| 4 minute read |
I remember walking into the grocery store and noticing donations bins by the exit. Between November and December, it overflowed with canned green beans, corn, fruit cups, and an occasional pasta box. ‘Tis the season of the temporary food assistance.
It seemed like a simple approach to food access. Too simple.
I caught myself thinking, is this enough?
Not, what can people make? Much less, will they enjoy it?
I had missed the idea of cultural appropriateness in food access.
Food and culture interact in powerful ways. So, when we talk about food access, are we considering cultural values?
Our foodways are typically designed to be as efficient and cheap as possible. We also tend to glaze over injustices built into our system. To redesign our foodways, we must decolonize our food histories. (Padma Lakshmi’s Taste the Nation helped me get started.)
How often do we stop to consider how our cultures impact our foodways? And vice versa?
When we talk about food access, we’re talking about more than the number of cans in someone’s pantry. We’re talking about more than affordability.
Cultural appropriateness plays an essential role in food access.
What does it mean?
At the basic level, “culture” means a learned set of shared values, beliefs, and practices. We glean lessons from other people. Comparing and contrasting with other identities, we learn how to experience the world.
My family culture taught me chili requires multiple beans and multiple types of meat. Hotly contested by some eaters.
Food gives us special insight into cultures and subcultures. It can help us relate to one another and celebrate differences. It also shows us where we disconnect and what beliefs we should deconstruct.
For example, a much-needed deconstruction is the typical U.S. concept of “health.” Media historically, and often still, equates “thinness” with “health.” We generally equate “health” with “being good,” too, which assigns morality. These cultural beliefs and values show up in our food conversations and advertising.
But because culture shifts, we’re able to unlearn values, beliefs, and practices. We can shift culture through reflection.
This needs to happen with food access conversations.
In 2014, the United Nation’s Food and Agriculture Organization attempted to create a formal definition of culturally acceptable foods: “food that corresponds to individual and collective consumer demand and preferences, in line with national and international law.”
The group had initially taken a more market-focused approach: if it sells, it’s a win.
It reminded me of counting the number of cans in the donation bin.
Instead, let’s focus on what the food means to eaters.
Culturally appropriate + food access
Changing our food system is not just about expanding physical access and affordability.
During 2020, food assistance organizations struggled to meet the increasing need. Nonetheless, leaders like Ekta Prakash of the nonprofit CAPI USA knew the importance of providing culturally appropriate foods. Even in temporary aid, showing respect for another’s culture matters.
Access to culturally appropriate foods is not separate from access to “more nutritious items.” Doing both benefits our physical health. Medical professionals who acknowledge ties between culture and food suggest better care plans for patients prone to diabetes.
Food educates us in experiential ways. It’s a delicious reflection on identities, a full-body immersion into histories.
U.S. culture tends to base our ideas of nutrition around a specific menu. A menu often centered on whiteness. A menu that changes with new research and trendy (often culturally appropriated) superfoods.
Yes, there are ingredients with fewer nutrients than others. But do we assume culturally appropriate foods are unhealthy, unaffordable, and shouldn’t matter if they’re harder to find?
Culture shift
People are not gasoline tanks. We’re not fueling up to go be more productive (and therefore worth more food).
We need food to reenergize, engage the senses, and connect to each other and our histories.
To feed people well, we need to learn about them.
“Them” as individual community members –not as “others” grouped into stereotypes.
When we practice cultural humility, we listen and reflect. Through this, we can build foodways that value holistic health and cultural celebration.
Let’s create foodways with a new culture: one that values learning, sharing, and flavorful connections.
Let’s support food access groups that are part of the communities they serve. Learn from Black and Indigenous dieticians, chefs, and food educators of color.
Support local restaurants sharing cultures in each dish. Reflect on food origin stories. Recognize how “International” and “Ethnic” aisles in grocery stores water down numerous, rich cultures.
And before putting another can of green beans in the donation bin, listen to the people experiencing hunger in the community. Look for the barriers they face and work to remove them.
Let’s reflect on what beliefs we hold about culturally appropriate foods and how they influence the food on our tables.
| The Food Access Language series investigates how we talk about our food. Let’s ask how our words impact our ability to put food on our tables. Unpacking this language reveals how we’ve built our foodways. This reflection helps us take steps toward more accessible food for all. |
sarahkoth.com 