Don’t Diminish the Power of Food
The Case Against Over-Romanticizing Food as a Universal Connector
“Food connects us all.”
“Food is a bridge.”
“Food is the universal language.”
“Food is the ingredient that binds us together.”
When I tell people I’m a food writer, they usually ask if I’m a critic. I say, “No, I write opinion and cultural articles, mostly focused on Turkish and Central Asian food.” That’s when the polite confusion sets in. They nod, smile and offer something like, “Well, food connects us all.”
Meanwhile, I’m thinking about the exact opposite of connection: how entire cuisines are celebrated only when divorced from the people who created them, how the global rise in food prices will devastate those already hanging by a thread and how water is privatized and seeds are patented, severing people from the very sources of their nourishment.
It happens often. Food gets reduced to these kinds of fluffy, feel-good sentiments. These phrases float around and while well-intended, they are ultimately a little empty. At this point, they feel about as meaningful as a cursive “Live, Laugh, Love” sign hanging in a suburban HomeGoods. No shade if that’s in your dining room, we should all absolutely be living, laughing and loving. But when something is repeated so often and so casually, it starts to lose its significance. The same goes for the overused phrase, “food is a bridge between cultures.”
Here’s the thing: while that is technically true, it often flattens the real depth and complexity of what food represents. It treats cuisine like a handshake, safe and neutral when in reality, food is a battleground, with access to it wielded as a weapon.
Entire wars have been fought over food and land that determine what people can grow and eat. Recipes are carried like relics through migration, exile and diaspora. Culinary traditions can divide families as easily as they can unite them. And let’s not even start on how food and beverage industries are tied up in systems of labor, nationalism and power. Even amid today’s global tensions, at a time when no one should be starving, entire populations are being deliberately denied food as a tool of power and oppression.
For a strong example of the deep meaning behind food, read “A Cuisine Under Siege” by Laila El-Haddad, a personal essay that just earned her a James Beard Award.
So yes, food can connect, but to say only that is to miss everything else it can do. Food can exclude. It can dominate. It can become a site of resistance or a symbol of appropriation. It can nourish bodies while exploiting workers. It’s not always a love language; it can be a weapon, a wedge or a wound.
This isn’t an argument against the beauty of food or its capacity to bring people together. It’s a call to respect its full power, not just the soft parts we like to quote in panel discussions and recipe headnotes. While I do enjoy the flavor, beauty and even the aesthetic rituals that surround food, I think we’ve reached a point where we can no longer afford to treat it with frivolity. Food is not just an accessory or a decorative detail in our social media feeds; it’s labor, it’s culture, it’s survival and it’s politics.
So yes, savor your meals and celebrate flavor. But resist the urge to minimize food into something purely pleasant or palatable. Because what we eat and how we talk about it, reflects what we value and who we’re willing to see and who we’re willing to ignore.
Thank you for saying all of this on this platform. The hypocrisy in the U.S. has reached a fevered, surrealistic pitch now, as we watch masked thugs violently kidnapping restaurant workers.
You have done some deep thinking to write this article. Your words awaken my thoughts. I just love to read your words.