For as long as I can remember, I have had a joyful relationship with food. I loved to eat. I still do. Not mindlessly, not in shame, but with wonder with hunger for the world. There was something sacred in sitting down to a warm plate, in cooking a dish from scratch, in watching flavors unfold. It was never just about filling my stomach. It was how I expressed care. How I felt connected.
But the world has never liked women who eat too much. Or speak too much. Or take up too much space.
I was never unwell. I wasn’t frail, but I wasn’t struggling either. I was healthy above average weight maybe, but I was active. I walked, I moved, I lived fully. Yet there were always those comments. The sideways glances. The smirks when I asked for seconds. The silence that followed when I cooked with pride.
When I stood in the kitchen experimenting with recipes, some people didn’t see joy. They saw indulgence. They made it a joke, a habit, something to fix. But I didn’t want to be fixed. I was alive.
I always admired Anthony Bourdain for this reason. He didn’t just travel to eat. He listened. He sat on plastic chairs in roadside stalls, shared meals with strangers, let food be the bridge between cultures. That was the life I imagined for myself. A life full of flavor. A life full of presence. He remains a role model. Not just because of how he lived, but because he gave permission to others to live fully too.
And yet, there has always been an invisible pressure on women: to eat quietly, to talk gently, to want less. Somehow, femininity became about shrinking your voice, your hunger, your needs. Anything more than delicate was considered too much.
But I have never been delicate. I have been hungry. Curious. Fierce. And full of stories.
I’ve come to realize that the act of eating without shame is revolutionary. For a woman to be unapologetically present at the table to taste, to savor, to laugh with her mouth full is still a quiet rebellion.
So yes, I love food. I love cooking. I love talking with my mouth half full when the story just can’t wait. And I will not apologize for it.
Because joy is not a size. Appetite is not a flaw. And being alive fully, loudly, hungrily alive is not something to be ashamed of.
