More Than Just Coffee

Growing up 20 minutes outside of Washington DC gave me plenty of things to do and exposed me to all kinds of cultures. If I got tired of being at home, I could hop on a bus or Metro to the free Smithsonian museums or eat authentic Korean fried chicken Chesapeake blue crabs to top it off with DC’s classic Mumbo sauce. My neighbors were African-American and Hispanic, the church I went to Asian, and my classmates had roots from everywhere: India, Jamaica, El Salvador, Nigeria, Bangladesh, Ethiopia, and Vietnam, to name a few. I was at the epicenter of racial and cultural diversity. I graduated high school hopeful that people in college were going to expose me to even more people from different walks of life.

Going to college in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, was one of the biggest culture shocks I have ever experienced. The nearest Korean spot was 30 minutes away, we were miles from the coast and couldn’t get good crab, and there was definitely no Mumbo sauce. If I wanted to get away from campus, I couldn’t just hop on a train and go, I had to get one of my friends who had a car to drive me or spend $20 on an Uber to leave campus.

Worst of all, I felt incredibly alone. The first thing I noticed as I ate lunch in the cafeteria for the first time was how everyone stared at me. I tried to focus on eating, hoping they would stop staring by the time I was finished (they didn’t). When I was off campus, the stares were even more intense. When my Chinese mother came to visit, people stared and snarled at her. One guy even hit her with a shopping cart. My DC slang faded away, as I got looked at sideways or ridiculed for “not speaking proper English.” I was often the only person of (partial color) in my classes, and I got confused looks when I shared my experience of being biracial.

I struggled to find a place I could call “home,” so I threw myself into my work. I volunteered to work on more film projects than I could handle.

During my junior year of college, my depression ate me alive. I cried myself to sleep every night the first month of the semester. It was hard to find joy in the things I loved. It was even harder to open up to my closest friends and family about what I was going through.

One day while filming one of the senior thesis projects in Historic Brookstown, a bunch of people started flocking towards a nearby coffee shop. Three other people from production and I headed over to give it a try.

Once I walked through the threshold, I was transported to a place that felt like it was straight out of a modern day fairytale.

There were string lights that sparkled as I entered. Several crew members were relaxing on the puffy couches. The color scheme of navy blue and gray immediately drew my eye in, and the design was very geometrical. Hours before we were yelling at each other to get the shot set up but now we suddenly were at peace with each other: waving, laughing, and smiling at each other.

My eyes sparkled as I waited in line. I stared at all of the menu options for a long moment before I got to the cashier.

I removed my ear piece and turned off my walkie talkie as I approached the stand.

“Are you guys shooting a commercial?” the cashier asked.

I laughed, the first time I had all day. “No! I wish. We’re shooting a student film.”

“Oh, student film? That’s super cool! What is it about?”

I smiled. Sometimes I would get so head on in the grind of schoolwork that I forgot what I was doing was cool. “Ghosts!”

“Ooh!” he said. We both laughed. “What can I get started for you?”

“Chai tea latte.”

“Great choice,” he said as he punched the order in. “You like caffeine at this hour?”

I looked at my phone, it was almost 7PM. “I got five more hours to go.” I swiped my card.

“That’s rough, I get off soon,” he said. “Would you like a stamp card? Ten drinks and you get a free one.”

I looked at the card for a moment. “Sure, why not?”

He stamped it and gave it back to me. “Best of luck with the film.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

I waited for my drink with the rest of the production crew. I turned to the one who I shared multiple classes with. “Yo, we have to come back here in the future.”

“Totally! I could get so much work done here…”

I noticed a bulletin board off to the side. It had several stubs that said “Pay It Forward” and in smaller print “valid for one coffee.” I had heard of DC coffee shops that did this where a customer could buy another person’s coffee in advance. This was done in DC to help with the saturated homeless population. While Winston-Salem didn’t have nearly as much of a homeless population, it warmed my heart that this sympathy was expressed by the shop. You really never know who may be in need.

For a moment, I didn’t feel like I was in Winston-Salem. I almost thought I heard go-go music and got a brief whiff of Mumbo sauce.

“Chai tea latte for Julie!” the barista called out.

“Thank you so much,” I said.

“My pleasure,” the barista said with a smile.

I took a sip. It was the perfect balance of chai and coffee, and it warmed my chest which had felt hollow since the beginning of the semester. “Wow,” I said. “This is damn good coffee.”

The rest of us walked back to set. For the first time the entire shoot (and semester), I felt relaxed.

I twiddled my thumbs, looking out the window of my therapist’s office.

“I’m just so stressed out,” I began. “This is the first time in a week I haven’t been worried about producing this dogme film. The director keeps tasking me with this thing and that thing. I’ve fallen behind on schoolwork, and I haven’t had any time to even think about doing anything else.”

