PLANT-BASED DIETS AS A TOOL FOR HEALING, RESISTANCE, AND SELF-RELIANCE
“[How] and what we eat determines to a greater extent the use we make of the world—and what is to become of it. To eat with a fuller consciousness of all that is at stake might sound like a burden, but in practice few things in life can afford quite as much satisfaction.”
—MICHAEL POLLAN, The Omnivore's Dilemma
“I am sick and tired of being sick and tired.”
—FANNIE LOU HAMER (quoted in Susan L. Smith, Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired)
Some Black people I encounter are surprised when they find out I don't consume animal products. Some are offended, and many proceed to “educate” me on the traditional Black diet. I am reminded that I am not a true member of the race for not eating pork. When I suggest that traditional West African diets are plant-based, and that most of what Black Americans understand to be traditional is a blend of European and African food traditions, I am surprised that they have nothing more to say, and often walk away.
A well-planned, plant-based diet that is varied, and low in fat, sugar, refined flours, and junk food has the power to reduce, if not eliminate, many of the diseases that affect Black communities.1 A plant-based diet can improve mental clarity, gastrointestinal issues, asthma, energy levels, and can help maintain a healthy weight. It is also a conscious, sustainable diet. Collectively, we can embrace it as more than just a change in our way of eating. It is a political statement, another weapon in our fight for economic, social, and political empowerment.
If you are what you eat, then what do your food choices say about you? If you eat fast food, does it imply that you are quick, cheap, and easy? If you buy nonorganic produce, meat and dairy products from industrial agriculture sources (factory farms), coffee, sugar, and chocolate from major corporations, does it mean that you advocate air, water, and soil pollution, inhumane treatment of animals and workers, unfair wages, little or no employee training, unsafe labor conditions, child slavery, loss of open spaces, farmers mandated to monocropping solely for profit when a diversity of crops means the ability to feed their families and community, and lastly, the loss of small family farm (which increases poverty, foreclosure, and unemployment rates) due to unnecessary subsidies for corporate agriculture?
I am always amazed at how some people, specifically Black people, can justify the purchase of a $200 pair of sneakers, a $1,500 flat-panel television, or a $60,000 SUV (which then requires another $80 to $100 weekly for a full tank of gas) but take offense at the mere mention of adding natural, unprocessed foods, especially plant foods, to their diet. I am in no way referring to the hundreds of thousands of families across the country barely able to make ends meet, doing the best they can with that they have. What I am suggesting, however, is that most Black-identified Americans have a choice. We can choose to create health-supportive lifestyles that take cues from our cultural heritage—communal living, susus,2 bartering, creating relevant community-based businesses, potlucks, daycare co-ops, eating locally and seasonally, establishing food-buying clubs or food co-ops, and growing our own foods. Or we can sit back as we lose access to local food systems, neighborhood food markets, and experience an ever-declining state of health and well-being.
Many Americans dream of winning the lottery or otherwise coming into large sums of money. Visions of green paper dance daily in their heads as they move through life. But if the law of attraction (which many have bought into) states that “Like attracts like,” then why is our diet more reflective of a garbage dump than a pasture? Wouldn't logic dictate that to attract money, one's life must symbolize those aspects that would attract the desired object? Most Black people are experiencing a daily poverty of the mind, body, and spirit but relentlessly hope, wish, dream, and pray for material riches. This is an example of insanity.
Another woman has been arrested and thrown in jail because she refused to get up out of her seat on the bus for a white person to sit down. It is the second time since the Claudette Colvin case that a Negro woman has been arrested for the same thing. This has to be stopped. Negroes have rights too, for if Negroes did not ride the buses, they could not operate. Three-fourths of the riders are Negro, yet we are arrested, or have to stand over empty seats. If we do not do something to stop these arrests, they will continue. The next time it may be you, or your daughter, or mother. This woman's case will come up on Monday. We are, therefore, asking every Negro to stay off the buses Monday in protest of the arrest and trial. Don't ride the buses to work, to town, to school, or anywhere on Monday. You can afford to stay out of school for one day if you have no other way to go except by bus. You can also afford to stay out of town for one day. If you work, take a cab or walk. But please, children and grown-ups, don't ride the bus at all on Monday. Please stay off all buses Monday.3
In December of 1955, Jo Ann Robinson, head of the Women's Political Council, circulated this statement on flyers throughout the Black community in Montgomery, Alabama. The next morning, the Montgomery Improvement Association, newly headed by a young reverend (Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.), proposed a citywide boycott to protest the city's discriminatory practices on the public transportation system. The proposal was passed, and a boycott was advertised at Black churches during Sunday service.
