Debate ISSUE 2 | FOOD | 2021
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EDITOR Rebecca Zhong debate@aut.ac.nz DESIGNER Ramina Rai ILLUSTRATOR Yi Jong EDITORIAL ASSISTANT Andrew Broadley FEATURE WRITER Alana McConnell SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER Nam Woon Kim LIFESTYLE AND CULTURE EDITOR Lucy Wormald STUDENT NEWS REPORTER Justin Wong NEWS WRITER Justin Hu CONTRIBUTORS Dani Molloy, Nathan Limm ADVERTISING Jesse Jones jesse.jones@aut.ac.nz PRINTER Nicholson Print Solutions DISCLAIMER Material contained in this publication does not necessarily represent the views or opinions of AUTSA, its advertisers, contributors, Nicholson Print Solutions or its subsidiaries. This publication is entitled to the full protection given by the Copyright Act 1994 (“the Act”) to the holders of the copyright, being AUT STUDENT ASSOCIATION (“AUTSA”). Reproduction, storage or display of any part of this publication by any process, electronic or otherwise (except for the educational purposes specified in the Act) without express permission is a break of the copyright of the publisher and will be prosecuted accordingly. Inquiries seeking permission to reproduce should be addressed to AUTSA. Debate is a member of the Aotearoa Student Press Association (ASPA). Follow Debate! debatemag.com debate_mag autsadebate debate@aut.ac.nz
Contents 4 From the Editor 5 From the AUT Muslim Student Association 6 AUT Management Unable to Act on Past Bullying Accusations 8 Silicon Valley Styled Frat House Seek Flatmates 9 What’s On 10 Dan Carter - A Career Like No Other 13 RIP Blackboard: AUT ditches aging platform 14 The Acceptability of Harassment in Hospitality 18 Grub Gratitude 21 Calling Out to All Writers! 22 Baos with Nai Nai 24 Why Does British Food Suck? 28 When I Read Way Too Deeply on the Food 30 The Intuition Inquiry 34 Puzzles 3
with food differed. Alana, Debate’s feature writer, has a history of working in the hospitality industry. An industry that has long operated with an open secret of harassment. Alana shares her experiences with working in hospitality while also discussing why people are so reluctant to treat harassment and misconduct with the same care as other professions.
From the Editor I’ll be honest, growing up I hated Chinese food. Well at least I programmed myself to hate Chinese food. The ambivalence towards the food of my immigrant parents was part of a proxy battle I waged as I tried to grapple with my own identity as a second generation Chinese in a very Eurocentric neighbourhood. I only realised how good Chinese food was after I slept over at a friend's house. Her mum served us steamed cabbage and a poached chicken breast, and from that day onwards, I told my mum to always pick me up before dinner time. I realised my desire for ‘white’ people food only served as medication to soothe my assimilation anxieties. When I told Andy, Debate’s editorial assistant, about this we knew that we had to do another food issue.
Food speaks volumes about culture, identity, love languages and struggle. For me personally, food is where I feel most understood. While I’m not fluent in Cantonese, and I feel disconnected in many ways to being Chinese, I still feel confident in navigating my way through an Asian grocery store. I know what brands sell the best bean curd sauce so I can prepare ong choy (Chinese watercross) just as well as my parents' favourite restaurant. In any Chinese household, you’ll be hard pressed to find a love language stronger than food. My parents don’t wear their hearts on their sleeves, but that's only because their sleeves are always rolled up, carefully preparing my favourite meal. As I was editing Issue 2, I was quick to learn that everyone's relationship
Andy investigates the age old question, “Why does British food suck?” A story born from my hate of white people's food, and Andy’s disdain for his white mum's cooking. As much as we wanted to just poke fun at white people, Andy was quick to learn that the question is inherently a lot more complex to answer. Nam, Debate’s social media manager, revisits some of his favourite food scenes in movies. His analysis on the bento boxes in My Neighbor Totoro remains one of my favourite pieces in this issue. I recommend that you all read it. Among these pieces, there remains many other stories on food. But of course, we’ve got a lil bit of news for you too. Nathan Limm talks to Sir Graham Henry about Dan Carter’s prolific career, and Justin Wong spills the tea on AUT’s independent review on harassment and bullying. The lack of accountability is both unfortunate and unsurprising given AUT’s history of sweeping things under the rug. And if you’re an ex UoA student and have found yourself across the road only to discover that AUT uses the hideous platform that is Blackboard, please don’t drop out yet: Justin Hu writes on the death of Blackboard.
From the Muslim Student Association AUT MSA Executive Council Committee member Mohamed Soliman reflects on March 15th "The tragic events of the 15th of March were very hard on the Muslim community, and, sadly, we still hear in the news about some sick individuals who want to hurt us even more. However, that doesn't matter at all, why? Because we know that the wider community of Aotearoa is with us, and we are one. The love and Aroha of the people of Aotearoa can beat any hatred in the hearts of some people. Kia Kaha Aotearoa." - Mohamed Soliman (AUT MSA President)
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AUT management unable to act on past bullying accusations, says senior leadership By Justin Wong The senior leadership team at AUT said some recommendations from a university-wide review on bullying are being implemented, but it cannot look into past allegations and did not say whether it will probe harassment within students. This comes during an online Q&A session last week between staff, Vice Chancellor Derek McCormack, and Deputy Vice-Chancellor Kathryn McPherson discussing the findings of Kate Davenport QC’s external review, which was launched last June after former academic Dr Marisa Paterson alleged then-Pro Vice Chancellor Max Abbott of sexual stalking and harassment. Released in early February, Davenport said that out of almost 400 people interviewed, 273 claimed that they had been the subject of bullying.
There were also sexual harassment accusations against 8 staff members that had since left the university. Davenport concluded that while AUT does not have an ongoing problem with sexual harassment, the university has a problem with bullying, and its processes to resolve and handle complaints were inadequate, as staff complaints were often overlooked or not properly addressed. She recommended that AUT should establish standalone policies on sexual harassment explicitly stating that any action of that kind will not be tolerated. The report also said the university should set up a new threetiered procedure and an independent body to handle complaints, as well as undertaking intensive training for everyone on harassment and people management.
After the report was released, McCormack apologised to those subjected to bullying and harassment at the university. In the Q&A session, he said AUT is now implementing all 52 of the review’s recommendations, starting with senior leadership taking bullying and harassment training from external advisor Shayne Mathieson, while the Academic Board has decided to develop a Code of Conduct for research supervisors. But McPherson said the university is unable to identify and further investigate the schools and departments that are most rife with inappropriate behaviour or hold past perpetrators to account, as the identities of those participated or accused are confidential from the leadership. “The report was confidential so in terms of holding individuals accountable for everything, Kate [Davenport QC] couldn’t investigate all the issues she heard about.” “In terms of accountability, my sense is that the report kind of speaks for itself about the job at hand and the issues that need to be dealt with and lays the responsibility for doing that and driving that to the leadership.” McCormack said the review was set up to be confidential to ensure that those who spoke to the reviewer could “do so without any fear of unreasonable consequences” and make the process more open.
