qmartindale wrote:Is it okay to advocate for people to reduce their consumption of animal products while acknowledging that some people, including you, may be unable to do so?
I get that this is something that may be important to you, but realize that besides the issues Kassiane brought up, many people, including myself, have been food policed to the point that almost any comment on diet can cause a panic attack.
I don't want to say "never speak about these things!", but I honestly can't think of a way to advocate for something like this without bringing up all these issues along with it.
irkthepurists wrote:There's an awful lot of privilege-blindness among finger-wagging foodies, to be sure. 'You're putting sugar on your food? You should pop down to your local artisan bakery and pick some organic honey like we do.'
It was something that annoyed me about the criticisms of Supersize Me, actually - people said 'Dur, you're not supposed to eat McDonald's every day!', completely overlooking the fact that, for many people, there's not a huge amount of choice.
rickymooston wrote:I dont mind when people preach dumb things. I am under no obligation to follow their bad advice.
ceepolk wrote:you mean Tyrell's?
GreatBlueHeron wrote:And to add, if a vegan supporter can preach without being fatphobic. Healthy Eating Proponents, meatless or not, have a history of being incredibly fatphobic.
Damn, buying nutrient-rich food is way more expensive than buying calorie-dense, low nutrient food. Going meatless is even more expensive. I can't afford to eat someone else's diet and I have no desire to stop eating meat.
I was thinking about this when someone mentioned in another thread that refrigeration was a non-necessity because it was better to buy what you're going to eat each day and prepare. Where I grew up during the first half of my childhood, in the middle of Western rural nowhere, that would have been impossible. The closest grocery was 5 miles away and my family couldn't usually afford to shop there, too expensive. Once a month we went 25 miles into town and stocked up on bulk supplies, the rest of the time we lived on food stores which had come from hunting, from the animals we raised, or from the garden. It was absolutely crucial that we be able to store food stuffs long term in order to make it through the winter. There was no way for our family to make a quick run to the grocery every day. It was not possible. We had to stockpile. Without refrigeration, we'd have starved or become sick from improperly stored food. Some of the families in our area had more resources and could afford to run up to that grocery for cheese or milk every day, we were not one of them. Rural living, there are food deserts there, too. Living vegan? Not an option. No way we could have grown enough grains and fresh plant foods to survive or afforded the cost of purchasing a pre-made plant based diet, and we had over a full acre of garden space to work with. My stepdad had a very physical occupation and he needed, I say *needed* a large store of slow burning calories from high protein foods, the kind one does not get cheaply from vegetables, nuts, beans, fruits and grains. His nutritional requirements were purely occupational, other people's requirements are physical. Neither are less legitimate than the other.
That was me, and I think you misremember the comment, Onamission5: my point in that comment was that refridgeration is a non-necessity if and only if the infrastructure to purchase your perishables as you'll use them (which does lead to reduced wasteage) is available. So, yeah, in your situation and in mine (food desert for those who don't have cars, of which I am one), refridgeration is a necessity. If I had a vehicle to drive to the market or grocery, it would become a non-necessity.
qmartindale wrote:Is expressing those beliefs or trying to persuade others of their truth "food policing?"
qmartindale wrote:...I'm also somewhat confused by the use of the term "food policing."
I cannot digest a number of vegetables due to a congenital, inoperable condition (which was finally diagnosed when I was 24). My maternal grandmother apparently never believed in my problems. One day when we were already far into our teens, she proudly explained to my middle sister that she (grandma) had been hiding onion in almost all the food she offered me "And she (me) never even seemed to notice." My sister warned me as soon as she could, and after that I was extremely careful about what I ate at grandma's.
What Dear Grandma probably did not know was that I had often been violently ill, with painful and embarrassing stomach cramps, after we had visited her. And my father routinely yelled at me when I was thus ill: he told me I was disgusting, smelly etc. and called me "a pig", among other things.
My parents never took me to a doctor. Instead, every school year I was subjected to yet another experimental diet - sometimes they informed my school that I had to eat vegetarian food, sometimes I was supposed to eat protein-rich, sometimes high fiber, sometimes low fiber, sometimes some weird supplements... and of course none of that helped any, because the root cause of the trouble was not known. And if they caught me eating something that was not supposed to be on my menu that year, I got a yelling for sure and sometimes got slapped or dragged around from my hair (one of the reasons why I cut my hair short - being pulled around from long, strong hair when one is almost grownup-size HURTS).
Wowbagger@LousyCanuck: Here’s a novel thought: try contemplating the idea that there are people who aren’t you. No, really. Take your time. Once you’ve managed that and pondered the implications, maybe you’ll be able to grasp what’s going on here.
For me, this generally took the form of people throwing my lunch on the floor, since I was "a stupid diabetic who was just too damn lazy to cure herself" but other methods of food shaming were used, such as trying to tell me "the facts", making snarky comments about my food, and telling me I was committing "food suicide".
I also have a thing with textures, to the point where I will gag and throw up if the offending food is in my mouth too long, and I also have a thing about my food touching other food, but I'm trying to work on that one (mainly because it's so damn impractical). But, when people find out about these "quirks" (because that's what they call them), they want to blindfold me and force feed me things to see if I'm "really that bad".
- In my parents' house, all food was either "good" or "bad". The standards on what made a "good" food seemed to vary week to week and sometimes even day to day, but in general consistently "good" foods were things with calorie densities on the order of lettuce. "bad" foods were pretty much everything else. My sister and I would be ridiculed for daring to like things that children will like - candy, etc.
- My likes and dislikes were dictated to me on the food front. "You don't like that," my mother would say to me, of something she didn't want me to eat. Even if I did like it. Attempts to eat it anyway because I was hungry or whatever were met with hand slaps. "You like that!" my mother would say to me, of something she wanted me to eat. Even if I found it revolting. Refusal to eat it was met with meal withholding. My mother was not as bad as a friend of hers, who starved me for over three days because I refused to eat mac & cheese (and, yeah, I still hate mac&cheese).
- I was never allowed to follow my body's food needs. If I wanted to eat before supper, I wasn't "really" hungry and I'd spoil my appetite. Even on days when my mother wouldn't pull herself away from the television until she felt hungry around 9PM. If I wasn't hungry at supper, well that didn't matter because it was supper and I damn well better clean my plate.
- I once had a teacher throw out my lunch because she didn't think it was healthy enough. Apparently starving = better than PB&J and dunkaroos.
Bullying can sometimes use same techniques as food policing while not being food policing: kids at school would ruin my lunch, but it was not food policing that motivated them, but garden-variety bullying. They enjoyed seeing me go hungry, especially the ones who knew that if my mother was in a mood again, I wouldn't eat until 9 or 10 that night.
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 10 guests