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Adeline: “I want to go as her, a pretty girl…

I want to be a pretty girl for Halloween. Make me a pretty girl, like you, Violet.”

Constance: “Now wash that smut off your face.”

Adeline: “No! I wanna be a pretty girl.”

Constance: “But you’re not a pretty girl, and you know it!”

Adeline: “But I wanna be!”

 

American Horror Story, season 1, episode 4

 

No one teaches you how to be a pretty girl. 

Either you are a pretty girl and you are raised with an awareness of your own body and how others find it attractive or you are raised with an awareness of how your body fails to meet expectations. Falling into the latter category, one learns to compensate with personality and other inherent and manifestable characteristics that earn them the respect and/or company of others. 

Being talented, or smart, or wealthy helps you to gain recognition and build a social circle, for better or worse and with strong or weak bonds. But, if you’re not pretty, and you want to be exceptional, you must develop an exceptional personality as ancillary to whatever else you might have to offer. It is this exceptional personality that draws people in and keeps them coming back. Everyone has a personality. Not everyone who is unpretty has a good personality.

I developed a great personality, but I still just wanted to be pretty. I came to understand that that just wasn’t in the cards. I wasn’t pretty, so I never learned how to be a pretty girl. 

When I first hit puberty, I didn’t realize that not being pretty doesn’t mean there aren’t people who will find you attractive or sexually viable. People who accept, ignore, or fetishize the unpretty parts of you. You don’t even have to be pretty to date; unpretty people have boyfriends and girlfriends. Most often unpretty people find each other. But an unpretty person can attract a significantly more pretty mate with personality, especially when it combines with common interests (or money). Part of being not pretty is knowing how to use what you have to attract what you can and to have an understanding of what is within your magnetic field. Being unpretty means that you know with near exactitude where you fall on the spectrum of less-than-pretty so you know who you can attract, so you don’t overshoot. While undershooting can be embarrassing, overshooting is worse. You rather be the prettier unpretty person than a reject or social faux pas.

Socially and professionally, if you are unpretty and you have a good personality, you can become endearing, alluring, or influential. I was fortunate because, though I was somewhat shy as a child and had horrible fear of rejection, I was able to develop friendships based on my humor, creativity, and general willingness to be the side car (and, as pointed out by many in my younger years, I was appropriately built for the role). I had friends, both male and female, because of my personality, but I learned early on that no one wanted me to have a crush on them. 

I wanted to be pretty so someone would want me to have a crush on them.

The way you know you’re pretty is fairly obvious: You are simply told you are pretty by an impartial third party– over and over. Different people who don’t know you and gain nothing from simply telling you that you are pretty, except maybe winning your favor, which, as someone who doesn’t know you, is only important if they want to be near you for aesthetic reasons, proving you are, in fact, pretty. You have value based on just existing visually. You don’t have to do anything

If you are pretty, you are told you are pretty regularly by strangers, some of whom are pretty. The prettier the people telling you you are pretty, the more pretty you are. There is a hierarchy of attention. To welcome the attention of someone less pretty suggests you, yourself, are uncertain of your prettiness (that there may be something ugly about you) or that you simply don’t understand what pretty is or how it works (which just indicates you missed some phase or facet of social indoctrination). 

I wanted to be wanted, but also to have the gravitas to reject. That’s what it is to be pretty.

While pretty is hierarchical, it requires that there is a diametric opposition. Pretty requires ugly. It requires distinct identities and contrasts between subjects (or subjects as objects, valued only for objective criteria). But the way pretty exists socially, it reflects a stratification. There is something pretty (ideal) and there is something ugly (deplorable) and everything that falls between (reality) receives its value based upon how close it is to one pole or the other. Not being pretty, I became acutely aware of my deplorable characteristics– the specifications that made me notably unpretty. I carried those unpretty things around with me neurotically using what I had to distract from what I didn’t. It is those deficits that the subject tries to bandage with reference to the ways in which she reflects whatever ideals may apply to her– she has pretty eyes, she has a kind heart, and she can hide her tears with humor.

When you’re not pretty, you see pretty in others. You know you’re not pretty because you see it in others and not yourself. You set pretty people apart from you and set your value in your relative position. Your value is based on your ability to offer intellectual companionship, emotional support, or comical relief. You are, at best, a supporting actor or, at worst, a prop. 

You have pretty friends and they have control over those friendships. And you have no choice but to allow it. No choice, aside from choosing not to be their friend. But it is that proximity to them that provides your access to pretty, a feeling you will never know. Pretty is your objet a. It’s the magical thing you can’t have but moves your desire. Pretty is the thing you lack. And you relish in the thing by watching others enjoy it. You listen to your friends’ stories of dates, and making out, and sex, and break ups, and being too good for so-and-so. 

Even when you have your own dates, and making out, and sex, and break ups, you have a relatively different experience. You never have the upper hand in the same way. You lack the desirability of the pretty girl. Your relationships and sexual encounters and their failures are rarely if ever a consideration of your physical body. You know you are valued as something other than being pretty, because you can’t be pretty. If the person you are in a relationship leaves you because you aren’t pretty, it’s not really a reason since you were never pretty. You didn’t change; they just changed their mind.

When you’re not pretty, you can’t imagine what it’s like to turn heads, to receive compliments, or to be doted upon for no reason other than being pretty– But you know that’s a thing. 

And you want that thing because you see how it impacts others in an unjustly positive way. They did nothing to earn pretty. That’s just how they were born. It’s not fair to privilege someone for something they have no influence over in the same way it’s not fair to disenfranchise someone for something they have no control over– for the signifier they become, for the dialectic they affirm.

But that’s how society works– it functions off of a series of labels. A series of “this not that.” How would we know who we are if we had no one to compare ourselves to? How could we feel good about ourselves or find our worth if we didn’t have differential markers? And in that, we need a variety of ways to find our strengths and weaknesses, of which looks are but one.

I have a lot of fine traits really. But I was never meant to be pretty. It wasn’t planned for. I wasn’t prepared. 

But one day, the oddest thing happened. One day, I saw myself and I wasn’t myself. First, I saw myself out of the corner of my eye and I didn’t know I was looking at myself, which is an extremely uncanny feeling– To become startled by your reflection because you think another person is looking back at you, but then you realize that is you. 

It’s like a reverse mirror stage. You think the person looking back at you is judging you for your flaws and lack of completeness, only increasing your discomfort when you realize that that’s not a superior being but you. Unlike the infant in the mirror who gains confidence in the autonomous and independent being they see reflected back at them–that they are that, you are struck by the fact that you know that you are not that. You immediately start searching for your flaws–the ways that what is being presented before you does not match your experience or what you know to be true of you.

And so I went on differently in the eyes of others, but still the same in myself, just with smaller clothes. I was someone else, but the same in my head. But then the oddest thing happened, I was someone who someone pretty considered pretty. 

What hit me as I grappled with being pretty in the eyes of some pretty was that being adored or desired for being pretty is not the same as being loved. Desire isn’t a partnership. Desire is more akin to admiration than love. Desire is not unconditional. Desire moves when it is proven that the object (or subject that embodies the object) is found to not be the thing in itself–the objet a– but merely a placeholder for it. Pretty is the perfect that cannot exist. What I failed to see, before I felt what it was like to be pretty, is that pretty is not a thing that garners love. Pretty is just a thing that validates desire. 

You can never actually be pretty once you know that pretty is outside of you. Once you begin to recognize pretty as the thing that could complete you. My problem is that I feel things too hard. I internalize judgements and become fixated on fixing. I came to see the failure to be pretty or to be pretty enough as my ultimate flaw. If I am smart, and funny, and artistic, and a good friend, and fun to hangout with, and have a unique style, and still people don’t think I am good enough, well, then obviously, being pretty is important. Being pretty is the thing I lack that would make me good enough to be unconditionally appreciated and loved. 

At an intellectual level I know that being pretty does not guarantee unconditional anything. Being pretty is conditional– not only is it in the “eye of the beholder,” it is in almost all cases fleeting. Pretty is not timeless culturally or at the individual level. What is pretty changes, and what is pretty (or not pretty) about you changes over the course of your life. There are very few people who are considered pretty by nearly everyone from the moment they enter the world to the moment that they leave it. And still, I just want to be pretty, from now until forever.

Since I was first recognized as pretty, ever since that first time I misrecognized myself in the mirror, every time anything in my life goes wrong, I fall back on trying to fix my body. Every time anything goes wrong, I see something unpretty about my physical self. 

Because life is imperfect, I get wrapped up in an endless web of unpretty things that I can address in trying to perfect myself to perfect my life. My body has become my primary, if not only, means to see progress, to manifest hope by forcing myself to change. But it doesn’t last. The body changes. Life goes on. Good things happen. Bad things happen. Sometimes nothing happens. Life isn’t static. Why do I expect my body to be this glorious, pretty, unchanging thing?

What I never learned in never learning how to be pretty, is that pretty is not the answer. Pretty is not something you can create your complete self-worth and unchanging worth to others upon, and in that, if you aren’t pretty, it isn’t the missing piece of identity that you can grasp and hold on to to perfect your life. Pretty has advantages, but pretty has no real value. It is a value judgement. It’s an idea–an ideal–that impacts an individual’s identity, self-worth, and view of others. It’s abstract, intangible. It doesn’t not have a finite, fixed end, and therefore it cannot be a goal. 

It should not be a goal. 

But when I am lonely–when I am down on myself for who I am based on who I have been–I just wish I learned how to be pretty, because then maybe I could let myself be loved. Maybe I could see how someone else could see me as attractive as a person, not just a body. 

If I knew how to be pretty, I would know how to aesthetically attract and emotionally hold. 

But I don’t know how to be pretty…

So I am vapid, and self loathing, and alone.

 

Since I was a small child, I have just wanted to be adored.

I remember always comparing myself to my sister, to the way people adored her, and thinking, “if they could only love me like that. If I were only that loveable.”

But I have always felt inherently unlovable. Unadorable.

I was in fact a cute baby. I was cute until I was about 5. I think two years of having a sister really ravaged me. I don’t know why I got fat. I just did. I was fat and had a bad haircut. I don’t think any of this was my fault. As a small child you can’t really determine your diet or your haircut. So, while I think I reacted poorly to my sister’s existence for whatever reason, I think my parents made me unlovable. And that my father, specifically, loved me less for it.

I can accept that people who aren’t my parents find me unlovable. But your parents, due to their unconditional love for you, should accept you, not contest every single thing you do, tell you you are “weird” or that they don’t understand you, and tell you how you just don’t try hard enough and that your accomplishments are not enough.

And so I feel worthless at my very core. My parents didn’t plan to have me, certainly not when they did. I was born at a bad time and I was delivered cesarean, so really they could have chosen another day to avoid the trauma of me being born a year to day after my paternal grandfather passed. My poor timing was only exacerbated by the fact that my father, in jest or not, has throughout my life claimed that he is not my father. The consistency of this claim in itself is hurtful. Or maybe I am just overly sensitive and self-loathing. My mother has suggested that much. Why else would I have so many problems when my brother and sister are so “normal.” They have spouses. They own houses. They have success in their lives.

I just want to be adored. To be adored is not the same as being in a relationship.

I am terrible at relationships. I will give myself totally to someone else–completely lose myself. And then one day, seemingly randomly, I will realize I am not happy being part of someone else’s life, because when I am part of their life, I am no longer adored. I am not a separate special thing. I am just there–with them, in them. Just a part of life. I don’t want to be part of someone’s life. I want to be a fantasy. I want to be the thing that can’t be had.

I want to be a thing so I can be a person on my own.

I want to be the thing that someone lacks. Being that thing makes me feel more complete in the recognition that others are incomplete because I can be the thing they think they need– that they continue to search. The thing they think they need cannot be held. I cannot be had. I cannot be contained. They just want to want the thing.

It is a fantasy. I want to continue a fantasy, not complete a whole. Because I can’t do that.

The best I can do is signify desire as a projection of the thing that someone thinks they desire, but can never really be had because to have me would mean resignation to the fact that I am just another incomplete being. I am a fantasy as a body. As an entity on Instagram or Facebook or Snapchat or FaceTime. I am nothing as Allison because I am more than an object, more than an image, more than a signifier.

I am frustrating in real time, because I can’t be everything by being less than a person. People are flawed. People are incomplete. I, unfortunately, am a person. I wish I wasn’t. I wish I could just be adored.

As a thing I can be adored. I can hold space. I can stop time.

When I become a person again, time passes, I age, I get tired, I get frustrated, I get lonely, and hungry, and scared. I get scared that I will lose the power to be adored, even in fleeting fake increments, when I can suspend my reality.

Being a fantasy is not being. It is meaning, but not in the same way as being a subject is to mean. It is to mean only through opposition to someone else’s subjectivity. The fantasy object is meaning as a tool to render the desiring subject momentarily complete. The fantasy object cannot be ever-present because the (desiring) subject can never be complete. He is always-already incomplete–this is what makes him subject. This desire is what constitutes his subjectivity in that it denies his wholeness.