Both McCormack and McPherson also denied allegations that senior management knew the names of people accused of bullying and harassment and told Davenport to remove them from the final report, with McPherson claiming that no such list exists. “There was never any such list or report given to me.” “In fact, the QC did not provide any kind of private list of who was alleged to be bullied either.” “We’re really keen that if people did talk to the reviewer about the situation that they were in, that we give them an avenue for support so that it can be surfaced."
McCormack said there was a “question of fairness” on naming those who were alleged of bullying or harassment to the reviewer because it did not give them “a proper opportunity to respond”. “It is really for fairness and lack of fear that we made this commitment, but it does mean that if you went to the reviewer with a problem, we won’t know that.” “We would like you to have an opportunity to tell someone who is independent, confidential, and impartial, but who can initiate some action with the university around your concern.” Despite only 23 people interviewed identifying as students, Davenport said she found “minimal evidence” of bullying amongst students, but recommended all students should take compulsory consent training to “assist in minimising sexual harassment and consent issues between students”. However, McCormack did not answer if the university is going to investigate bullying amongst the student community, but said he had been talking to AUTSA about the issue. An AUTSA spokesperson says the report’s conclusion does not show what students were going through but did not say what has been discussed with the university on bullying within the student community, or whether the association wants an inquiry on the topic. “This conclusion conflicts with the lived experience of many of our students, and with the anecdotal evidence that has come to light since the first media reports of these behaviours.” “Discussion has already started between AUTSA and AUT on the potential to work together to understand the students’ lived experience.” It also says the proposed compulsory consent training would benefit from being guided by student input, and its success depend “greatly” on the nature and implementation. The Q&A session was originally scheduled in mid-February at different AUT campuses in person but was postponed twice due to Auckland’s moves to Covid-19 alert level 3.
Where to get help Need to Talk?: Call or text 1737 | Safe to Talk: Call 0800 044 334, text 4334, webchat safetotalk.nz, email support@safetotalk.nz Rape Crisis: 0800 88 33 00 | Youthline: 0800 376 633 | Victim Support: 0800 842 846 Call 111 if you or someone else is in immediate danger
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Silicon Valley styled frat house seek flatmates, insisting it is “not a frat house”
The document said the flat’s goal was to create “an ecosystem in which driven people can come back every day and truly feel at home while being surrounded in an intellectual and productivity greenhouse”. It also claimed some of the tenants are working with aerospace company Rocket Lab, software firm Atlassian, consultancy PricewaterhouseCoopers (PwC), and “plenty of top-notch entrepreneurs”. “To set the tone upfront, this is not designed to be a party/vlogger house where its’s constantly high energy, instead, it’s more of a sanctuary.” “My grandma’s apartment across the road is $3m, this house cost $3.4m.”
By Justin Wong Disclaimer: This is a satirical take of existing facts, please save your money on your startups (or protein powder) rather than wasting it on suing a broke, shitposting student magazine. A Newmarket 18-bedroom “stereotypical Silicon Valley ‘hustle house’” that is currently made up of all-male “young entrepreneurs and young professionals” recently gained attention after a social media post looking for flatmates went viral, but tenants said it is not a frat house, although it acts like one.
Debate understands the flat’s main tenant had registered a limited company named “Silicon Mahi” at an apartment located across the house and had plans to proceed with a project in the same name that engages in “technology research activities”, despite not having any Māori representation. The initiative had since been dropped after criticisms on Twitter. Even though claiming it’s not a high-energy party house, the document revealed the flat had “initiatives” including parties, betting on world events, nominating 20-50 honorary members, 5-minute TEDx discussions, gym groups, co-consulting sessions, and groups for preparing high protein, low carbohydrate meals. Future initiatives, according to the document, could include wrestling, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, gaming parties, art nights, setting up TikTok and YouTube accounts for “crazy stuff we do”, and a Billion Club Speaker Series that invite “high net-worth adults to speak to us”. The flat also attempted to throw a flat warming party at the end of December last year that saw invitations extended to more than 700 people, secured corporate sponsors and promised “first 200 entries get a free tequila shot”, before it was cancelled after landlords threatened legal action. Several current occupants, who insist they only be identified as Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg, told Debate repeatedly every two sentences that the flat is not a frat house and it is planning to produce a product that “will be better than the iPhone when Steve [Jobs, former Apple CEO] announced it” in the coming years.
The flat, which calls itself the YoPro Collective, uses branding that is blatantly identical to the Facebook page of a group of young London art producers, despite describing itself as “some of New Zealand’s brightest up and coming leaders and entrepreneurs” in a now-deleted information document.
However, Debate is unable to get more comments from them or other tenants as they insist the entire editorial team invest in their artificial intelligence company or join its board of directors before answering any more questions.
What's on
Fields Festival When: Sun 25 April Where: Ellerslie Racecourse What: From the organisers of Our:House comes a new festival dedicated to the country's finest house music. The green space at Ellerslie Racecourse will be transformed into Fields Festival this ANZAC weekend, where lovers of house music will be treated to all manner of styles. Cost: $74.50+
Are the Arts essential? When: Tue 16 March Where: The Civic What: Six of New Zealand’s stars of the stage, screen and media come together to debate the value of culture, creativity and the arts. Expect to be challenged and entertained as the two teams provoke, pontificate, brag, brawl and banter to make their case. Cost: $29-$49
Hine!
Central Flea Market
When: Fri 19 March Where: The Civic What: Let the dulcet tones of these amazing wāhine bring music to your ears! Betty-Anne Monga (Ardijah) appears alongside young and talented musicians Amy Boroevich, Disciple Pati, Jhasmyne and Emily Muli for a supreme showcase of musical prowess at The Civic Club. Cost: $20-$49
When: Sun 21 March Where: 173 Balmoral Road What: A good old fashioned flea market located in central Auckland. Come along experience a curated selection of vintage clothing, crafts and homeware vendors and get your food & coffee fix while you're at it. Cost: Free
Beacon Festival When: Sat 27 March Where: Queens Wharf What: Friendly Potential returns to Queens Wharf for the second edition of Beacon Festival - an open-air celebration featuring an international lineup of some of the best electronic music the world has to offer. Cost: $119
Food Truck Fridays @Britomart When: Every Friday, 11:00 - 2:30pm Where: Takutai Square, Britomart What: Britomart and the Auckland Food Truck Collective have rounded up a selection of the best food vendors for a weekly rotation of street food on Takutai Square. The Friday vibes will include live entertainment, from DJ Alice Rose and bean bags on the square for a chilled and relaxed Friday lunch Cost: Varies 9
Dan Carter
A Career Like No Other Sports writer Nathan Limm sat down with former All Blacks coach Sir Graham Henry to chat about Dan Carter’s incredible highs and lows
1598 test points. 112 test caps. Two rugby world cups. It’s no secret Dan Carter’s been one of the most influential rugby players in the last twenty years.
