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  • Hey, That’s MY Message!

    Information is social currency.  When I send someone a link, or post something illuminating, it contributes to my public value. The Internet allows us not only to spread information but also to become associated with it. It’s almost as if we can brand ourselves alongside the messages we are spreading.

    So last week when everyone was talking about the Monsanto Protection Act I was really involved in the discussion. This is an issue that I am very passionate about and have been researching for over a decade. I wanted to be an active part of the discussion – to help spread the message of why I think Monsanto should be a major part of the public dialogue and we should all have a clear understanding of not only its power but its product.  Our food system.

    I had first learned about Monsanto and genetically engineered food over 10 years ago when I was in college. Before understanding the science behind food, the only thing that concerned me was calories and fat grams. Then one fateful night, while smoking joints with my friend Marisa she told me,

    “You know, the reason why Americans are so overweight and unhealthy is because of partially hydrogenated oil.”

    “Wait, what is that?”

    “They, like, add hydrogen to the oil, so it is fluffier and takes up more space. They can then use less of it and save money, but the human body can’t digest it. That is what makes you fat.”

    “Why do they do that? How do they do that? And who is they?”

    “You know… they!  I don’t know Toni, I am not a scientist… look it up. But I am telling you. That is why Europeans are all skinny, because they don’t put crap in their food.”

    This really blew my mind into a thousand pieces. Before that moment, I had never considered that highly processed food wasn’t actually food. And I did not want to get fat because I was unconsciously consuming a science experiment. Forget that we were scarfing down ice cream at that moment…. We were high – remember? I am perfectly okay getting pudgy eating delicious treats, but there is no way hydrogenated oils were going to give me a muffin top.

    After that fateful conversation I started looking at ingredients rather than the silly numbers on a side of a box of processed food. Initially my rejection of GMO food may have been for my own vanity or health, but the more I learned, the more committed I became.

    I then read The Age of Access by Jeremy Rifkin, and started to comprehend the environmental consequences of genetic engineering. The massive destruction of natural resources, the farmers that it oppressed, the annihilation of biodiversity, the subsidies that forced an economic stranglehold on the entire food industry, and – perhaps most demented – gene patenting. Rifkin hypothesized that the future held forth a new economy based on owning and patenting genes. The thought of corporations and life-science companies owning the building blocks of life and leasing out the rights to it seemed like an apocalyptic nightmare.

    After understanding the full scope, I became outraged. I was so committed to this cause that I spent three years of my life trying to open an organic fast food restaurant so more people could have access to clean food, but in a format they were accustomed to. I wanted to bring organic food to as many people as I could. Even though my vision did not work out the way I wanted it to – I didn’t get to open my restaurant – I could still do my best to continue promoting the idea.

    So when everyone was talking about Monsanto last week, I made a little cartoon with The Munch and me and posted it on Facebook. It started making the rounds and people started sharing it. But I didn’t put my logo on the picture. So then I started seeing other friends post the pic, and other groups, but it wasn’t associated to me any more. I mean it was my picture, but it didn’t link back to me in any way.

    At first I was so mad at myself.  I felt like a missed a major opportunity to drive traffic back to me! So more people would see me… like me… care about me! I wanted to be the giver of the information!  Me! Me! Me! The more I saw it floating around, and not attached to me, the more I freaked out.  Of course the original picture I shared had 1,700 shares thanks to my friend reposting it on her popular page… but that had a spelling mistake in it because that is my fucking karma! (Hey! I know I am using the concept of Karma wrong here, but I am being emphatic so forgive me).

    Okay… pause….

    I found this to be a really interesting example of how the ego gets tied into things that are essentially ego-less. In reality, I should have been happy that people thought the image had value and wanted to share it. That it took a small part in spreading awareness about an issue that I cared about. But as much as my rational mind knew this, my emotional-self wanted to be credited with that message. WHICH IS ABSURD!!  It was beyond ironic that I had the audacity to feel used by people sharing my picture without crediting me, when the message could easily say I was using it to promote myself.

    That is the thing about activism. It has to come from a pure place, and not from wanting to somehow have ownership over the message. Because to feel personal attachment to the information you are trying to spread, is the very same paradigm that we are trying to change with activism.

    “Mamma you are being silly!

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  • The Forbidden Fruit Has Been Tasted

    It happened.  My child has been exposed.  She experienced the taste of sin. A drug she will battle with, and probably abuse many times.  And I am not talking black tar heroin, because we already kicked that habit when she was 18-months.  I am talking about sugar.

    It started innocently enough. With an organic, vegan, gluten-free, coconut Popsicle my mom gave her.  The Munch’s unpolluted mind had never even heard such words as cake, candy, or cookies.  But the more she started to understand the world around her, the harder it became to lie about what things were.  She started to look at me with doubt when I insisted that a lollipop was made of fairy skin.

    A birthday cake was the gateway drug.  My friend’s husband offered her a piece.  I almost refused.  I was this close from convincing The Munch that cake was bread with barf spread on top of it.  But it was for free, and he insisted she have a taste.  I figured it was a special occasion, and let her live on the wild side.  How often does one go to birthday parties? It turns out, quite a lot.  Now all she cares about at these stupid parties is the cake. It doesn’t even matter whose party it is.

    I think I was the one who gave her the first cookie.  But it wasn’t my fault.  I was tired, weak, and had my guard down.  I didn’t have it in me to fight against her wrath.  She manipulated me.  And now she knows not only that cookies are fucking delicious, but also what they look like.  This makes going to a store very complicated because she understands that round circles with black dots means that shit is good.

    The ice cream happened with her babysitter… the candy too.  Now The Munch is fully aware just how tasty sugar is.  The only things I have been able to keep from her are chocolate bars.  I told her they were “Mamma crackers” and made out of cat poop.

    Maybe it is not a big deal?  Sugar is a part of life and if I deprive her totally I will only make the forbidden more seductive.  But it is not good for the immune system.  It doesn’t contribute anyway to her her health.  And even if its organic treats she is getting, it doesn’t mean its good for her (although I tell myself that organic ice cream happens to be great for me).

    I am trying not to care too much.  To realize that finding a balance is part of parenting and if I am too controlling about what The Munch eats I could give her a complex.  But her naivety made my life so much easier.  She was totally oblivious to the temptation.  The Munch’s ignorance protected her from feeling the disappointment of lacking – or maybe more important it protected me from her.  Now she knows what she is missing when I say. “no you can’t have that.” The subsequent distress, frustration, horror, and tantrum that follow are because she can taste the vacuum of what could have been.

    Sugar is the first drug children are exposed to.  It has an addictive quality, and also makes you feel high.  The rush.  The hyper manic energy that makes you want to punch a cat in the face.  And then of course the crash, that leads into the depression of being without, that eventually morphs into then the desperate searching for your next fix.  And like the need for drugs, kids will do anything to get their sweets.  Including scream in your face, embarrass you at stores, and weep uncontrollably while shaking in the corner.

    “Hey Mamma! This doesn’t taste like fairy flesh?!”

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    March 19, 2013 • 2 years old, baby body, baby brain, Eating, Health • Views: 11057