Reframing, cultural appropriation, and the palate of a(n almost!) four-year-old
I've been spending a lot of time tonight chasing down and reading up on the reverberations of eBear's post on cultural appropriation. (not linking; I figure you either already know of what I speak, or, if you don't, you can ask for directions.) As an academic working in postcolonial theory, I'm intensely interested; as a white woman, I don't have anything new to say. In general temperament, I am more of a listener than a speaker, except when I feel that what needs to be said is not being said. This is not the case right now. So I read. And I'm learning. Also, adding new people whose LJs I want to follow. So that's cool.
However, I do have something actually somewhat related to post about. Lately, I've been more and more chagrined that Cassie's been falling into that preschooler trap of eating only a few stereotypical preschooler food items-- you know, chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, peanut butter and jelly? I mean, yeah, we eat that stuff some times, but Jay and I also have a great love for Asian food especially, and while she's pretty much always eaten edamame and couscous, she hasn't been willing to try anything new in a while. And Jay has a tendency to just want to feed her that I find deeply problematic sometimes for other reasons.
Anyway, last week I tried a couple of new recipes that were sort of in a middle space of familiar and different, hoping for some expansion of her preferences at the same time that I just wanted to enjoy something outside of the usual. I looked over the recipes I had been collecting from F_W, and found a few that seemed to qualify: ravioli casserole in the crock pot and pizza pot pie. The ravioli casserole was a miss; she refused even a bite (all I required), though that meant she couldn't have one of the cupcakes we had made that day for her babies' birthday party (another post in itself, that story). However, the next night, inexplicably she announced that she would eat a bite of the "pizza pie." And she did. More than one, in fact. "I like this!" she exclaimed.
The next day, I kid you not, she asked for frog legs.
Stop & Shop had no frog legs yesterday when Jay took her shopping, more's the pity. But he bought some mahi mahi for their dinner while I was gaming, and texted me in the middle of campaign to tell me she had eaten it. And now today, she had a bite of my california maki at lunch ("I had sushi, daddy! And I liked it!"), and a bite of duck breast at dinner.
Jay and I had eaten Indian food Saturday night, out on our own enjoying the Williams Queer film festival (Shortbus, with John Cameron Mitchell in attendance and doing a Q&A afterward, OMGSQUEE!), and I asked him if he remembered the first time he ate something spicy as a kid. He didn't, though I know exactly when he first had Indian food, as it was his first date with me. "I'm pretty sure there's no period of time when Indian kids only eat bland stuff," I told him. Why should my kid? All it's going to take is some reframing, I think. Not the easiest thing to accomplish, reframing. But it's often the most fundamental.
However, I do have something actually somewhat related to post about. Lately, I've been more and more chagrined that Cassie's been falling into that preschooler trap of eating only a few stereotypical preschooler food items-- you know, chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, peanut butter and jelly? I mean, yeah, we eat that stuff some times, but Jay and I also have a great love for Asian food especially, and while she's pretty much always eaten edamame and couscous, she hasn't been willing to try anything new in a while. And Jay has a tendency to just want to feed her that I find deeply problematic sometimes for other reasons.
Anyway, last week I tried a couple of new recipes that were sort of in a middle space of familiar and different, hoping for some expansion of her preferences at the same time that I just wanted to enjoy something outside of the usual. I looked over the recipes I had been collecting from F_W, and found a few that seemed to qualify: ravioli casserole in the crock pot and pizza pot pie. The ravioli casserole was a miss; she refused even a bite (all I required), though that meant she couldn't have one of the cupcakes we had made that day for her babies' birthday party (another post in itself, that story). However, the next night, inexplicably she announced that she would eat a bite of the "pizza pie." And she did. More than one, in fact. "I like this!" she exclaimed.
The next day, I kid you not, she asked for frog legs.
Stop & Shop had no frog legs yesterday when Jay took her shopping, more's the pity. But he bought some mahi mahi for their dinner while I was gaming, and texted me in the middle of campaign to tell me she had eaten it. And now today, she had a bite of my california maki at lunch ("I had sushi, daddy! And I liked it!"), and a bite of duck breast at dinner.
Jay and I had eaten Indian food Saturday night, out on our own enjoying the Williams Queer film festival (Shortbus, with John Cameron Mitchell in attendance and doing a Q&A afterward, OMGSQUEE!), and I asked him if he remembered the first time he ate something spicy as a kid. He didn't, though I know exactly when he first had Indian food, as it was his first date with me. "I'm pretty sure there's no period of time when Indian kids only eat bland stuff," I told him. Why should my kid? All it's going to take is some reframing, I think. Not the easiest thing to accomplish, reframing. But it's often the most fundamental.