Being around me was like charity to them. A trial run one may say, to see if I would make any moves on them. If you were on the other side of their borderline-idiotic ways of thinking, then you had to be an ally right? Wrong. After coming out as queer, everything changed. I was no longer the kid who could spell any word given to him. The one with a baking obsession. The one who always knew how to lighten the mood. I was predatorial, a danger to the other boys. If I wanted to have made a move wouldn’t I have done it earlier, under the umbrella-like protection heterosexuality provided?

Where was everyone all the other 364 days of the year? Suddenly, I was the center of attention. I was so brave, no one else could’ve done it or lived in my shoes for a day? I’m not a hero. This wasn’t my coming-of-the-age story cliche. This wasn’t your chance to prove that you’re not a horrible person because you no longer let “that word”, escape your mouth. You all are the same. Nothing more and nothing less. The day I came out is now so distant, but plays on a constant loop, like a broken record player. So many beautiful things have happened since then, but at what cost? Sometimes I wonder if the plethora of Instagram followers was worth it. The PR packages. The friends. All superficial, sometimes even meaningless. It’s all for show. His name speaks for itself.

Jeremy and Lily spent the majority of their days together roaming 14th street and 8th avenue. Jeremy took the G train from Greenpoint, and transferred to the L train, taking it all the way to 1st avenue every Friday. After having to deal with his withering baking internship every week, his weekly retreats to Lily’s East Village apartment acted as a remedy. Oftentimes, It was really the only thing that helped him get through the week. Lily awaited his arrival every Friday- and always had an iced matcha latte prepared for him. She may not have shown it, but Jeremy was also the only thing getting her through the week too after having to deal with the quarrels of her strenuous situation-ship. Jeremy may be gay, and Lily may be a lesbian. But in a way, they were made for each other. They were soulmates. Or soul friends, whatever you may want to call it. 

Jeremy grabbed his Strand tote bag that Lily grabbed for him during the previous summer when they took classes together at Columbia University. He quickly searched for his brown leather wallet. It may have only had twenty dollars and his vaccination card, but he knew he was in for one hell of a weekend. Usually, his encounters with Lily were limited to Friday nights. But this time, Lily’s parents were away for the weekend, meaning they could do whatever they wanted. “Jeremy, make sure to bring the bag with the blue anchors on them, that way we can carry all of our stuff”, Lily texted him. Jeremy packed a backpack and two tote bags full of clothes and hygiene products. He planned to stay the whole weekend. Lily was fine with this. In fact, she was hoping he would. She was deathly afraid of being alone at home in her 5 story walk-up apartment, even though she lived at the very top. She always felt unsafe. Even though she strolled through the village at 2 AM every Friday with cheap diner iced coffee. 

This time Lily hadn’t prepared Jeremy’s iced matcha. Instead, she was preparing a weekend itinerary for the ages. First on the agenda, getting a tattoo. And she was making sure Jeremy was doing it with her. Jeremy had no idea what was coming.

He found himself timid around the other boys,

Why did he have Butterflies in his stomach?

Was it jealousy- the desire to be just like them?

Or was it something more idyllic?

Wear less ill-fitting jeans.

Try to talk without using your hands too much.

Maybe then it wouldn’t matter- because you will be just like everyone else.

Why was it that something so beautiful, has over time grown to become something you resented?

You forsake anything that resembles it.

It takes years- but every day an internal battle.

Like the colors of a rainbow- you remain set.

There are multiple variations of each intrinsic set of hues.

In the end, it doesn’t matter anyway.

You know what you truly are.

It all comes down to just naming it.

Even then, for the time being- you’ll still forsake it.

Racism in media has always been something prevalent in all forms of digital and physical communications including television, sports, newspapers, abstract media, movies, and an abundance of other media avenues. However, in the coming years, we’ve seen a specific forum of media garner more attention as it increased in popularity throughout YouTube channels such as Bon Appetit, Buzzfeed, and a plethora of other platforms. Food Media. And as any other form of highly consumed digital media- we have the constant whitewashing and racism taking place. Albeit controversial, we must call it out as it is- digital food media exploitation. Specifically when talking about chefs of color, we see their recipes being folded (no pun intended), in order to appease to the white eye. In turn, we see scrutiny from both sides of the coin. Sometimes you’re not being cultural enough and not pleasing people that are connected to their roots. And on the opposite end, we have white media moguls not happy because a certain recipe or dish might not be hip or trendy enough. It’s a problem that we see trickle over every couple of years. So why aren’t we doing something about it?

During the peak of the pandemic, (Mid 2020), I was given the opportunity to create my own digital and physical magazine along with my peers that celebrated chefs of color (linked below). Interestingly enough, one of my articles, titled “Priya-ish” was centered around the famous Bon Appetit chef, Priya Krishna who had just left the Bon Appetit test kitchen due to prejudice surrounding her day to day work life. Shortly after came the resignation of the then former editor-in-chief Adam Rappaport. In the coming weeks following Rappaports’ resignation, we saw more chefs of color from the test kitchen starting to speak up about unfair compensation and micro-aggressions faced in the work place. They weren’t getting recognized for their hard work. And not surprisingly, their white co-workers were getting paid much more than they were despite collecting the same amount (and sometimes even more), amount of views and clicks. As mentioned time and time again, Food is supposed to bring people together. So why are we in a constant state of using it to tear us apart? Even if subconsciously. This is addressed in my article and even sparked some debate amongst my peers and people who bought copies. We should not be afraid to make people uncomfortable when talking about these issues. They aren’t menial or something we can simply push aside. This could and WILL have devastating effects on the future of all aspects of food (including myself).

WORK CITED:

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/06/30/dining/pass-the-spatula-magazine-food-and-finance-high-school.html

https://www.theatlantic.com/culture/archive/2020/06/bon-appetit-and-why-table-stays-white/613093/