We have at least one story in this issue that uses the term “food justice.” Now don’t get me wrong — people need to eat. Hunger in Sonoma County is a disgrace. But that phrase? Food justice? It makes my brain itch. Here’s why: slap the word “justice” onto anything — food, housing, climate, take your pick — and suddenly you’re not talking about groceries, you’re on trial at The Hague. It’s a rhetorical crowbar: pry open your emotions, wedge in the politics. Disagree and you’re not just wrong, you’re a villain. I hate that. Not the cause. The wording.
We have at least one story in this issue that uses the term “food justice.” Now don’t get me wrong — people need to eat. Hunger in Sonoma County is a disgrace. But that phrase? Food justice? It makes my brain itch.
Here’s why: slap the word “justice” onto anything — food, housing, climate, take your pick — and suddenly you’re not talking about groceries, you’re on trial at The Hague. It’s a rhetorical crowbar: pry open your emotions, wedge in the politics. Disagree and you’re not just wrong, you’re a villain.
I hate that. Not the cause. The wording. It’s mushy and moralistic at the same time — Orwell would roll his eyes so hard he’d sprain them.
And look, food words are already the juiciest ones we’ve got. Say “justice” and people’s eyes glaze. Say tamale, gumbo, pomegranate, porchetta, persimmon, and the whole room leans forward. Language should taste like something. I’d rather chew on syllables that drip — sticky buns, mole negro, chowder, chorizo, peaches so ripe they collapse in your hand — than choke down another abstract noun. Words ought to be as alive as sourdough starter, as rowdy as a backyard barbecue, as sharp as garlic on a cutting board. If we want to fight hunger, let’s start by serving up sentences people actually want to swallow.
We don’t need slogans that sound like they were cooked up in a grad seminar. We need plain talk. Like: “Nobody in Sonoma County should go to bed hungry.” Period.
The neural short-circuit for me is this: I love words, and I love accuracy. When lazy jargon smothers something real — like the fact that people are skipping meals in one of the richest farm counties in America—I get cranky. Say what you mean. Say it clearly. Leave the justice branding to superheroes.
Because if the goal is feeding people, the only justice that matters is a full plate.
Dining and Cooking