Ayana Young Hello and welcome to For The Wild Podcast, I’m Ayana Young. Today I’m speaking with Dr. Claudia Serrato.

Dr. Claudia Serrato And so when we return to these Earth-centered astronomies, we sort of recalibrate and hit that refresh button that creates cyclical relationality cyclical flavors, cyclical tastes for all life from now and on to the generations to come, which is inclusive of the next elderberry, that next cactus, the next hawk, the next bear, the next water, the next salmon - were all related.

Ayana Young Dr. Claudia Serrato is a cultural and culinary anthropologist, an Indigenous plant-based chef, and a food justice activist scholar. Claudia has been writing, speaking, and cooking up decolonized flavors for over a decade by ReIndigenizing her diet with Mesoamerican foods and foodways, cooking traditions and nutrition, and culinary ways of knowing

Well, Dr. Serrato, thank you so much for joining us on For the Wild Podcast, I'm really looking forward to having a lovely and deep conversation today.

Dr. Claudia Serrato Thank you, it's such a pleasure.

Ayana Young Wonderful. I want to start off by saying I was so impressed with your rootedness in what you practice and study and to start us off, I want to think about a strong throughline in your work – the connection between body, food, and soul. You capture so eloquently the way we cannot separate our theories of the land and the body from their actual embodiment. So I’m wondering what this embodiment means to you and how it relates to practice across disciplines. 

Dr. Claudia Serrato That's a really good question. Immediately I think about photosynthesis, I kid you not. And this was a teaching that was provided to me by one of the chefs I work with, chef Nephi Craig. And we were really thinking about Indigenous feminist theories around the body like you just mentioned, and understanding our body as landscape. We began to think about, okay, well, when we're talking about embodiment it's always been that the human is the only person that can embody, and I was like, well, what about the food? They have a way of embodying, too, and as our relatives and as our kin. And what does it mean when we enter into a relationship and how do we exchange what we know, what we arrive with, to how we cook with the food, we ingest the food?” 

And so, in understanding concepts around embodiment, I began to really reflect and understand that I, too, was embodying what my plant relatives embody which is the elements earth, wind, water, fire, the sun, different kinds of energies. And what does that do for me? It completes me, it really makes me whole, in that it is necessary to see and understand that landscape is the life: the plants, the different kinds of elements in the minerals, the micro-life. It all has a way of knowing, it all embodies, and that kind of embodiment can be passed on and shared. And what do we do with that? How do we honor that particular type of embodiment? And for me it became, I want to say, a spiritual quest, a spiritual awakening, and understanding that there's something deeper and stronger when it comes to understanding the connections between body, food, and soul.

Ayana Young Gosh, this is such a good way to start my morning personally, really is getting me off on a good foot. Well, thinking particularly about these embodied connections, I want to think through the connections you foster with the land on which you find yourself. I’m particularly interested in the ways you connect both with your ancestors and with the specific land that you inhabit. How can we honor both where we came from and where we are now in our traditions? 

Dr. Claudia Serrato Yes. That, again, is such a great question. One thing that I have learned and truly understand is again going back to this understanding that our bodies are landscapes, and so we're mobile bodies. We're mobile geographies, right? We move in time, place, and space, and then we settle. Like myself, my family comes from Mexico. We come from Michoacán, we come from San Luis Potosí. But I live in LA, right? This is the Tongva, Los Angeles. And I honor myself, my body, my culture, my foodways, but I'm also very aware that it should also reflect the place-based geography, the relatives here, the landscape here.

At first, I kind of battled with that for a minute because I was really just consuming foods that were culturally relevant to me at one point in my life. And once I began to spend more time in nature, with nature, as nature, I began to understand the importance of eating what the land here provides for me. It's a way that the land is offering its gift, it says “here, thank you, please take.” And the lessons that I've been taught is that if we do not accept the gifts, then they're going to go away. And so for me, I understand that not only am I a mobile geography, and not only are my taste memories mobile, but I'm also residing in Tongva, Los Angeles, and so I honor that through my foodways. I honor that through the seasons. I honor that through how I rehomed some of the ancestral plant relatives in my home space. I took out some invasives. I took out my grass and I replanted from cultural burns, some of the plants, so that it becomes part of my new memory: the new memories that I am creating by tapping into the different ways that I know. Through my senses through my taste. 

And ultimately, I want to say honoring the trade routes and through the geographic location I am in and that is because before colonialism, and even now because we have this particular global system that in food is moving from here, there, and everywhere, there was a knowledge exchange, there was a palate exchange, a gastronomic exchange, and that ultimately leads to vitality and how we eat. And so for me, understanding these particular geographies and how they come together, I do my best to represent them in cuisine. And it holds me accountable. Also, because of the work that I do, specifically, as an Indigenous culinary anthropologist and chef.

