Publisher's Synopsis
When I first saw Thug Kitchen in 2013, I like thousands of other people, was intrigued by a website anonymously penned that peppered its posts with phrases like "Hydrate and Antioxidants" are all up in an effort to promote healthy eating. So effective, it was hard to look away.Most compelling to me and my contemporaries was the site's name, specifically the word "thug." As an African-American activist and author working to excite people to eat more healthfully (and create more access to fresh affordable food in communities most impacted by food injustice), I have long thought about the important role of pop culture and online media in changing people's attitudes, habits and politics around food. "Start with the visceral, move to the cerebral and then the political" has been the mantra guiding most of my efforts.The pairing of vulgar, slang-heavy admonitions with big, bright, nutritious recipes was certainly visceral. But the more I read through the Thug Kitchen posts, the more skeptical I became about the cerebral and political aspects, if they even existed. I held out hope that Thug Kitchen was a ham-fisted attempt to craft viral memes that might positively influence the eating habits of the "thugs" that the wider culture imagines when that word is used: young black men living in low-income urban neighborhoods.In her book "Talking and Testifying," linguist Geneva Smitherman describes how "through song, story, folk sayings, and rich verbal interplay among everyday people, lessons and precepts about life and survival are handed down from generation to generation." So, maybe this anonymous writer was a working-class young person of color attempting to engage in linguistically and culturally appropriate cyber outreach to young folks with similar backgrounds?
