What exactly is cultural appropriation in food and does it need to stop?
Cultural appropriation is widely understood in terms of music, fashion and popular culture but what does it mean in terms of food? If you’ve ever heard food from another culture being called ‘ethnic’, that’s a good place to start.
Loretta Todd defined cultural appropriation as “when someone else speaks for, tells, defines, describes, represents, uses or recruits the images, stories, experiences, dreams of others for their own. Appropriation also occurs when someone else becomes the expert on your experience and is deemed more knowledgeable about who you are than yourself”.
Reading the second sentence whilst considering food makes it fairly clear. Why do white chefs and writers need to take up space creating and talking about food from a culture that they are profiting from? A recent article in The Spectator (yes, I should know better) referred to those calling out appropriation in food as “piranhas”. The writer was correct to suggest that “cultural interaction and the exchange of ideas – art, beliefs, customs, social practices, and foods – is the story of humankind” however by completely failing to acknowledge the impact of colonisation and role of white supremacy where theft and oppression are more relevant terms than exchange and interaction, they have completely missed the mark. Appropriation comes when someone from the dominant group takes - or appropriates - from a marginalised group. This means that the genuine voices do not have the opportunity to thrive or be noticed.
Look around the food industry. Who do you see running successful restaurants? Lots of middle class white people, primarily men. They have the wealth, status and power to create successful businesses. They are taking up space that people from diaspora communities could be flourishing in, however they are rarely afforded the adequate representation deserved. From 2011 Masterchef finalist Jackie Kearney publishing a cookbook on South Asian street food to a white English couple opening Indian restaurant chain The Chilli Pickle, there are countless examples of white people profiting from BIPOC cultures. Individuals from diaspora communities are not given the opportunities to be represented in a marketplace that is dominated by white people profiting from the foods of other people’s cultures.
Think mainstream, TV chefs and you have Gordon Ramsay, Nigella Lawson, James Martin, Rick Stein, John Torode. Oh, and Ainslie Harriott. The story is a bit better in print and on Instagram with the likes of Meera Sodha, Dom Taylor and Rachel Ama doing well. However, I’m sure they could all give you an example of when they’re been the token Black or brown person on a show, panel or feature. The issue of visibility is one issue but when white chefs like Jamie Oliver profit from jerk chicken when literally thousands of Jamaican’s could have done so (and probably better) is problematic.
Can food be owned by one culture, country or race? Cuisines have, of course, developed over time and history with trade and migration, and it is difficult to legitimately label one way of doing something as authentic. In India alone, every region has a different way to make the same dish and I’ve argued with friends of Punjabi and Gujarati heritage about the ‘right’ way to do something, and the concept of curry – hailing from the Tamil word kari meaning ‘sauce with spices’ - is a direct result of Indians making dishes more palatable for their British rulers. There is no right way to create any dish and people are entitled to create their own versions and be inspired by a cuisine or flavour palate. The nuance here is that it must be done with respect for the origins of the recipe or dish. To avoid appropriation, a chef or writer should fully immerse themselves in a cuisine - or even culture or language as many white chefs have done - and pay homage to the roots of the dish. They should acknowledge where they got their inspiration and if it’s from a person of that heritage or diaspora then give them due credit. However, where possible they should amplify the voices of that diaspora and ensure they are heard instead.
When you search ‘jollof rice’ online, Google suggests an alternative search of ‘Jamie Oliver jollof rice’. No thanks. We don’t need more Jamie! There is one African blog on the first two pages, but that is it. Space needs to be created to amplify these voices. Zoe Adjonyoh of Zoe’s Ghana Kitchen recently co-founded Black Books, a platform created to decolonise the hospitality and food media industries by representing black and non-white people and raising awareness of the issues around equality, equity and wealth creation in those communities. The platform is currently (July 2020) hosting a series of panel discussions on issues including publishing, food media and cookery shows and hopes to pave the way for more BIPOC chefs and writers to be recognised and published. Anyone interested in food should get educated through this series as it will shine light on many issues you just may not have been aware of.
When looking at appropriation, the connections between food and culture is also vital. Food creates stories, it creates community, it creates connections. Step into any Ghanaian or Indian home and you will instantly realise that the role of food goes far beyond sustenance. Cooking recipes that you have inherited create a sense of cultural comfort that can be welcome in a world with little else to culturally connect with. By taking a recipe or traditional dish with little regard for any of this is to completely erase that part of its history. Looking back on Todd’s definition of cultural appropriation is when the part on “someone else speaks for, tells, defines, describes, represents, uses or recruits the images, stories, experiences, dreams of others for their own benefit” is truly understood.
There is a further dichotomy between food and power which is particularly important in cuisines from colonised nations. The British took what they liked of Indian food then adapted it to suit their needs. They messed with something that wasn’t theirs to mess with and then subsequently ‘owned’ that cuisine. But why has Indian and Chinese food gained recognition in post-colonial Britain whilst food form nations in Africa or the Caribbean hasn’t? This is one of several important issues discussed by chef Melissa Thompson’s piece on Black erasure in the British food industry. The power issue also reflects what white people do with the social and financial gain they receive from selling the food of another culture. Are they giving back in any way, and in a way that is not white saviourism? Power is important as the tables are very unlikely to be turned: someone from a marginalised community will rarely benefit from making the cuisine of a dominant culture.
Food writer Riaz Phillips also wrote about the odds being stacked against Black people in the restaurant industry including the lack of Black head chefs across Michelin restaurants, the high proportion of Black staff in low-skilled jobs within hospitality and the lack of Black people owning restaurants or being represented in food media. This shows that the appropriation of food is just one intersect with the systemic racism and repeated oppression that is faced by BIPOC people, especially Black people.
So, what can be done to tackle appropriation in food? Firstly, check who you’re supporting. Is that Indian, Chinese or Caribbean food genuinely created by someone of that diaspora? Having a few ‘authentic’ chefs in a white-owned business is not enough. That reeks of tokenism, as well as putting people of colour in lower paid jobs whilst white people profit from another culture’s food. There are plenty of Black and non-white business owners, bloggers, writers and influencers. Seek them out, support them and tell other people to do so as well. As with all of the effects of colonisation and systemic racism, a lot of work needs to be done to dismantle the harm caused. Read, listen and engage with the conversations happening already including Black Books mentioned earlier as well as Chefs’ Manifesto and all of the chefs and writers involved in both projects. When you want to make that tasty dal or banging rice and peas, source recipes from chefs of the nation’s cuisine or diaspora community. One easy way is through the Community Comfort cookbook curated by Riaz Phillips featuring 100 chefs from migrant heritage backgrounds to raise money for Black, Asian and ethnic minority victims of Covid and their families. In February 2021, I published Plant Based Planet, a book co-curated with blogger The Vegan Food Fiend which amplifies global cuisine from over 150 different creators from different cultures, communities and backgrounds.
If you work in food, this means employing more people of colour, particularly Black people, in senior roles and allowing them to create the stories and food of their cultures. If you’re a white chef, food writer or influencer, it means giving up your place at the table for an underrepresented voice or working to amplify other voices. If you collaborate, make sure it’s fair, equal and that any gains are not one-sided i.e. to make your brand look more inclusive.
The future of food could be very exciting if we let more people come through and own what is rightfully theirs.