Are you deserving of Teta’s food?
-
The West’s role as a multicultural hub and haven is a facade that involves picking and choosing the parts of the cultures that are palatable. Buettner speaks to the selective acceptance that involves celebrating food but overlooking the challenges of the people who serve it. Not only are these challenges overlooked, but they are worsened when the racist stereotypes of a place bleed into the joy of the culture of a person. This was a problem I was forced to confront this past year with my grandma’s (Teta) food. Food in immigrant culture means everything and can be some of the only things that connect one to one's culture and identity. To cook and share food is how most immigrant families show their love and identity. I believe that it is a blessing to receive this food and should be treated as such. There is something so special about something that others can enjoy and is also so tied to a specific region and lineage. After October last year, something that upset me was this conditional tolerance of culture from the people closest to me. The people who have had many homecooked by Teta authentic Lebanese meals at my house were silent when it came to caring about Palestine. Their enjoyment of this cuisine was undeserving because it is deeper than that. I felt like sharing this food was to share myself and my Teta, who connects me to this culture I don’t know much about. I was angry at the world around me but also offended at the people around me and their selective acceptance of me and my culture. Don’t eat Arab food if you cannot call for the end of Arab hate, and this goes for all non-Western identities. The love of food doesn’t translate to the acceptance of people for white folks, but for my Teta, it is the opposite; the unconditional acceptance of people is shown through the love of food.
Teta has been famous my entire life. Her generosity and food are famous among everyone who has walked through our house. I feel so lucky to have grown up with her home-cooked meals of gold every day. I truly believe that food is the most crucial aspect of diaspora histories and communities. As someone born in the United States who has never lived in my country of origin recently, food was the first way I knew who I was. I could bond with other kids like myself on the food and find community and a piece wherever I went, as my parents were insistent on seeing the Lebanese. My family and I are sure every immigrant family's love language is food, and my earliest memories surround that. I was eating a Lebanese dish in kindergarten when some kids started making fun of me (I know, classic brown kid trope). But instead of letting it bring my perception of my identity down, my mother ensured that the class had a cultural food day where everyone would bring in food without judgment. Food makes me a melancholic migrant. Without food, I would be completely separated from my diaspora. Now, when I am missing home, I get Lebanese food, and what I look forward to the most is Teta’s. Without food, there is no vessel for the migrant to be melancholic.
When cultural food is trending and constantly appropriated, it is hard to find this line of sharing food and wanting to keep it all to yourself, not out of greed but protection.