups, support groups, creative events, and community programming, be; centers dignity, belonging, and the belief that everyone deserves a place where they feel seen and valued.

If you want a deeper look at their story and impact, you can read my blog Finding be; and How a Chance Connection Became a Firefly Project, which explores how a chance connection grew into a long-term partnership.

Including this context matters, because it explains why a fundraiser like this, even a small one, carries weight. It’s about alignment, not optics.

About be;
Inside a retro-styled cafe with light blue walls and white wainscoting, three people are gathered around a small, speckled white table. A bearded, tattooed person is seated at the table, looking directly at the camera with a neutral expression. On the table in front of him are a yellow bowl filled with red berries or coffee beans and a clear beverage cup. A person in a green and white hoodie stands to the left, and the back of a third person is visible on the right. Above the seated person, a sign on the wall reads 'COFFEE BAR,' and decorative metal rooster and utensil art pieces are mounted on the wall.

A Note on be;

The organization behind the fundraiser.

be; is a community-based organization creating affirming spaces and connections for LGBTQIA+ adults and adults with differing abilities. Through social meetups, support groups, creative events, and community programming, be; centers dignity, belonging, and the belief that everyone deserves a place where they feel seen and valued.

If you want a deeper look at their story and impact, you can read my blog Finding be; and How a Chance Connection Became a Firefly Project, which explores how a chance connection grew into a long-term partnership.

Including this context matters, because it explains why a fundraiser like this, even a small one, carries weight. It’s about alignment, not optics.

About be;
A man with a graying beard, wearing a green and light brown hooded sweatshirt, sits relaxed on a blue-grey sofa in a brightly-lit, retro-style living room. The room has yellow walls, a brick fireplace on the right, and a large window on the left. In the center, a wooden coffee table holds various items. The foreground, on the far left, features a close-up of a wooden shelf holding a bowl of fresh fruit, including grapes, apples, and bananas, and a tall, vintage red and white Kellogg's Corn Flakes tin. Vintage and decorative items, including a rotary telephone and small framed pictures, adorn the shelves and walls.

Why Places Like This Matter

Sometimes change starts with coffee.

The Beanery on Washington isn’t just a café. It’s a protected space in the truest sense. It doesn’t protect people from the world. It allows them to show up honestly within it.

For LGBTQIA+ individuals, it’s a place where being yourself doesn’t feel like a risk. For everyone else, it’s an invitation to experience difference in a way that feels familiar, human, and ordinary.

That’s how change happens. Not through grand gestures, but through coffee counters, shared tables, and conversations that don’t feel forced.

Seeing a place like this thrive in my hometown makes me hopeful. Not because it’s perfect, but because it’s real. And because it proves that inclusion doesn’t have to be loud or exclusionary to be meaningful.

Sometimes, it just needs a good cup of coffee.

Follow Us
A man with a graying beard, wearing a green and light brown hooded sweatshirt, sits relaxed on a blue-grey sofa in a brightly-lit, retro-style living room. The room has yellow walls, a brick fireplace on the right, and a large window on the left. In the center, a wooden coffee table holds various items. The foreground, on the far left, features a close-up of a wooden shelf holding a bowl of fresh fruit, including grapes, apples, and bananas, and a tall, vintage red and white Kellogg's Corn Flakes tin. Vintage and decorative items, including a rotary telephone and small framed pictures, adorn the shelves and walls.

Why Places Like This Matter

Sometimes change starts with coffee.

The Beanery on Washington isn’t just a café. It’s a protected space in the truest sense. It doesn’t protect people from the world. It allows them to show up honestly within it.

For LGBTQIA+ individuals, it’s a place where being yourself doesn’t feel like a risk. For everyone else, it’s an invitation to experience difference in a way that feels familiar, human, and ordinary.

That’s how change happens. Not through grand gestures, but through coffee counters, shared tables, and conversations that don’t feel forced.

Seeing a place like this thrive in my hometown makes me hopeful. Not because it’s perfect, but because it’s real. And because it proves that inclusion doesn’t have to be loud or exclusionary to be meaningful.

Sometimes, it just needs a good cup of coffee.

Follow Us
A man with a graying beard, wearing a green and light brown hooded sweatshirt, sits relaxed on a blue-grey sofa in a brightly-lit, retro-style living room. The room has yellow walls, a brick fireplace on the right, and a large window on the left. In the center, a wooden coffee table holds various items. The foreground, on the far left, features a close-up of a wooden shelf holding a bowl of fresh fruit, including grapes, apples, and bananas, and a tall, vintage red and white Kellogg's Corn Flakes tin. Vintage and decorative items, including a rotary telephone and small framed pictures, adorn the shelves and walls.

Why Places Like This Matter

Sometimes change starts with coffee.

The Beanery on Washington isn’t just a café. It’s a protected space in the truest sense. It doesn’t protect people from the world. It allows them to show up honestly within it.

For LGBTQIA+ individuals, it’s a place where being yourself doesn’t feel like a risk. For everyone else, it’s an invitation to experience difference in a way that feels familiar, human, and ordinary.

That’s how change happens. Not through grand gestures, but through coffee counters, shared tables, and conversations that don’t feel forced.

Seeing a place like this thrive in my hometown makes me hopeful. Not because it’s perfect, but because it’s real. And because it proves that inclusion doesn’t have to be loud or exclusionary to be meaningful.

Sometimes, it just needs a good cup of coffee.

Follow Us