If I am there– if I am in a relationship with you, you know I am not the thing that makes you whole. I am just another incomplete subject.

It seems most people can accept the fact that their adoration for their partner and their partner’s adoration for them is founded on basic humanity– that you love someone for their beauty and their flaws. You love them in their imperfection.

But when my imperfection is seen–not seen but exposed–I can no longer be adored. There is something missing in me that makes me unattractive as a human. I cannot be another subject; I have to be an object–and this terrifies me. This terrifies me because I am nearing 40, because I am unattractively recovering from a restrictive eating, compulsive fitness, and body image dysmorphic disorders (after years of strange eating practices and self-harm), because I am manic (mostly) depressive, because I like to be alone until I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want to be loved on my terms only, because when my love becomes expressed as care it is exploited, making me a banal feature of everyday life. I’m no longer exciting or worth impressing. I’m just there.

I’m terrified that I cannot be unconditionally loved because I so desperately want to be admired, adored, and desired. I’m terrified I cannot be unconditionally loved because I need to be adored and the only people who have loved me unconditionally don’t find me precious in the slightest.

When I started gaining weight in my self-imposed, unmediated, unmedicated eating disorder recovery, when I was freaking out about how unattractive and unloveable I am, my mother told me I was pretty.

Pretty is not adorable.
Pretty is not beautiful.
Pretty isn’t exceptional.
I want to be the exception.

Affluenza and Half-Hearted Demands for Socio-Economic Equality

When he said, “Sometimes I feel like I should go back to being a public defender and that I should get rid of my Rolex…” my gag reflex turned on not just because this statement disgusts me as I personally can neither choose to move from one job within or across career fields knowing with certainty that I will have a job (and therefore an income) nor afford a Rolex, but moveover because dude was just earlier in the week going on about how his rate of $250 an hour was really not enough for the bullshit his legal clients subjected him to. 

But he’s a registered Democratic Socialist, so he’s clearly woke. I like using the word “woke” to describe people who use the term to mock (moderate) Liberals (Democrats). Slang for “awake,” “woke” has been used for the past decade in reference to social awareness–as something hidden in the ideology that becomes clear through experience and (re)education (1). I especially enjoy co-opting this term for the fact that a favorite in the Democratic-Socialist lexicon is the term “woke capitalism”–the good form of Conscious Capitalism, ala Whole Foods’ John Mackey, that will save the world, which all enlightened Democratic-Socialists recognize as a farce. 

However, my assessment is that Democratic-Socialists are, by-in-large, if not woke capitalists than woke consumers. Raised in the socio-economic climate of (advanced) capitalism, any Democratic-Socialist attempt social change thus far and projected for the foreseeable future, including the promotion of socio-economic equality, always-already defers to the market as the catalyst for change. The age old notion that citizens as consumers vote with their dollars– that the way to a better world is through bettering the market–remains. There is, what seems to me, a cognitive gap between the logic that we will create a better market and we will arrive at socio-economic equality. As the heart of capitalism, the market is necessarily productive of inequality. You cannot participate in the market and truly claim you want to see a socialist future (at least not within your time on the planet) because market participation necessarily advocates for the continuation of capitalism– however kinder or more fair–and as long as capitalism is in situ true equality is impossible. True equality is an ideal or a goal that is constantly pushed forward to some future when people are ready to resign consumer comforts that are in fact afforded by inequality. Remember that episode of South Park with the underpants gnomes? Step 1: collect underpants, step 2: ???, and step 3: profit (2). There’s that missing piece of how to get from here to there. We know what we have, we know what we want, but how do we turn what we have into what we want without actually doing anything at all? OR, more accurately, how do we come to terms with the fact that what we have isn’t worth shit and we need to just start over?

 

 

We can’t just change what we buy or who we buy it from. It’s not that easy. You will never, EVER, buy anything that facilitates equality, including a Bernie Sanders T-Shirt that takes longer to arrive than the relationship with whom you ordered the shirt for. If you pay for a thing–a thing that others don’t already-always have access to or if the thing you buy costs more or less than another thing, there is inequality. Things are unequal, people are unequal, and we’re all measured in relation to a thing that in reality means nothing–money–the general equivalent. Democratic-Socialism in which one stops buying Vans Shoes because the company pulled a design inspired by pro-democracy (anti-China) protests in Hong Kong (implicitly indicative that the company is trying to put the kibosh on democracy) is not going to lead to socialism (3). It will lead one company to profit while the profits of another’s wanes. Making your own shoes out of recycled materials or bartering shoes with someone with these skills would be the best way to go. But who the fuck wants to be a cobbler? Probably not the tattoo artist who now wears Keds or the maybe-I-might-should-return-to-public-defense lawyer with a Rolex. 

But this is really the essence of wokeness. This is the recognition of an inefficient, nay detrimental ideology, and yet complacency to it when done according to certain perimeters, is illustrative Zizek’s revision of Marx’s claim, “They do not know it, but they are doing it,” for the current state of capitalism: “They know very well what they are doing, but still, they are doing it.”  For Marx, ideology functions as a mask to what is actually going on to keep people consenting, docile bodies that contribute to their own misery. For Zizek, following the lead of Peter Sloterdijk, ideology is viewed with cynicism in contemporary society–we know the truth ideology attempts to disguise (4). Though exceedingly thin if not transparent, ideology remains in place and necessary as a facade that guides peoples’ (in)action and adherence to capital means of production and consumption, and by that, the social and economic hierarchies and stratifications that are required in its maintenance. Ideology becomes the thing that justifies the way we are–it is binding and according to the cynical formulation something that we cannot escape with wokeness, irony, or straight up resent. I would argue instead that wokeness simply reifies ideology by proving that with knowledge we can bypass or cover up ideology instead of getting rid of it. We can set up an oppositional camp next to it, acting as a resentful neighbor that still wants to take part in the blackparty (or freeload off your unprotected wi-fi). 

That’s most or least interesting part of the self-identified Democratic-Socialists I meet. They come off as privileged, if not entitled. And when they digress into what irks them about these “woke capitalists” its that those people are so entitled–entitled to self-righteousness, entitled to exploit the working class locally and globally in the name of job creation, entitled to pride themselves for the charities they give to or have created to ensure basic necessities and/or care for others while they own huge mansions and Rolex watches. That these “woke capitalists” were born into fame, status, wealth, given trust funds and mansions, and supplied with the best education. They didn’t really earn any of it at all, so how can they judge other people or treat others as needing or looking for handouts? Can’t they see they are the reason that those people need handouts? Because their evil companies and charities (re)create socio-economic stratification? 

Not like being a lawyer. Or being a tattoo artist. Or being a Cultural Studies scholar. Those are positions with no social or economic implications that anyone could achieve with absolutely no capital resources or familial support (even at the emotional level). 

But if you have support, you don’t necessarily see how those conditions have contributed to your view of the world, including your ideas about what it would look like if everyone were equal. This is to say, while you may fully recognize that you have an iPhone and other people don’t–or that you have an iPhone10 and Allison only has an iPhoneSE–you probably not have fully considered what it would mean if everyone were afforded the same things, or if you tried it was likely with good intentions thereby lacking any tangible/material, productive/social realities. Would everyone have an iPhone? And if so, what model would it be? Would there be any alternatives? What if for some reason, I wanted a Sony phone? And who would make these phones of one or different brands? This gets exceedingly complicated when you try to remove an economic system that has come to structure every facet of our lives. This is not to say I need the choice of phones or that I need a phone at all. It is to say that I cannot imagine a world in which I didn’t have to do a cost benefit analysis of what phone to purchase based on my current “needs” and finances, as well as the model that fits most closely in line with my socialization and the way I want to be recognized socially, as most, if not all, consumer goods signify socially–specifically that $25 Bernie Sanders T-shirt, which says, “Hey, look at me, I bought this overpriced T-shirt to support a cause, which shows I care about things and have the money to do so. I bought this T-shirt so that one day we can be equal. You’re welcome.”

I’m not saying we shouldn’t try to make things better, fairer, more tolerable, kinder, and whatnot. The problem is that championing a Democratic-Socialist ideology is just an attempt to supplant one ideology with another instead of addressing the actual problems that ideology emerges from and attempts to abate. In this, a “new” ideology doesn’t get rid of the actual problems the existing ideology obscures, it simply changes the curtain. Contrary to the claims of their political and economic opposition, Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) assert that Democratic-Socialism does not mean “an all-powerful government bureaucracy” that holds power over all decision making, resources, and means of production but that “workers and consumers who are affected by economic institutions should own and control them” with the consideration that “large concentrations of capital in industries such as energy and steel may necessitate some form of state ownership” (5). This is to say, in this vision of Democratic-Socialism, private ownership still exists, it is just ownership by a group that is invested at a more tangible/practical level, where their work and livelihood are directly related to their product, instead of ownership by a few capitalist overseers, who profit off of the work and produce of others. So, there is still profit when the thing is exchanged on the market and, as such, there is still competition, which means that workers are still competing against one another because more could always be earned to be divided amongst the group, making the group better off as a whole. In Democratic-Socialism we have all the same things–everything is the same–except that workers are better off because they are more autonomous and profit more directly. But really, as their success, satisfaction, and happiness are still attached to the value of their labor as they now labor for themselves, nothing has really changed, except for the fact that the non-laboring, overseeing, exploitative capitalist class has to work to sustain themselves.

And then the argument is made that all that accumulated wealth–those billions of Bazos bucks and the like–will be dispersed amongst those who have actually earned them when corporations become collectivized. But how? How do we decide who gets what? How do we decide who gets to pursue their passions and who has to make the iPhones? And here we are left with another underpants gnomes scenario. According to DSA: 

People enjoy their work if it is meaningful and enhances their lives. They work out of a sense of responsibility to their community and society. Although a long-term goal of socialism is to eliminate all but the most enjoyable kinds of labor, we recognize that unappealing jobs will long remain. These tasks would be spread among as many people as possible rather than distributed on the basis of class, race, ethnicity, or gender, as they are under capitalism. And this undesirable work should be among the best, not the least, rewarded work within the economy. For now, the burden should be placed on the employer to make work desirable by raising wages, offering benefits and improving the work environment. In short, we believe that a combination of social, economic, and moral incentives will motivate people to work (6).

“Unappealing jobs will long remain” but we could spread these tasks? So, the lawyer who feels obligated to be a public defender, but not enough to actually do so, will now not only do that but also, perhaps, spend his weekends laboring in the iPhone factory…? There are for this DSA-registered legal avenger, moral and social incentives to contribute to the cause either via public defense or actual manual labor but the economic advantage he already has outweighs those things. Remember, $250 an hour is not enough for the struggle he has to deal with. He’ll probably just stick with what he’s doing as he pontificates on the attainment of a Socailist-Democracy, which works because it is an inactive, inefficient contribution to an ideological cause. And even if in the end somehow a more socialistic model were achieved, he’ll still be a-OK because though he doesn’t make what he thinks his labor (if we can even call it that) is worth, he can afford to pay a bit extra for this or that to ensure the underlings are better compensated and it’s morally right for him to do so. He gets to feel better by making a very small contribution… Wait, how is this different than Conscious “woke” Capitalism?

This is the image I want to paint when I say “affluenza and half-hearted attempts at socio-economic equality.” A desire to have absolutely nothing change for you because you have it pretty damn good but to feel less badly that you have as much as you do when others have so little. You want others to have a bit more so you can feel ok about still having, just slightly less, more. You don’t see that others are struggling and don’t just want to get by, but want what you have. They want to actually be equal to you according to the socio-economic reality that exists at present. 

But affluenza is a disease in as much as it is a defense. According to our friends at Merriam-Webster, affluenza can be defined in two ways. First, as “the unhealthy and unwelcome psychological and social effects of affluence regarded especially as a widespread societal problem: such as feelings of guilt, lack of motivation, and social isolation experienced by wealthy people,” and second, following the explanation of John de Graaf, David Wann, and Thomas H. Naylor in their book by the same name, affluenza as “a painful, contagious, socially transmitted condition of overload, debt, anxiety, and waste resulting from the dogged pursuit of more” (7). With affluence or the desire for affluence as something that is simply and naturally part of social reality–that some people are predisposed wealth and others can acquire it through luck or hard work–the reality of how good one has it skews their vision of what is and what should be. And, by extension, affluence skews how they see others according to what they have, where they live, what they drive, what clothes they wear, what they do for work and what their parents did before them. We then build our social circles around those who share the same culture-as-financial status, which is why the upper-middle class Democratic-Socialists hangout together and debate which sneakers they are going to buy to exhibit their political engagement. The sneakers as political action serve as a signifier of affluenza– lack of motivation, social isolation, and waste (don’t forget guilt for having previously bought the wrong sneakers). 

The tension between guilt and lack of motivation plays out most obviously in the affluent dis-engaged Democratic-Socialist who participates as an armchair philosopher, throwing out the occasional tweet, taking part in an online forum, or even going as far as to produce a podcast. This virtual political action is no doubt reflective of the social isolation that is common of affluenza. If you can’t relate to the cause your vying for and you don’t fit in with the people you’re advocating for, you might as well stay home, angrily tweeting at your rich uncle while hoping he doesn’t cut your name from the family Christmas list because you know that the only thing worse than Bazos’ excessive accumulation of wealth is Christmas without presents.

