Aarohi Narain Nicole Cardoza Aarohi Narain Nicole Cardoza

Embrace the diversity of Indian food.

As the pandemic surges, diners and celebrities have drummed up support for BIPOC and immigrant restaurateurs. However, to revolutionize the industry we need more than one-off campaigns. Alongside policy to secure humane working conditions for workers, we need to reexamine our approach to “ethnic food”.


TAKE ACTION


  • Reflect: What are your expectations regarding Indian food and Indian restaurants?

  • Support restaurants that challenge your perceptions of the limits of Indian cuisine.

  • Advocate for the people who labor to put food on your plate, including but not limited to farmers, service workers, and BIPOC and immigrant restaurateurs.


GET EDUCATED


By Aarohi Narain (she/her)

As the pandemic surges, diners and celebrities have drummed up support for BIPOC and immigrant restaurateurs. However, to revolutionize the industry we need more than one-off campaigns. Alongside policy to secure humane working conditions for workers, we need to reexamine our approach to “ethnic food”. 

As we wrote in a previous newsletter, it’s crucial to ask: which restaurants do we deem worthy of our dollars and why? And since seeking “authenticity” often disadvantages restaurateurs from immigrant backgrounds, what’s at stake when we appreciate the complex journey of the food on our plate?

Arriving in the United States as a privileged international student, I realized that I carried my own warped ideas about “authenticity” in the context of Indian food. Naive and self-righteous, the fare I encountered at Midwestern Indian restaurants struck me as simulacra– diluted, distorted imitations that bore little resemblance to the flavors and textures of my upbringing in New Delhi. But in coming to this conclusion, I had ignored the larger legacies of which I am a part. 

Through a combination of the historical forces of Partition and the contemporary pressures on many immigrants to assimilate, diverse South Asians created the food most diners readily associate with Indian cuisine. 

As Krishnendu Ray, Professor of Food Studies, writes in The Ethnic Restaurateur, more than half of nominally Indian restaurants just in New York City are operated by people from Bangladesh. Similarly, it has been estimated that 85-90 percent of Indian restaurants in Britain are run by Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Nepalese and more (South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies). Zooming in further, around 8 out of 10 curry house chefs in Britain hail specifically from the northeastern Bangladeshi region of Sylhet (The Guardian). 

Sylhet is an unmatched, albeit underexplored, emblem of the Indian subcontinent’s violent and precarious intimacies. It’s also crucial to the story of how Indian food circulates. 

A quick turn to history: in 1947 the Partition of India, the largest ever mass migration, ended almost two centuries of British rule. Britain not only extracted $45 trillion from India (Al Jazeera), but also knowingly fomented communal tensions through deploying the policy of divide and rule during its yoke. Eventually, the demand emerged for two separate nations to be carved out along religious lines: Muslim-majority Pakistan and Hindu-majority secular India (Vox). 

A British lawyer who had never been to India drew the new borders. Sylhet, a district that was Bengali-speaking and skewed Muslim in the otherwise Hindu-majority province of Assam, became the subject of a referendum (BBC). Residents opted to join East Pakistan (Scroll). Then following Bangladesh’s Liberation War in 1971, Sylhet joined independent Bangladesh. 

It was enterprising migrants primarily from Sylhet who disrupted the otherwise bland culinary order of Britain as its colonies collapsed. At curry houses, they invented the genre of nominally Indian cooking– spice-scaled post-pub curries to enliven the timid British palate– that continues to shape dominant perceptions of Indian food across the globe. Chicken tikka masala, the orange-hued poster child of Indian food once praised as a “true British national dish”, likely sprung from these kitchens (The Guardian). 

Early waves of Indian restaurants in the United States espoused the curry house logic: menus typically featured the likes of chicken tikka masala and Anglicized stews, and later incorporated dishes drawn from Mughlai cooking like braises, kebabs, and grilled breads (The Juggernaut). This blended style became so central to the American awareness of Indian food that when many Bangladeshi immigrants arrived in the 1970s, they opened nominally Indian restaurants to cater to consumer interest. Instead of presenting food that reflected their heritage, they served versions of Indian food they assumed were already familiar and more approachable to most diners (The New York Times). 

It’s only in the past decade or so that a small crop of restaurants has begun resisting the generalizing label of “Indian”. And because within India culinary styles are as deeply regional as they are molded by caste and class, chefs in the diaspora are creating more regionally specific offerings– expansive buffets unfurling as gastronomic maps of an imagined South Asia are giving way to Gujarati home cooking, Bengali street food, and Malabari coastal cuisine alike (NBC). 

Still, most mainstream restaurants stick to the old formula: about 90% of Indian restaurants in New York City alone have not meaningfully moved away from it (The Juggernaut). Even as the diasporas mature, the “authentic” that Yelp reviewers demand remains static. Meanwhile, the people behind the food– with their interconnected yet distinct identities– swing wildly between invisibility and hypervisibility, becoming targets of hate crimes and racialized surveillance

Perhaps, fifty years from now, there will be a course correction for Anglicized and Americanized iterations of Indian food– as we are seeing now for American Chinese food– that will view the culinary improvisations of those early Indian restaurants with more empathy. Instead of relying on fragile nation-states as the units of our analysis, perhaps convergence will become the norm when it comes to understanding what shapes cuisine. 

Imagine a cartography of karak chai, spread out across migrant communities in the Gulf. A ghost story centered on dhal puri– split pea flatbread with chutneys sold as street food in the Caribbean– a dish first created by Bhojpuri-speaking indentured laborers that have somehow vanished from where it arose. A tender map tracing the journey between what restaurateurs might choose to savor at home– in moments of celebration– and what they serve to survive. 


In the meantime, quitting chicken tikka masala is not the solution. It’s seeing how, as bell hooks writes, “ethnicity” is treated as spice: seasoning that livens up the dull dish of mainstream white culture under capitalism. It’s supporting immigrant restaurateurs even when they present something unfamiliar or a particular food you cherish but prepared differently from what you’re used to. It’s appreciating the complex journeys– the history, politics, and personal investments– of what’s on your plate.


Key Takeaways


  • The food that many diners reflexively associate with Indian cuisine was actually created by diverse South Asians.

  • A vast number of Indian restaurants in the United States and beyond are run by migrants who trace their ancestry to Bangladesh, Nepal, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, and others. 

  • Partition spurred the largest forced migration in human history– an estimated 20 million Hindus, Sikhs, and Muslims were displaced (UNHCR).


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Brew coffee equity.

Many Americans have become enamored with local coffee shops. The domain of “spiked hair,” “postmodern baristas” (LA Weekly), these businesses are so often associated with liberal views that a small number of new coffeehouses now base their marketing around their uniquely conservative politics (The Blaze). The movement of modern, boutique “third-wave” coffeehouses — following the first wave of postwar instant coffee and the second wave exemplified by Starbucks — is even named after third-wave feminism (Tamper Tantrum). Coffeehouses can be presented as intersectional oases where open displays of bigotry are as rare as “Hate Has No Home Here” signs are ubiquitous.


TAKE ACTION


  • Follow and support coffee companies owned by people of color! I had an overwhelming response to submissions on Twitter – check it out.

  • Encourage predominantly-white coffeehouses to commit to anti-racism and support local anti-gentrification initiatives.

  • Support democratically-run, collectively-owned coffee farming.


