Today’s Snack-tivity

I’ve already talked about my love of food. I do, really love food — I’m tempted to just gush further on the decadence of such a simple pleasure. In a similar vein, I’ve talked about consumption. Snacks are part of that, and in 2020 “snack” is more complicated than ever.

You see, I am a snack.

Yes, I know; I was shocked to discover it myself. I’m a snack, though admittedly I’m a deceptively terrible snack. I’m like fruit leather made of durian, or turkey jerky. Technically a snack, but not something you’re really going to indulge in.

Dry, salty, and tough. It me.

I’m referring to the colloquial idea of “snack culture.” The idea that someone’s physicality denotes a level of scrumptious “consumability”. I’ll admit — I’m immediately drawn to this turn of phrase. I love food (certainly including snacks) and I do love consuming food. Thinking of someone as a snack feels cute, and lends credence to the inherent carnality of food (which I also believe in strongly).

But wait, there’s more.

I love “snack culture,” because it’s pretty radically inclusive. There’s the obvious artifacts of yesteryear’s culture. Typically attractive people are definitely “snacks,” and a lot of that is steeped in Euro-centric beauty standards that are outdated and narrow. Really though, everyone is a snack.

EVERYONE.

Tag yourself. I’m the raisins you don’t eat from the trail mix.

Everyone is a snack. And everyone is a different type of snack. I might be turkey jerky, and you might be fruit by the foot. Or trail mix. Or even just brie on a cracker. Snack is such an ambiguous term that when applied to the aesthetic consumption of human beings it translates into a radically inclusive set of values. That’s really powerful, and for Millenials, Zennials, and Generation Z it’s wholly transformative in the way that we interact with one another. Humans are still visual creatures; we feast first and foremost with our eyes. Snack culture lays bare this behavior, with candor that I appreciate and consider rather healthy.

Of course, I can’t be entirely satisfied.

I think snack culture is cute. I think it speaks to earnest initial interactions between strangers. I also consider that in conjunction with the insane speed of the information age, snack culture quickly becomes another venue for us to consume to our detriment.

The easy target here is Tinder (and Hinge, Bumble, Chappy, etc). Apps that gamify the initial steps of a relationship immediately fall prey to the overly consumptive nature that lies at the core of snack culture. We’re hungry for something that matches our appetite, and Tinder offers us a buffet in bite-sized morsels. The nature of the app also underlines a fault in the logic behind snack culture. When I’m in the mood for popcorn, I don’t have to worry about whether or not popcorn is in the mood for me. I don’t have to leverage some of my self-worth for the off-chance that popcorn is having an August craving.

I don’t genuinely think this is a failing of the philosophy of snack culture. I think the central tenet of snack culture lies in the explicit ideation: Humans eat with their eyes, and so aesthetics lend to the our desire to consume one another. For me, that’s honest and safely reductive. It doesn’t draw an endpoint, it just lays bare an oft unspoken truth.

I think the friction lies in the conflation of snack culture with a latent fear of rejection (related to our ego and self-worth) and an increasing need for continued or even constant stimulus (enforced by the increased speed of the information age).

Consider again the popcorn (admittedly, I recently enjoyed a bowl). I know that I consume food very quickly. I do it partly because I love the food, but I also do it because I love a full mouth and a full stomach. There’s a natural sedative to the process that I revel in, sometimes to a dangerous extreme. Part of my process in maintaining a healthy boundary in my consumption of actual food is an appreciation of genuinely savoring each of these steps and sensations.

I really don’t even like popcorn that much, but it’s definitely one of the “eatiest” snacks. I can actually eat AND enjoy a lot of popcorn with minimal ramifications.

As it turns out, savoring becomes my solution to the flaws in snack culture as well. For myself, I don’t tolerate those who have no interest in savoring me. I am not comfortable being something bite-sized and forgettable. I want to be savored, even if that’s not forever. Similarly, I have less and less interest in something so ethereal, like a rice cake or a bag of chips. I’ve practiced savoring the snacks I encounter; to me this is about intentionality. When I’m snacking, that’s what I’m doing. It’s not an idle process ornamenting a main event.

It’s not cotton candy at the circus.

When I’m snacking, the snack IS the event. I don’t expect that to work for everyone, but I think it’s worth a try. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’ve got a hot date with lunch and I don’t want to miss a thing.

Sincerely Not Bite-Sized,

August