But affluenza has other even more evidentiary impacts as the case of my friends the tattoo artist and the attorney illustrates. Affluenza itself has perpetuated the notion that causes can survive on monetary investment and that those contributions can serve in lieu of actual participation. What this says is not only is capital still the primary driving force in socio-political change (and the reason why there cannot be actual economic change), but also that those who have money to give, including the time and funds to produce a podcast, are more valuable contributors to the case. Those with financial means get to be the ones who create change and thereby add validity to this “dogged pursuit of more” as even working class advocates of Democratic-Socialism come to see that if they could just afford to give a greater financial contribution to their candidate and the cause, they too could be viable agents of change. 

You see, the root cause that ideology veils never disappears. With capitalism the ideology is that hard work pays off–that if you work hard enough, you will be better off–more socially and economically viable. You work hard to contribute to society, participate and invest financially, and your worth grows. But we can’t all grow equally. The ideology masks the fact that for someone to be better off, someone else has to be worse off. The mask conceals how few people can be at the top and how little effect effort actually bears on significantly raising in socio-economic class. In capitalism the majority of wealth is consolidated in the hands of a few and there must be a relatively large number of poor.

In Democratic-Socialism the ideology is “that both the economy and society should be run democratically—to meet public needs, not to make profits for a few” and that this is done by everyone working collectively to meet human needs” (8). But when human needs are tied to the need to produce or contribute useful things, to invest in things and having things, people will always interact with a comparative eye– “is that guy doing his share?” Further, with the DSA’s notion that consumer goods producing companies could be publicly/cooperatively owned, we can to presume that people will continue to be consumers. In a society where sustenance is ensured by production and thereby consumption of non-necessary goods, even one that is more fair and equal in which all people could participate, the ideology remains that we could better meet needs if we, as a collective, can make more things and provide more options and we, as individuals, can participate in the economy more fully. Because of this, a Democratic-Socialism rooted in the current socio-economic climate with affluenza ridden gen-Xers and Millennials at the helm is roughly as inefficient as the Obama Administration in its promise to produce substantial change. Until DSA actually attacks the undergirding economic structure that has shaped not only American identity but also our perception of reality and needs, there is no possible way to actually achieve an equality that could undeniably unilaterally perceived as equal. 

Really, how is affluenza induced Democratic-Socialism different than Conscious Capitalism? If anything it takes “they know very well what they are doing, but still, they are doing it” to another level– “they know very well what they are doing and that it won’t change a thing, but still, they are doing it because in reality they don’t want it to.” I have argued that Conscious Capitalism’s conformity to and perpetuation of the status quo of under the premise that capitalism can be made more virtuous only pours salt in the wounds, ignoring the core inequities capitalism by definition requires. Conscious Capitalism says everyone can be brought up instead of repressed when capitalism is done with a soul. Democratic-Socialism that attempts to retain capitalist industry under the guise or cooperativism does the same thing. The exponentially greater wokeness of the DSA is that it knows that industry must be completely dismantled to be restructured to address meeting actual needs instead of desires. However, in the same mocking sense that far left podcasters use when referring to “woke capitalists,” “woke socialists” have absolutely no idea how to get past their privilege, which, as I have explained, is because they really have no reason to want to. With the proponents of Democratic-Socialism awkwardly uncomfortable in actually working towards creating a world where they may not be able to have whatever they want when they want it (to a greater or lesser extent depending on their level of privilege), wokeness remains an idle threat to the establishment. Sitting on a pile of underpants, woke socialists comfortably relish in the abundance of question marks that sits before them instead of striving, possibly in discomfort, to have something greater than a useless pile of unjustly obtained commodities.

(1) “Woke” as a slang term was added to Merriam-Webster’s “Words We’re Watching” in September 2017: https://www.merriam-webster.com/words-at-play/woke-meaning-origin

(2) “Gnomes,” South Park, season 2, episode 17 (1998).

(3) See, Chris Mills Rodrigo, “Vans shoes face boycott calls after company removes design referring to Hong Kong protests,” The Hill (7 Oct 19):

https://thehill.com/blogs/blog-briefing-room/464640-vans-shoes-face-boycott-calls-after-company-removes-design-referring

(4) See Slavoj Zizek, The Sublime Object of Ideology (Verso, 1989).

(5) DSA, FAQs: https://www.dsausa.org/about-us/what-is-democratic-socialism/#govt

(6) Ibid.

(7) “Affluenza,” Merriam-Webster: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/affluenza; See also: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/574773/affluenza-by-john-de-graaf-david-wann-and-thomas-h-naylor/

 (8) DSA, FAQ.

  • A short chapter cut from my dissertation, Shopping for Wholeness: The Political-Economy of Whole Foods Market and the Commodification of Altruism

Our meat and poultry is renowned for great taste and quality. We believe this has a lot to do with the care that goes into raising the animals and the true partnerships we have with our farmers and ranchers (1).

At Whole Foods Market we believe that sustainable seafood comes from responsibly managed fish farms and marine fisheries that maintain healthy fish populations and ecosystems (2). 

John Mackey had always felt that Whole Foods had “the best animal welfare standards in the nation,” but in the spring of 2003 animal rights activists picketed Whole Foods’ stakeholders meeting with the organization Viva! USA’s president demanding for a boycott of the company based on its dealings with suppliers employing many of the same inhumane factory farming methods that many ethical and health-conscious consumers seek to avoid by Whole Foods (3). At the time, Mackey had never personally visited any of the farms that supplied Whole Foods’ meats and instead took the word of Whole Foods’ representatives who had said, “the conditions were ‘good,’ in comparison to their competitors” (4). Despite his good-faith reliance on these assessments, Mackey, took this threat of a boycott to heart, immersing himself in literature on factory farming and animal rights—a process that led him as a long-time vegetarian to drop animal products altogether, becoming vegan. At this time he also visited Viva!’s main culprit in their lament against Whole Foods animal welfare standards—Grimaud Farm, from which Whole Foods was sourcing its duck. Upon discovering the deplorable conditions at Grimaud, Mackey was not only back in touch with Viva!, but also reached out to People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, the Humane Society of the United States, and others to develop standards that would “provide better lives for a wide range of animals” (5). 

Whole Foods stance on animal welfare has evolved with the company’s success, seemingly delivering on Mackey’s promise that more ‘good’ can be done with more money and greater market influence. Beginning in 1980 with the prohibition of antibiotics in animals used for meat and then the 1996 banning of fois gras, a product created from the fatty livers of the force-feed ducks or geese, Whole Foods’ expanded their animal welfare standards in 2002 after working with renowned doctor of animal science and animal-behavior specialist, Temple Grandin (6). Over the next several years Mackey’s continued self-education on animal welfare and correspondence with animal rights groups resulted in incremental steps towards a more comprehensive animal welfare program. In 2004 Whole Foods stores seized carrying eggs farmed from caged hens. Come 2005 the company rolled out species-specific animal welfare standards, which it publicized in its stores and company literature. The company-specific codification of suppliers came to full bloom in 2008 with its color-coded certification and designation schema. Working with Global Animal Partnership to certify their producers’ animal welfare practices according to a 5-Step Animal Welfare Rating system, Whole Foods has instituted easy to recognize and interpret signage that is used in its stores across the US and Canada (7). 

Yet, it must be noted that while Global Animal Partnership is an independent organization composed of representatives from the retail and agricultural sectors as well as the animal welfare field, it was created out of Whole Foods’ desire to create animal welfare standards that would have a greater impact on the industry. As an internally conceptualized third-party non-profit, Global Animal Partnership’s raison d’etre was the revision and expansion of Whole Foods’ drafted welfare rating standards in order to formulate a set of standards that could be employed across the food industry that would recognize producers for their achievements and innovations and offer consumers, retailers, and restaurants easily understandable, clear information on how animals were raised (8). However, produced by and for the company that it seeks to oversee, Global Animal Partnership impartiality and transparency in regards to Whole Foods’ practices and adherence to its own self-imposed standards is questionable. 

While Whole Foods 5-Step Rating system goes into great detail regarding the specifics of handling and environment for the different species of farm animals, the company’s website gives the following concise summary:

In essence, for pigs and poultry, Step 1 prohibits cages and crates. For cattle, crowding is not acceptable. Step 2 requires environmental enrichment for indoor production systems and on feedlots; Step 3, outdoor access; Step 4, pasture-based production; Step 5, an animal-centered approach with all physical alterations prohibited; and, finally, Step 5+, the entire life of the animal spent on an integrated farm (9).

This system is made to engage “a broad spectrum of producers, rather than a minority segment of the agricultural community,”by recognizing a greater range of animal welfare practices for their advantages over factory farming instead of suggesting that free range is the only acceptable method of animal husbandry (10).  The desirability of more ethically produced meat products serves as motivation for producers to innovate their methods in order to move up the ladder, raising consumer perception of their products (and brand) and thereby increasing the value of their commodities. Here again we can see profit as the motivation to do ‘good.’ This is of course not to say there are not some producers who care deeply about the animals they raise for food, but under capitalism the expenses of taking care of animals to ensure they live a pleasant life before they are slaughtered must necessarily pay off. Even if these processes don’t result in surplus value or added profit for the producer, they must at minimum justify the extra expense of humane facilities—and it is notably more expensive to raise animals humanely, requiring additional space, better feed, veterinary care, and oversight. The scaled certification label that identifies some things as better than others serves to help justify the higher costs of these products, but by adding to the value of the commodities it marks, it can become desirable solely for the potential profitability attached to it (11). 

As these standards gain more attention and cultural values shift towards greater concern for animals, it is becoming clear that the benefits of increased animal welfare measures outweigh the costs, with meat industry giants like Cargill, Smithfield, Tyson, and Hormel all taking steps eliminate overcrowding and treatment of animals on factory farms (12). With the 2014 announcement of more than 60 major retailers and restaurants refusal to work with suppliers who employ gestation crates—tiny wire cages that prohibit pigs from moving for the majority of their lives—these producers have essentially been forced to ‘do the right thing’ in order to keep their companies not only profitable, but relevant at all. What is more interesting than the number of companies ending their purchase of inhumanly produced meat are the companies at the forefront, touting their ‘higher standards.’ No longer is ethical animal husbandry an esoteric issue for Whole Foods and counter-cultural niche with companies like McDonalds, Burger King, and Oscar Myer, who have all been criticized for their hand in the continuation of factory farming. As these industry giants enact their (newly found) ethics to meet demand, we see the prevalence of the ideology that proper animal handling as essential to the production of quality meat as the consumption of meat is, implicitly, a necessary part of a balanced diet (13). 

But moves towards more responsible and animal-friendly practices have not only taken place in the meat industry. Dairy and egg producers are feeling this push too. Organic dairy products are the second highest selling category of organic foods, which has prompted many major retailers to create space for these products on their shelves. Retailer response to consumer interest has resulted in an increase in demand beyond productive capacity and, by proxy, the continuation of high commodity prices. While organic milk only accounts for about four percent of total US milk sales, but consumption of organic milk has grown steadily over the twenty-first century while overall milk consumption has decreased (14). The sale of more naturally farmed eggs has also experienced growth roughly with roughly fifty percent of consumers looking to purchase eggs labeled as free range, organic, and/or cage-free (15). Many consumers are prompted to make these choices because they see better animal welfare standards as having a dually positive effect. 

First and foremost, these products are seen as healthier. Organic milk and eggs are produced without hormones or pesticide-laden animal feed as associated with conventional products. In some cases animals are even feed seeds and grains that contribute additional nutritional value to their produce, such as flax seeds for Omega-3 fatty acids—attributes that are notably and obviously stated on product packaging as added value, which can thereby contribute to and justify added cost. 

Secondly, organic methods are seen as better for the animals with the Standards ensuring that animals are allotted time in their natural environment, though this time maybe minimal at best. However, the NOP Standards actually do little to promote the welfare of the animals used in production, which many consumers may not realize. As I have discussed at length in my other work, the USDA’s Big Business interests have had an impact on the stringency of the NOP’s certification standards (16). The added value of additional labels, such as grass-fed, cage-free, humane, and free range, that are regulated by third-party industry-based groups were thus created to ensure better animal handling practices, and, for some consumers, serve as signs of a product that is better for their health and better tasting as well (17). 

And though Whole Foods prides itself on only carrying eggs from cage-free hens and dairy from hormone-free cows, the conditions for the animals used to produce these products are not all sun and green pastures. Because of the height of consumer demand and the historical wholesale-retail reliance on economies of scale for the production of capital growth throughout the supply chain, organic production has come to closely resemble factory farming even in the case of “cage-free” animals, which are most often contained indoors where they are kept in tight quarters as to conserve heat and space. Spatial constraints and the demand for maximum efficiency and profit also result in the early separation of female cows from their young to retain milk for human consumption and hens from their eggs and/or chicks, with male chicks, producing no value to producers, commonly disposed of. These unnatural and tight conditions have been proven to cause extreme stress, under which animals can become self-destructive and/or outwardly aggressive resulting in unnecessary injuries and early deaths that might go unnoticed by their keepers because of the densely packed population. Instead of offering animals more space, producers take measures to isolate animals from each other and/or maim them in someway so they are less likely to cause damage, for example the debeaking of birds to prevent pecking (18).  