GET EDUCATED


By Andrew Lee (he/him)

Many Americans have become enamored with local coffee shops. The domain of “spiked hair,” “postmodern baristas” (LA Weekly), these businesses are so often associated with liberal views that a small number of new coffeehouses now base their marketing around their uniquely conservative politics (The Blaze). The movement of modern, boutique “third-wave” coffeehouses — following the first wave of postwar instant coffee and the second wave exemplified by Starbucks — is even named after third-wave feminism (Tamper Tantrum). Coffeehouses can be presented as intersectional oases where open displays of bigotry are as rare as “Hate Has No Home Here” signs are ubiquitous.

However, these trends may distract from real issues of racial equity in the way coffee is produced, sold, and served. First, there are clear racial and socio-economic disparities in the industry. Wealthier people consume more coffee than the less affluent (Brandon Gaille), and coffeehouses looking to soak up some of Starbucks’ customers target “urban,” “affluent,” and “educated” consumers with an average income of $90,000 (The Motley Fool). Given that Black people are less likely to consume coffee or work in the domestic coffee industry (Roast Magazine), this means that coffee shop patrons are disproportionately white. This facilitates shocking acts of racial exclusion against non-white patrons. Two Black men were arrested waiting for a business meeting in a Philadelphia Starbucks. W. Kamau Bell was asked to leave a Berkeley coffee shop after approaching his wife, who is white (ABC 7). Santana Tapia, a transgender Latina resident of San Francisco, felt deeply unwelcome inside the expensive, largely-white coffee establishments appearing in the city where she grew up drinking nightly coffees with her family (MSN).

The affluent, largely white patrons inside gourmet coffee shops can lead to the whitening of the neighborhoods that surround them, as well. Researchers found correlations between the appearance of high-end coffeehouses and neighborhood gentrification in cities around the world (Bitter Root). One Denver shop had the audacity to declare “happily gentrifying the neighborhood since 2014” on a sidewalk sign (Washington Post). Even liberally-oriented establishments can post “Black Lives Matter” signs while doing nothing to address their role in pushing actual Black people out of the neighborhoods they move into (Truthout).

And equity issues start before coffee beans arrive to the cafe. The global coffee industry grew off the labor of enslaved people in places like Java, Haiti, Central America, and Brazil. Today, “shockingly little has changed” as the overwhelming majority of coffee producers are Black, Indigenous, and people of color living in extreme poverty. Indentured Indigenous farmworkers toil without showers, latrines, or adequate drinking water on white-owned plantations (Heifer International). Illiberal practices permeate the the supposedly liberal coffee industry: racial profiling in coffee shops, economic displacement in surrounding neighborhoods, and virtual slavery in the fields where coffee is grown.

Fortunately, people are taking action to bring true equity to the coffee world. Black-owned coffee shop owners and employees like Cafe Grumpy’s Tinuade Oyelowo in New York and Urban Grind’s Cassandra Ingram in Atlanta advocate for inclusion in coffee culture (Roast Magazine). San Francisco’s Santana Tapia helped found a worker-owned pro-queer coffee shop (MSN). Hasta Muerte is a Latinx worker cooperative that sells coffee and serves as a “sanctuary space for people of color, low-income people, and immigrants” (East Bay Express).

Camila Coddou, a former barista who advocates for equity in the industry, asks coffee owners, “Are you dropping into a community of people that don’t look like you who are losing their rights?” (Bitter Root). Community members responded to the Colorado pro-gentrification coffee shop with a boycott and protest (Washington Post). The visibility of these protests pushed local government to double the city’s affordable housing fund (Fox 31). And the Anti Gentrification Coffee Club in Memphis is a coffeehouse run to “deepen the ties in [communities of color], rather than displace them” (Cxffeeblack).

In southern Mexico, coffee plantations formerly owned by wealthy landowners are now democratically run as cooperatives by Mayan farmworkers. Though anti-Indigenous paramilitaries recently attacked the crop stored in two warehouses (ROAR), Mayan communities continue to self-organize coffee production and send it around the world, demonstrating that coffee farming doesn’t require exploitation and deprivation if those growing it are empowered.

Inequalities in the coffee industry don’t mean we have to give up drinking it. But we shouldn’t let the progressive image of coffee culture obscure real work to do in making it equitable for us all.


Key Takeaways


  • Independent coffee shops are known for being progressive and inclusive.

  • In actuality, coffeehouses can be exclusive spaces that facilitate gentrification, while much coffee is farmed by unfree workers living in poverty.

  • People are taking action along the supply chain from the coffee fields to the neighborhood coffee shop to make sure coffee can be good for all of us.

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Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza

End the “lunchbox moment”.

The fun of this segment is based on disgust: we see our famous celebrities shriek, gag, and embarrass themselves confronted with revolting foods. Some of the items featured were clearly specially created to evoke just such revulsion: hot dog juice, hot sauce and olive jello, the aforementioned ant pickle.

Happy Friday, and welcome back! Food is central to many cultural traditions across the world and throughout history. How we relate to one another is often evident in how we respect each other's cuisines. Today's topic is just one of many ways we can ostracize people without thinking. Andrew shares more.

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– Nicole


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By Andrew Lee (he/him)

Earlier this month, Kim Saira started a petition that now boasts over 40,000 signatures (change.org). Saira’s petition wants to fight anti-Asian racism through an unusual venue: by opposing one of the sections on The Late Late Show with James Corden, “Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts.”

In this recurring segment, a celebrity sits opposite Corden around a spread of apparently revolting foods. Each takes turns selecting one that their opposite will have to consume should they decline to answer an embarrassing question. Justin Bieber swigs a shrimp-and-chili-pepper smoothie in lieu of admitting which country is home to his least favorite fans (YouTube). Instead of eating bull penis, Kim Kardashian discloses that her then-husband Kanye West’s most annoying habit is falling asleep in public (YouTube). Alicia Keys chooses to take a bite of an ant-covered pickle instead of saying which city she most dislikes performing in (YouTube).

The fun of this segment is based on disgust: we see our famous celebrities shriek, gag, and embarrass themselves confronted with revolting foods. Some of the items featured were clearly specially created to evoke just such revulsion: hot dog juice, hot sauce and olive jello, the aforementioned ant pickle.

The trouble is that other dishes are just normal, non-Anglo food: cow tongue, which appears in Korean BBQ and in tacos as lengua; chicken feet, a dim sum staple; or durian, a popular Southeast Asian fruit with a strong aroma. Some of these are presented in the least appetizing way possible such as the cow tongue, which appears unseasoned and whole. Others, like Chinese century eggs, are evidently grotesque enough as they are for Corden and guests to theatrically dry heave in disgust (Inkstone News).

Nobody is obligated to enjoy every food and there are some that each of us might emphatically refuse to taste. But dramatizing the “grossness” of Asian foods for popular entertainment is a low blow, especially given that so many immigrants in the United States are mocked for the food they eat. It’s repugnant coming from a celebrity with a large audience and influence, since that media plays a key role in giving permission to react with disgust to “exotic” dishes.

“The story of being bullied in the cafeteria for one’s lunch is so ubiquitous that it’s attained a gloss of fictionality,” writes Jaya Saxena. “It’s become metonymy for the entire diaspora experience; to be a young immigrant or child of immigrants is to be bullied for your lunch, and vice versa.” In my case, I got to hear about how disgusting all of my fourth grade classmates thought it was that I brought kimbap instead of a sandwich for lunch one day. That this is a common and widely recounted experience makes Corden’s display of Asian foods for shock, disgust, and amusement especially repulsive.