“His longevity and success have been phenomenal. He’s such a marvellous influence on the game. He would be the best first-five ever in 120 years of international rugby...It was very unusual to have a five-eighth that had all the attributes. This guy had no weakness.”
So when arguably the greatest fly-half to ever lace up the boots announces his retirement from the sport, it’s no wonder the world takes a moment to reflect on his career.
Although Carter made his debut for the All Blacks in 2003, he didn’t burst onto the world stage until a year later on New Zealand’s northern tour.
The three-time world player of the year set the world alight in 2005. Who could
The then 22-year-old had played nearly all his professional rugby for
forget his 33-point masterclass in the second test against the Lions, heralded by many as the most exceptional performance ever by a firs five-eighth?
the Crusaders and the All Blacks at second-five.
Then there’s his man-of-the-match effort in the final of the 2015 Rugby World Cup - Carter’s last in the black jersey - when he slotted a 40-metre drop goal to give New Zealand an eight point buffer over our transTasman rivals. Sir Graham Henry, Carter’s coach at the highest level from 2004 to 2011, spares no praise in his assessment of the veteran.
Henry admits it was a gamble naming Carter their number one fly-half for the tour, but says it couldn't have worked out better. “There was a bit of an unknown whether he could play first five-eighth. We took a punt on him - that’s Wayne Smith, Steve Hansen and myself - and it all turned to gold...We knew we had someone of high quality then, we just didn’t know how good he was going to be.”
His standout performance came in the final game of the series against France, who were European champions at the time. Carter cleverly orchestrated his team’s assault and went on to score a try, kick four penalties and four conversions. New Zealand massacred Les Bleus 45-6. From there, Carter grew from strength to strength. His dismantling of the Lions and maiden world player of the year award in 2005 were merely checks on the calendar. By this point New Zealand’s firstchoice ten, he began to influence the way the All Blacks functioned as a squad. Including, Henry says, the way they were coached. “He always said to me 'let’s try to keep this as simple as possible' because I was a wee bit too complex. He taught me a lot of things as well. Simplicity is best. So instead of having 20 plays we’d have ten, and we’d have varieties on those plays.”
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During his tenure, Henry formed a senior leadership group among the players. With the skipper Richie McCaw as the leader and motivator, Carter became commander of New Zealand’s attack. “Daniel was the navigator of the team; he called the shots…He gets very involved in the purpose and the sorts of behaviours that achieve that purpose; how the team conducts itself. He transfers a lot of information onto the younger players in the team who highly respect him.” As the tactician, Carter needed a ruthless ability to make decisions on the fly. Henry says the level of understanding he possessed was developed both on and off the pitch over a number of years. “He had a map in his mind and he knew what calls to make on various parts of the field. He would work religiously off the field to make sure he had the game plan very clear in his mind so when he got on the field it wasn’t a big issue.” But while the former All Black’s numbers set him apart from world competition, it’d be a mistake to gloss over the most prominent challenges of his career. Namely, injury. With feet like fireworks, a left boot worthy of an Oscar and a rugby mind like no other, it quickly became clear Dan Carter’s only competition for the black number ten jersey was, in fact, Dan Carter. He repeatedly sustained injuries at the most crucial stages in his career. Carter limped off the field in New Zealand’s devastating quarterfinal loss to France in 2007, but perhaps his most
disastrous injury came four years later, in 2011. The All Blacks were training in Wellington ahead of their final pool match with Canada, when Carter, routinely practicing his goal kicking, freakishly tore his adductor tendon off the bone. The dream was over.
highest level. “He had self-doubts on whether his body would stand up to the riggers of international rugby. That was his challenge and it was reinforced by recurring injuries. He hadn’t done what he wanted to do as an international footballer.” In 2015, it clicked.
With feet like fireworks, a left boot worthy of an Oscar and a rugby mind like no other, it quickly became clear Dan Carter’s only competition for the black number ten jersey was, in fact, Dan Carter. Even now, the memory sends shivers down the spine of the former All Blacks coach. “He was going to be captain of the All Blacks for the first time in that game. That was a massive, massive moment in that particular world cup, ‘cause he was worth 20 points to us.” Injuries continued to plague his career, and with increasing criticism from the public and the media, pressure began to mount on the seasoned first-five. Henry says Carter himself began to question his ability to survive at the
Carter showed signs of brilliance in what would be his last home test, jinking his way through the Wallaby defense to set up Dane Coles for the first try in the All Blacks’ 41-13 demolition-job at Eden Park. This continued into the world cup. His crucial drop goals against South Africa in the semifinal and then Australia in the final have come to be hallmarks of his career. After all the years of heartache, Henry bets the world cup trophy, man-of-the-match honours and the world rugby player of the year award felt pretty bloody good. “He was at the peak of his powers and he ran the ship superbly. That 2015 final is probably the game that he would look back on as the pinnacle of his career.” Although it was years ago that he departed from the television screens of Kiwi rugby fans, it is important to once again acknowledge the rarity of Carter’s talent and the privilege of watching him play. One can only wonder whether we’ll ever see talent of his nature grace our rugby greens again.
RIP Blackboard
AUT ditches aging platform By Justin Hu Students and staff can begin farewelling Blackboard, as AUT begins to retire the aging software platform. At a meeting in December, AUT Council, the university’s governing body, signed off on a $15 million programme to begin implementing Canvas as a replacement. “The implementation of Canvas is underway and the appropriate staff teams are being brought together,” said ViceChancellor Derek McCormack at a council meeting. AUT says they expect Canvas to go live for students and staff in the first semester of next year, with the university’s Blackboard license expiring in 2022. The transition comes after the university ran a two-year internal procurement process which found that Canvas has a “qualitative difference in performance, user experience and functionality.” “This is a crucial system for us throughout all of our teaching in the future,” said McCormack, who also said the new system would be integral to supporting online learning amid the global pandemic. “This will be one of the largest IT projects AUT has undertaken since we became a university 20 years ago,” continued McCormack in a report. AUT spokesperson Alison Sykora said academics will begin working through a 10-week course development process on the new system to get their courses ready for the transition. “Our learning management system is the largest piece of academic infrastructure that touches almost every staff and student,” Sykora tells us. “Throughout the year, we will keep students up to date on the progress of the project and provide information on how best to use Canvas to enhance their learning experience. Courses will be prioritized in order of their occurrence in 2022.”
