There are loads of blogs and articles and posts and videos about not using "gay" or "retarded" as pejorative terms to mean stupid, unfair, lame, etc. The n-word conversation seems to come in shifts--at least in my exposure to the conversation as a white woman--usually around events like Rue's death in The Hunger Games movie, Jay-Z talking to Oprah, a school district banning Huck Finn, or, you know, a black man getting voted President (twice). A while ago a friend posted a link on Facebook about how we've too casually appropriated mental health diagnoses to mean something they're not, like calling yourself "OCD" if you prefer to organize your sock drawer a particular way, or throwing out the phrase "schizo" or "schizophrenic" to describe a particularly harried day in which you had a host of things to accomplish and felt pulled in multiple directions. I also think the suffix -Nazi gets overused, as in Idiot Limbaugh's term "feminazi" or even Seinfeld's famous "no soup for you" Nazi. Dane Cook, who I typically despise, even has a pretty funny and smart bit about how we overuse the term "rape," something that is, naturally, getting a well deserved bit of attention these days as a result of the batshittery of the Steubenville case.
Sure, all of these are on different registers and involve myriad factors and contexts, not the least of which includes the idea that some words derive from positions of power in which the privileged "get to" name the less so. Some of these are more about sensitivity, or, heavenforbid, political correctness. Some people--though, I admit, not too many people with whom I'm close--wax nostalgic for the days when we as a culture weren't so "politically correct." Which really seems to mean "I wish I still lived in the days when I, a person of privilege, didn't have to be so careful when I talk about those who are different from me." Yes, sometimes it feels like I spend an awful amount of time being aware of my word choice and language use, especially since the person I live with is also hyper vigilant about the politics and power of speech. (And for this, I adore him so.) But you know what? I am clearly in a privileged position if the hardest thing I have to worry about most days are the words coming out of my mouth.
It is this privilege that leads me to want to add one or two more words/phrases to this list of "things that I could say but am choosing not to because I believe in the intersection of social justice, language, and power." Hungry and starving.
This is actually not super new for me, though my vigilance about it is going to be. I still remember a story from 1999, when I studied abroad and was living in Israel with a bunch of new friends. I don't remember the specifics of the situation, except that perhaps it was nearing the end of the Sabbath and, because most of my friends were quite observant, we hadn't cooked food that day, certainly hadn't gone out to eat, or something. Anyway. My friend Sarah, a wonderful person who was (is, I assume) committed to social justice, remarked that she was "starving." I responded that "well, you're not starving. Probably just hungry." Many years later, she told me she still thinks of that moment and how my comment to her gave her perspective. I recently said something very similar to my partner who is a cyclist. After he goes on one of his several-hour-long bike rides, he comes home and consumes what can only be described as a monstrous amount of calories in near record fashion. I pointed out that no, he's not really starving. Did he need to replenish his body with calories after a workout? Sure. But that's not the same as starving. Even as a child of a single parent who struggled at times to make ends meet, even as a graduate student living on loans, I have never once in my life been starving. Hell, I've never even been food insecure.
After seeing the documentary A Place at the Table today, I also call into question our use of the word hungry. What does hungry really mean? If my stomach is growling because I forgot my snack for work, am I hungry? You can be hungry for food (or sex or justice or revenge), but to use the word hungry to describe your state of being? Especially if it's a temporary one that will be fixed in the next hour or so if not sooner? Is that an ethical word choice when upwards of 50 million people in our great nation don't know when their next meal is coming, or from where? What if we assigned the same power to the words hungry and starving as we do to any of the aforementioned?
How can I call myself hungry, when:
- Today I spent about $25 on groceries, which included fruit, organic snacks, and ingredients for a celebratory dessert for a shindig this weekend. That's on top of the larger grocery run I made Sunday. Other than perhaps avoiding places like Whole Foods, which I love but is pretty heavily priced, I know that I have the money--yes yes, it's loans, but still--to buy almost everything I/we want and need. We're both into organic, local-when-we-can, all natural stuff, too, which often (though not always) adds another layer of cost on top of it. I choose to spend my money that way.
- I know that if something terrible were to befall me financially, my family would be able to help me out so I could still eat.
- I can easily walk to a couple of "fully stocked" grocery stores, a plethora of other stores that carry "food" (I use the scare quotes to mean "things that are edible but are mostly chemicals, really"), and drive to still others within a not-so-huge radius. I don't have to spend hours getting to and from the store. From Spring through Fall there is also an amazing farmer's market nearby. I do not live in a food desert.
- Last night I treated my partner and me to a dinner at a relatively expensive place in town to celebrate his birthday and spent nearly 4 times the allotted weekly amount for SNAP on one meal. (Ok, two if you count me having leftovers for dinner tonight.) This will likely not be the only time we dine out this week.
- I count--yes, I literally counted--over 50 different foodstuffs in our refrigerator, including 3 different kinds of milks, 4 cheeses, 2 fruits, 5 veggies, whole grains, healthy snacks, juice, meats, and leftovers. That's not counting our fruit and veggie bowls on the counter, the cupboards full of cereal, nuts, healthbars, quinoa, rice, and snacks, or the freezer, which has more meat, veggies, fruit, and treats, or the cabinet with the Lazy Carl--we think calling it a Lazy Susan is sexist--that has spices, oils, flour, etc.
- I can afford the electric bill to pay for the fridge and stove.
- I have thrown out food that has gone bad because it isn't laced with preservatives and been more upset at having wasted the money rather than worrying I wouldn't eat that day.
- I can pay for gas to drive to the store, so I don't have to only purchase what I can carry easily in my hands or wrangle on public transportation. (Obviously lots of people in urban settings choose to do this; I'm merely pointing out that not everyone has this choice who wants it.)
- I did not have to choose this month or next whether to pay a bill or feed myself, whether to eat or take medicine, whether to feed myself or feed my cat.
- I have time in my day to prepare healthy meals. I make my partner breakfast and lunch to take to work, make both for myself as needed, graze all day, and then usually collaborate on dinner.
- Hell, I went to the gym today to work off calories.
While it won't make a grand scale change to anyone except me, I have decided to take the SNAP Challenge for my birthday in April. (I'll make rules and I'll blog about it.) And, though it, too, will likely have little to no impact on the world, I plan to be more conscious of the language I use when talking about food availability.
(I also have a grand scheme for a Twitter and/or Instagram campaign to raise awareness and/or money, but...I'm going to try to actually work that out before sharing. For once.)