But no food is inherently disgusting, even if it’s a new dish from an unfamiliar culture. The “lunchbox moment” – that experience that many children of color have when they're shamed by their peers for what they brought for lunch – doesn't just happen, it's learned and perpetuated through pop culture. Although it exists for many, it’s anything but universal. One Indian girl growing up in South Dakota, for instance, found her white classmates reacted to Indian food “with either genuine curiosity or ‘at worst boredom’” (Eater).


That’s because disgust – especially the over-the-top enactments of it that are the bread and butter of the “Spill Your Guts” segments – is something we’re taught and something we teach each other. That’s not to say if, when left to our own devices, we’d find each and every new food wonderfully appealing. But we are taught that expressing public revulsion at some things is permissible and even encouraged (immigrant lunches, cow tongues), but that being disgusted at other things is a sign you have no class or taste (French haute cuisine, your mother-in-law’s signature dish). Public disgust at things that seem foreign isn’t just a matter of taste but a political act, and not a very good one at that.


That’s why 40,000+ people have signed onto the Change.org petition against “Spill Your Guts.” “In the wake of the constant Asian hate crimes that have continuously been occurring, not only is this segment incredibly culturally offensive and insensitive, but it also encourages anti-Asian racism,” it reads. “So many Asian Americans are consistently bullied and mocked for their native foods, and this segment amplifies and encourages it” (Change.org). On Instagram, @intersectional.abc is making videos showing how delicious some of the show’s “gross” foods actually are (Instagram). And we can all rethink the instinct to reject or disrespect new or unexpected foods or cultural practices.


Key Takeaways


  • In “Spill Your Guts” segments, James Corden and guests have to eat “gross” foods or answer uncomfortable questions.

  • Many of these dishes are just non-Anglo foods that Corden and guests react to with horror and disgust.

  • We can choose to react to unfamiliar foods or practices with respect instead of revulsion.


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Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

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Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza

Support immigrants beyond food.

It’s hypocritical to consume Asian or Asian-American cultural products and then refuse to defend Asian communities in the U.S. – or worse, exhibit open hostility against them. At the same time, we shouldn’t predicate supporting immigrant communities on enjoying their food, especially since the reason why so many Asian immigrants work in restaurants is itself a product of American racism.

Happy Thursday, and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. June is Immigrant Heritage Month. In its honor, today Andrew takes us through the history of Asian immigration and the relationship between food and belonging that persists today.

Thank you for keeping this independent platform going. In honor of our anniversary, become a monthly subscriber on our website or Patreon this week and we'll send you some swag! You can also give one-time on Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), PayPal or our website.

– Nicole


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By Andrew Lee (he/him)

After a publicized wave of anti-Asian attacks, a catchy phrase popped up on protest signs and social media accounts: “Love us like you love our food.” From anime to K-dramas and from sushi to sesame chicken, non-Asian Americans now love the culture from various East Asian countries – or what they imagine it to be, at least. Many of those who enjoy consuming East Asian food, music, and movies are nowhere to be found when Asian people’s lives are on the line. If you love a certain kind of food you should love the people who make it.

It’s hypocritical to consume Asian or Asian-American cultural products and then refuse to defend Asian communities in the U.S. – or worse, exhibit open hostility against them. At the same time, we shouldn’t predicate supporting immigrant communities on enjoying their food, especially since the reason why so many Asian immigrants work in restaurants is itself a product of American racism.

1882’s Chinese Exclusion Act banned almost all Chinese people from entering the United States; it was repealed only in 1943, when the U.S. began allowing a whopping 105 Chinese immigrants per year. The American Federation of Labor, today one half of the AFL-CIO union coalition, was headed in the 19th century by Samuel Gompers, a raging racist who once asked, “Can we hope to close the flood-gates of immigration from the hordes of Chinese and the semi-savage races?” (NPR). San Francisco forced Japanese students to use segregated schools. A Japanese and Korean Exclusion League had members nationwide (History) President Theodore Roosevelt used a State of the Union address to disparage “undesirable immigrants” from China. With Chinese immigrants already banned, the 1917 Immigration Act banned immigration from almost the entirety of the rest of Asia (Al Jazeera).

But from 1915, Chinese people were able to secure a visa to work as restaurant employees. Chinese people previously worked largely in laundries, since racist attitudes prevented their employment at white businesses. After this change to immigration law, the number of Chinese restaurants quadrupled. That’s not to say it became easy for Chinese restaurant workers to immigrate: they had to find a way to convince immigration authorities they were major investors in a “high grade” eatery. Upon arrival, Chinese restaurant workers were legally prohibited from residing in all-white neighborhoods (Menuism). Regardless, Chinese people pooled money and used family and community ties to acquire merchant visas and began forming the Chinatowns of today. Wealthy white people began taking “slumming tours” of growing Chinatowns to gawk at their “depravity” and eat Chinese food (NPR).

Today, restaurants are the most common immigrant-owned business in the U.S. (CNBC). Facing “discrimination in hiring because they often speak limited English or because of their immigration status” are factors that contribute to the fact that today, “immigrants are for more likely to start their own businesses than U.S.-born residents” (NJAP).

Many respond to anti-immigrant sentiment by listing all of the good things immigrants give to the United States: “railroads,” “beef,” “perspectives, ideas, and sweat” (Huff Post), or “ethnic” restaurants, food trucks, and buffets. This frames immigration as an instrumental good, valuable only insofar as it provides benefits to the American-born. In this narrative, American citizens are full-fledged human beings while immigrants are just a potential American asset, like highways natural gas, or fighter jets.

But you should be active in the movement against Asian people getting stabbed (ABC) and spit on (Yahoo) and killed (CBS) whether you like General Tso’s chicken or not. We don’t think Polish people should have civil rights because of the quality of pierogies or that the wellbeing of Swedish-Americans depends on our passion for the IKEA food court. Anglo-Americans don’t get safety in the United States because we all love their pot roasts. Anglo-Americans’ rights and liberties aren’t contingent on the rest of us being pot roast aficionados because the United States was created to secure the rights and liberties of English colonists. In a way, this is fortunate, because, in my opinion, pot roast just isn’t that good.


LeRon Barton wrote, “I have come to the unfortunate realization that Blacks aren’t meant to be people, just vessels of entertainment in our society. We are looked at as hollow and only possessing culture that is meant to be enjoyed, eventually poached, and finally discarded” (Good Men Project). Similarly, immigrant communities and communities of color in general have been forced into precarious or menial jobs by racist and xenophobic attitudes and practices. Many immigrants’ salaries depend on serving white Americans. Their wellbeing as people should not be based on their ability to serve the enjoyment of white America, as well.



Key Takeaways


  • Non-Asian people who consume Asian products should support Asian communities under attack in the U.S.

  • Non-Asian people who don’t use Asian products should also be in solidarity. Support for an immigrant community shouldn’t depend on them serving you things you enjoy.

  • Many immigrants work in the restaurant industry because of our racist history.


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Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

Subscribe on Patreon Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza

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Aarohi Narain Nicole Cardoza Aarohi Narain Nicole Cardoza

Explore the origins of cuisine.