The university said that archived class material will not be shifted to Canvas, though students will have the opportunity to download their Blackboard course information, from the last three years, before the system is ‘turned off.’ AUT has also said that a schoolwide replacement for the virtual meeting Collaborate functionality in Blackboard is yet to be determined. The replacement Canvas system is currently in use at the University of Auckland, after it began its transition to the platform over five years ago. A group of students surveyed by Debate said they were glad to see the replacement of Blackboard, which many perceived as laborious to work with. “It’s good they’re finally doing something about it, but it sure could have come sooner. [...] It’s slow and you have to change how you work on it between every class,” said Anthony — a second-year student studying computer science. First trialled in 2002 as ‘AUTOnline,’ Blackboard has been with students and staff for 17 years, with the university mandating it for all courses in 2009. Other universities that continue to use Blackboard include the University of Otago and Victoria University in Wellington. The replacement, Canvas, has experienced significant growth in the universities sector overseas since its launch in 2008 and has been lauded for being open-source, meaning the software’s source code is publicly inspectable. AUT is expecting to bring on external candidates to help transition students and staff into the new system, as a result of "the specialist nature of the work." The project is being led by the university’s pro-vice-chancellor of learning Gayle Morris.
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The Acceptability of Harassment in Hospitality The hospitality industry is one that has long operated with an open secret, a culture of harassment. Alana McConnell discusses why this behaviour has been accepted and why we are so unwilling to address the root cause. Illustration by Yi Jong. Content Warning: This article touches on issues regarding workplace harassment and misconduct. If you are seeking help on disciplinary matters, the highly trained advocacy team at AUTSA can provide a confidential and free service. While the team cannot provide legal advice they can give legal information. Contact advocacy@aut.ac.nz
Hospitality is predominantly made up of young women at the front of house, oftentimes in their teens and early twenties. When Covid-19 hit New Zealand, 90% of those who lost their jobs were women, comprised mainly of young people and Māori.1. Though at times fast-paced, exciting, and highly varied, hospitality can also be extremely difficult and thankless. Split shifts, minimum wage pay, non-existent breaks and entitled customers can be a less appealing side to the job. It would also be a stretch to find a woman who has worked in hospitality who has not had an experience involving creepy customers or co-workers, sexually inappropriate comments and advances, and feelings of discomfort. I’ve exchanged numerous stories with friends about our experiences, with our shared disbelief that this behaviour is so commonplace in the industry, so much so that it seems it should be advertised in the job description. Maybe it’s due to the unconventional hours of the job, the alcohol being poured freely, and the informal setting where people come to relax and enjoy themselves that make harassment in the hospitality industry so rife. Over the course of working in the hospitality industry for six years, I wracked up my fair share of stories involving uncomfortable and inappropriate behaviour from customers and coworkers alike. When I was around 18, I had a summer job over the university break back in my hometown, at a Mediterreanean restaurant. One of the kitchen staff 1
was known among all the front of house girls as being exceptionally creepy, to the point that most of the girls avoided being alone with him at all. One shift he looked at me and stated a combination of numbers and letters. “Do you know what that is?” he asked me. “That’s my license plate number,” I replied cautiously. He nodded and gave me a knowing smile. I’m not sure what he was trying to achieve by saying that to me and by memorising my license plate number, but it definitely didn’t make me feel very comfortable. He was constantly asking us if we had boyfriends, and I found it a lot easier to make up a fictional boyfriend than to say I didn’t. I’ve created a fictional boyfriend on a few occasions during shifts, as it seems men respect the idea of a boyfriend more than a woman simply saying no. I know that so many others in the industry have experienced serious cases of harassment and and situations that leave them feeling hot-faced and uncomfortable, but it seems to be so commonplace that it’s never considered to be worthy of large scale attention. The risk of losing your job or being viewed as a drama queen or an attention seeker can be enough for many hospitality workers to downplay their experiences or only confide in their friends instead of taking it up with management, especially if management is the one responsible.
https://www.tvnz.co.nz/one-news/new-zealand/ninety-per-cent-kiwis-lost-jobs-during-covid-19-pandemic-women-data-shows
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boss told them that the behaviour was not acceptable and threatened to ban them, did they reluctantly apologise, but consistently ignored Elysia’s warnings and assertions. Elysia had forgotten about this experience but now remembers the distinct feeling of smallness. Her authority meant nothing to these men.
A friend of mine worked at a hole in the wall bar in Auckland’s city centre, and when I asked her about her experiences
in the industry, Aria had a number of less than pleasant experiences. “With bar work, I am almost never greeted or acknowledged in any way by men when my male coworker is also working next to me. I’m referred to as ‘baby’, ‘hunny’, and ‘darling’, while literally being eyefucked.” Even in positions of authority such as acting as a duty manager, if you are a young woman in front of a group of older men, often you will still not be taken seriously or you will be undermined due to your age and your gender. Elysia recounted her experience of being a duty manager at a restaurant where a large group of men came every week to play poker. Men in the group made comments about the way women poured beers, calling them bitches and even going so far to spit in the face of the female servers. Only after the male
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It doesn’t seem like sexual harassment in the hospitality industry is taken as seriously as if it were to happen in an office or a corporate environment. Perhaps it’s because in restaurants there isn’t a human resources department, or any sort of process or way to actually deal with complaints of harassment? Maybe the temporary nature of hospitality jobs has something to do with it, where it’s easier to quit than to go through the risky process of coming forward with your experience to a senior member of staff, where there is a high chance you won’t be taken seriously. Or if you come forward with allegations in an office or institution, the way the company responds can determine their future success and reputation. Companies like Russell McVeagh are forced to go through “full internal investigations”2 if staff members come forward with allegations, but this is usually only done after years of turning a blind eye and ignoring the warning signs. The scandal at the Russell McVeagh law firm made national headlines while it most likely would take
an allegation of immense magnitude in the hospitality industry to be talked about in the community. If you take away prestige, stature, and power, then how many people are left caring about a harassment case? I got a job at a bustling all day eatery in a central Auckland suburb, and from the outside it seemed like a pretty amazing job. I was pretty friendly with one of the chefs, who was a 37 year old man. I was 21 at the time. He took a liking to me, as I took the time to interact with the chefs and make conversation. But one day he said to me “I wish I was younger so I could take you out on a date”. On my last shift I was walking up to the storeroom to give it a clean, and he shouted behind me “Do you want some help up there?” I had no idea what to say, but it made me feel exceedingly uncomfortable. This was minor compared to a particular regular customer in his late 50s, who appeared to always be drunk when he arrived in the evenings. Every time he ordered a bottle of expensive red wine and the $48 scotch fillet, potentially owing to why no manager ever called him out. This man made sexually inappropriate comments to nearly every female member of staff, one time telling me to “stop smiling you’re too sexy” and it angered me that even though they knew this was a common occurrence, nothing was ever done about it. Though they were made aware by staff, they chose to turn a blind eye.
https://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/law-firm-sexual-harassment-scandal-it-was-three-months-of-hell/RSMNE3ESN56MO2FQY7W475LOFA/
Taking a wild guess it appeared they cared more about business than sticking up for the staff in their care. This was also a business where the owners kept the tips for themselves and only gave a share to the staff members they liked enough. I never saw a tip in my entire time working there.
