A lot of us will probably justify this by attributing these feelings to not wanting to be greedy (reasonable), or attempting to be health-conscious (also reasonable), but it’s interesting that you rarely hear men talk like this. I’m sure part of it is about greed and gluttony, but only in the sense that women are brought up to believe that their desires are somehow wrong or that they should feel guilty for having any desires in the first place. Men don’t necessarily have a particularly healthy relationship with food in our culture, either, but they’re less likely to feel like they don’t deserve to “indulge” or take what they want. We women, on the other hand, seem to believe there’s something intrinsically wrong with food, that there’s also something wrong with us for wanting it, and that taking what we want will result in an immediate and obvious weight gain that will show the world how awful and undisciplined we are. We’re basically taught to be ashamed for taking up space.

That’s not to say this craze about being “healthy” in a fast food nation is unreasonable, but it certainly manifests differently according to gender. Men don’t just want to be healthy; they want to bulk up, be more muscular, take up more space. Women don’t just want to be healthy, either; we want to be slim, toned, and often, even invisible.

(Note: Men are not immune to disordered eating, but women are much more likely to actually develop eating disorders… and I’m willing to bet that even the types of eating disorders they tend to develop show more gender distinctions. It would be an interesting topic to do more research on, but I just wanted to point out that I’m not saying men can’t or never do develop eating disorders.)

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Between weekly sales, manager specials, discounts for buying in bulk, and coupons that come out with each purchase using a store card, it’s actually a lot easier to save money by shopping at Stop & Shop, which is geared more towards its white, largely Jewish population, and therefore cleaner, healthier, and more vegetarian and Kosher-friendly than C-Town. However, it’s not always possible for New Brunswick families to shop there, either because they don’t have the transportation to get there or can’t afford to buy in bulk, regardless of the money it will save them in the long run.

As the Racialicious article I posted before mentions, Eric Schlosser’s Fast Food Nation elaborates on the harmful effects of labor that particularly affects people of color, but makes no mention of race in relation to food justice... or the fact that most proponents of the food reform movement are wealthy white men.

(Be sure to visit Jennifer’s blog for more great posts about food and chai and other lovely things!)

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Venus (my mom): Move out of my way. I have to get my plantain out of the refrigerator.
Me: Why do you put them in the refrigerator?
Venus: If I leave them out, they get too smushy.
Me: …you mean ripe?
Venus: Well, I like to eat them when they’re still green-ish. Otherwise they start to taste too sweet, and you know me, I’m sweet enough already.
Me: So… you eat it raw? In your salad?
Venus: How are you supposed to eat it?
Me: You typically fry it…
Venus: Well, I like to use it in my salad instead of the regular bananas. They’re too sweet.
Me: Of course. Because everyone puts bananas in their salads.
Venus: Are you making fun of me?

My lunch was a version of Todd’s Waldorf Salad, which consisted of an apple, half an avocado, a few tomato slices, and cayenne pepper. Normally, I get made fun of for this. The next time someone comments on the weirdness of my eating habits, let this serve as proof that I have evolved significantly from my Venusian roots. For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about… my mother believes she’s from Venus. (No, seriously. She signs her e-mails from ~Venus~)

Video coming soon.

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This photo was taken at Passion Puddle, located on the border of the Cook and Douglass campuses at Rutgers (you can’t see the lake itself too well in this photo, but I only had a few minutes before the bus left, and at the time I was busy taking some freshmen on “vacation” — an activity that involves a Saturday afternoon bus ride to Sears, where we enjoy napping on real beds for a few hours). According to legend, when a male from Cook College and a female from Douglass College hold hands and walk around the water three times, they will soon become engaged. This myth seems to have been slightly modified since the merging of all undergraduate liberal arts colleges at Rutgers and changed simply to a male and a female — though I don’t think we’ve progressed to the point of incorporating same-sex hand-holding into the passing of the legend. I’m not sure I mind being left out, of course, because Passion Puddle is primarily known for another myth involving the very unromantic excavation of a body from the bottom of the lake, which leads me, in a very morbid transition, to Virginia Woolf…

This past week I finished reading Mrs. Dalloway for the second time in one of my courses, and during a class discussion, the subject of food was brought up in relation to the way Virginia Woolf’s anorexia seems to affect the meaning attached food in her writing. The passage we spoke about involved Miss Kilman eating a pink cake — Woolf’s description of this act is unmistakably resentful, with Miss Kilman’s eating directly paired with her own feelings of worthlessness and the narrator’s repulsive depiction of her. The image of food itself, though, is somewhat glorified — there’s a subtle sense of indulgence in the very hateful way she writes about food, with great care taken to describe in detail the way Miss Kilman speaks while handling her food, and finally swallows the last bit of her eclair, and then wipes the chocolate from her fingers, and then finishes with a cup of tea. A friend once jokingly suggested that the reason anorexic women so often work around food or otherwise aspire to go onto culinary school is because “it’s like porn for them” — and I think that’s the kind of withheld desire evident in Woolf’s writing… that there is something almost pornographic about the experience of watching someone eating while personally abstaining from food. When a person spends so much time thinking about and obsessing over food, I think that obsession can manifest itself in all sorts of ways, whether it be through one’s profession, writing, or artwork… I’m thinking Fiona Apple’s The First Taste provides an interesting musical comparison to Woolf (or perhaps Paper Bag, with its more blatant references to hunger and loneliness).

What I also wonder about, though, is the presence of Elizabeth in the pink cake scene, and how her relationship with her mother, Clarissa, might complicate Woolf’s ideas about food. It seems to lend to to the idea that eating disorders often develop out of an inadequate relationship with a woman’s mother, which would certainly make sense in Woolf’s case, given her mother’s death at such an early age. Either way I think that understanding Woolf’s relationship to food adds another dimension to the novel I hadn’t picked up on before now…

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