As the pandemic surges, diners and celebrities have drummed up support for BIPOC and immigrant restaurateurs. However, to revolutionize the industry we need more than one-off campaigns. Alongside policy to secure humane working conditions for workers, we need to reexamine our approach to “ethnic food”.

Happy Wednesday and welcome back! Sometimes, it's difficult to realize how much we've lost through colonialism until we recognize how much we've accepted as the "norm". I always stumble into that realization through food, which is why I'm grateful that Aarohi joins us today to share more about the history of Indian cuisine.

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Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Currently, India is experiencing unprecedented levels of COVID-19. Here is a list of individuals and organizations that need support: bit.ly/MutualAidIndia

  • Reflect: What are your expectations regarding Indian food and Indian restaurants?

  • Support restaurants that challenge your perceptions of the limits of Indian cuisine.

  • Advocate for the people who labor to put food on your plate, including but not limited to farmers, service workers, and BIPOC and immigrant restaurateurs.


GET EDUCATED


By Aarohi Narain (she/her)

As the pandemic surges, diners and celebrities have drummed up support for BIPOC and immigrant restaurateurs. However, to revolutionize the industry we need more than one-off campaigns. Alongside policy to secure humane working conditions for workers, we need to reexamine our approach to “ethnic food”. 

As we wrote in a previous newsletter, it’s crucial to ask: which restaurants do we deem worthy of our dollars and why? And since seeking “authenticity” often disadvantages restaurateurs from immigrant backgrounds, what’s at stake when we appreciate the complex journey of the food on our plate?

Arriving in the United States as a privileged international student, I realized that I carried my own warped ideas about “authenticity” in the context of Indian food. Naive and self-righteous, the fare I encountered at Midwestern Indian restaurants struck me as simulacra– diluted, distorted imitations that bore little resemblance to the flavors and textures of my upbringing in New Delhi. But in coming to this conclusion, I had ignored the larger legacies of which I am a part. 

Through a combination of the historical forces of Partition and the contemporary pressures on many immigrants to assimilate, diverse South Asians created the food most diners readily associate with Indian cuisine. 

As Krishnendu Ray, Professor of Food Studies, writes in The Ethnic Restaurateur, more than half of nominally Indian restaurants just in New York City are operated by people from Bangladesh. Similarly, it has been estimated that 85-90 percent of Indian restaurants in Britain are run by Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Nepalese and more (South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies). Zooming in further, around 8 out of 10 curry house chefs in Britain hail specifically from the northeastern Bangladeshi region of Sylhet (The Guardian). 

Sylhet is an unmatched, albeit underexplored, emblem of the Indian subcontinent’s violent and precarious intimacies. It’s also crucial to the story of how Indian food circulates. 

A quick turn to history: in 1947 the Partition of India, the largest ever mass migration, ended almost two centuries of British rule. Britain not only extracted $45 trillion from India (Al Jazeera), but also knowingly fomented communal tensions through deploying the policy of divide and rule during its yoke. Eventually, the demand emerged for two separate nations to be carved out along religious lines: Muslim-majority Pakistan and Hindu-majority secular India (Vox). 

A British lawyer who had never been to India drew the new borders. Sylhet, a district that was Bengali-speaking and skewed Muslim in the otherwise Hindu-majority province of Assam, became the subject of a referendum (BBC). Residents opted to join East Pakistan (Scroll). Then following Bangladesh’s Liberation War in 1971, Sylhet joined independent Bangladesh. 

It was enterprising migrants primarily from Sylhet who disrupted the otherwise bland culinary order of Britain as its colonies collapsed. At curry houses, they invented the genre of nominally Indian cooking– spice-scaled post-pub curries to enliven the timid British palate– that continues to shape dominant perceptions of Indian food across the globe. Chicken tikka masala, the orange-hued poster child of Indian food once praised as a “true British national dish”, likely sprung from these kitchens (The Guardian). 

Early waves of Indian restaurants in the United States espoused the curry house logic: menus typically featured the likes of chicken tikka masala and Anglicized stews, and later incorporated dishes drawn from Mughlai cooking like braises, kebabs, and grilled breads (The Juggernaut). This blended style became so central to the American awareness of Indian food that when many Bangladeshi immigrants arrived in the 1970s, they opened nominally Indian restaurants to cater to consumer interest. Instead of presenting food that reflected their heritage, they served versions of Indian food they assumed were already familiar and more approachable to most diners (The New York Times). 

It’s only in the past decade or so that a small crop of restaurants has begun resisting the generalizing label of “Indian”. And because within India culinary styles are as deeply regional as they are molded by caste and class, chefs in the diaspora are creating more regionally specific offerings– expansive buffets unfurling as gastronomic maps of an imagined South Asia are giving way to Gujarati home cooking, Bengali street food, and Malabari coastal cuisine alike (NBC). 

Still, most mainstream restaurants stick to the old formula: about 90% of Indian restaurants in New York City alone have not meaningfully moved away from it (The Juggernaut). Even as the diasporas mature, the “authentic” that Yelp reviewers demand remains static. Meanwhile, the people behind the food– with their interconnected yet distinct identities– swing wildly between invisibility and hypervisibility, becoming targets of hate crimes and racialized surveillance

Perhaps, fifty years from now, there will be a course correction for Anglicized and Americanized iterations of Indian food– as we are seeing now for American Chinese food– that will view the culinary improvisations of those early Indian restaurants with more empathy. Instead of relying on fragile nation-states as the units of our analysis, perhaps convergence will become the norm when it comes to understanding what shapes cuisine. 

Imagine a cartography of karak chai, spread out across migrant communities in the Gulf. A ghost story centered on dhal puri– split pea flatbread with chutneys sold as street food in the Caribbean– a dish first created by Bhojpuri-speaking indentured laborers that have somehow vanished from where it arose. A tender map tracing the journey between what restaurateurs might choose to savor at home– in moments of celebration– and what they serve to survive. 


In the meantime, quitting chicken tikka masala is not the solution. It’s seeing how, as bell hooks writes, “ethnicity” is treated as spice: seasoning that livens up the dull dish of mainstream white culture under capitalism. It’s supporting immigrant restaurateurs even when they present something unfamiliar or a particular food you cherish but prepared differently from what you’re used to. It’s appreciating the complex journeys– the history, politics, and personal investments– of what’s on your plate.


Key Takeaways


  • The food that many diners reflexively associate with Indian cuisine was actually created by diverse South Asians.

  • A vast number of Indian restaurants in the United States and beyond are run by migrants who trace their ancestry to Bangladesh, Nepal, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, and others. 

  • Partition spurred the largest forced migration in human history– an estimated 20 million Hindus, Sikhs, and Muslims were displaced (UNHCR).


RELATED ISSUES



PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT


Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

Subscribe on Patreon Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza

Read More
Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza Andrew Lee Nicole Cardoza

Forget what you know about MSG.

As a former waiter in an Asian restaurant, I know very well how many people claim to be sensitive to monosodium glutamate or MSG. Customers would demand that their meal be MSG-free to avoid the headaches or nausea or weakness they swore they would suffer afterward (Mayo Clinic). Often, they informed me of their MSG-adverse status in the same way they might disclose a life-threatening allergy: not as a preference but as a serious, permanent condition with dire consequences. The MSG-avoidant are real and numerous and often quite militant. I have seen them and served them noodles.

