Five Ways to Be a Food Allergy Ally During the Holidays
Augh! I really, really will get the "Friends and Allies of Peanut-Allergic Adults FAQ" thing up and running in 2009, I promise! A couple people have offered to help, and as soon as we have time to sit down and hash it out, posts will be coming fast and furious.
In the meantime, here's a holdover: some tips for helping your friends stay safe, physically and emotionally, over the holidays:
1. Don't give food as a gift.
With very few exceptions, receiving food--homemade or store-bought--as a present is really stressful for me (and for a lot of other folks with food allergies). There are few things more mutually awkward and humiliating than having to explain to a well-meaning friend that, while you appreciate their intent, you are not comfortable having the expensive box of fancy chocolates they bought you in your house, or asking round after round of questions about ingredients in the homemade Christmas candy your partner's grandmother mailed up from Florida.
This is a good general rule, actually--you never know which friends may have food allergies that you're not aware of (The fancy chocolates above actually happened--and included a lot of peanut butter cups, in a non-sealed container. It was an incredibly thoughtful, lavish gift, and I felt like SUCH a git, because the giver was obviously terribly hurt and disappointed when I explained why I couldn't accept it. She'd had no idea that I had food allergies, because it hadn't come up in the contexts in which we'd spent time together).
If you do want to give food as a gift, be sure to pack it in a sealed container, and include a list of ingredients. If possible, talk to recipients ahead of time about food allergies: you may lose the element surprise, but you'll be making sure you give gifts your friends can actually enjoy. Bear in mind also that for those of us who spend a lot of time and energy having to explain the minutiae of what we can and cannot eat, a non-food gift comes with the added bonus of getting to skip those explanations.
2. Be mindful about bringing holiday food into offices and other public places.
When you cook--or when friends or family send more Christmas cookies than you can (or want to) eat--bringing extra holiday treats to the office might seem like the perfect solution. Not so much for those of us with severe food allergies, especially ones that can be triggered by skin contact or airborne particles--and even if you put that peanut brittle in a re-sealable container or invite colleagues to swing by your office for a bite instead of leaving it somewhere public like a breakroom, it'll leave residue on carpets, doorknobs, memos, and other surfaces with which I'm bound to come into contact.
If you absolutely must bring in holiday snacks to share, consider posting a list of ingredients--and a note reminding people to wash their hands before returning to work.
3. Take the focus off the food.
For folks with severe food allergies, one of the big stresses of the holiday season is the exponential increase in the social and cultural significance of food. Food allergies can be extremely socially alienating because of how much of our social lives are built around food and sharing food; particularly during the holidays, food is central to almost every festive gathering and ritual--familial or professional, public or private. Creating contexts for celebration where we won't have to worry about avoiding dangerous food, finding something safe to eat, or risking offending hosts and sticking out as a scrooge for not eating is a great way to help us feel included. Consider scheduling parties away from major mealtimes, so that even if food is served, it's not the focus of the gathering.
4. Don't take it personally.
While we appreciate it when someone goes to the effort to make the holidays safe for us, we're also acutely aware of how much work that can be. If we turn down food at your table, it doesn't mean that we don't appreciate the effort, nor does it mean that you've in any way failed as a friend. We're used to living with and accommodating our dietary needs and speaking "food label" as a second language; we recognize that most other people--including those who love us--aren't, and we generally don't expect them to be. Like you, we attend holiday gatherings to spend time with friends and family. Assuming it's not something that'll kill us simply by being in the same room, the food will always be secondary.
5. Encourage others to do the same re: points 1 through 4.
A lot of the time, the problems I brought up above are issues of awareness, and well-meaning friends and family often appreciate reminders and information about ways to help their loved ones stay safe and comfortable. At the same time, having allies back us up in situations where folks can be fiercely protective of what they see as altruistic or ritually important practices can be super important.
Please post your own questions, responses, and suggestions in the comments!
In the meantime, here's a holdover: some tips for helping your friends stay safe, physically and emotionally, over the holidays:
1. Don't give food as a gift.
With very few exceptions, receiving food--homemade or store-bought--as a present is really stressful for me (and for a lot of other folks with food allergies). There are few things more mutually awkward and humiliating than having to explain to a well-meaning friend that, while you appreciate their intent, you are not comfortable having the expensive box of fancy chocolates they bought you in your house, or asking round after round of questions about ingredients in the homemade Christmas candy your partner's grandmother mailed up from Florida.
This is a good general rule, actually--you never know which friends may have food allergies that you're not aware of (The fancy chocolates above actually happened--and included a lot of peanut butter cups, in a non-sealed container. It was an incredibly thoughtful, lavish gift, and I felt like SUCH a git, because the giver was obviously terribly hurt and disappointed when I explained why I couldn't accept it. She'd had no idea that I had food allergies, because it hadn't come up in the contexts in which we'd spent time together).
If you do want to give food as a gift, be sure to pack it in a sealed container, and include a list of ingredients. If possible, talk to recipients ahead of time about food allergies: you may lose the element surprise, but you'll be making sure you give gifts your friends can actually enjoy. Bear in mind also that for those of us who spend a lot of time and energy having to explain the minutiae of what we can and cannot eat, a non-food gift comes with the added bonus of getting to skip those explanations.
2. Be mindful about bringing holiday food into offices and other public places.
When you cook--or when friends or family send more Christmas cookies than you can (or want to) eat--bringing extra holiday treats to the office might seem like the perfect solution. Not so much for those of us with severe food allergies, especially ones that can be triggered by skin contact or airborne particles--and even if you put that peanut brittle in a re-sealable container or invite colleagues to swing by your office for a bite instead of leaving it somewhere public like a breakroom, it'll leave residue on carpets, doorknobs, memos, and other surfaces with which I'm bound to come into contact.
If you absolutely must bring in holiday snacks to share, consider posting a list of ingredients--and a note reminding people to wash their hands before returning to work.
3. Take the focus off the food.
For folks with severe food allergies, one of the big stresses of the holiday season is the exponential increase in the social and cultural significance of food. Food allergies can be extremely socially alienating because of how much of our social lives are built around food and sharing food; particularly during the holidays, food is central to almost every festive gathering and ritual--familial or professional, public or private. Creating contexts for celebration where we won't have to worry about avoiding dangerous food, finding something safe to eat, or risking offending hosts and sticking out as a scrooge for not eating is a great way to help us feel included. Consider scheduling parties away from major mealtimes, so that even if food is served, it's not the focus of the gathering.
4. Don't take it personally.
While we appreciate it when someone goes to the effort to make the holidays safe for us, we're also acutely aware of how much work that can be. If we turn down food at your table, it doesn't mean that we don't appreciate the effort, nor does it mean that you've in any way failed as a friend. We're used to living with and accommodating our dietary needs and speaking "food label" as a second language; we recognize that most other people--including those who love us--aren't, and we generally don't expect them to be. Like you, we attend holiday gatherings to spend time with friends and family. Assuming it's not something that'll kill us simply by being in the same room, the food will always be secondary.
5. Encourage others to do the same re: points 1 through 4.
A lot of the time, the problems I brought up above are issues of awareness, and well-meaning friends and family often appreciate reminders and information about ways to help their loved ones stay safe and comfortable. At the same time, having allies back us up in situations where folks can be fiercely protective of what they see as altruistic or ritually important practices can be super important.
Please post your own questions, responses, and suggestions in the comments!