For 381 days, boycotters carpooled, walked, rode bicycles, mules, horse-drawn carriages, hitchhiked, and did everything to get to and from their destinations but ride the bus. Some boycotters were attacked by angry white opponents, had their homes and churches firebombed, and were even arrested for “hindering” a bus. The event literally shut the city down (economically). This boycott would go down in history as the signifying event for what would be called the Civil Rights Movement. Not only did this boycott cripple Alabama's economic status, it showed how Black people, when compelled to action, will come together for collective progress.
Now, imagine you came across a flyer that reads:
Another Black woman has died today of complications from diabetes because she refused to make healthy changes to her diet. She was 123 pounds overweight and was on blood pressure medication in addition to what she was taking for her diabetes. Just before her death, she was scheduled to have part of her right leg amputated, due to loss of circulation (a complication of diabetes), and her eyesight was failing (another complication). She was 43 years old. This is the 7,395th death since 2000 that is related to diabetes. This has to be stopped. Black Americans have to take control of their health, for if they don't, they may cease to exist in America by the year 2060. Thirty-thousand Americans of African descent die each year from food-related illnesses and diseases, consuming foods not native to their ancestral diets. Yet they go on, business as usual. If we do not do something to prevent this, we risk losing out on all the civil, social, and economic progress we've made over the past 50 years. The next time it may be you, or your daughter, or mother. Don't wait until tomorrow. The future is now. The next bite you take may be your last. We are, therefore, asking every Black American to break free from the chains of slave food in protest of your ill health. Don't buy from any fast-food restaurants. Don't deep fry your chicken or fish. Bake or steam them instead. Prepare your greens without animal remnants. Today, just say no to the “itis.” You are not supposed to feel that way after you eat.
If this were posted throughout a Black neighborhood, would we see the same call to action? Would there be outrage? Yes. More than a few people would get indignant at the suggestion that they are responsible for their health instead of having outside forces to blame. More than a few would be upset at the idea that they'd have to cook for themselves instead of the more appealing task of creating catchy slogans to chant and wear on T-shirts, rap songs, securing book deals, or holding rallies and protests.
On August 29, 1997, seven thousand demonstrators staged a Day of Outrage Against Police Brutality and Harassment in response to the assault and brutalization of Abner Louima, following his arrest outside a Brooklyn nightclub. Similar protests and marches were held for Amadou Diallo, the Jena Six, and Sean Bell. Protests, marches, and press conferences to address police brutality and discrimination have replaced the grassroots tactics of the Civil Rights and Black Power movements with broad, top-down approaches that most resemble dog-and-pony shows. Speeches, songs, T-shirts, MySpace pages, posters, and marches are the new activism.
But homicide deaths, however disproportionate in communities of color, rank only sixth in the leading causes of death among Blacks in the United States. Cardiovascular disease, cancer, stroke, and diabetes are in the top five. African-Americans make up less than fifteen percent of the population of the United States, but are two to five times more likely to die from food-related diseases. The collective outrage remains unseen.
The Back to Africa and Black Nationalist movements have built a pedagogy based on a rejection of so-called whiteness, which scrutinizes everything from education and employment to hairstyles and dress, but there is very little critique on the authenticity of Black American culinary history. Fried chicken and potato salad is to Africa as blond hair is to Lil' Kim, but try hosting a function without one or the other and you may find yourself being asked to turn in your Black card.
Four hundred plus years ago, our ancestors sowed southern soil with their blood, sweat, and tears to produce commodities from which they reaped no return, and today we continue to be a slave to systems that do not reinvest in our communities and our health. A close relative of mine believes that maintaining her plantation diet is about paying homage to her ancestors who had no choice but to consume the entrails and scraps of their masters—slave food that sustained a people through generations of hardship and unspeakable cruelty. But when I ask if the poor quality of her health is worth the sacrifice, she dismisses my reasoning and concern for her well-being with the statement that she's “enjoying life.” She is also quick to remind me about her “healthy” friends who have passed away “before their time.”
Is it preferable to live a long life that requires drug therapy to eat food or to loosen joints so that one can walk, stand, or sit, to sleep soundly, to prevent a premature death, or submit to invasive surgeries that create lasting trauma and insufficient healing? Is that really how one “enjoys life”? Have we become a culture that self-medicates with food, to numb our pain and learned helplessness? Or do we believe our culinary traditions are the only positive, life-affirming practices we can claim as our own?
These questions, along with broader dialogue regarding the connections between food systems and environmental issues and how they affect Black communities, are missing from the Black Nationalist and Afrocentrist agendas. Social change is not possible without personal transformation, yet we continue to act as though we are blameless for much of what is happening to us and in our communities. The struggle for social, economic, and political justice must include awareness of food security and procurement. Where our food comes from, how it gets to the places we buy it from, and what is in the food we eat are just as important as having full access to housing, health care, jobs, and the polls. What good is independence if we are still a slave to food? How can we fully embrace progress if we are not in control of our bodies?