Happy Wednesday! And welcome back. The stigma surrounding MSG is part of the broader anti-Asian sentiment that's been carefully cultivated in the U.S. In order for us to dismantle it, we have to take it apart and analyze all the cogs and wheels that have kept it running. That's why I appreciate today's analysis from Andrew.

Yesterday's newsletter seemed to resonate with many of our readers. I just learned about Rachel Cargle's lecture called "Unpacking White Feminism" which is 
well-worth watching, along with EVERY educational resource she offers. Also, the posts I referenced were removed from Instagram after I scheduled yesterday's email. I think the content still offers much to learn from.

This newsletter is a free resource and that's made possible by our paying subscribers. Consider giving 
$7/month on our website or Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community. Thank you to all those that support!

Nicole


TAKE ACTION



GET EDUCATED


By Andrew Lee (he/him)

As a former waiter in an Asian restaurant, I know very well how many people claim to be sensitive to monosodium glutamate or MSG. Customers would demand that their meal be MSG-free to avoid the headaches or nausea or weakness they swore they would suffer afterward (Mayo Clinic). Often, they informed me of their MSG-adverse status in the same way they might disclose a life-threatening allergy: not as a preference but as a serious, permanent condition with dire consequences. The MSG-avoidant are real and numerous and often quite militant. I have seen them and served them noodles.

This isn’t just anecdotal evidence. According to one industry group, four out of ten Americans avoid MSG (Washington Post). That means more people stay away from MSG than caffeine, gluten, or GMOs. The cluster of symptoms afflicting the MSG-sensitive is so well-known that its name is even enshrined in the Merriam-Webster dictionary: “Chinese restaurant syndrome” (CNN).

I’m generally against sweeping statements about what foods other people should or should not ingest. If you’d like to only eat a paleo diet, or Cool Ranch Doritos, or foods starting with a certain letter depending on what day it is (MSN), that’s really none of my business. 

With all that being said: if you think you suffer from “Chinese restaurant syndrome,” your actual ailment might be inadvertent racism.

MSG critics largely cite one single study contesting its safety. In this experiment, scientists injected mice with incredibly high doses of MSG soon after birth and found they grew up with health problems (Men’s Health). There are a number of common food ingredients that might be harmful when injected into baby mice, but that doesn’t mean they’re unhealthy for people to eat. Aside from the newborn mouse injection study, almost all the evidence for MSG’s terrible side effects comes from decades of personal reports. 

The problem is that “Chinese restaurant syndrome” is only ever reported after eating Chinese food. Nobody gets it from tomatoes or Campbell’s chicken noodle soup or KFC. Sufferers of “Chinese restaurant syndrome” aren’t stricken after eating mayonnaise or potato chips or cheese or beef jerky.

All of the foods just listed contain MSG (Healthline). MSG is chemically indistinguishable from glutamate (FDA), a common amino acid found in almost every living being on the planet. If you feel tired and nauseated after eating a bite of Chinese food but not after eating a few Doritos, the culprit isn’t MSG. If you spend life avoiding Asian immigrant-owned businesses but not hot dogs, we aren’t talking about a medical problem but rather a social one. 

Ever since Asian immigration to the United States started in the mid-nineteenth century, white supremacist narratives have associated Asians with disease. The founder of the New York Tribune wrote that Chinese immigrants were “uncivilized, unclean, and filthy beyond all conception” (Time). In 1906, Santa Ana, CA burned down its own Chinatown over fears that one resident had leprosy (LA Times). Last year, a man attacked a Thai woman on a train, yelling “every disease ever has come from China” (CNN). Much American coverage of the initial COVID outbreak in Wuhan centered on the “bizarre and unusual” livestock for sale in the “unsanitary” Huanan Market (FAIR), the equivalent of a Western farmers’ market. 

Asians have long been thought to be an invasive, unclean element bringing exotic diseases into the American heartland. This belief is an element in anti-Asian violence, in moral panics over MSG, and in the idea that it’s only white-owned restaurants who can sell the “clean” versions of Asian food (Gothamist). As natural diets and “clean” living gained popularity after the 1960s, it’s no surprise that an “allergy” to a scary-sounding chemical provided a convenient vehicle for a very old racist narrative. 

But at a time when both Asian restaurants and Asian people in America, in general, are under attack, it’d be nice if some non-Asian Americans forgot what they “knew” about MSG.


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • MSG critics largely cite one single study contesting its safety.

  • Ever since Asian immigration to the United States started in the mid-nineteenth century, white supremacist narratives have associated Asians with disease.

  • The “Chinese restaurant syndrome" terminology could easily be applied to unhealthy foods from other cultures, but is specifically reserved for Asian cuisine.


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Sydney Cobb Nicole Cardoza Sydney Cobb Nicole Cardoza

Combat food deserts.

Food deserts— defined as “an impoverished area where residents lack access to healthy foods” (Britannica)— are yet another factor that contributes to the health disparities between white people and people of color. Due to economic and social factors, supermarkets and farmer’s markets can be much harder to access in underserved areas, leading civilians to rely on unhealthy food options as their primary source of nutrition. Food deserts generally exist in urban areas— predominantly inhabited by nonwhite people— which is why Black people are disproportionately affected by diet-related health conditions (American Progress).

Happy Wednesday and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. More people in the U.S. (and likely around the world) are shoplifting from grocery stores to support themselves during these difficult times. Today's article looks at some of the underlying causes of food inequity that are only exacerbated, not just created, by COVID-19. It's important to remember that we're navigating difficult times because of current conditions and a legacy of oppression that created them. It will take much more than immediate relief to create comprehensive change, but we should do the best we can to help one another – today and tomorrow.

We've officially launched our virtual community! This space is designed for you to connect with others, share resources, hold conversations around our newsletters, and sign up for events. All proceeds support our work, and flexible payment options are available. Patreon subscribers: check Patreon for an access link using your existing subscription.

Thank you so much for making this work possible. If you have the capacity, consider supporting our work by making a one-time gift on our 
website or PayPal, or subscribe for $7/month on Patreon. You can also Venmo (@nicoleacardoza).


Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Volunteer at local soup kitchens and initiatives that combat food insecurity. Click this link to access a list of initiatives.

  • Advocate for improved SNAP and WIC benefits that increase monthly spending for individuals to purchase fruits and vegetables. 

  • Find local food banks using this link and donate to nearby food banks or soup kitchens.


GET EDUCATED


By Sydney Cobb (she/her)

Food deserts— defined as “an impoverished area where residents lack access to healthy foods” (Britannica)— are yet another factor that contributes to the health disparities between white people and people of color. Due to economic and social factors, supermarkets and farmer’s markets can be much harder to access in underserved areas, leading civilians to rely on unhealthy food options as their primary source of nutrition. Food deserts generally exist in urban areas— predominantly inhabited by nonwhite people— which is why Black people are disproportionately affected by diet-related health conditions (American Progress).

Redlining—a leading factor in the creation of food deserts—is defined as an “illegal discriminatory practice in which a mortgage lender denies loans or an insurance provider restricts services to certain areas of a community, often because of the racial characteristics of the applicant’s neighbourhood” (Britannica). Not only did redlining make the process of buying and renting homes more difficult, but it also prevented businesses like grocery stores and restaurants from opening, leaving redlined neighborhoods with little-to-no healthy food options. While the practice of redlining may have been made illegal by the Fair Housing Act in 1968, its effects are still present to this day (Anti-Racism Daily). Redlined neighborhoods— mainly occupied by people of color— are not given the same resources as more affluent communities because they generally house lower-income families. Healthier, more costly grocery stores like Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods are less likely to open stores in low-income neighborhoods, forcing redlined communities to shop at less expensive, unhealthy food retailers. 