I’ve created a fictional boyfriend on a few occasions during shifts, as it seems men respect the idea of a boyfriend more than a woman simply saying no. On the surface New Zealand can easily be categorised as an egalitarian and progressive country that values equality and opportunities. It can be easy to think that when you look to other parts of the world where women are still lacking equality on so many levels, facing the threat of violence every day from the moment they are born. When we compare our experiences in New Zealand to other parts of the world, this can create an issue of comparative suffering. Comparative suffering undermines our own experiences and doesn’t allow us to take them seriously, feeling as if we
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need to rank our pain against someone else who has it so much worse. But just because the issues in New Zealand aren’t as visceral or obvious, doesn’t mean they don’t exist. It’s disheartening to have our lived experiences minimised because other people haven’t experienced it themselves first-hand, and are unable to put themselves in someone else’s position. I think we still live in a world where when someone comes forward with an allegation and a bad experience, the first thing that happens is that they are placed under a microscope, dissected and automatically disbelieved. If it’s happened to them before then we might think that they’ve done something to cause this, or try to find their role and responsibility. Since July 2018, The Ministry of Business and Innovation (MBIE) has collected workplace sexual misconduct data, initially only collecting data on bullying and harassment. This was largely inspired by the #MeToo movement, and the increased awareness that sexual misconduct is rampant in a variety of industries. This is promising, because the acknowledgement that sexual misconduct is a key player within the realm of harassment is a vital first step towards positive cultural changes. The MBIE is now gathering feedback from those who are familiar with the systems that prevent or respond to harassment at work. The feedback will be used to guide future policies and changes to health and safety in the workplace. The government has also started to strengthen the Protected Disclosures Act 2000,
which provides protections for workers who report wrongdoings at work. The new act (also known as the Protection of Whistleblowers) was introduced into parliament on the 24th of June 2020.3 Every industry, whether it be hospitality, entertainment, education, law, all need a huge cultural shift. We’ve never really been in a position of power when we work in hospitality, especially as a young person trying to make rent every week, accepting minimum wage and putting up with gross treatment because you feel you don’t have any other options. It’s only made worse when you don’t feel supported by your manager or boss, when money and profit is placed at a higher value than your safety and health. When businesses don’t even have the bare minimum of care for their employees, such as legal breaks, correct pay, and safe working environments, it’s no surprise that goes hand in hand with a rampant work culture of harassment and misconduct. There absolutely needs to be accountability and transparency in this industry, and we need to move away from the norm of a hospitality job being unsafe and filled with unsavoury tales. From a government and policy level, I do believe changes are being made, and we can thank the #MeToo movement for that. Hopefully we can move away from this being a common occurrence in the industry and something that always deserves to be called out and stamped out.
https://nzfvc.org.nz/news/government-consulting-bullying-and-harassment-work
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Grub Gratitude Where Our Food Comes From in an Anonymous Food System By Lucy Wormald | Illustration by @dmitrymoi I was ten and sitting at the dining room table the first time my father taught me to honour the food that I was putting in my mouth. It was a roast dinner. My plate was a-jumble with baked vegetables and a slice of chicken was graciously sponging up gravy. I speared a carrot with my fork and as I chewed my father told me to imagine back along the carrot’s timeline to its beginnings as a seed. I pictured the carrot snug in soil, leaves photosynthesising the sunlight, roots drawing in water. Being ever-romantic, I visualised it being plucked from the ground and tossed into the back of an old ute, journeyed up a highway by a whistling farmer to arrive at the supermarket and eventually on my plate. “A remembrance of where your food has come from, a feeling of gratitude for the land that created it and the nutrients that it gives your body, is important,” said my father. Though the ‘why’ behind the importance remained ambiguous to me, I gave a small mental thank you to the land for providing the carrot.
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In a time of swelling anxiety over our exploitation of the earth, this teaching returns to me. I realise the easiest connection we can make to the natural world is through the food we eat. Turning to the past we can see that our food knowledge has played a central role in how we perceive our place in the broader context of the living world. Two hundred years ago we knew a lot more about what we ate and where it came from. Most understood what it took to grow food, how the climate and the rains set the menu. This formed a note of moderation and subsistence to chime through farming and consumption. Human labour worked in tandem with the land to achieve production. We were in an intimate relationship with the land and this made it easier to locate our place within the greater cycles of life. Industrialised and globalised eating is undeniably convenient. It offers us limitless and bountiful access to ingredients and foods from all over the world. As we developed into a society of city-dwelling workers, access to food shifted and supermarkets and factory-farmed produce became the locus of the food system. This new intermediary between land and humans has led many of us to become ignorant to how our food is made and where it
has come from. Over the course of a few generations we have gone from knowing the places and stories behind our provisions' origins to knowing very little about an overproducing and capitalist food system. Author and environmental activist Wendell Berry says: “For most, food is pretty much an abstract idea—something they do not know or imagine—until it appears on the grocery shelf or on the table.”
Two hundred years ago we knew a lot more about what we ate and where it came from. Most understood what it took to grow food, how the climate and the rains set the menu. Now an industrial product, food is packaged and marketed to seduce us rather than inform us. The anonymity and lack of traceability of our ingredients render food sanitised from any previous identity as a living thing. This inhibits any recognition that our edibles came from soil or were produced by land and labour. “Eater and eaten are divorced from biological reality,” Berry says.
Yet each time we eat a spoonful of rice or a chunk of salmon we are dependent on the land, participating in a food chain that links us to ecosystems and landscapes. Understanding our dissonance with this concept, and indeed this relationship, is increasingly crucial as our environmental situation unravels. I remember eating a crayfish my boyfriend dove for over the summer. I spent time at the bay it had lived in. I swum in the same waters in which it grew and I knew it had been ethically caught. I felt a sense of connection to the crayfish and to the bay that fostered it. As we cooked it up in butter and garlic I felt an unfamiliar delight; the remembrance of where the lobster had come from ignited a gratitude. Whilst a way to know your nosh is of course buying local, this isn’t always possible in a food system where ingredients come from all corners of the world. Acknowledging the relationship between food and self, like my father taught, threads an important connection to the land and to the food traditions that have sustained life since the beginning. What we eat touches every part of life and serves as a small reminder that we are part of a connected, living world.
Calling out to all writers! We’re looking for contributors to share their stories on all things to do with sex in our upcoming sex issue! Taboos, fetishes, sexuality, lived experiences, we’re all open ears!
Do you pay? Uhhh AUTSA doesn’t pay us enough to pay you decently. But we can chuck a lil bit of $$$ your way. The pay varies depending on the length and quality of ya piece! How do I get amongst? Send an email to our editor (rzhong@aut.ac.nz) with a pitch on what you want to write about, or include a draft of your piece and we’ll let you know if it gets the ‘yeah’ or ‘nah.’
