I'm Not Making You a Plate

African-American trainees participate in a "Negro Home Service Demonstration Project," part of a 1930s WPA program that trained people to work as maids and household servants.

Credit: Wikimedia Commons

It's a Saturday morning, I'm preparing to lead a six hour Equity and Justice workshop about inclusive teaching practices. I'm setting up my books to sell, hanging posters with ground rules, handing out course materials and pens. It's 10:01, we were scheduled to start at 10AM. I stand at the front of the room and wait, as the last participants trickle in and fill in their name tags. It will be another few minutes before they find their seats. I beeline it to my bag and start shoving the rest of my toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my mouth. It's the only thing I can eat when I have no appetite. The anxiety of teaching a 6 hour workshop, a curriculum that I created, but to a room full of professionals, many of whom have been teaching longer than I have in very white skin, always makes me nervous. So there is definitely no sign of an appetite. I'm trying to eat to keep my blood sugar from plummeting when I hear, "Where can I get an egg sandwich like that?"
"Excuse me?" I say trying to mask my mouthful.
One of my participants, one I've never met before standing inches away from me, continues, "Where's the food? It's not in here so... Outside?"
"No, I brought this from home. I won't be serving anything. Lunch is off sight."
"Oh I know that," her easy familiarity persists.  "It said so on the Registration Site.  But no breakfast either?"

This strikes me as odd and then the next two people approach me with an identical query, "where's the food,?"  The same annoyance and surprise mirrored in their retorts, "well I knew there wouldn't be lunch but you didn't say, no breakfast."

This stuck in my mind.  It got in there, under my skin.  So much in fact, that before my next event, I asked a friend about what vegan and gluten free options I could serve for breakfast at my Workshop. She quickly pointed out how difficult it is to handle food. Not to mention curating the curriculum, advertising, and marketing, for a 6 hour training during my day off. I countered with, "participants were asking." She pointed out how reasonable my registration fee is and how I offer scholarships for anyone who needs one.

Bottom line: I could not afford to feed upwards of 30 people at the rates I was charging.

I wasn't being a terrible host or a bad presenter for not feeding the people who attended my training. So what was going on? We discussed the audacity to demand food. Eventually leading to the equaling perplexing act of, expecting to be fed. This was dominating our conversation when my friend asked, "were the people who were miffed about the absence of food, white?"

"Yes, each one."

That's the last I'd thought of it until a couple days ago on Twitter.  The following tweet appeared, I responded which leads to the following exchange.

@thoughtsofaphd tweeted: "I did not provide coffee & pastries at my most recent committee meeting.  Guess what happened? The faulty called me out for it (awkwardly, half-jokingly but not really) - during the meeting. #acadmicchater #phdchat" 

I replied, "This always pissed me off.  I was a broke & pregnant grad student and you all are 'requiring' me to produce a thesis which requires a committee but you want me to feed you for doing your job? Our work should be enough & if they want food they can take their adult selves to the cafe."

@thoughtsofphd responded with "Their ADULT selves [hand clapping emoji] say it again!!!"


To which I tweeted, "See this granola and yogurt? I brought it from home cuz I know when I need to eat. Cannot imagine showing up someplace and asking, "where's the food?""

Then singer Sasha Massey commented with, "Exactly. The nerve! My first recital people [k]ept asking where the food was. Must be at your house. I got into this school on scholarship and y'all think it magically put money where there was none for food? Kick many rocks." Massey's experience outlines how this expectation is one built from privilege and oppression. The person who isn't supposed to be there. The underserved,marginalized individual who somehow weaseled their way in therefore they are not privy to these "traditions." We often learn them in moments of shaming when you  don't deliver on some unspoken promise. These little position reminders, telling you your spot at this institution is still being auditioned for. Even though they literally accepted you, you have not really made it in, yet. But let us not forget the actual real expense of having to purchase food for a group of adults who very well can afford to feed themselves. We've all seen the articles citing research that shows college students cannot always afford to eat. Yet students receiving scholarships, Pell Grant's, taking out student loans and still having to rely on SNAP benefits, are made to budget for brunch? Pastry? Coffee? Fresh fruit? For what? And if we don't oblige, the power dynamic says my fate is in your hands.

When a committee requests changes and edits, the grad student must comply. Even if at the very next meeting the committee member reverses themselves. There was a man in our two year program who had been there almost four years. More time in school means more money. Money that many of us never had to begin with. The "half joking but not really" deliberate response from the faculty from @thoughtsofaphd tweet is passive aggressive communication. It serves to sanction the individual who is marginalized, actions. It also makes it difficult to file a complaint or even address it because it can all be explained away as being a joke. You know, a microaggression.

I remember once in grad school I was late to our weekly meeting. I was mortified, it was the first time I had been late but that didn't stop the faculty member leading the meeting to declare that I was late and as such, next week I was going to have to supply the doughnuts.  I was embarrassed and also didn't know how I was going to afford said doughnuts. I had my car payment and rent coming out that week. There was no way she was serious. That was what I told myself until she brought it up again before the end of the meeting. I sat with this until that evening when I decided to email her. We talked about it and had a very productive and caring conversation but imagine the  beginning of that discussion. I had to say, "I've never been late and I just don't understand the punishment and brass tax, I can't afford $17 for three dozen doughnuts-an unexpected expense. That $17 was literally going to push me into $0 net worth, liquid or otherwise. That's how tight my budget was. This was a year before thesis committee's and graduation and binding fees. The humiliation which accompanies poverty are so accepted that the moment I said I can't afford the doughnuts the faculty member cut me off rather than make me finish this reveal. This only further reiterated how being this broke was something to be ashamed of. I imagine this was the first time she had a conversation begin with something as innocuous as doughnuts lead to a discussion about punishment and equity. But for students on scholarship, first-generation students, students without a trust funds or help from family members, money has always been tied to every choice we make. To us, money is more than making good financial choices it is the gatekeeper, the regulator the ever-present reminder that you are in a place you do not belong.

The next tweet came from someone else who joined the conversation.  It reads,
"I had never heard of this happening in my own grad school years, and on social media I hear about it...but primarily from..women grad students. Not sure if that is in any way representative, but am curious about who is asked/expected to bring food."

My tweet response reads, "It was always the women. Men would roll their eyes at the "suggestion" by faculty and they would all have a good laugh while a female faculty member would bring refreshments." I've read somewhere, "a rule that is not uniformly enforced is not a rule but a weapon." More often than not this behavior is only expected and enforced when it comes to female-presenting students. We know that womxn perform more of the "housework of the office," and womxn of color do more than white-identifying  women.  A way to tell us to mind our place. Academia is no different.

After tweeting my exasperation along with my realizations, I was reminded of how food being expected, wasn't in fact a new phenomenon but an old tradition rooted in the patriarchy. More specifically the racial optics of a black female-presenting figure serving white bodies (like the image I chose to accompany this post) whether through food, our very literal breasts as we were milk maids to white infants, or the spiritual food that is ripped from indigenous cultures. You know, colonization.

Coming into someone's space, a place they have invited you to participate in this very intimate work and you are demanding that I feed you in a more tangible way. It's clear you want something that proves to you that your money, your time, holds value. So much value in fact that my behavior must reflect your worth. You want to see me bastardized myself? How dare I not be falling over myself with gratitude that you attended my event, let me shower you with treats to further display my appreciation.

Does this happen to white speakers? Male speakers? I'm curious, lets discuss it. Of course, my time and money have value so come correct.



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