📰 The introduction of grocery stroes like these also indicates that the property values will increase quickly, contributing to gentrification and perpetuating a cyclical process of inequity. Read more in our previous newsletter >

Many urban and rural communities have more convenience stores than supermarkets. Generally speaking, convenience stores tend to sell high-calorie, low-nutrient foods, and do not offer a selection of althernative options like vegetables, fruits, and grains. The distance between food deserts and grocery stores serves as a barrier to members of urban and rural communities who lack transportation options; therefore, they may rely on local convenience stores or fast food restaurants for most of their household food purchases. 

While diet-related conditions like hypertension (high blood pressure) are a concern for all racial and ethnic groups, statistics prove that they especially affect minority communities.: “The population attributable risk for hypertension and 30-year mortality among white men was 23.8% compared with 45.2% among black men and 18.3% for white women compared with 39.5% for black women” (The American Journal of the Medical Sciences). Hypertension, which increases an individual’s risk of heart disease and stroke, can be largely impacted by one’s diet. Because consuming large amounts of sodium and fats can contribute to the development of hypertension, it is especially concerning that many food deserts— predominantly occupied by people of color—are more likely to sell unhealthy and salty food options. According to a study evaluating the relationship between food deserts and cardiovascular (CV) risk factors, hypertension was much more prevalent among participants living in food deserts than those not living in food deserts (American College of Cardiology). 

Because many families living in food deserts lack healthy food options, they often have no choice but to feed their families insubstantial, unwholesome food. As a result, the children may eventually develop unhealthy eating habits that become harder to abandon with age, raising the rates of dietary issues within the Black community. 

The Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) serves as the largest food assistance program in the United States. The Special Supplemental Nutrition Program for Women, Infants, and Children (WIC) specifically aims to help women and children’s nutritional needs. Intended to provide low-income families with better food access, SNAP is the primary source of nutrition and nourishment for millions of Americans. While SNAP does increase food-insecure families’ access to food, it generally does not provide enough support for people to maintain a healthy diet. According to the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities, “researchers have estimated that SNAP benefits fall about $11 short per person of the weekly cost of a nutritious meal plan” (CBPP). By increasing SNAP benefits, food desert residents, who are generally a part of the low-income population, will be able to purchase much healthier and more nutritious food. 


It's important to note that, as digital grocery shopping becomes more commonplace in the pandemic, many do not accept SNAP. Learn more >

The mere existence of food deserts serves as another example of how systemic racism affects all aspects of life for minorities. Food— one of the human body’s fundamental physiological needs— has been weaponized against people of color (especially Black and Latino individuals). Not only does systemic racism’s connection to food deserts affect adults, who are more susceptible to diet-related health conditions, but it also impacts youth. Children who develop poor eating habits may struggle to participate in physical activities and could ultimately suffer from mental and emotional stress. Children who struggle with serious health conditions tend to display signs of lower self-esteem. In some cases, the intense emotional strain may lead a child to become anxious or depressed. 

The coronavirus pandemic has brought more attention to health disparities between racial groups— especially highlighting the effects that underlying health conditions have on an individual’s bodily reaction to the virus. As the world continues to fight the pandemic, people must have access to the fuel they need to stay healthy. More than ever, the country needs to rally together to ensure that communities deemed food deserts have access to nutritious food


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Food deserts are a result of systemic racism and redlining. 

  • Food deserts are directly linked to higher rates of diet-related health conditions, affecting the Black community, and contributing to higher mortality rates. 

  • The rapid spread of the coronavirus makes it even more necessary for people to have trusted and reliable access to diverse food options.


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Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

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Jami Nakamura Lin Nicole Cardoza Jami Nakamura Lin Nicole Cardoza

Question your understanding of "authentic" food.

Across America, COVID-19 restrictions are increasing, due to its astronomical spread. In many states, that means restaurant owners have to figure out once again how to survive without indoor dining (TK). In response to the pandemic’s disproportionate effect on the restaurant industry, there’s been a large push to support small restaurant owners— especially immigrant and BIPOC owners—through our takeout orders and our GoFundMe donations. But with today’s wealth of options of “ethnic cuisine” available comes some troubling perspectives on what makes “authentic” food.

Happy Wednesday! Many of our cultural traditions are defined by our relationship to food. As we enter the holidays, it's a good time to think about how, as Jami puts succinctly in today's piece, our perception of cuisine defines our understanding of culture. It's a great way to consider how you can authentically support the cultural diversity in your community with where you dine.

Thank you for making this newsletter possible! Support our work by making a one-time contribution on our website or PayPal, or giving monthly on Patreon. You can also Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). To subscribe, go to antiracismdaily.com. New! You can share this newsletter and unlock some fun rewards by signing up here.

Nicole


TAKE ACTION


  • Reflection: What makes you feel that food is “authentic”? Who in our culture is given authority on what kind of food is valuable? 

  • Advocate and support the cultures and communities whose food you consume. 

  • Advocate for the workers in our food supply chain, many of whom are enduring terrible working conditions during COVID-19. 

  • Instead of asking “Which restaurant serves the most ‘authentic’ food” think, ask yourself “What community am I supporting by giving my money to this restaurant?”


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Across America, COVID-19 restrictions are increasing, due to its astronomical spread. In many states, that means restaurant owners have to figure out once again how to survive without indoor dining (TK). In response to the pandemic’s disproportionate effect on the restaurant industry, there’s been a large push to support small restaurant owners— especially immigrant and BIPOC owners—through our takeout orders and our GoFundMe donations. But with today’s wealth of options of “ethnic cuisine” available comes some troubling perspectives on what makes “authentic” food.

Foodies are often eager to seek the most “authentic” representation of whatever “ethnic cuisine” they want to eat. By authentic, they usually mean food that’s the closest to what you would eat in the country of origin. But the word authentic is fraught. In a deep dive on Eater, food writer Jaya Saxena dives deeply into our contemporary relationship with the idea of “authenticity,” and notes: “What consumers deemed “real” was heavily influenced by whiteness. Americans still largely consider European-influenced cuisine as the norm (see any “new American” menu for proof), and their opinions of what is authentic extend from that center point.”

A separate report from Eater NY studied over 20,000 Yelp reviews. The writer summed up her results succinctly: “The word “authentic” in food reviews supports white supremacism, and Yelp reviews prove it… According to my data, the average Yelp reviewer connotes “authentic” with characteristics such as dirt floors, plastic stools, and other patrons who are non-white when reviewing non-European restaurants” (Eater NY). On the other hand, reviewers considered European restaurants “authentic” when they had the hallmarks of upscale dining, like white tablecloths and fresh-cut flowers.

Such viewpoints are pervasive. Growing up in the Chicago suburbs, I learned what (white) Americans thought of Asian cuisine before I grasped what Taiwanese and Japanese foods meant to us personally. I internalized the myths that all Chinese food was unhealthy and cheap, for example, while Japanese food had social cachet. How we view cuisine often mirrors how we view culture. With little cultural and political representation in the United States, recent immigrant cultures are usually most visible through their food. Our conception of other cultures’ food is often filtered through what we are served at “ethnic restaurants,” without an understanding of the ways that dishes and customs change when the owners need to keep their lights on when they know their audience wants a sanitized version of their foods.

