Zoya Naaz Rehman | Poem
Freedom is a Four Letter Word (f**d)
Historically, food has been a tool of protest to reckon with. With Gandhi’s hunger strikes, the mass defiance against British salt laws, and the Sepoy Mutiny, the Indian freedom struggle was, at its core, driven by food. Now, India is on the brink of her 75th Independence Day, but Indians are still wrestling with a notion of freedom, more of the people than of laws. Social norms and biases – of class, gender, and religion – undeniably retain their chokehold on Indian society. A relook at our history, brimming with food and revolution, reveals a path in this fight for freedom.
if you’ve ever wondered what a weapon would look like
in your hands, pay attention
at your next meal.
watch your hands grip the trigger, the bullet, the barrel, the body all at once
each time you spoon the food from your plate into your mouth.
in a country of 1.39 billion people
the experience of eating is our only shared practice.
the basal need for food strips us down
forces us to shed our layers, it blurs our names
food doesn’t differentiate among hungry stomachs–
so eat
because in each bite, there is a revolution.
to the women of this country
you’ve been the keepers of this weapon
now you learn how to use it for yourself.
for when you’re the only one being fed.
in this country where you're always giving,
always accommodating, always fitting yourself
into their boxes of society, of beauty,
always watching your figure, always watching your mouth
defy. take up space. and eat
with love for yourself and for the food.
eat your way to freedom.
and the men– cook. cook your own food.
bell hooks wrote about when feminism bloomed
with women at consciousness raising groups,
identifying their internalized behaviors of the patriarchy.
men, it’s your turn now– perform the labor of cooking
and the labor of learning the ways of the world
and the labor of raging at the ways of the world
and the labor of unlearning the ways of the world.
perform the labor, tell your friends about it,
about the process and what came of it
and eat. eat what you cooked with respect for the labor.
eat your way to freedom.
to the people who believe in God (or don’t),
if your idea of whatever sits in the skies is seen as superior to someone else’s–
to the people who can name their names without shame,
if you can eat from all the same dishes without risk of polluting them–
stand by your friends. especially those
who pray differently from you, who live differently from you,
who eat differently from you
because the food of these people is being policed
their food is being labelled as illicit
and as punishable. your silence
will be mistaken for your approval
next, your friends will be labelled as illicit, be punished,
but it doesn’t have to come to that, break bread with them.
with those that are your friends and also with those that aren’t
because survival shouldn’t be dependent on being liked.
eat with them and feed them
and share the food from your kitchens.
when you approach risky territory on the table
safe for some of you but taboo for others
don’t get up and leave. stay
and let your food sit beside theirs
the two vessels will be like flint stones striking against each other
starting a fire and you can watch the world burn outside.
eat at the same tables.
eat your way to freedom.
but if you’re not pure, if you’re not holy–
eat anyway. eat the food of your people
amongst the cries of indignation.
remember that taste is merely a myth
disgust is a function of habit
just because your food is alien doesn’t mean it’s outlandish
we all belong somewhere.
treat this food as a symbol of life and a way of protest
and you might eat your way to freedom.
to food growers–
there’s no preaching to the choir. the farmers of this country
have taught us that you have to eat even in battle,
especially in battle
you have to eat even as you inch your way to freedom.
but to food eaters– grow your own food.
plant the seeds lovingly, watch with wonder as they come to life,
and then stand by as the elements wreck them.
plant a whole cob of corn and watch the birds devour all but one plant.
plant a whole garden bed of peppers and watch as the cats trample them at play.
plant a patch of herbs and watch as the tropical rain drowns them.
watch the process of growth,
and witness the destruction that comes holding its hand
raise your consciousness and eat. for one week
eat only the food you grow, the food you cook,
the food you love, the food you share.
for one week, eat only the food that feeds your thoughts.
after this
when you come back to the table
you’ll see the weapon
and then
you’ll be ready.
in your hands, pay attention
at your next meal.
watch your hands grip the trigger, the bullet, the barrel, the body all at once
each time you spoon the food from your plate into your mouth.
in a country of 1.39 billion people
the experience of eating is our only shared practice.
the basal need for food strips us down
forces us to shed our layers, it blurs our names
food doesn’t differentiate among hungry stomachs–
so eat
because in each bite, there is a revolution.
to the women of this country
you’ve been the keepers of this weapon
now you learn how to use it for yourself.
for when you’re the only one being fed.
in this country where you're always giving,
always accommodating, always fitting yourself
into their boxes of society, of beauty,
always watching your figure, always watching your mouth
defy. take up space. and eat
with love for yourself and for the food.
eat your way to freedom.
and the men– cook. cook your own food.
bell hooks wrote about when feminism bloomed
with women at consciousness raising groups,
identifying their internalized behaviors of the patriarchy.
men, it’s your turn now– perform the labor of cooking
and the labor of learning the ways of the world
and the labor of raging at the ways of the world
and the labor of unlearning the ways of the world.
perform the labor, tell your friends about it,
about the process and what came of it
and eat. eat what you cooked with respect for the labor.
eat your way to freedom.
to the people who believe in God (or don’t),
if your idea of whatever sits in the skies is seen as superior to someone else’s–
to the people who can name their names without shame,
if you can eat from all the same dishes without risk of polluting them–
stand by your friends. especially those
who pray differently from you, who live differently from you,
who eat differently from you
because the food of these people is being policed
their food is being labelled as illicit
and as punishable. your silence
will be mistaken for your approval
next, your friends will be labelled as illicit, be punished,
but it doesn’t have to come to that, break bread with them.
with those that are your friends and also with those that aren’t
because survival shouldn’t be dependent on being liked.
eat with them and feed them
and share the food from your kitchens.
when you approach risky territory on the table
safe for some of you but taboo for others
don’t get up and leave. stay
and let your food sit beside theirs
the two vessels will be like flint stones striking against each other
starting a fire and you can watch the world burn outside.
eat at the same tables.
eat your way to freedom.
but if you’re not pure, if you’re not holy–
eat anyway. eat the food of your people
amongst the cries of indignation.
remember that taste is merely a myth
disgust is a function of habit
just because your food is alien doesn’t mean it’s outlandish
we all belong somewhere.
treat this food as a symbol of life and a way of protest
and you might eat your way to freedom.
to food growers–
there’s no preaching to the choir. the farmers of this country
have taught us that you have to eat even in battle,
especially in battle
you have to eat even as you inch your way to freedom.
but to food eaters– grow your own food.
plant the seeds lovingly, watch with wonder as they come to life,
and then stand by as the elements wreck them.
plant a whole cob of corn and watch the birds devour all but one plant.
plant a whole garden bed of peppers and watch as the cats trample them at play.
plant a patch of herbs and watch as the tropical rain drowns them.
watch the process of growth,
and witness the destruction that comes holding its hand
raise your consciousness and eat. for one week
eat only the food you grow, the food you cook,
the food you love, the food you share.
for one week, eat only the food that feeds your thoughts.
after this
when you come back to the table
you’ll see the weapon
and then
you’ll be ready.