Cramped conditions are all too common with fish farms as well. As seafood replaces land animals on the plates of many health conscious and ethical eaters, the world’s population of wild aquatic life is depleting making aquaculture or fish farming more and more popular. Once again we can see the effects of demand on the treatment of animals with sea creatures confined to small pens where they can be bred and raised for human consumption with minimal effort on the part of producers (19). Fish, like other animals, respond poorly to these crowded environments, and even under the “healthiest, most environmentally friendly” conditions such as those mandated by Whole Foods, these fish are not privilege to anything close to their natural habitat. Created through a similar process as their 5-Step Rating system for animal welfare, Whole Foods’ Aquaculture Standards represent two years of extensive research on the industry, “including review of all the best available science, consultation with the top environmental organizations, and visits to the most innovative farms worldwide to learn and consult with the farmers.” Since their implementation, the fulfillment of the standards have been verified through third-party audits that dictate whether a product will continue to be sold by Whole Foods, carrying its “Responsibly Farmed” logo (20). 

Whole Foods also promotes the consumption of sustainable wild-caught seafood when it is possible. In 1999 the company began their collaboration with the Marine Stewardship Council (MSC), a non-profit organization that “promotes sustainable fisheries and responsible fishing practices worldwide to help preserve fish stocks for future generations” and offers third-party certification of fisheries that meet their accreditation standards allowing those producers to carry their eco-label (21). MSC measures sustainability according to three overarching principles—Sustainable fish stocks, minimizing environmental impact, and effective management. These principles have been set in place to ensure not only that there is a sufficient population of fish to reproduce, but also that other marine life are not harmed in the process (bycatch) and that the eco-system is not disrupted through depletion. MSC certified fish is Whole Foods’ desired standard for all of its seafood, however because of the high requirements for MSC certification, which can take fisheries years to meet, along with the high demand for MSC products as many retailers have come to promote this label, Whole Foods would not be able to meet customer demand stocking MSC products alone. By implementing alternative criteria in their sourcing of sustainable seafood, Whole Foods’ assures its customers that they are being offered the highest quality options and are privy to maximum transparency. In partnering with Monterey Bay Aquarium and the Safina Center (formerly Blue Ocean Institute), Whole Foods has come to use their color-coded sustainability ranking system as a secondary measure of sustainability. While Whole Foods began using the coding system in 2010, in 2012 they set the standard that they would only sell seafood receiving a green or yellow rating, indicating that the product comes from a fishery that is well-managed or poses minimal concerns, eliminating the sale of all red rated (causes harm) seafood in their stores (22). 

Though Whole Foods has been at the forefront of sustainable fisheries in both farmed and wild-caught sectors, mainstream public interest in sustainable seafood actually came from the big boost MSC certification received when the organization partnered with Wal-Mart in 2006. Whole Foods’ addition of their farmed fish standards in 2008 and their partnership with Monterey Bay and Safina in 2010 show the types of innovative steps they take to differentiate the brand from other retailers, offering certification standards others do not in order to meet their customers’ demands for the quality. While other retailers rely on MSC standards, they do not have a system in place for when that product is in short supply. And despite the fact that MSC certification is held in such high regard by the industry overall, it is not an irrefutable testament to perfect practices. Problematically, with Wal-Mart signing on to convert to exclusive use of MSC-certified fisheries by 2011, in addition to increased demand from other large retailers like Target, Costco, and Kroger, intense pressure has been put on the MSC to quickly certify large and questionably sustainable fisheries causing conservation groups and other organizations to question the stringency of the certification standards and audits (23).

In fact, some environmentalists have gone as far as suggesting that buying into the MCR’s eco-label as a sign of sustainability amounts to “greenwashing”—whereby consumers are falsely led to believe they are protecting the planet; a critique is also often made about Whole Foods’ brand and mission in general (24). The main problem with sustainable seafood is that it attempts to minimize the impact on the environment while responding to and increasing consumer demand (remember: growth is a mandate of capital). However, these things simply cannot go hand-in-hand. So, while many retailers and restaurants, including Whole Foods, are happy to place their trust in the third-party certification laid out in the detailed standards presented by MCR, few will ever have any hands-on experience with the types of procedures employed by the fisheries they buy from. This is the same scenario as with organic agriculture and humane meat production. With blind faith enacted, and as long as consumers are happy, the standards and corresponding practices are thought to be working. And if consumers are willing to pay more for a product that carries a seal of approval, the standards must really be working!

But these third-party standards are also important to consumers because they fill a gap in government oversight of the food industry. They are the private solution to a public problem that involves the health of humans and the planet. While private certifying agencies offer more transparency and a greater feeling of confidence in the food production process, because these standards are not subject to government intervention and are often regulated by those with a vested interest in the profitability of the industry, they are more easily amended and can be open looser interpretation, especially during times when demand is high and supplies are low (25). Standards can therefore become relative to what is available, because for capital it is more logical to offer a product of slightly lower quality then to leave the consumer empty handed. If we take Whole Foods as the paragon of ethics, even if we see those ethics as being in the name of capital goals, the implementation of questionable standards seems illogical—Why Whole Foods possibly steer their savvy, caring consumers wrong? Surely, doing so would jeopardize their status within the natural foods industry and their position in the market. But imperfect higher standards remain better than the base-level, which means, even with two sets of inadequate standards, Whole Foods has still done more than, and done it ahead of, others in the industry. 

What is most troubling about these standards, especially in light of Whole Foods’ mission to create a more sustainable world through shopper education, is that they contribute to consumers’ feelings that their current consumption habits are acceptable and can be sustained, because, by voting with their dollars and driving the industry to change its practices, they are contributing to a better world or, at worst, causing minimal harm. Because Whole Foods’ promotes their stores as engines of change, wherein consumers can simply ‘do good’ by shopping there, Whole Foods is claiming responsibility for ethical considerations on the part of their customers. In this rendering of good, people are simply consumers. There is nothing for them to do on their own to create a better world because they are already doing what is inherently ‘good’ by just picking the right place to shop. By rationalizing the consumption of animal products as responsible if done correctly, the labels “humane” and “sustainable” actually mystify the process by which animals become food and imply that if consumers are willing to pay extra, the consumption of once-living things is a harmless enactment of the natural food chain that is beneficial for the ecosystem in total. 

As a vegan, Mackey says that though he cannot justify eating animal products, he will not stop his customers from doing so, as Singer and Mason explain: “Instead of committing business suicide by making the entire chain vegan, Mackey decided to educate Whole Foods’ suppliers to produce their animal products in a more compassionate way, and to persuade its customers to make more compassionate choices” (26). And in effect, as I have indicated, Whole Foods has actually facilitated some positive changes in the animal processing industries and has received accolades from animal rights organizations for this work, while at the same time, to the detriment of the lives of many animals, has also ensured the continuation of animal exploitation for profit. Though Mackey sets out to expose consumers to the horrific process of factory farming that has made meat the centerpiece of the American table, in claiming that Whole Foods’ sells only meat produced without these methods, the necessitation of the consumption of meat as part of a balanced, healthy, and/or traditional American diet is never refuted or even question.

In his book Putting Meat on the American Table Roger Horowitz presents the evolution of American meat consumption as driven by consumer tastes and preferences despite the meat industry’s attempts to change those consumption patterns. This analysis indicates the conservative nature of consumption as tied to our beliefs and traditions with shifts in consumption resulting from the confluence of a number of cultural factors. Horowitz presentation of material history of meat eating serves as a testament to the role of society in the direction of industry, showing that consumers may be choosing from what is presented on the market, but do in fact have a great role in determining the types of products and brands that are offered in the first place. Yet, like Mackey, Horowitz never discusses the formation of this taste or a complete outside to meat consumption—for him, meat is something Americans will always have a taste for and the capitalist marketplace is the way these tastes and the need for food are fulfilled—and Whole Foods follows this lineage. With the taste for meat and the logical for its consumption in tact, Mackey the Conscious Capitalist offered a new brand of product at a time when it was needed. In presenting humane meat and sustainable animal products to ethical consumers, Mackey is first a businessman and then an ethical vegan. Seeing the profitability in commodities that would better serve the interests of his consumer before it met the needs of other, lower-order, stakeholders, he worked to implement standards that far from making people question their consumption, would not only justify their righteousness, but offer them social distinction for making the right choices.

It may seem that I have winnowed away Whole Foods’ innovativeness in the areas of advancing the treatment of animals and their habitats as merely sources of profitability. But a notable part of Whole Foods’ innovativeness is their ability to profit extremely well in an arena where few others saw potential. In this case, capitalism reigns above all and is perhaps all there is, which is what Marxist sociologist and animal rights activist Bob Torres suggests. Like Mackey, Torres see Whole Foods as a market-based solution, but unlike Mackey he sees the market as the problem. For Torres, the commodification of everything, results in people understanding their needs through what is offered to them on the market, and as long as a commodity is profitable it will be offered, and need will be found. Without understanding needs as based in the market—as culturally constructed in the creation of social hierarchy and benefiting certain individuals in the financial realm—and rejecting those needs as not necessarily false, but certainly selfish, unjust, and harmful to ourselves, others, and the planet, we will never actually produce significant cultural change (27). Because all demands for change at present come from within the market, the market will give solutions that serve its continuation and growth, leaving the underlying issues that are at the very heart of capitalism untouched, isolated in a utopian ideology that one day consumer-citizens will push harder enough that the ideal “capitalist democracy” will appear. But that dream must be held out of reach to make Whole Foods’ ethical leadership a point of distinction for their brand. 

Whether or not one buys into Whole Foods’ ideological doctrine there is no denying its profound effect on the growth of the natural foods industry, including the advancement of issues like humane treatment for animals and sustainability that were once brushed off as the backward concerns of hippies. While at the detriment of more radical utopian goals, the mainstreaming of animal welfare and marine sustainability through their incorporation into the parameters of capitalism has drawn greater awareness to the production of food and its ecological costs. The opening of dialogue regarding the food industry has caused many consumers to consider the impact of their purchases and the types of organizations and businesses they are choosing to support through their shopping, creating opportunities for ‘betterment’ in a variety of areas as evidenced by the scope of Whole Foods Green Mission.  

 

(1) “Whole Foods Market Green Mission Report 2012,” Whole Foods Market: 17 (available at: http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/sites/default/files /media/Global/PDFs/2012GreenMissionReport.pdf)

(2) “Seafood Sustainability,” Whole Foods Market: http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/mission-values/seafood-sustainability.

(3) Singer and Mason, 178.

(4) Ibid, 178-79.

(5) Ibid, 179-80.

(6) “Animal Welfare Basics,”Whole Foods Market: http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/mission-values/animal-welfare/animal-welfare-basics; Mark Caro, The Foie Gras Wars: How a 5,000-Year-Old Delicacy Inspired the World’s Fiercest Food Fight(New York: Simon and Schuster, 2009): 178; Singer and Mason, 180.

(7) “Animal Welfare Basics.”

(8) “An Inside Look,” Global Animal Partnership: http://www.globalanimalpartnership.org/about-us/an-inside-look/.

(9) “Collaboration with Global Animal Partnership,” Whole Foods Market: http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/mission-values/animal-welfare/collaboration-global-animal-partnership.

(10) Ibid.

(11) Bob Torres, Making a Killing: The Political Economy of Animal Rights(Oakland, CA: AK Press, 2007): 101.

(12) Josh Bulk, “Hogs need love from corporate America, too,” Fortune(19 Jun 2014): http://fortune.com/2014/06/19/hogs-need-love-from-corporate-america-too/.

(13) Wayne Pacelle, “Cargill Puts Gestation Crates One Big Step Closer to Extinction,”Huffington Post(9 Jun 2014): http://www.huffingtonpost.com/wayne-pacelle/cargill-puts-gestation-cr_b_5475478.html.

(14) Madeline Schultz, “Organic Dairy Profile,”  Agricultural Marketing Resource Center, Diane Huntrods, ed. (Jan 2013): http://www.agmrc.org/commodities__products/livestock/dairy/organic-dairy-profile/

(15) Marsha Laux, “Egg Profile,” Agricultural Marketing Resource Center, Diane Huntrods, ed. (Jan 2013): http://www.agmrc.org/commodities__products/livestock/poultry/eggs-profile/.

(16) See Chapter 2, “Less Processed, More Value,” of my dissertation, Shopping for Wholeness: The Political-Economy of Whole Foods Market and the Commodification of Altruism.

(17) Kim Severson, “An Organic Cash Cow,” The New York Times(9 Nov 2005): http://www.nytimes.com/2005/11/09/dining/09 milk.html?pagewanted=all; Cherese Jackson, “New Research Shows Egg Labels Scramble the Minds of Consumers,”Liberty Voice(22 Jun 2014): http://guardianlv.com/2014/06/new-research-shows-egg-labels-scramble-the-minds-of-consumers/#4oh07oDYxbx2eOmO.99.