The question of “authentic” vs. “not authentic” also can ignore the effects of colonization, imperialism, diaspora, and the ways communities must adapt to their surroundings. The Korean, Japanese, and Taiwanese food industries, for example, were heavily influenced by American foreign policy. Instant ramen—a food we think of as being inherently Japanese—was invented because America shipped their surplus wheat to East Asia after the war, and the food was seen as being more nutritionally balanced than bread (International Institute for Asian Studies).

That’s why asking “is this food authentic?” isn’t the right question— especially when we rely on Yelp reviews for the answer. Wealthy chefs can claim authenticity when they spend tens of thousands of dollars in a foreign country, learn ancient methods from locals, and return to develop their own high-priced restaurants— but that isn’t what I want to support.

Instead of asking, “which restaurant has the most authentic food?” we can ask ourselves, “which community am I supporting by giving my money to this restaurant?” Is the restaurant owned by a large restaurant group, or is it a family operation? How integrated is the restaurant into the cultural community and the local geographic community? As consumers, we have power. What we pay for is literally what we value. Let’s use our power to invest in these communities.

This piece was inspired by What We Feed Ourselves, a project developed by my sister Cori Nakamura Lin (@cori.lin.art). This project examined food, culture, and acculturation through interviews from immigrant-owned restaurants, essays from local writers, and illustrations of different meals. The restaurants were all from East Lake Street in Minneapolis (the area near where George Floyd was murdered by the police). Thank you to the restaurants who participated in this project: Moroccan Flavors (@moroccanflavorsmpls), International Cuisine, Wiilo Food Distributor, Taqueria Las Cuatro Milpas (@las_cuatro_milpas), and Gandhi Mahal (@curryinahurrympls).


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • With little cultural and political representation in the United States, recent immigrant cultures are usually most visible through their food.

  • Conversations about what food is “authentic” often center white Americans’ version of authenticity.

  • The idea that there is one “authentic” version of cuisine also ignores the effects of imperialism, colonization, diaspora, and assimilation.


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Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

Fight food insecurity.

A new report found that one in five people in the U.S. have turned to a food pantry, food bank, or community food distribution at some point since the pandemic began, a 50% increase than before (Consumer Report). And Household Pulse survey found that nearly 11 % of American adults “sometimes or often” did not have enough to eat in the previous seven days, according to data collected by the U.S. Census Bureau from Oct. 14 to 26, a stark increase from 3.7% increase in 2019 (Washington Post). And the people most likely to need support are people of color. Over a third of Black Americans have used a food pantry, food bank, or community food distribution during the pandemic, and 22% of Hispanics (Consumer Report).

Happy Monday and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. We've been reporting on COVID-19 regularly since the start of this newsletter, and haven't tackled the issue of hunger head-on until today. Food is often the center of many people's celebrations this month and next. As we head into the holiday season, do what you can to center food access, too.

I know things may feel overwhelming right now. But I'm confident we can get through anything together. Remember that no matter where you are, you're not going through this alone. I'm rooting for you.

Thank you for making this newsletter possible! Support our work by making a one-time contribution on our website or PayPal, or giving monthly on Patreon. You can also Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). To subscribe, go to antiracismdaily.com. New! You can share this newsletter and unlock some fun rewards by signing up here.

Nicole


TAKE ACTION


If you need assistance, check to see if you are eligible for the federal Supplemental Nutrition and Assistance Program (SNAP). In addition, reach out to food banks near you and explore other resources that may help.

  • Donate to a local food bank, food pantry, or food-related mutual aid network. Ask before you give: some may prefer canned goods, and others may ask for monetary donations, which can help them buy what’s needed tax-free at a local grocer. Here is a list of food banks by location. If you can, make it a monthly donation.

  • Sign up to volunteer at your local food bank or mutual aid fund to distribute food on Thanksgiving and throughout the weekend.

  • Contact your senators and demand they pass the HEROES Act.


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Our nation – and countries around the world – are facing an unprecedented hunger crisis.

A new report found that one in five people in the U.S. have turned to a food pantry, food bank, or community food distribution at some point since the pandemic began, a 50% increase than before (Consumer Report). And Household Pulse survey found that nearly 11 %  of American adults “sometimes or often” did not have enough to eat in the previous seven days, according to data collected by the U.S. Census Bureau from Oct. 14 to 26, a stark increase from 3.7% increase in 2019 (Washington Post). And the people most likely to need support are people of color. Over a third of Black Americans have used a food pantry, food bank, or community food distribution during the pandemic, and 22% of Hispanics (Consumer Report).  

The growing hunger crisis is a heartbreaking outcome of various aspects of the impact of COVID-19. Unemployment and the lack of fiscal stimulus from the federal government make buying food difficult. But with millions of kids temporarily or permanently out of school, many families have lost their relationship with free-and-reduced food programs that these schools provide. This creates added strains for families to feed everyone at home (The 74). Even the rising cost of utility bills are draining limited funds at home (Washington Post).

And this issue is exacerbated by the rising cost of food. Globally, food costs are rising as countries begin to stockpile. Individuals, too, are hoarding the staples as they stay indoors, clearing shelves at local grocery stores (Marketplace). Although they’ve dipped slightly since their peak in August, prices now are still 4.1% higher than September 2019, and the forecasted outbreak leaves projections looking grim (USDA). The increase in costs makes food more inaccessible for consumers – and food banks, too.

 

Food banks have been overwhelmed since the first wave of COVID-19 in the U.S (The Atlantic). And many were struggling to support the local community before the pandemic even started. On average, 35 million people face hunger in the United States – which is approximately the entire population of Canada. And, despite the misconception, many of those people are families with at least one working adult (Feeding America). Our nation is inherently inequitable, and access to food is no exception. Food banks were never designed to be a sustainable long-term solution to a growing hunger crisis, and considerable support is necessary for them to continue.

 

As many local food banks and pantries struggle with the strain, mutual aid organizations have mobilized quickly to help support. As we’ve discussed in a previous newsletter, mutual aid networks can often offer fast and immediate support to a hyper-local community in need. And food is no exception. Although they may feel less organized and official than the places you’re familiar with donating, they are often making immediate, on-the-ground that larger organizations can’t. Do your research and support wherever possible.

 

Charitable endeavors can’t do this work alone, and many are calling for the federal government to take action. The Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, known as SNAP, is a national response to food inequity that supports nearly 38 million people (Center on Budget and Policy Priorities). In the Consumer Reports article, Luis Guardia, president of the Food Research and Action Center notes that for every meal that charities provide, the federal government’s Supplemental Nutrition and Assistance Program (SNAP) provides nine (Consumer Reports). 

 

A 15 % increase in SNAP funding was proposed by House Democrats in the HEROES Act 2.0 stimulus bill, which is projected to help 16 million people – including 7 million children – who live in households that participate in SNAP and have not received extra SNAP pandemic-emergency benefits (Washington Post). This stimulus bill is still (still!) awaiting a decision in the Senate. Many expect the Biden administration to move quickly on this upon inauguration.
 