Deadline: 22nd March 21
Baos with 奶奶 By Rebecca Zhong Growing up, I spent my winters watching 奶奶(grandma) make Baos. 奶奶 was a small women, only made smaller over the years as she began to cockroach over herself. Barely seeing over the counter, she would grab her foot stool which successfully added a few centimetres as she continued with her kitchen ventures. She would use her entire body weight as she kneaded the dough with care. You could feel her warmth, even when a damp breeze smelling of rain and wet grass would blow through our kitchen windows. During the 2020 lockdowns I tried to recreate 奶奶 winter Baos. While edible, my Baos were far from the mouthwatering morsels I remembered. Google was quick to remind me that making Baos was a timely process, calling for both patience and precision. But I never saw 奶奶 pick up a measuring cup in the kitchen, her winter Bao’s never demanded perfection. The dough was crumbly and stiff at first and then suddenly, smooth and slick. When the mixture collected
into a ball, 奶奶 would put the dough to sleep. She would coat it lightly in oil, and rest it under the sun for two hours. Her Baos never required full attention, it gave her room to make a fresh cup of tea and get lost in her own singing. Baos are the perfect snack. They’re pillowy to the touch, with a surprise hiding in the centre. When paired with a cup of tea, your stomach instantly feels warm and loved. When I first moved away from home, I would stock up on packs of pre made Baos. Baos are easy to heat up, and make for a much better breakfast alternative than the stale toast that I always saw my flatmates eating. In Chinese the word for “family” (jia) is the same as the word for “home.” Home is a central part of family in Chinese culture. Growing up, my parents, grandma, aunties, cousins and siblings all lived together, a common practice seen in Chinese families. We all looked after one another, especially 奶奶. She would make dozens of Baos for us all to eat throughout the week, and us kids would help her out. Our responsibilities
varied depending on our respective ages. Being the youngest, I was assigned the role of the ‘scooper’ in our makeshift assembly line, haphazardly scooping filling into each bun. Years later I would be promoted to a ‘folder.’ My small and clumsy hands would copy the movements of 奶奶 whose fingers danced nimbly as they folded and pinched the Baos together. We would always make more Baos than we could eat, freezing the extras for later. In the last few months I have reintroduced 奶奶 Sunday Baos. Instead of making them in a full house, I now make them by myself in the confined space of my 35m2 apartment. The idea of self-care has never resonated with me. But putting the time aside every week to make something savory and delicious for future me to enjoy remains a joyful act. On July evenings whenI’m too tired to muster up the energy to make anything grand, I will pull out two Baos from the freezer and heat them up alongside a bowl of turnip soup. Each bite serves as a reminder of home and comfort.
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Why Does British Food Suck? Brown, Beige, Boiled, Bland, Boring, Basic, British British food has been at the heart of culinary scrutiny for decades for its lack of flavour and flair. Debate’s editorial assistant, Andrew Broadley, answers the age old question, why does British food suck? When Britain fell in love with a fermented fish sauce popular across Asia, they recreated it, and in doing so came up with tomato sauce. A dish that despite being a sugary tomato-based abomination (fight me) remains popular across the Western world and in no way resembles fermented fish. Something about that feels very British. As a nation
they colonised half the world and ruled the spice trade (through horrific and not to be brushed over methods) only to become the bearers of bad taste. Britain is in many ways the laughing stock of the food world, but how did it get that way? How did a cold and grey land of constant drizzle, but one with a rich supply of spice and trade, establish a cuisine so... beige. “What is British cuisine?” Dr Lindsay Neill, a professor of Hospitality at AUT, asks me. It’s a complex question. If we want to ignore the complexities of food in
a modern, globalised context for a moment (we’ll get there) and simply focus on ‘traditional’ British cuisine, Dr Neill says people see it as “overcooked, stodgy, bland food with all the colour boiled out.” He then tells me a sweet story of a time his aunt boiled cabbage for four hours, leaving a smell that penetrates his memory to this day. “So British food is so bad it induces trauma?” My eyes light up at the prospect of my article being filled with snappy one liners and jokes. “Overcooking isn't a cuisine,” Dr Neill reminds me. “Less is more” and if you take away overcooking food, you take away a lot of the issues people have with British food.
Okay so British food isn’t bad (even jellied eels?), British people are just bad cooks? “You have to look at the context and history.” People were poor, their meat and fish weren’t always fresh or of good quality and there were no refrigerators people had to really cook their food. That mentality probably carried over a little to home cooks, but I think today your average cook is going to be a lot better than even 20 years ago. So far I am skeptical. British food is bad because they were poor and it made everyone bad at cooking? Every country was poor at one stage weren’t they? The French weren’t always fancy and rich. China went through their struggles and yet they have a rich and diverse cuisine that is flourishing across the globe. “Food is informed by abundance and scarcity” says Dr Neill. Britain had a
lot of beef and sheep and they used them heavily in their food. This included utilising all parts of the animal (often out of necessity), resulting in some of the more questionable dishes we know (eg Black pudding.) Asia on the other
to go somewhere rich and white to find out. “Does British food suck?”
hand, had a wealth of locally grown herbs and spices and they used those. As time has gone on and there's been a paradigm shift, meat is no longer scarce for most people, so we aren’t going to be impressed by a meat heavy diet, nor one that utilises entrails and offcuts. But one that is full of spices we can’t grow ourselves, or are seen as new and exotic to us, will be. Once expendable income became more common and people began to eat out for status and experience, they turned to foreign and exotic foods, and in a country such as New Zealand, or of course Britain, where the majority of people are of British descent, they aren’t going to turn to beans on toast. But can beans on toast even be fancy? I decided
always going to be a longshot asking the owner of a British pub to side with me on this. “So why do people think it does?” “British people are proud of their working class roots and everyman culture, and that impacts their food. It’s quite basic, it’s humble, it’s no nonsense food. It’s not seen as exotic or exciting by a lot of people”. He goes on to (predictably) side with Dr Neill, and tells me bad cooks have tarnished its reputation. “I grew up in the 1980s when no one could cook. We all had the Edmonds cook book and did our best. There was no variety, we had one channel on the TV whereas now we have countless channels and they are all playing cooking shows!”
“No,” Mylam Sloan, owner of The Patriot in Devonport, is quick to reply. It was
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Like the British, much of French food is humble in origin. They had times of poverty and necessity and this informed the food they ate. But they have pulled off the world's greatest marketing campaign thanks to King Louis the XIV and his minister of finance JeanBaptiste Colbert. During the 1600s the Spanish were the elites of Europe, but King Louis, in an effort to overthrow them, established elaborate and glamorous courts where he encouraged artists, fashion designers, writers and chefs to provide them with the best of the best. The only catch was it had to all be French. This resulted in a third of all Parisians at the time entering
*Pictured: A list ranking terrible looking food above other terrible looking food.