(18) Singer and Mason, 106, specifically referencing the practices of certified humane egg producer Pete and Gerry’s Organic Eggs (105-06).

(19) “Aquafarming,” People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals: http://www.peta.org/issues/animals-used-for-food/factory-farming/fish/aquafarming/.

(20) “Aquaculture,” Whole Foods Market: http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/mission-values/seafood-sustainability/aquaculture.

(21) “Collaboration with the Marine Stewardship Council,” Whole Foods Market: http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/missions-values/seafood-sustainability/our-collaboration-marine-stewardship-council.

(22) “Wild-Caught Seafood Sustainability Ratings,” Whole Foods Market: http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/mission-values/seafood-sustainability/wild-caught-seafood-sustainability-ratings; “Seafood Sustainability Basics,” Whole Foods Market: http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/seafood-sustainability-basics.

(23) Claire Christian, et al. “A review of Formal Objections to Marine Stewardship Council Fisheries Certifications,” Biological Conservation161 (2013): 11 (article 10-17).

(24) Daniel Zwerdling and Margot Williams, “Is Sustainable-Labeled Seafood Really Sustainable?” NPR (11 Feb 2013): http://www.npr.org/2013/02/11/171376509/is-sustainable-labeled-seafood-really-sustainable.

(25) Christian, 16.

(26) Singer and Mason, 179.

(27) Torres, 103-04.

Dear American Taxpayer

— PBS.TWIMG.COM via my uncle Bob’s Facebook

 

As the representative body of a public, I’m pretty sure that the only means a government has to obtain funds is through its citizenry. No, I’m certain. 

The issue I have with the above statement is not that it is false but that it presents the government as operating without regard to, if not in direct conflict with, the interests of the “taxpayer.” Problematically, the democratically elected government is representative of and therefore accountable to its citizenry— its taxpayers. Problematically, representative democracy, as civilization itself, is always a compromise, which means, sorry, not everything that happens will always make everyone happy because decisions are made and actions are taken based on what the will of the majority. More problematically, as defined within the socio-economic confines of advanced capitalism, which presumes that the will of the people is economic prosperity, the majority is defined not in relation to population but to capital. By this logic, those who have the most capital drive the decision making process and, as such, play a determining role in what is funded. 

This definition of “majority” in reference to capital, which at present is largely comprised of corporations, is naturalized within the citizen-taxpayer body as corporations in the United States are granted many of the same legal rights and protections as people. A corporation, defined as “a number of persons united in one body for a purpose,” is simply a citizen collective. And yet, established as “a collective ownership that could be held with perpetual existence,”  the properties, goods, investments, and profits yield– the substance and value that define the corporation itself— are set to not only surpass the lifespan of any and all individuals who comprise the corporation, but are also not subject to the inheritance laws that individuals are subject to in the postmortem transfer of wealth and property. Corporations, as the majority driving democratic decision, are thus more human than human. They never cease to exist and, preceptably, cannot as human livelihood has become intrinsically and traumatically woven into the fabric of capitalism wherein, in its present advanced stage, corporations are the high-endurance, machine-washable, wrinkle-resistant, synthetic fiber that appears (both aesthetically and logically) super appealing but is ultimately the source of our discomfort. 

Really, government funds are taxpayer funds. This is undeniable. They have to be. To have a government requires funds, but the government is not a value producing entity. The government is not a corporation, nor a bank, nor a private business– the government is the representative body that “governs” the whole of society, which in the US means, all people are granted basic rights, including “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” The only means by which a government can garner capital is through the participation of profit making entities. Thus to fund anything at all, the government itself needs to be funded. But funding the government is only justified in that the government does something worth funding. Though my argument is that the government does not in itself produce value, when read through the lens of capitalism at a very basic level  we can understand why funding the government is both necessary and worthwhile for capital— government is given capital for the service it provides, which is to ensure the relatively smooth functioning of society, part of this is to ensure the continued function of the economy (which so happens to be capitalist)—this is the value it produces. As the laborer is compensated for his labor that contributes to capital, the government is funded because it contributes to capital by supporting and protecting it by supporting and protecting the citizens that serve as capitalists, laborers, and the reserve army of labor as well as those (for lack of a better word) unproductive citizens that may only be allowed to exist because they offer a modicum of altruism, and thereby a remainder of actual humanity, in what has become a cold, industrial, value-driven world. 

The government’s responsibility—its labor—is then to utilize the funds it gathers through taxation to promote social welfare conducive to a functional society. An investment in social welfare— and not just “welfare” but all service that benefit society at large, including defending good ol’ ‘Merica and any attempts to make it great again at the geopolitical level— has to be an investment made by the citizen body and this, necessarily, is facilitated through taxation— the rendering of “citizens” as “taxpayers.” And, as mentioned earlier, not only are corporations technically people, they are wealthy people at that, as are those at their helm, and because of this, through their exponentially greater wealth, corporate interests as “taxpayers” are privy to exponentially greater influence as to how those “taxpayer funds” are allocated. Importantly, the functionality and stability of society has in advanced capitalism is linked to the maintenance and proliferation of that social-political-economic system. In this, government funding is always-already resolved to reproduce its taxbase as founded on an unequal, unfair system that cannot be democratic, but is given consent and sustenance under the premise that everyone has the ability to move to the top. Taxpayers fund their own complacency while dwelling on the ways are being cheated and how they would do it “better” if they were in charge. But what this consent to capitalism facilitates not only a non-democracy, but also the persistence of the most insidious trappings of the “American Dream.” Here we find our belief that if we work hard enough, or get lucky enough, we will be unshakably comfortable— That we won’t have to worry about how it’s done at all because as it appears, people on welfare, “illegals,” corporate tax breaks in light of minor increases in income tax, all the things that keep the working class on their social media soapboxes, matter in no substantial way to those at the top of the economic ladder.

 

In summation: What the government does is taxpayer funded and, in that, it is driven by what taxpayers want proportionally according to who pays the most taxes. And while it is completely true that the narrow majority of tax revenue is sourced from income tax (51%), it must be understood that those with higher incomes not only pay a greater rate, they are often in professions that most directly benefit from the reification of the status quo, including the corporate bailouts, off-shoring, globalization of labor, inflation, increasingly unaffordable standards of living, and the sustenance of a minimally tolerable “welfare state,” that are serviced through government funds. These measures all work to ensure memes are made that distract from the larger issue— the truth behind the labor-driven basis of taxpayer funds and the fact that under capitalism we have come to see all relations as labor relations and capital exchanges, rendering our government but another service provider that should, by accepting our money in the form of taxes should be delivering us a product that always directly benefits us. Capitalism as individually motivated doesn’t actually have room for social welfare that exists as more than illusion.

 

The obvious question is whether you can draw any line, any connection between the tax breaks they’re getting, ostensibly designed to encourage capital expenditures, and what they’re actually doing. And it’s just impossible to know.

New York Times, November 17, 2019

 

But isn’t this the point of capital? To accumulate more capital? Why would investing in the growth of labor matter? If capital can grow itself without an increase in technology, labor, and material goods, isn’t it proof of its own validity and success? Isn’t the idea of growth of capital to minimize labor, as it labor serves only in the support its growth and therefore, to the extent it is needed, a necessary expenditure for its success? An investment in labor and the growth of tangible industry is a waste of capital. It uses capital— expends it— expenditure is the opposite of growth. The reign of the capitalist is based on the suppression of labor and the needs of labor overall. The capitalist cannot deliver on the promise of tax cuts as a means to greater societal prosperity for all because the capitalist exists only in direct opposition to full, let alone fair, employment. Capital relies on a reserve army of labor, and in this labor that is alway marginally dissatisfied and ready to move to the next thing. Never too comfortable in its role, labor is transitory, it doesn’t expect to grow into a career— it doesn’t expect to cash in on its shares— that’s for the capitalist. Accumulation is always-already for the capitalist. Investment in industrial development—modernizing the means of production, if you will—is thereby looked at with the same disdain. Investing in upgrades that make labor more efficient is viewed through a cost-benefit analysis model that asks, “will capital grow (more than labor benefits)?” Making labor even incrementally better is not worthwhile to capital unless it helps the bottom line. Making the product—the goods or services delivered by the capital firm—is not worthwhile unless it helps the bottom line. Labor and consumers, both expenses to capital, can be avoided when capital is allowed to reinvest directly in itself and, because of this, it is not “impossible” to know what capital is doing with the revenue freed up in these tax breaks. Capital is simply, and very logically, reinvesting in itself to avoid tangible expenditures, breeding the illusion that capital itself is a business expenditure— as we say, you have to spend money to make money.

  • I present to you the paper that started it all… that is my academic fetishization of Whole Foods Market… my final paper from my second semester Cultural Studies seminar in 2010 of version of which I presented the following fall at k(NO)w tomorrow: Cultural Studies Graduate Student Conference at George Mason University under the title “Nourishing the Classless Body”

It seems strange in a technologically advanced and information saturated society such as ours that there would be so much confusion surrounding matters health, specifically in regards to appropriate diet. While one would think the proliferation of resources on proper nutrition would help people to make logical choices about food consumption, this seems to be far from the reality of American diets. Maybe this is less strange if we consider Paul Smith’s claims in “USA: Anecdotes of Production and Consumption,” the fourth chapter of his book Millennial Dreams,  in which he discusses American cultural history as individualized anecdotes. This personalization of the American past isolates individuals from understanding the ways America’s capitalist production has shaped subjectivity, including, as I will suggest, elements of personal taste such as diet. Additionally, Smith’s analysis of the ambiguous function of technology and media is useful to an understanding of the perpetuation of a class-based nutritional economy, which though stratified, relies on the capitalist masking of production throughout.

My choice of considering American diets in the plural form is essential to my reading of diet as a fundamental aspect of class; because there is more than one class in America there is more than one American diet. This runs counter to the notion of a supposed all-inclusive American diet, which has become the topic of journalistic inquiry and a standard feature of health blurbs on the evening news. As such, it is with Pierre Bourdieu’s concept of class-based taste as detailed in Distinction that I wish to consider the formation of specific diets. Reference to a solitary notion of the “American diet” can exist only in the ideological sense of an America that lacks class; a problem explained by Smith as “American public discourse displac[ing] class analysis, and meanwhile the majority of people in the country think[ing] of themselves as middle-class” (215). The construction of the average American middle-class consumer has limited our ability to assess diet through the lens of class taste. However, I will also assert the critical impact of production upon diet, a consideration that is present in Smith’s analysis but is lacking in that of Bourdieu. Central to the tethering of diet as taste to class is the political economy of food within the US: The reality that food is a consumer good, and as such is marketed to specific demographics (classes) by drawing on the pre-existing tastes of those groups. Concurrently, this form of mass production of food products alienates individuals from the reality of their food, as well as their own bodies as they come to take the manufacturer’s word for the nutritional quality of their food, often neglecting the actual needs of their bodies.

As a necessity for human life functions, food should require little marketing. You don’t eat, you die—pretty simple. But most people will tell you that food is a marker of ethic and regional tastes, that food choices are affected by your family and what was consumed when you were a child, and you are likely hear more a number of people say that ‘food is fuel—you need to put good stuff in your body.’ Food is in fact more complicated than it needs to be. People put way too much stock into what they eat, where they eat it, and with whom they eat it. Food has been given a social function. It even has its own television channel.  Inscribed in each of these social and cultural functions are issues of class. According to Bourdieu, choices of food products and consumption of food products, like other matters of taste, are not individual choices per say, but inherently reference class. Yet, because class is rendered as largely obsolete or at least inconsequential in American society, the impact of class upon Americans’ diets seems irrelevant compared to other factors such as ethnicity, geographical location, and lifestyle. By taking a cue from Smith, I argue that these other factors are largely related to or determined by class, and moreover, can never be separated from one’s class upbringing or current class position. He states:

There has never seemed to me any reason the element of class should not be used alongside other elements… in such a way as to recognized the overdetermined elements of each and their topical importance at any given historical moment. And it seems just as important to recognize that the absence or relative absence of any particular discourse is itself significant… one needs to forget that the economic system under which Americans live is a capitalist one in order to believe that class is not a crucial category of experience—even in the absence of its representation, compared to the often quite vibrant representation of the political and civic culture around other issues (216).

Accordingly, while fried chicken may be a stereotypical mainstay of Southern cuisine, the choice to eat fried chicken from a Popeye’s takeout restaurant is not a purely Southern choice, but also (and in many cases exclusively) a choice based on cost and convenience: factors that are largely influenced by class.  Obviously the marketing of Popeye’s chicken never addresses the eating of cheap fast food as a class issue, instead it appeals to the angle that it is ‘home-style cooking in a hurry’ or food for the busy American. While I take this simple example of the marketing of fried chicken sans class to be emblematic of the marketing of fast food as ‘all-American’/every American, it neglects the political discourse of food in relation to health, as such I now turn to more “nutritious” examples of the production of classless food.

