Post 4: Your Food Is Boring
Food has always played an important role in my life. Not only was it a way for me to learn about other cultures, but it also helped me learn about my own heritage and cultural identity. From the moment I was able to eat anything besides baby food, I was an adventurous eater. My mom prided herself on the fact that I would try anything that she put in front of me. I didn’t always like everything I ate, but I was always willing to try. When I started kindergarten at a predominantly Caucasian private school, I still wanted my favorite unorthodox foods for lunch. At the time, if you asked other kids my age what their favorite foods were, they would probably respond with something like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, or chocolate chip cookies. However, my favorite food was a sandwich that my mom would always make for me. It was ikura, commonly known as salmon eggs, on white bread with cream cheese. It might sound weird, but it was one of my favorite foods. So, it seemed obvious to bring it for lunch on my first day of school. However, when I opened my lunchbox to start eating my sandwich, all of my classmates immediately backed away in disgust. To this day, I still remember hearing “EW, what IS that?!” or “Oh my god, it looks like poop, are you eating poop Alexandra?”. I didn’t understand why at the time, but at that moment, I had never felt more ashamed in my life. I couldn’t grasp why my classmates were so disgusted by something that I loved. Not knowing what to do, I threw my sandwich away. When I finally went home that day, I asked my mom to make me something else for lunch. She couldn’t understand why I suddenly stopped wanting my favorite food. I told her it was because I was simply tired of it, and just wanted something else instead.
Unfortunately, for the rest of my time at that school, I never stood up to the people who made fun of me. However, as I got older, I realized that I shouldn’t have felt ashamed because of how ignorant my other classmates were. I was never the problem, but rather, my uncultured classmates were the issue. I know now that I shouldn’t have let this incident inhibit my appreciation for other cultures’ foods. And thankfully, my appreciation for food and its diversity came back a few years after this incident. But, since I never got to say anything to the people who made me feel ashamed of my cultural eating habits, I have just one thing to say now. My food isn’t disgusting, your food is just boring.