But bad cooking isn't inherently British. I have no doubt many French and Japanese
They are going to want fancy and exotic not humble and homely.” So maybe
children lament the terrible cooking of their own parents. Why do they not suffer the same image problems? Well Mylam also believes that ‘everyman’ culture of Britain has impacted its marketability. “If people are going to go out and spend money they want to feel it’s worth it.
British food isn’t destined to be in fine dining restaurants across the globe, as opposed to French food, and the French themselves, who pride themselves as tastemakers. An image Dr Neill tells me, is a lie.
the fashion and textile industry, and aristocrats across the globe wearing their clothes. In order to read the now latest literature, people learned French, and at a time when the average person could not read this furthered the image of French culture being the culture of the upper class. This image spread to all things French and persists to this day, a stark contrast to the working class ethos of British, and subsequently Kiwi, culture and an example of why people will happily pay to eat snails but not a jellied eel. By this point I was feeling a little defeated. If the French are just good marketers, could Britain really rebrand
themselves into culinary elites? People seem to love Gordon Ramsay and Jamie Oliver after all, and The Patriot seems to be doing pretty well for itself. Are jellied eels actually yum? Is it true that bad cooks and a working class culture have given it all a bad rap? But given what a bad rap exactly? What even is British food? Yeah jellied eels are gross, (I mean it has to be, right?) but to judge British food on jellied eels is to judge Swedish food on Surströmming. Today over half the food consumed in Britain is produced overseas and an influx of immigration alongside the globalisation of information means a traditional spotted dick (that's the real name yes) served with a saffron glaze isn’t unlikely, nor is an English roast heavy in cumin. If you go on google right now, and search ‘what is Britain's national dish’ you will get an answer you may not expect. It’s chicken tikka masala. A dish many of us would probably associate with (Western catered) south Asian cuisine, is apparently the national dish of a country firmly in Western Europe. Believed to have been developed in Britain by Bangladeshi immigrants in the 1960s, it raises a complex question about food and identity. Is a food identified by its history, its place of conception or the identity of its creators? Were the chefs that created it considered
Bangladeshi or British? This speaks to larger issues of immigration, racism, cultural appropriation and our general acceptance of cultures not our own.
Mylam also believes that ‘every man’ culture of Britain has impacted its marketability. “If people are going to go out and spend money they want to feel it’s worth it. They are going to want fancy and exotic not humble and homely.” What does it say that a nation more diverse than ever, more divided than ever, and fueled by racist, anti-immigrant postBrexit sentiment heralds a dish created by Bangaldeshi immigrants, as British? A claim that in many ways feels more British than the dish itself. Across the globe this trend repeats. New York’s Chinatown draws tourists from all over the world and is credited with creating many ‘American Chinese’ dishes. And amidst the COVID pandemic
elderly Asian Americans have faced unprecedented attacks, something mainstream US media continues to largely ignore. Elsewhere in the US a white man pioneered ‘Tex Mex’ cuisine by taking Mexican food, changing it, and spreading it across Texas, a state that itself was stolen from Mexico. South Africa gave us Nando’s in 1987, an apparently Portugese restaurant that serves recipes learned from African locals in Mozambique, seven years before the end of apartheid in 1994. And here in Aotearoa we will sit down for dinner, enjoy a plate of roast ‘kūmara’ and recycle racist news topics that unfairly treat Māori for dinner table talk. What is British food, is a complex question. Does British food suck, is also a complex question. Many of their traditional dishes probably do, many of them probably don’t. The same can be said for most likely every nation on earth. In a modern society how we categorise food is becoming more of a grey area, but what is not a grey area is that food is a reflection of culture and identity, and is something that ties, and differentiates, us all. You are more than welcome to enjoy tikka masala and I am not denying that roast kūmara is delicious, but what the identity of that food says about us, may be a lot more than just how hungry we are.
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Where I Read Way too Deeply Into the Food From My Favourite Movies and Co. Nam Woon Kim is a film geek and a food freak and here he takes us on a brief, but intimate, look at some of his favourite food moments from films and series. Food can mean so much to so many of us and it can be the same for many of our favourite characters. Whether painting a portrait of who a person is, or reaching out from that screen to find a commonality with its audience, food and film are an unrivalled match.
Tony Soprano’s spoon and fork
through a tub of ice cream one spoon at a time. Food is much more than set-dressing when it comes to scenes with Tony.
The willpower used not to make this piece entirely about the Sopranos is not the same restraint exercised by the man himself when it comes to dining on the food of the show. There's been plenty said about the food in this show, whether it's memeing the infamous gabagool or psychoanalysing the relationship Tony has with food as a source of intergenerational trauma.
During his most vulnerable moments watching his comfort show of choice - usually World War 2 documentaries - he's swirling his way to the bottom of a bowl, spoon in hand. Tony, and the midnight desserts he’s seen with throughout the series, portrays a real and ordinary man - a key element of what makes the show so great. On the other hand, pass him a fork and Tony the ruthless mob boss comes to life. When Tony exerts his power, his trusty fork is right there with him. He stabs and scrapes the plate during meetings with subordinates he’d clearly rather not have. As if he wasn’t intimidating enough, Tony will obliterate the food in front of him. A clear dichotomy that the directors rarely draw attention to, trusting the audience will pick up on it.
But, not enough attention is given to the humble forks and spoons that leading star James Gandolfini uses to flesh out the character. How Gandolfini approaches the neverending meals the production team churns out is up to the writing of the scene and which side of Tony we’re meant to be seeing. When he's not eating cold cuts by hand out of the fridge first thing in the morning, he's either forking through what's on his plate or going
(I promise this next one is about actual food).
My Neighbor Totoro bento boxes
Those noodles at the end of Fallen Angels
Growing up, VHS tapes were one of my strongest connections to a home I left as a baby. Every trip we’d make back and forth between here and Seoul involved taking with me new movies or home-video style vignettes of me getting up to no good, as kids tend to do. My sense of family and culture were mediated by this now-dead format and one of my most prized tapes was a Korean-dubbed My Neighbor Totoro. Childhood memories are blurred by this movie which I would watch religiously both here in my new home of Tāmaki Makaurau and back in Seoul.
Plain noodles from a bowl out of frame never looked so good.
What kept me coming back to this movie was the relaxing portrait of life it illustrated. One of the details, which made this picture complete, was the food, particularly the bento boxes the elder sister Satsuki makes for her family. Unlike the kids of the film, I was lucky to have my own mum pack us lunches in similar fashion with containers of varying shapes and sizes. This helped me feel at ease with a transition into new surroundings which I would have to navigate and make sense of, much like Satsuki and her younger sister Mei who move into a new home of their own. I can now see the two spaces I’d consider ‘home’ aren’t completely separate. The food we brought here anchors both homes into a messy, merged experience.