Since the 1980s there has been an increased interest in what is in food products and the way in which they affect our health. This inquiry has led to the increased labeling of packaged food, including bold-faced claims of ‘health benefits’ offered by these products, which lure the consumer to mass-produced foods by offering tasty and conveniently packaged ‘nutrients.’ In an article for the New York Times entitled “Unhappy Meals,” Michael Pollan, author of the best-selling Omnivore’s Dilemma, puts this in perspective by writing:

Humans deciding what to eat without expert help — something they have been doing with notable success since coming down out of the trees — is seriously unprofitable if you’re a food company, distinctly risky if you’re a nutritionist and just plain boring if you’re a newspaper editor or journalist. (Or, for that matter, an eater. Who wants to hear, yet again, “Eat more fruits and vegetables”?) And so, like a large gray fog, a great Conspiracy of Confusion has gathered around the simplest questions of nutrition — much to the advantage of everybody involved. Except perhaps the ostensible beneficiary of all this nutritional expertise and advice: us, and our health and happiness as eaters (1).

By marketing an ideology of nutrition, food companies, nutritionists, and journalists, including Pollan himself, subscribe to a notion of classlessness in food consumption and nutrition, suggesting that all Americans have equal access to food and food products, which is obviously not true. While those Pollan refutes work to profit from the homogenization of the American people, Pollan implies an interpellation by food that seems to function within the same reductive frame of universal experience. Though this discourse of nutrition has infiltrated the entire American public, the ways in which it is navigated must be considered a class issue. By placing emphasis on the manufacturers of food and the nutritionist and journalists who ‘prescribe’ food, Pollan neglects the very real effects of the consumer’s economic standing upon their choice of products. Thus, while I agree with Pollan that the marketing of nutrition is problematic in that gives people a false impression of the power of food and what should even be considered food, his gross disregard of class is limiting to a full understanding of the way in which food is consumed within the US. The skirting of class issues is even more appalling if we consider his focus on production, which is driven by cheap US and immigrant labor, specifically in the cases of the meat and dairy industries. Pollan’s reading ultimately points to the imagined “mammoth middle class”  (Smith 217) –a class category that serves as a catch-all for those who fall between ‘rich’ and ‘poor’—which not only has the luxury of being alienated from the way their food is produced, but has the financial resources to procure food through other means than from the corporate giants who line their pockets buy selling the American public what has become a science-fiction of nutrition.

Bourdieu’s term habitus, which implies a deeply embedded and embodied relationship to specific practices that seemingly function pre-cognitively at the level of the unconscious, accounts for this general perception of America as a classless society with a singular problematic diet. Whereas for Bourdieu habitus “is the basis of an alchemy which transforms the distribution of capital, the balance-sheet of a power relation, into a system of perceived differences… whose objective truth is misrecognized” (172), the habitus of the American ‘mammoth middle class’ elides actual class difference, misrecognizing the vast majority of Americans as middle class with the same relation to food and understanding of nutrition. While this misrecognition is common in the discourse of diet and nutrition, the producers and marketers of food products undeniably recognize the various habitus of the numerous middle classes. Here it may be appropriate to reconsider my earlier example of Popeye’s chicken, which is clearly not being marketed to the ‘middle class,’ but the working and lower classes. Habitus organizes the socialized body, as it is indicative of taste and therefore personal identity and social associations; it makes the individual want to eat that. Thus food manufacturers employ nutritional data in specific ways when producing and marketing food for various class levels with the common thread of presenting nutritional science as fact. Packaging and advertisements are thus based on the tastes of the target class audience.  Class-based aesthetics function to draw attention to the product and its nutritional details in order to entice that demographic. For instance, we may find a low-sodium T.V. dinner that offers 33% more aimed to appeal to the working class down the supermarket aisle from a low-fat, omega-3 enhanced packaged frozen shrimp ‘meal starter’ aimed at the middle class. Nutrition functions in the same way as fast food. Both are products seeking a market, or more likely, products produced for a market, which ultimately work to reproduce that market.

The production of foods also comes into question when considering the promotion of mass-produced classed nutrition. Food as nutrition becomes life in itself. And though in general Americans believe that good nutritional practices can contribute to longevity, the benefit of diet is read in direct relation to its costs—after all, this is a capitalist economy. Demand for nutritional products at reasonable or low prices encourages manufacturers to cut corners in production in an effort to attract and retain consumers. It is thus really no surprise when, in “Class Relations, Social Justice and the Politics of Difference,” David Harvey discusses the neglect of the 1991 fire in an Imperial food plant that killed 25 workers and seriously injured an additional 56 (Harvey 41); America needed a cheap and nutritious source of protein and there were sacrifices made in order to meet that demand. It is also no surprise that those lost in the fire were individuals living under the poverty line who were employed in subpar conditions as they struggled to provide for their families (Harvey 42). Here the vision of the ‘mammoth middle class’ prohibits class solidarity as it eliminates the existence of the working class, and therefore working class politics. It would be overly simplistic to state that the desire for good, cheap food caused this catastrophe, however the alienation of the consumer from the product, facilitated by capitalist interests in returning production and profitability to normal as soon as possible contributed to the silencing of this event and thus serves as a catalyst for future occurrences of this sort.

The reality of this class-based alienation could be imagined as follows: The average working class American goes to the supermarket and picks up “Tyson Chicken Nuggets (breaded nugget shaped chicken breast patties with rib meat) Labeled for Child Nutrition” in a plastic resealable bag that features a “FoodWise” panel on the front of the package stating “13g Protein/0g Trans Fat.”1 He is never confronted with either an actual chicken, or the fact that someone, most likely with a similar habitus, is employed at a low wage in order to make nutritional chicken products “available to mainstream customers at an affordable price[s].”2 At the same time, Tyson is playing the ruse of nutrition, fashioning their packaging around a plain and simple ‘down home’ design that highlights the health value of a product that is considerably less healthy than food in its unprocessed form. This product serves as evidence for an entire manufacturing industry that works to sell an ideology of nutrition by relying on class taste and habitus. These products give the working class American the luxury of nutrition without having to consider what is actually nutritious and, more importantly, do so at a reasonable price. Of course, these prices only remain reasonable if removed from the social costs of such products. This discourse of pseudo-nutrition leads to the reification of the class structure as it reproduces working class bodies by encouraging the consumption of what in reality are low-cost, low-nutrition, mass-produced foods that require an apathetic and docile class to serve as the basis for continued production and consumption.  Ultimately, as Pollan notes, the only people who don’t benefit from the marketing of nutrition are those whoM it seemingly aims to help—the consumers.

In general, food producers have little concern for the consumer aside from his continued consumption. Ignorance of class is a critical factor in the production and consumption of food and nutritional products as manufactures work to present their products as healthy. The avoidance of the simple facts regarding the classed nature of the American obesity crisis—which is often instead related to other factors such as race and geographic location, factors that are notably compounded or influenced by class—allows for the continuation of these low-cost products to be sold under the guise of nutrition. Revelation of these facts by writers such as Pollan remain largely embedded in upper-middle class, dare I say bourgeois, circles, away from those who are most adversely affected by mass-marketed nutrition. Simply put, the option of buying organic, locally grown, grass fed products just does not exist for most Americans. By failing to consider the exteriority of a large percentage of the ‘mammoth middle class’ in the discourse of nutrition and food, there can be no true progress made towards more healthy American diets. The majority of the nation is denied the information or capital resources that would enable them to lead healthy lifestyles. It is not until Americans confront the reality of class and its influence upon not only their choices, but also their options, that the working classes will be able to demand accountability from manufacturers regarding both the nutritional value of food and the ways in which it is produced.

 

 

Works Cited

Bourdieu, Pierre. Distinction. Trans. Richard Nice. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1984.

Harvey, David. “Class Relations, Social Justice and the Politics of Difference.” Place and the Politics of Identity. Ed. Michael Keith and Steve Pile. New York: Routledge, 1993. 41-66.

Pollan, Michael. “Unhappy Meals.” The New York Times. 28 Jan 2007. 1-12. http://www.nytimes.com/2007/01/28/magazine/28nutritionism.t.html?pagewanted=1. 

Smith, Paul. “”USA: Anecdotes of Production and Consumption.” Millennial Dreams. London: Verso, 1997. 189-261.

Tyson Chicken Nuggets Package. http://www.mrmilkman.com/uploads/tysonchickennuggets.jpg

Tyson Press Releases. http://www.tyson.com/Corporate/PressRoom/ViewArticle.aspx?id=2744

1 Quoting package details from Tyson’s chicken nuggets.

2 Quoting Tyson’s press release for Tyson’s brand Fresh Chicken.

A Study of the Perceptions of and Imperatives Behind Analogues and Substitutes

  • an abridged version of this paper was presented at the Roger Smith Conference on Food 2014– a presentation which is referenced here.

Once seen as the utopian ambition of counter-cuisine practitioners, the desire to produce more environmentally and nutritionally sound proteins that have the potential to better meet the needs of the growing global population has caught the interest of major food conglomerates and business-savvy investors, causing a mass influx of plant-based proteins on the shelves of Western food retailers. Simply walk into any American supermarket and you will notice the prevalence of soy and almond milks in the dairy case, veggie burgers and other meat substitutes in the refrigerated and freezer sections, and, dependent on supermarket location and consumer demographics, dairy-free cheeses and egg replacers (including vegan mayo and salad dressings) have even found homes either near their namesakes or in the increasingly commonplace “natural foods” departments. And while it is clear that there is an expanding market for these analogue foods, but the question “why?” always emerges. What is the allure of having a product resemble something it is not? Critics of plant-based analogues often make the argument that if an individual or group is tying to avoid the consumption of animals and animal products, then processed foods that try to emulate the taste and texture of animal-based foods are illogical—that people who choose not to consume animal products should be repulsed by foods that recall their qualities or, in the very least, be able to deal with the fact that, in choosing not to eat animal products, they are delimiting their food options.

But in reality, many people who choose not to eat meat or consume animal products do so for health and ethical reasons that have little to do with the actual taste or texture of those foods. As Warren Belasco notes, “food is a strong ‘edible dynamic’ binding present and past, individual and society, private household and world economy, palate and power,” meaning that food consumption and individuals’ relationships to it are more than simple matters of choice, and instead result from the matrix of socio-economic, cultural, and historical circumstances individuals inhabit (1). Many individuals who make the decision not to eat meat and/or animal-derived foods were raised in households where these products were consumed and still engage in social circles in which the consumption of these items takes place. Just think of quintessential ‘American foods’—hamburgers, hot dogs, fried chicken, and apple pie a la mode. Often, people claim that the cultural norm of meat and dairy consumption hinders their ability to commit to dietary choices they believe to be more healthful or ethical, citing that it is too difficult to find delicious and familiar plant-based alternatives in mainstream stores and restaurants. Because many more people are looking make dietary changes without missing out on the foods that they have grown accustomed to purveyors of plant-based processed foods are striving to make their products more like the real thing, offering the same sensory experience as meat.

And for many people these analogues are appealing alternatives to the bland and difficult to prepare tofu, vegetable, and grain dishes of vegetarianism’s counter-cultural past. In fact, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA), the largest animal rights organization in the world, lists “Try some tasty faux meats and dairy alternatives” as one of their “Top Six Tips for Becoming Vegetarian” and, overall, their website and literature asserts the importance of plant-based analogues in the mainstreaming of vegetarian and vegan diets, which they see as integral to their crusade for animal liberation (2). Yet, at this point, the acceptance of plant-based facsimiles of animal-based food is largely contingent on the individual’s ability to accept a certain margin of difference between the two. As noted in many reviews of plant-based alternatives, the products are often close, but not quite right when the sensory experience of the original is held closely in mind.

With the technological and scientific evolution of food processing it has been possible to create more and more realistic analogues, with the most notable to date being Beyond Meat—an analogue to pre-cooked chicken strips—appearing retail shelves across the US in 2013 (though mainly in Whole Foods Market and natural foods stores) and becoming increasingly available in restaurants, including the national chain Tropical Smoothie Cafe. Because the latest wave of meat analogue producers, including Beyond Meat and Canadian-based Gardein, are aiming to create analogues that are convincing to even the most devout meat-eater in their mission to offer a sustainable substitute for meat in order to meet the demands of the growing population, their ultimate goal is replication of both the flavor and feel of meat, as CEO and Founder of Beyond, Meat Ethan Brown notes: “We are obsessed with perfectly replacing the sensory experience of animal protein… We’re not 100 percent there yet. But we’re close” (3).

In this desire to create not only an appealing product, but a product that is indistinguishable from something that it is not, these companies set themselves apart from vegetarian convenience food forbearers like Turtle Island Foods, manufacturer of the notorious Tofurky. Brands like Turtle Island are more focused on meeting the demands of a niche demographic of vegetarians, and have thereby created a reputation for themselves by offering their customer-base a culinary experience reminiscent of meat while maintaining product attributes that make these foods easily distinguishable from animal products. For instance, consider the Tofurky—a product that is looks like a small brown cantaloupe, which when sliced, has a smooth, soft outer ‘meat’ ring encasing a grainy rice ‘stuffing.’ Tofurky does not fool anyone who sees it into believing it is a turkey, and though many who are willing to give it a chance note the flavorful, ‘turkey-like’ taste, others dismiss it as having both an ‘off’ or ‘unpleasant’ taste as well as a rubbery, ‘fake’ texture. Yet, Turtle Island has been in the business of vegetarian foods for almost 30 years and has chosen not to ‘improve’ the Tofurky.

