I just finished the book on how the 1950s changed food — and since I’ve been asked several times, it was “Something from the Oven: Reinventing Dinner in 1950s America” by Laura Shapiro — and I keep turning something over in my mind, about the devaluing of the basic work of caring for our physical selves.
There are a lot of facets and lenses through which to view this, including feminism, race and class. By focusing on one specific aspect, I don’t mean to ignore or devalue the others, simply to give more focus.
What struck me about this is how much we have devalued the work that goes into caring for and nurturing our physical selves.
I look at the devaluation of traditional women’s work — of home cooking, caring for a home, making clothing — and I see this as somewhat the leading edge. Because it doesn’t stop there. We devalue work that traditionally falls into the purview of men too now — farming, construction. We have this disconnect with our physical selves.
I’m as guilty of this as anyone. I’m a typical Aquarian; I like to say that if I could wander around as a giant, disembodied brain, I would. But this isn’t just about the mind versus the physical self, because I think it goes deeper than that.
I keep using pictures of food here because to me food is basic — it’s nourishment and comfort and culture all tied together. But it’s like we want to stop seeing ourselves as those thing. We talk about branding ourselves, about marketing who we are.
But I am not a brand. I am not a product. I’m a person, with all the messy, inherent contradictions held in that.
So we start to see ourselves as brands and products. We have put our faith in the markets and value only what the system calls valuable. The work that sustains us is minimized, ignored or outsourced.
Our food is grown in factory farms, processed, reheated. Our furnishings are cheap and disposable and built on a system of abhorrent practices. We turn a blind eye to it, because we don’t want to see. I think, on some level, we want to see ourselves as free from the messy work that comes from sustaining a life and society.
But no matter how smart, how enlightened we are, we still need these things. We need food to eat, shelter from the elements, water to drink. As humans we also crave more than that — we seek out comfortable and aesthetically pleasing surroundings, food that nourishes our souls as well as our mind, the communal breaking of bread that ties us to our fellow humans.
Yet we are so willing to push all that aside for cost and convenience. I am as guilty of this as any young, urban professional. When I am busy (and I am always busy), it’s the cooking and cleaning that slide by the wayside first. It becomes quick, processed food, unbalanced meals, things left undone til later.
I can’t help think, though, that in this I am doing a huge disservice to myself. We all are, because when we as a society begin to view the things that make us human as drudgery, we begin to devalue our own humanity.
I don’t think changing the way we look at every day tasks will solve all the worlds problems. I’m not even sure we can change how we view them. But sometimes I can’t help but think it might make us all a lot more at ease.
