Grocery stores nowadays are inundated with products touting profound health benefits. The shelves are increasingly lined with the latest “superfood,” sugar-free, organic breads and berries of a health nut’s dreams. When you leave the supermarket and jump onto social media, it just gets worse. Influencer after influencer promoting raw diets, juice cleanses and every other dietary fad is flooding feeds, with popular slogans like “#cleaneating” yielding more than 47 million posts on Instagram and 900 million views on TikTok.
The alluring advertising of these products sold in colorful and trendy packaging coupled with the perfectly built individuals promoting them online makes it hard to not fall into line with this “clean” food trend. After all, why wouldn’t you want to look like a model all while “healing your gut”? Suddenly, you’re heading back to the supermarket and stacking your cart with zero-carb bread and that green powder that will hopefully give you rock-hard abs because the model and personal trainer from Los Angeles that showed up on your feed told you so.
Beyond the fact that social media has lied to you — and those influencers have abs because working out is their job — you run into another problem: “Health” foods are expensive. Like, really expensive. What used to be a $1.32 loaf of Great Value white bread in your cart is now a $6.18 loaf of Ezekiel sprouted, whole grain bread. Add in the $29.98 bottle of Bloom Nutrition Powder and you’re done for.
This issue cuts deeper than swapping out your breads, though. The idolization of these trendy health foods comes with a consequential and often unspoken demonization of “unclean” foods. Processed, ready-made and calorie-dense foods are often viewed unfavorably as society strives to solely eat the “fresh” and “lean” foods associated with “clean” diets. Another critically important quality of these frowned-upon foods is their status as staples in low-income diets.
In looking at this relationship between income and diet, the Harvard School of Public Health found that, on average, eating a “healthy” diet costs $1.50 more per day, totaling $550 extra per year. This is no minor burden on many low-income households. Households with low socioeconomic status tend to spend less money on food. Due to the higher cost of “healthy foods,” these families buy more unhealthy foods and beverages than fruits and vegetables. A closer look at which foods different low-income groups consume reveals that the foods stereotypically deemed “unclean” — including fatty meats, canned foods, cereals and white bread — are more often purchased by low-income households.
The convenience, lower price and availability of “unclean” foods all drive low-income households to base much of their diet around “unhealthy” foods. Though many trendy foods may very well be more nutrient-dense or have fresher ingredients than processed foods, purchasing these foods is simply not feasible for many. Meeting caloric needs generally takes precedence over nutritional value for a majority of low-income households. As if making this sacrifice to prioritize caloric intake is not burdensome enough, the impacts of a high-calorie, low-nutrient-dense diet on health are yet another strain on low-income households, a strain that comes with stigma.
Low-income individuals are often shamed for the health effects that processed diets may have. Obesity — despite being an issue that grips roughly 40% of American adults — is a commonly misconstrued health condition, with blame often being put on those struggling with it. In analyzing geographic area poverty, the CDC found that a higher percentage of poverty was associated with a higher rate of obesity. According to research published by the American Diabetes Association, American counties with poverty rates higher than 35% may even have obesity rates 145% higher than higher-income counties. While some claim that this is a wholly reverse causal relationship in that obesity creates a lower income rather than a lower income causing obesity, it is likely that in highly developed countries like the United States, the relationship goes both ways. An aspect of reverse causation in the relationship between income and obesity would actually only make this a more vicious cycle, as nutritious foods are unattainable for those struggling with their health because of initial lack of access to nutritious foods.
Some may argue that the price disparities between “clean” and “unclean” foods are due to their varying ingredients. It is true that “unhealthy” foods are often cheaper than “healthy” foods; meat and dairy subsidies combined with the seasonal nature of fresh produce form this disparity in cost between food types. When compared calorie for calorie, however, it is clear that “healthy” foods are often subject to greater fluxes of inflation and likely arbitrary mark-ups amid rising health food trends. Research from the University of Washington found that low-calorie (“healthy”) foods were more likely to experience inflated prices, with costs of these foods increasing 19.5% during the two-year study. High-calorie (“unhealthy”) food prices remained predictable, actually decreasing in cost by 1.8%.
So is the fact that “trendy,” clean foods are much pricier simply an accident? I don’t think so. This convenient trend of shaming the inflexible dietary choices of lower-income households is just a new way of creating separation between classes. Propagating a trend that centers around a seemingly purely positive way of living and then making it only available to those with a high income is simply a colorful revamp of the same tired classism that is seen time and time again in social trends. The influencers promoting their latest “superfood” sponsorship may not realize the enduring scheme of class division that they are contributing to (and the consumers buying in are probably even more clueless), but the harm in this kind of social precedent is no less impactful.
I’m not saying that you shouldn’t buy a protein bar or sprouted bread next time you’re at the store — being mindful of what you’re consuming is a positive thing. But if you choose white bread out of sheer preference or can’t afford otherwise, then you shouldn’t have to feel ashamed. Food is food, regardless of what that model on TikTok tells you. It’s time we stop using food as another vehicle to justify high socioeconomic status superiority and start eating what we want.
Molly Amrine is an Opinion Columnist and can be reached at mamrine@umich.edu.