Here I see it important to make an important but fine distinction between a substitute and an analogue. A substitute comes to replace something else, whereas the term analogue asserts the similar nature of two items (4). Though the intention behind Tofurky is to replace a turkey on the holiday table, the product is not as much an analogue as a successful substitute, as it bears only an extremely vague sensory reference to an actual turkey. Now, this is not to slight this product. There are numerous companies that have had market success with substitutes, including Gardenburger, Engine 2, Field Roast, Light Life, specifically their smoky tempeh bacon strips, and I would even place Ener-g Egg Replacer, used mainly in baking, in this category. And many people, not just vegetarians or the health conscious, enjoy these products, some even preferring them to more analogous substitutes (5). These products are however consumed with the knowledge they are not meat and therefore are enjoyed for their own specific qualities.

In a survey I conducted of consumers of what I referred to as “animal-free products” I found that respondents looked for different qualities in plant-based substitutes, specifically in regards to texture. What this small sampling in addition to my personal experience as a vegan and former natural foods store and PETA employee indicates is that generally, those looking to consume plant-based products are not necessarily looking to have the exact sensory experience of eating animal products, but instead are looking for tastes and textures that are familiar and enjoyable, not those which bear exact resemblance to something else. Yet, when a product is placed in a semantic context that indicates it will be like something else—i.e., a “chick’n nugget” or a “meatless meatball”—this creates an expectation in the mind and on the palate of the consumer. This is to say, a failed analogue is sometimes only a failure in its inability to be truly analogous—as one respondent noted of her experience with dairy-free feta cheese: It was “fine, but didn’t taste like cheese… [it] should just have been called ‘flavored veggie protein.’” The failed analogue has long been fodder for critics, causing doubt in the minds of those who wish to decrease their consumption of animal products.

For naysayers analogues are always vein imitations at best, however critics and supporters alike are starting to take note of increased similarities between analogues and the original—as one HuffPost review of Beyond Meat noted, these qualities cause “a sensation akin to the ‘uncanny valley,’” in which the product becomes so like the thing that it aims to emulate that it becomes “off-putting” (6). This review goes on to say, “the chicken strips seem to inhabit a strange territory between meat and vegetable, which editors across the board [vegetarian and otherwise] found unpleasant.” The uncanny valley phenomenon as conceptualized by Masahiro Mori in 1970 discusses the “strangeness” caused by an encounter with a robot or robotic limb, like a prosthetic hand, that appears “too real.” The problem occurs in the realization that the robot is not human—that while closely resembling a human, it cannot meet all the qualities exactly and it is in that closeness to the real that the inconsistencies seem all the more alarming (7). Falling into the uncanny valley becomes a problem for the producers of analogue foods across the spectrum of consumers, but there is no determinant point at which a food becomes uncanny.

Karl MacDorman’s empirical research on the uncanny valley in robotics shows that there is no a single uncanny valley for human likeness; this analysis is consistent with my research finding that there is no single point at which a plant-based food product becomes uncanny and disturbing, which varied not only from omnivore to vegetarian, but from vegetarian to vegetarian (8). No consistent correlation could be found between respondents’ diets and preference for more or less realistic substitutes, as some respondents seek the closest as possible approximation of meat and animal-based products, while others prefer products that retain more vegetable-like characteristics. In their descriptions of plant-based meat analogues, respondents saw realistic “meatiness” as either as positive or negative attribute—while one respondent’s favorite product has “the texture and taste that most closely resembles meat,” another favored a product they found “tasty, but not too ‘meat-like’” (9).

However, the initial doubt that stirs in the mind of those who sample the latest meat analogues is enough to validate the hypothesis of an uncanny valley of plant-based products—for vegans and vegetarians this is often the initial, almost alarming question, “did I just eat meat?” before the rational mind kicks in, searching for the qualities that make it distinguishable as plant-matter. Personally, upon trying Beyond Meat for the first time I remember removing the product from my mouth to examine the texture with my hand, ensuring the appropriate graininess of a plant-based food versus the more stringy quality of animal flesh. Even if the consumer can reconcile the texture and taste of a product like Beyond Meat as being like-meat but not, that uncanny feeling often remains in future instances of consumption, as I have witnessed vegans examining the contents of their Beyond Meat chicken salad from the Whole Foods hot-bar like a science experiment, trying to discern if they have in fact obtained the analogue and not the original.

For many vegetarians, the not exactly right qualities of faux meats are comforting reminders that an animal is not being consumed. This not exactly qualifier extends to other animal-product substitutes such as cheese and eggs. The fact that respondents were notably more critical of plant-based cheese and egg substitutes than meat analogues, with some saying they “wouldn’t be upset if they disappeared from the market completely,” suggests that there are not yet widely available successful analogues of these products, and moreover that many consumers are satisfied with more creative substitutes, such as scrambled tofu for breakfast and chia seeds in place of eggs in baking. While a number of respondents and internet reviews indicate the latest plant-based cheeses to enter the market are more “reminiscent” of the flavor of dairy cheese and melt better than previous products, nearly every review noted something a little “off” about the texture or flavor. The decision to take or leave the dairy-free cheese most often correlated with the individual’s dietary practice, with those unable to consume dairy for heath or ethical reasons more accepting of the imperfections and even in some instances pleased by the ability visually differentiate the plant-based product from dairy with a certain level of ease. A little discussed product in my survey responses was The Vegg, “a 100% plant-based egg yolk replacement… that replicates the taste and texture of egg yolks for use in your favorite dishes,” which appeared on the market to limited audiences (due to what I presume to be its limited appeal) in 2012. It is important to understand The Vegg is only analogous to the egg yolk, it is not comparable to an egg, but has a color, texture, and consistency very similar to the yolk of a chicken’s egg, so much so that many participants of the 2012 DC VegFest found the product unsettling and an acquaintance of mine got sick, explaining it was “just too real.”

In her analysis of reactions to the uncanny, Catrin Misselhorn uses the term “perceptual experience” to explain the way that “perceptual content” is colored by “phenomenal character”—the sense experience being conditioned by previous encounters with the analogous item. Thus, the closer that item bears resemblance to the original, the more the consumer’s imagination is triggered, bringing the sensory experience of the analogue even closer to the original; or as she states: “As a rule of thumb the more features that there are, and the more typical and salient they are, the stronger will the concept of [an original] be triggered, and the more vivid will the imagining and phenomenal feel be” (10). The perceived proximity from the original to the analogue then becomes troubling for the consumer if the triggered sense memory of the original stirs negative feelings—for instance, if the plant-based food is perceived as a dead animal—yet, the realization of what the food really is cannot always quell this disgust. Importantly, Freud’s conceptualization of the uncanny on which Mori based his theory, disavows the possibility of the uncanny experience as a form of intellectual uncertainty. For Freud, the uncanny exists prior to or even beyond intellectual interrogation, in the unconscious.

While the ambiguity caused by the processing of plant-matter into an un-plant-like texture and taste produces an uneasy feeling from not knowing exactly what is being consumed pushing it into uncanny territory, a key element in the conceptualization of the uncanny valley is a sense of eeriness and even fright as an effect of this confusion. In the study of robotics the eeriness of the humanoid form is caused by the oscillation in perception of something that appears to be alive to something that is not alive, or moreover, dead. If we project this analysis onto analogue products, specifically when consumed by those who avoid animal products because of the suffering they associate with the production of those foods, we can see the uncanny valley as an effect of feeling that something has died with the experience of something like flesh in the mouth. This further aligns with the classic Freudian postulate in which he reads the uncanny experience as a manifestation of the repetition compulsion whereby the unconscious continues to replicate and reiterate some repressed familiar thing. The level of disgust or fear the individual feels when encountering the eerily realistic analogue could then possibly be correlated with the individual’s unarticulated relationship to animal-based foods, and in the cases of vegans and vegetarians, the event or experience that spurned their dietary change.

In that plant-based analogues in some ways succeed in getting us to believe that they are or even should be something that they play into the uncanny as the individual is left to reconcile how this is not that—to justify the reality of what things are and should be in the search for and proclamation of the not quite qualities of these products—qualities that become inadequacies in the eyes of critics and others who consider themselves food purists. In this need to classify and distinguish, to ease the eeriness and fear produced by attempting to make something into something it is not, the industry desire to create the 100% analogue will always-already fail to meet the consumer’s desire. These products will continue to strike a chord with supporters of plant-based diets, people who enjoy animal products, and everyone in between because they play on the centrality and importance of animal products in the Western diet, which has become the litmus for increasing affluence in the era of capitalist globalization. Far from changing the way people eat, analogues confirm and reify the ways we have eaten by constantly referring back to that original taste experience as the standard for consumption.

 

(1) Belasco, Appetite for Change, 5.

(2) http://www.peta.org/living/food/making-transitions-vegetarian/top-six-tips-vegetarian/

(3) http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2013/09/fakemeat/

(4) Merriam Webster also refers to an analogue as “a food product made by combining a less expensive food (as soybeans or whitefish) with additives to give the appearance and taste of a more expensive food (as beef or crab).” http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/analogue

(5) In fact, many substitutes, as well as analogues, are not specifically good for you when you consider the sodium content and inclusion of, often ambiguous or ambiguously sourced, preservatives and stabilizers.

(6) http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/04/16/beyond-meats-chicken-strips_n_3094296.html

(7) “The Uncanny Valley,” Energy 7.4 (1970): 33-35.

(8) Catrin Misselhorn, “Empathy with Inanimate Objects and the Uncanny Valley,” Minds and Machines 19 (2009): 347-50.

(9) Both these respondents identified as vegan; the first having been vegan for 6-9 years, the second for 10.

(10) Misselhorn, 354.

Because I was here all along, thanks for asking…

While I’m working on some new shiitake, I’m gonna throw some gems from my past up here.

xoxo

Or, a Testament From a Tree Fallen When No One Was There (It Does, in Fact, Make a Sound)

It has been a while since I have written anything more than a shitty cover letter for a job that I do not want, extended comments on my students’ oversights, or a brief social media post (aside from my insightful book review on Portfolio Society, forthcoming in Lateral). But, I think, now that the fog has cleared a bit, a recent event in my life and my theoretical analysis of it deserves some attention.

Important to note here my return to Lacanian psychoanalytic theory as I try to comprehend what I see as the callous inattentiveness of my “friends” and colleagues—shortly after I began my studies at George Mason University I was informed that, despite an application package that obviously identified my theoretical allegiance to psychoanalysis, this framework was not welcomed or appreciated, and that if I was not willing to divert, I should seek a better suited doctoral program. My discontent in shifting away from psychoanalysis was slowly quelled by (neo-?)Marxist theory, which was sufficient for explicating American consumer culture, as presented in my dissertation, though I personally believe Lacanian theory would have aided the argument in profound ways, which was only evidenced by my committee’s claim that I am “a much stronger theoretician” than my dissertation suggests. Regardless of my irritation (for lack of a better word) with the simultaneous attention to and dismissal of my scholarly potential, I return to the narrative at hand…

On Thursday, December 8th, the day after my final class of the semester at UMBC, I was hit by a pickup truck while riding my bicycle to workout at VIDA before my shift at Aura Spa. I remember very little of that morning, let alone the accident itself. What I do remember is yelling before the driver merged into my bicycle, the impact, waking up briefly in an ambulance, and, finally, waking up in a hospital bed with about ten medical students standing in a semi-circle at the end as someone asked if it was ok to cut my shirt off. The impact cracked my head open, a CT scan was performed prior to it being stitched and stapled back together.

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Pic sent to my boss at 8:45am with the message: “I got hit by a car this morning. I don’t know if I’ll make it to work. I had to get my head stapled together.” Followed by: “Yeah. Can’t come to work. Covered in blood and in pain” at 9:18am.

No, I was not wearing a helmet. I didn’t even own a helmet. After my head was closed up and most of the blood was cleaned off my face, the officer who had been staring at me through the window in my hospital room came in to take my statement. Unfortunately, the driver of the pickup truck had driven away after colliding with my bike, a witness was only able to obtain a partial plate (temporary tags to boot), and the DC police have yet to find him (and I know it was a him because in my fog I still remember him looking at me as he drove into my bike and a witness statement identifies a male driver who looked back, recognizing he hit me before driving off).