We never get a proper look at what dish she’s eating. They look a little thin and soggy. The fork she’s using probably isn’t the best for the job either. And yet it looks delicious and I couldn’t imagine the scene without it. My introduction to the cinematic world of Fallen Angels was this shot of a woman eating noodles. I knew immediately I needed to see the rest. This humble meal appears briefly at the ending where one of the many central characters enjoys a late night snack in solitude. With a cigarette in hand, she monologues about a life of crime that has left her isolated from other people. She doesn’t even flinch when a fight breaks out in the background and continues to cooly reflect. More than just a well-crafted shot, this long take poses the question of whether our cynical heroine has chosen to tune out the chaos of the world so she can enjoy her own quiet moments, or because she has given up. Either way, it paints a vivid picture and these noodles, a simple and mundane act to close a film, make the message that much stronger. Fallen Angels is filmed exclusively on a super wide-angle lens with the inhabitants of its grimey world often framed a little too close to the camera, as seen here. This stylistic choice, however, seems like the only sensible choice by the end of the film where we reach an intimate conclusion which begins over a bowl of noodles.
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The Intuition Inquiry What is intuitive eating? How does it work? And why is it all over my Instagram feed?
Content Warning: This article loosely discusses diet culture and eating behaviours. If this may be a trigger for you we recommend not reading this piece.
By Dani Molloy Author’s Note: This article provides a general overview of intuitive eating and some of my experiences incorporating its principles into my eating habits. If you are considering making any drastic, long-term changes to your health and diet, you should first consider consulting a medical professional.
aimed to work as a “recovery book for chronic dieters.” The idea of intuitive eating is to eat when you are hungry, and to stop eating when you are full. Instead of letting dieting “experts” dictate when, what and how you eat, readers of Resch and Tribole’s book are encouraged to regain control of their own personal eating habits.
You may have come across the term “intuitive eating” on the page of your favourite Instagram influencer as they smear 10% more hummus on a wafer-thin cracker than they usually would. Or maybe you’ve seen fitness vloggers posting their “top tips for losing weight with intuitive eating” on YouTube. However, despite what these bubbly bloggers portray, the ideology of intuitive eating goes far beyond its recent online notoriety.
When practicing intuitive eating, there is also a large focus on the difference between physical hunger and emotional hunger. Food can often serve as an emotional crutch used to combat negative emotions. An important part of eating intuitively is recognising when you are eating to fill one of your emotional needs, rather than a physical one. You can then recognise this emotional need, acknowledge its validity, and treat it separately to your physical hunger.
The phenomenon of intuitive eating was first introduced in a 1995 self-book by two registered dietitians, Elyse Resch and Evelyn Tribole. Resch and Tribole’s seminal piece, Intuitive Eating: A Revolutionary Process that Works,
Intuitive eating also encourages eating food that is satisfying and fulfilling, instead of food that society deems as “low-calorie” and “healthy.” We have been conditioned to identify “good” and “bad” food to such an extent that if
we want something sugary and sweet, we feel compelled to broadcast to everyone that it’s our “cheat day” or that the treat is, “just a treat!” Intuitive eating recognises that the body naturally craves sweetness and that this is not the sin that fitness gurus make it out to be. In the principles outlined on Resch and Tribole’s website, they recommend making food choices that honour your health as well as your taste buds, and make you feel good. They apply this same approach to movement, encouraging intuitive eating participants to move in a way that feels good for their body, rather than exercising with the sole focus of losing weight. Many influencers will preach about intuitive eating while still eating foods that are low in calories and that match societal standards of “healthy eating.” Many of these influencers are also practicing intuitive eating alongside other restrictive diet methods such as being plant-based, paleo or gluten-free.
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Obviously, if you do have dietary requirements and allergies, these should be considered when eating intuitively; however, you shouldn’t be selfinflicting further restrictions into your eating habits when eating intuitively. Although it can be argued that these “low-calorie”, “healthy” foods could be what the influencers are craving, their curated portrayal of intuitive eating is still ignoring the psychological elements of this lifestyle. Influencers are instead depicting intuitive eating as the latest dieting fad. Intuitive eating is different from dieting because the focus of intuitive eating has
five” – meant that I usually only ate one full meal per day at dinnertime. But if I didn’t like what was being served at the cafeteria, I’d only eat half a meal.
I learned to recognise my hunger cues with the same clarity that I used to recognise that I was horny for the skater boy on the first floor of halls .
never been to lose weight, but rather to help you maintain a healthy weight instead of fluctuating between your “dieting” and “post-dieting” weight. Intuitive eating can also help you to combat the overwhelming surplus of information on what is “healthy” and “acceptable” food to consume.
This meant that most nights, I would also find myself headed to McDonald's for a late-night snack with friends which I’d justify as being “a treat” after a couple of hours of studying. But honestly, my seventeen-year-old body was probably starving, and McDonald's was the only way I knew how to feed it.
In my first year of university, my eating habits were appalling. I was signed up for the one-meal-per-day catering option at the Massey University halls with the expectation being that I would make the rest of the meals myself despite there being no oven and very limited space in the cooking hubs. This system – along with my own fear of gaining the “fresher
Living out of home for the first time, I found I didn’t know how to make a decent meal plan for myself or ensure that I was eating enough. I decided that it was easier to skip meals to stay my “ideal size”, than plan healthy ones. When I tried to eat healthy, I was exhausted by the myriad of dieting and exercise tips I could find online and
would just give up and make spaghetti on toast. I found intuitive eating difficult at first as I was used to ignoring my hunger signals or using the clock to tell me when it was an acceptable time to go to dinner. Once I realised that arbitrary mealtimes don’t have to tell me when to eat, I was able to eat a meal when I was hungry and, if I was hungry later on in the day, I could just eat again! Through eating intuitively, I was able to understand my body in a way I hadn’t been able to before. I learned to recognise my hunger cues with the same clarity that I used to recognise that I was horny for the skater boy on the first floor of halls. Influencers hopping aboard the intuitive eating trend raises concerns that the benefits of the mentality may be lost behind pictures of kale salads and thinly veiled juice cleanses. What these influencers are neglecting to tell you, is that intuitive eating is just as much about your mentality as it is about the actual food you’re actually consuming. And at the end of the day, if you don’t take anything else from intuitive eating then remember this: don’t have the donut because it’s a “cheat day” – have it because you bloody want it!
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PUZZLES
Tough Mazes by KrazyDad, Book 22
Intuitive Influencer Cuisine Hospitality Identity
Bland Misconduct Peaches Home Gastronomy
Colonise Culinary British Delicious Buns
Maze #3
Generational Tradition Exploit Divine Change KRAZYDAD.COM/PUZZLES
Need the answer? http://krazydad.com/mazes/answers
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