My therapist tried to make eye contact with me. “Have you had any physical repercussions because of the stress?”

“I have headaches all the time,” I said as I tried to catch my breath. “Even when I drink lots of water and take Ibuprofen.”

“Hmm,” she contemplated. “I think you need to schedule some time for yourself.”

“No,” I said. “I would but I have so much work to get done…”

“And it will get done. You need time to relax, you deserve and need it. Just schedule your work around ‘you’ time.”

I breathed out slowly. “I can do that.”

I remembered that Twin City Hive was a 30 minute walk away, and I remembered the beautiful ambience and how I didn’t feel judged.

Taking that walk felt like a hike, but it allowed my brain to stop spinning. Stepping into Twin City Hive brought a sense of calmness and peace. It was one of the few places in Winston-Salem that felt like home. I saw grad students crunching out their thesis, couples on first dates, divorcees with their dogs. No one stared at me, they rather smiled or kept to themselves. While nearly everyone on campus was white, here there was a person from every race. It started looking like home again.

I ordered my usual chai latte, there was a pep in the cashier’s voice. I took my drink and went to the outdoor seating area as every other chair and couch was taken. I saw a handful of people from campus. Normally they glared at me or made snarky remarks whenever I spoke, but they minded their business and didn’t bother me. I sat down and took out my journal, diving into my innermost thoughts and feelings. I felt at peace and safe, I knew no one was going to judge or bother me. After I ran out of thoughts to write, I sat back and enjoyed the atmosphere. A light hum filled the air and people came and left.

For the first time in months, I felt relaxed. Although I knew I was in Winston-Salem, I felt like I was in my own world, away from stress and judgement.

I looked at my punch card. I had three stamps and two months until graduation. I had to get that free drink before I left for good.

My final project for my major was to create a business plan of the first film or TV show we would plan to make after graduating. I scheduled 3-5 hour blocks on days where I didn’t have classes to research and complete the project. I needed all the focus and peace to do the business plan, plus I needed those stamps on my card. My professor told me that this final project would be the difference between an A or a B, and I hadn’t gotten an A in her class since freshman year. I needed that A.

I went to Twin City Hive several times a week. I tried to go as early as possible so I could get a space on the couch near a plug. Everyone in the area was respectful and typed away on their computer or read a book. Once I was settled in, I got lost in a world of ROI, project profits, and the world building of my TV pilot’s business plan. Sitting in Twin City Hive helped me get more work done on the project than anywhere else.

Some of my classmates who were also working hard on the final came to join me, even some I hadn’t spoken to a whole lot during the semester. We exchanged stories of how much hair we had pulled and how coming to Twin City Hive made things seem a lot less worse than it really was. It was hard to say if it was the design of the place, how the coffee gave us that extra kick to get more work done, the top quality customer service, change of scenery, or the overall welcoming vibe. Twin City Hive easily became many student’s second home.

Two weeks later, I got an A. I celebrated with a drink at Twin City.

I looked at my stamp card. I had two more stamps untilI earned my free drink and started feeling sad. If I filled out all of the stamps, I wouldn’t have any reason to return. While Winston-Salem was not my home by any means, Twin City Hive was.

Ever since moving to Los Angeles, I have tried to find a place just like Twin City Hive: great tasting coffee brewed locally, a welcoming and laid back atmosphere, and wonderful customers. I’m coming up on my second year in LA and have yet to find that place.

To this day I still keep the Twin City Hive stamp card in my wallet with plans to return.

Established in 2014, Twin City Hive is a staple of Winston-Salem’s coffee lounges. The coffee brewed comes from roasters all over North Carolina, and the merchandise is sourced from local businesses. Twin City Hive welcomes all kinds of coffee and tea drinkers from all walks of life. Winning multiple awards and having articles about the shop published in several local magazines, it is a place you couldn’t miss if you were in the Brookstown or Downtown area of Winston-Salem. The shop’s “pay it forward” option allows customers to pay for someone else’s coffee for those in need or someone who needs a pick me up. Anyone can take one of the stubs on the bulletin and cash it in for a coffee. It’s an element that helped bring people together.

The owner was an architect at heart and designed the shop accordingly. He believes that towns like Winston-Salem have more to offer than big cities and loves to meet all kinds of people.

Unfortunately due to the coronavirus, the owner had to close the shop. I was heartbroken as a friend from college reposted the announcement. She too had a wonderful experience there, from first dates to projects to meeting with professionals in the film industry. Twin City Hive created such a unique community that made me feel like I was home. The people resembled the ones that I grew up with. Everyone was welcome and the ambience allowed people to either get their work done or make connections. And of course, the coffee was top notch.

Thankfully, Twin City Hive will be moving to a new location. I hope and believe that the wonderful community that was started in Winston-Salem will live on.

Customers can still pay it forward at this link and spread the joy and community that Twin City Hive continues to provide.