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Images above posted to social media: 1) 12/8/16, posted to Facebook and Instagram: “Hey there, bruised and bloodied, what happened to you? Nothing but a little morning hit-and-run when riding my bike to gym/work. D.C. Metro drivers are the worst but at least two kindly citizens worked to find the culprit and help me till I was safely retrieved by an ambulance”; 2) 12/9/16, posted to Instagram: “#phdlife introducing the “Ice Pack Hat” #staypositive #becareful”; 3) 12/10/16, posted to Facebook and Instagram: “That time I cracked my head open #nofiter #luckytobealive #hitandrun#bicyclesafety #wearahelmet”; 4) 12/13/16, posted to Instagram and Facebook: “#fashionista bruise-scarf coordination. #hotmess #hitandrun #wearahelmetkids”

I posted images of the various wounds, tracking the bruising and healing over the following days on both Instagram and Facebook. At the same time, my status updates to and engagement with social media became less frequent. I was—and am—really struggling with the accident and, moreover, my life as it stands.

You know how people say, “My life flashed before my eyes”?

Well, that’s not what happened really. It was more that as the accident settled in, as I realized how lucky I was to be alive, that I started to think, “Dear god… This is what I have done with my life… This is the mess created.”

Recently, as many know, my almost four year relationship ended. One of the reasons cited by my now-ex was that my unhappiness was causing him to be unhappy and while I believe this reason to be one of the most bullshitty of his shitty reasons for our long-failing relationship, being hit by a truck and almost dying (or blacking out, which is the closest thing I have experienced to death) the day after my last class of the semester made me think, “I am fucking miserable,” which, with the help of my GP-recommended therapist after the accident, I have downgraded to “not nearly as happy as I want/deserve to be.”

So, this is where I stand today. Trying to figure out what it is that will make me happy.

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Posted to Instagram 12/16/16: “No-more-stitches-upside-down-gym-selfie!!!”

A big part of this is thinking about what has made me happy and successful in the past—what are the goals have I accomplished and skills have I honed that I can use in a meaningful way and makes me feel like I am contributing to the world around me? (Because this is important to me; this does not have to be everyone’s goal.) So, accomplishments: I have a PhD; that’s a big thing. I’m not so sure what it’s worth and therein are a lot of my struggles since I spent so much time and money on it. In completing a PhD I also developed a number of academic skills: research, writing, speaking, teaching, etc. But in devoting time to my education, I also devoted myself to a small community; specifically during the years I was completing the coursework required for my degree—those in my PhD became my friends.

I finished my PhD last December. That same month I had my surgery. In between then and the accident this December, I failed to get a book deal that seemed to be a sure thing, applied to over 100 jobs (getting very few interviews and zero offers for full time positions), and ended a relationship with a person who I really thought was “the one” (for better or worse), while watching many from my program, including graduates from the 2015-16 academic year, put out books, get visiting and tenure track positions as well as lucrative positions outside of academia, and get married and have children. I’m still here in DC; almost everyone else has found a calling elsewhere. Those who are left in the DC-metro are seemingly busy “adulting.” I’m complacently working in the service industry and getting hit by cars. What the fuck is my problem?

And then it dawned on me. I am my own problem. Or at least I have created my problem by constantly comparing myself—my successes and failures—to those holding the same academic degree when, as it has become evermore apparent, I have radically different ambitions and a different worldview. I have torn myself between who I want to be and who I wanted to be and by doing so I have allowed the fact that not one single person in my PhD program has reached out to check if I was ok winnow my self-esteem and ability to conceive of a life outside of the university setting.

The reason why I care what everyone else is doing and no one seems to care what I am doing is defined by my own subject position. I, in fact, have no idea if there are people who care about me. All I know is that no one has expressed any actual concern (aside from a couple passive “ouch” comments on social media) to indicate that they do. The notion that people should actively display care/concern is based on my own upbringing and experiences as to how to affectively engage with others, which is not necessarily the same for all people, no doubt. And yet, there is a level of commonality in the manner by which concern is expected to be expressed socially—specifically in casual, if not insincere, niceties like, “Sorry to hear about this” and “are you feeling better?” These expressions of (pseudo-?)concern can seem forced or irrelevant, especially to the analytical humanities academic mind, but the importance of these simplistic sentiments undergirds our social fabric. It makes for a community by facilitating a network of mutual safety and security. It makes people feel like they matter and that they belong. And, thereby, the omission of these sentiments is indicative of irrelevance and exclusion (non-belonging or excommunication).

I know these people—these former colleagues and friends—know how to perform social graces that don’t actually reflect their personal inclinations, feelings, or allegiances. For example, many of my colleagues who loathe babies, express frustration with children acting out in public, and extol the merits of voluntary human extinction will “like” others’ family picture on Facebook. A simplistic optimistic analysis of this action is that these individuals “like” the happiness their virtual friends have found in familial life; a simplified pessimistic analysis is herd mentality, by which the social media user is “liking” the image just because so many others have already done so. However, regardless of which of these two analytical stances one takes, both show a commitment to community. On one hand, care for the happiness of others, and, on the other, adherence to social norms (despite ideological differences in both cases). What these expressions show is a belonging of the individual within the community; a show that their continued presence is of value because, in someway, that individual serves in the reproduction of that community.

But, if there are ideological divergences within the community, what is the core commonality upon which the community is founded and maintained? Is that not too ideological?

I would argue the central node of community is a dominant binding ideological allegiance, which permits minor deviations to facilitate the appearance of individuality, while ensuring that the insularity of the community through its distinction from other, similar but dissimilar, communities.

Yeah, Allison, get your head out of your academic ass and just say what you mean…

The community from which I felt to have belonged and feel excluded from at present, I would define as a community of humanities academics holding a specific (far?) left socio-economic-political worldview defined by contempt for material and ideological institutions that compartmentalize groups and individuals in society, creating a complex hierarchy of privilege and penalty (i.e., republican/conservative politics, neoliberal economics), as well as a strong commitment to the value of the scholarly interrogation these socio-political institutions (because, let’s face it, no one in the humanities actually understands actual economics, sorry) and a, perhaps paradoxical, refusal to engage in blue-collar labor (i.e., work in the service industry) even when unable to obtain an academic or professional job.

If it is the case that the community is held together by this socio-political worldview, the choice (and there must always be choices in order for individuals to feel autonomous and uniquely valuable) to get married, have children, adopt a dog, or get one’s nose pierced, for instance, is irrelevant as long as the dominant ideology—that the social institutions that perpetuate hierarchy are wrong—is prescribed to in an obvious way—that one makes the appropriate socially relevant posts to social media, continues along an academically-oriented career path, and does not deviate into manual labor, even for the sake of financial stability. And it is the obviousness of this prescription that I wish to underscore here because this is where I failed and, as such, where I see the root of my exclusion as evidenced by the dismissal of my injury as cause for concern. While some of my colleagues will argue that they too have deviated from this ideology, a single infringement, such as employment as a part time bartender, especially when this combined with social media posts to indicate their unfair treatment based on assumptions about the aptitude of service workers, is not tantamount to indicating an ideological rupture.

I am the unfortunate evidence of the constructed, referential, and oppositional nature of identity and ideology. More than an simply serving as evidence that some people have to work, exerting energy in a manner that detracts from their ability to pursue something more “meaningful” that may contribute to a “better” society by reproducing the status quo (that there is a working class, that ours is a capitalist consumer economy, that we must pay to meet our needs). But, more problematically, in my retraction from academia and armchair politics, I have seemingly given myself to the notion that mindless distractions and menial labor is acceptable. And while this may be the dominant mode of existence in contemporary society, I have spent years studying the systems of oppression that structure our society. I have seemingly become complacent while knowing better.

In my knowledge of and, therefore, decision to accept what is offered instead of the change I wish to see in the world (bitches love Gandhi), I serve as an uncomfortable reminder of the persistence of dominant ideology and social structures, as well as the necessarily oppositional referent that it serves in contrast to leftist ideology—not just that leftist ideology is founded on the fact there is something on the right side, but more importantly that the right side continues to exist for without it there would be no left community. This is to say, there would be no academics if everyone had, or had access to, the same knowledge and ideological worldview.

And in appearing to move from one ideological camp to another—whether by choice or simply evolution—I serve to draw attention to the constructed nature of identity based on social structures embedded in inequitable, hierarchical ideologies that are as important to those “in power” as they are to those who purport to actively oppose or resist them. Unable to wholly position myself neither here nor there, I have become the human embodiment of the meaninglessness of meaning.

I find myself—my actions and my virtual presence—calling attention to the gap, as posited by Lacan or what Freud theorized as the navel—the “ultimately unknown centre”—around which subjective experience and the system of signification it requires is manifest. As the signifying system that allows us to understand, to communicate, to define ourselves and who we are requires difference and contrast, the existence of an impenetrable gap ensures the impossibility of completion because it is inside that gap we are complete. But, while the gap must persist, it must be rendered invisible, thereby allowing the appearance of difference as natural. If difference is natural, it is the way difference is handled that becomes questionable and amendable. Social justice, equity, democracy, and whatever else we want to associate with fairness amongst humanity are not based on the fact we are all the same, but instead that we are all uniquely different and, it is in that difference, that our voices matter.

It is the understanding of fundamental difference upon which community is formed and maintained—that different types of people stick together and reproduce different group practices, beliefs, values, and lifestyles (regardless of the fact that there is an omnipresent dominant ideology of social order and political-economic participation, success, and recognition that underwrites all community ideologies). Pierre Bourdieu best describes the notion of fundamental difference as both socially manifest and ultimately inescapable in his theorization of class-based habitus. In living habitus, one can interact with different social groups and even feign belonging, but in time will reveal his or her true position within the social order. I, being a PhD holder with a working class background, hold a marginal position, but there are other PhDs from working class backgrounds who are likely to get hit by trucks and receive utmost compassion.

The academic community then is not purely founded on middle class habitus, but its fundamental differentiation is in intellectual faculties, which cannot be completely tied to economic status. These intellectual faculties include the ability to recognize that the system underlying the whole of our society is unequal and therefore unfair. That we are different, but what is important is the valuation (if not celebration) of difference, not its undoing.

Simply put—in the quest for social justice, those who are smart are allowed to assert they are smarter than others. They are allowed to be friends with “intellectual equals” and dismiss others as Other, while maintaining this is not at all what they are doing because they value equality.

By having the wrong friends—or too many of the wrong friends or by enjoying my time with those friends more than the time I spent with those in academia (which is completely true, sorry jerks)—my existence problematizes the fundamentality of difference. My inability to perform according to the codes of my community—a community that I had worked to gain entry to and not one I was born into—serves as an indication of the real failure of that community as more than a symbolic construction based on an ideology of difference which requires the maintenance of the hierarchy it purports to abhor.

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Evidence there are people who care (and that those people came to see me while I was at work, at the spa). Images posted to Instagram, 12/18/16: 1) “Sometimes someone will try to make you feel better. And it will work. But you will also end up crying…”; 2) “And then I got flowers”

I am demonstrative of the lack of realness of humanity.

But in serving as the reminder of symbolic interaction as all interaction, my real actions—and with them my physical body—become muddled within the web of meaning that I have seemingly befuddled not in my choice to be both a spa coordinator and a college professor, but to prefer being a spa coordinator to being a college professor.

The fact that someone—anyone—knowledgeable/educated could make this choice appears as ironic, sarcastic, or hyperbolic—a commentary on the sad state of academic and the lack of monetary and professional respect afforded to academics. It fades into the unrealness of social media as acting, instead of calling to the unrealness of the social world itself and the imagined communities that support the continuation of difference as something really important and socially meaningful.

So, what does getting hit by a truck have to do with any of this?

Getting hit by a truck has nothing to do with anything because I am nothing but the image of myself that I have created as a sarcastic quasi-academic poseur, who, falling short of her goals as an academic, has misplaced the blame for her failure on a lack of opportunity based on her ridiculous need to take a job and waste her time working out instead of focusing on publishing and applying for tenure-track positions. This might, in part, have to do with my habitus—the fact that as a member of a working class family I simply need to engage in value-producing wage labor (that, moreover, I need to support myself, because, let’s face it, I was pretty miserable when given everything I ‘needed’)—but, with almost 15 years of higher education under my belt, I should know my path and be able to buckle down and succeed in the field I had chosen—the field that taught me how unfair the world is and how we must fight to fix it. Regardless of my motivations, presented as a fiction via social media, others have come to perceive me as a fiction, as the white (wo)man’s telenovela run awry that deserves not to be compelled to sequels or spin-offs.

Bloodied and bruised and with evidence such as scabs and bandages, I am only tongue cheek evidence of my own descent from one community as I land, unfortunately, in one below. I am a bad joke about those who get stuck or a sad editorial from the Chronicle of Higher Education. I am anything but real for those who want to believe that there is a real, supportive, inclusive academic community. Because, when considered as an actual person built of experiences and having made a choice, I am the scar that reveals the constructed nature of that community as an outside to the democracy, collaboration, and equality it seeks to promote.
Covered by my hair, the physical scar from the stitches held my head together after being cracked by the impact of the Toyota Tacoma is equally unapparent and perhaps less uncomfortable.

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Images from 12/28/16: 1) Scabs, posted to Facebook and Instagram: “These are pieces of my head I don’t need #wearahelmet #bicyclesafety#hitandrun #luckytobealive”; bald spot, for my personal record of injury.

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