We don’t often think of food as political, yet for immigrant communities who are geographically separated from their home countries, food can be both a lifeline and symbolic of a unique identity. It’s intrinsically tied to culture and place, demonstrative of historical adaptation and heavily influenced by policy. Immigrants themselves are deeply tied to the American food industry, involved at every step from growing, harvesting, processing, cooking to selling. 

As immigrant cuisine — including Mexican American, Chinese American and Indian American food — is increasingly popularized and commercialized within the United States, there’s a particular irony in the simultaneous rise in anti-immigrant sentiment against those very communities. In this sense, understanding the political implications of cooking and consumption is necessary to fully understand immigration in America.

Cary Cordova is an American studies associate professor who specializes in the intersection between food and the politics of immigration. She argues there’s a specificity to how America consumes and reacts to immigrant cuisine across ethnic groups.

“We have seen the Mexican food industry, particularly fast food, emerge into a multi-billion dollar industry,” Cordova said. “It is enormous, and yet at the same time, we have also seen enormous anti-Mexican sentiment in politics that has been shaping how immigration laws are being represented or the deportation machine that we have seen emerge in this 21st century.”

The politics of food plays into this dynamic, particularly in terms of what foods are considered desirable, disgusting or un-American.

“Food can be political because it can be contested,” Cordova said. “The ways in which people engage with food can often reflect certain biases, certain expectations across cultures or specific to cultures and ways in which food can become racialized.”

Immigrant food is sometimes seen as less authentic than dishes originating outside of the United States, as if the American diet has corrupted it. However, food adapts in the same way that people do. Immigrant food culture tells the unique story of communities’ adaptation, persistence and circumstances. For example, kung pao chicken developed because its Sichuanese parent dish, gong bao ji ding, relied on a pepper that was banned from 1968 until 2005, making a legitimate version in the United States next to impossible. It might not be “authentic,” but it speaks to a history of perseverance.

It’s impossible to remove food from the circumstances — and people — that produce it. Journalism freshman Fernanda Herrera Cuevas, who is the daughter of Mexican immigrants, says that her cultural food brings her a unique sense of comfort and pride. She argues that the consumption of immigrants’ food shouldn’t occur without respect for those who create it.

“I believe it’s super disrespectful,” Herrera Cuevas said. “You’re consuming something that you know is not made by your culture, and you’re not respecting the people that actually make it for you. This is such a strong word, but it’s kind of sickening. It brings a sense of hurt, knowing that you can’t respect the people but love what comes with (them).”

Immigrants in the United States are increasingly the targets of hateful rhetoric, criminalization and violence. Now, it becomes more essential to consider the political implications of consuming the products of their labor, attempts at cultural preservation and self-making as Americans. Food tells their story, but America’s shallow culture of consumption shapes ours.

Tuscano is a government sophomore from Round Rock, Texas.