But January 20, 2021 is a long way away, and people are in need now. Not just in the U.S., but around the world. U.N. agencies believe that 250 million people in 20 countries will be impacted by severe malnutrition or even famine in the coming months (AP News). As a community, we must do our best to support each other right now. In addition, we have to commit long-term to see each other through this crisis and advocate for food security for all.


KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Hunger is a growing crisis in both the U.S. and around the world, with a disproportionate amount of people of color relying on food banks than ever before

  • An investment in SNAP benefits could help 16 million people access food

  • Food banks are struggling to meet demand as the pandemic worsens with no end in sight


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Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

Don't Americanize other cultures.

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Hi friends!


I find the nuances of this story interesting. Somehow, it touches on gentrification, race privilege, and cultural appropriation across multiple ethnic and racial identities. 

It also represents one of the many subtle ways systemic oppression persists. It's the multitude of these actions and behaviors that shape our society, and understanding each of them helps us dismantle, one small step at a time.

Donations are always welcomed to help keep this going. You can donate on our 
website, through PayPal, or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, become a monthly contributor on Patreon

Nicole

Share | Tweet | Forward


TAKE ACTION


Check your kitchen for products that may use similar branding as the products listed below. Consider:

What does this packaging tell me about the brand?
How can the packaging help me learn more about the culture(s) this product is connected to?
What assumptions, if any, does this packaging bring?
How does this packaging compare to others within its category?
Who or what have I tried to repackage to make it more palatable? How?


GET EDUCATED


By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

This week Trader Joe’s renewed its pledge to discontinue racist packaging on international food products (Teen Vogue). The interest was sparked after a petition was circulated by high school senior Briones Bedell, which received over 2,500 signatures before a response (change.org). The product lines in question include “Trader Giotto” (Italian products), “Trader Ming” (Chinese products), “Trader Joe San” (Japanese products), “Trader José” (Mexican products), “Arabian Joe” (Middle Eastern products), and even “Pilgrim Joe”, that represents Thanksgiving products.

But conversations on inappropriate names of Trader Joe’s products are not new. In fact, Viviane Eng, a writer and the literary program’s assistant at PEN America, wrote a comprehensive article for Nylon Magazine on the issue back in July 2019, and Trader Joe’s swiftly responded, pledging to discontinue the packaging (Nylon). Critics note that the 2020 petition was created and amplified by a white/white-passing woman, questioning whether it is her place to build a movement around this issue. This sparks a similar conversation from yesterday’s newsletter: Who deserves to lead conversations about racist symbols: the people with the most proximity to power, or the closest to the issue itself? Today’s case also offers a critical point for allies here: work with marginalized communities and elevate their voices when rallying  for change. 


Reclaiming Culture through Names


Both conversations from 2019 and now show that customers are split on their sentiment about the packaging. Some people cited in both Eng’s article and on the petition itself emphasize that they have no issue with the name and don’t see any issue with it, calling it funny and cute. Others feel it exoticizes the cultures connected to the food, especially by applying Americanized names and branding in place of true cultural representation. Eng notes that by adding names like "Ming" and "José" for certain products reinforces "Joe" and English-speaking whiteness as the default (Nylon).

"
It's not my favorite," another shopper, Alé, admitted. "I'm of Mexican heritage, and it's just that weird moment of othering. It's, like, my food could just be Trader Joe's as well. It doesn't have to be Trader José. It also doesn't lend to any authenticity because it's just a very Americanized thing to do.

Nylon Magazine

We’ve got a long history of that in America. Ethnic names are often used to mock or degrade racial or ethnic groups and to perpetuate racist stereotypes in film and media (History). In workplaces and colleges, individuals with non-Anglophone names are asked to adopt nicknames, or change their names altogether (here’s a recent example in Time). And there are countless examples of people from various backgrounds changing their names throughout history to improve job prospects and assimilate as a form of safety (The Conversation). 

Have you changed your name or adopted a nickname for reasons like these? Share your story to be included in a larger piece on this we’re publishing next week.

And Bedell notes in her petition that the inspiration for the Trader Joe’s name itself is rooted in “romanticizing Western Imperialism and fetishizing non-Western people”. The Trader Joe’s website states that the name was inspired by the book White Shadows in the South Seas (and the Disneyland ride that shares it). But the book “demonstrates the horrific legacy of trading companies as they exploited and enslaved the South Pacific in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Many of these regions are still at a disadvantage today because of how traders ravaged their peoples, their societies, and their natural resources” (Change.org). The realization that the names are housed within a larger company with this narrative only further emphasizes the point.

The 2020 petition was well-timed; many food brands are disassociating from racist branding, an action sparked from the protests over the past few weeks. It’s wild how frequently I type the latter half of this sentence; so much of our culture and politics have shifted because of public outcry. Remember this as you watch your timelines go back to normal – make each day a revolution.

Quaker is dropping the Aunt Jemima branding after recognizing they promote a racial stereotype (Washington Post). Her image was actually based off of Nancy Green, who received a full obituary in the NYTimes last week. I recommend you read her story. The company that runs Uncle Ben's and Mrs. Butterworth's are following suit (CNN). In April, the Land O’ Lakes butter company announced that it is changing its branding from an illustration of a Native American woman with a feather in her hair to something that reflects its “farmers owned” approach (NYTimes).

And for good reason. There are studies that prove that these types of symbols can have a negative psychological impact. The American Psychological Association published a resolution recommending the “immediate retirement” of Indigenous mascots, symbols, images, citing that they create “unwelcome and often times hostile learning environments” and have “a negative impact on the self-esteem” of Indigenous youth (apa.org). On the flip side, adolescents with authentic connections to the cultural background of others are more likely to display fewer stereotypes and more positive attitudes toward others (Wiley Online Library).

Food is Central to Culture


The packaging of food might feel like an irrelevant place to make a statement, but food is such a critical component of how many of us express our culture – and understand the cultures of others. As a grocery chain known for its breadth of low-cost products, how Trader Joe’s presents those foods makes a lasting impression of the cultures they represent. This is especially critical, considering that Trader Joe’s are usually found in up-and-coming (or gentrifying) communities, to the point that the value of houses near Trader Joe’s locations is almost 3x the national average (Business Insider). How else is Trader Joe's as a company participating in the erasure of culture as an organization?

There’s no clear timing for when the replacement of packaging will be completed (or even what it will look like) (NPR). In 2019, Kenya Friend-Daniel, Trader Joe’s Director of PR, emphasizes that “these designations do not appear on any new products we have introduced in the past two years, and as we make our way through label updates on older products, we will change any preexisting variations to Trader Joe's” (Nylon). It’s likely they’re still working their way through the hundreds of product lines with this branding. Bedell updated the petition on July 19 asking for a firm date (change.org).

Lastly, it’s important to note that only one major news source that covered the petition mentioned the work of Viviane Eng (Teen Vogue, which has completely transformed since I was a teenager). As we continue to do this work, we must aim to center the voices of all leaders and contributors towards change, especially the voices of marginalized communities.

KEY TAKEAWAYS


  • Trader Joe's renewed its commitment to ending all Americanized branding lines of international product

  • The conversation swelled after a petition was circulated a few weeks ago

  • A similar story was published last year, and received similar feedback from Trader Joe's

  • Food represents a significant part of culture

  • Changing names against a default reinforces the idea of "power of normal"

  • Allies must remember to work with marginalized communities and elevate their voices


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