Ayana Young I appreciate both the small and the larger ways that you're doing this healing work. And I think it's a really good reminder for all of us that there are so many ways to begin for ourselves in our own journeys. Thank you for sharing so deeply about your identity and rootedness. I’m thinking a lot about the ways we can move beyond identity politics towards an understanding of identity that truly connects us with our ancestors and place – not just as heritage but also as embodied spiritual and political tradition as well. I’m wondering, for you what does it mean to exist as a sovereign person with a deep understanding of identity?  

Dr. Claudia Serrato Yeah, I've been thinking a lot about that. I've been thinking about the cultural politics of identity. I've been thinking about my body as a sovereign landscape. And I also, of course, can't help but think about it in terms of decolonizing my body, decolonizing my landscape. But at the end of the day, I think about my sense of self and what that means for me as an Indigenous Chicana woman living in Los Angeles who is constantly reminded and told that I have to be a specific way with the social construction of identity and so forth. 

I've learned that identity formation is never the same. It's constantly moving, it's constantly evolving, just like tradition. And so for me, I might feel and be one way one day, and I will receive a form of enlightenment or a message, and that's going to really alter who I am the next day. And so for me, it becomes more so fluid, like a fluid identity. It's constantly evolving. But at the same time, it's aware. I'm very aware of where I come from, I'm very aware of the history that has created who I am, and the social aspects of who I am. But I don't hold on to that. And again that really aligns with my spirituality. It aligns with being with nature and understanding the seasons: there are times to dry up, there are times to go away, there are times to shapeshift, and there are times to bloom. And with that bloom, not every bloom is the same. 

And so I have learned that it's a beautiful experience, it's beautiful to take in what is necessary for my growth, to let go of what is not, and to be open to what's to come. And so, when thinking about my identity and autonomy, I feel that I have the right to be who I choose to be, and not allow outside forces to tell me who I am. And for me, that makes me feel really good, to be honest. And this goes right along the lines of my food choices and how I choose to eat, and why, and when, and how. And for me that that really speaks to the kind of sovereign body that I choose to exist in, particularly during this time of the decolonial era, where we're beginning to remember and revitalize and regenerate those ways of knowing who we are that have been suppressed and oppressed as a result of colonization. 

Ayana Young Moving more specifically into your wealth of knowledge on food and cooking, I want to think especially about the ways that enjoying food can be such a sensual experience, and I’m thinking particularly of the James Baldwin quote from his work The Fire Next Time where he writes, “To be sensual, I think, is to respect and rejoice in the force of life, of life itself, and to be present in all that one does, from the effort of loving to the breaking of bread.” I’m wondering, perhaps, what parts of this resonate with you, and how you connect to this element of sensuality across your work?

Dr. Claudia Serrato I love that question so much, It just makes me so happy. Just hearing it and hearing the quote you shared, brings me back to the kitchen. For me, it's a very intimate space. It's a space where I'm very vulnerable. So for that, you have to trust, and for me, that's the beginning of intimacy. It's me saying, “hello, I trust you. And I trust you touching my body. I trust how we're going to move together, how we're going to dance together, how we're going to liberate each other together.” And when I cook, there's always been this type of intimacy that at one point, it was really hard for me to understand. I didn't understand, I guess I should say, many years back. Because I did understand this involvement, this engagement in the kitchen with Native foods was very intimate. And years back I attended an equal sexuality conference in hopes that I would become enlightened and it was just so wonderful because there was Indigenous presence. And Melissa Nelson actually began to talk about food as intimate and began to really speak on a type of Indigenous ecosexuality which wasn't the way we understand sexuality in our popular culture, it was a way of touching that brought this different kind of, I want to say, comfort, this wholeness. 

And I understood that because I was feeling that, and it would make me feel really happy, to be honest with you. And it wasn't until I began to prep food and talk with the food that it became more sensual, it became very delicate, it became this exchange, my fingers were running through the food very differently. And there was a feeling of satisfaction that was very different from what I've ever felt with other intimate relationships that I have. And it wasn't until I prepared a particular meal once, that I took a bite of it, and I actually paid attention to my body, I paid attention to my mouth, I paid attention to the sounds I was making. And I thought, jeez, that sounds real orgasmic because it was. It was so satisfying and it was just very different yet, so fulfilling. 

And so I truly understood that. How we savor food, how our mouth begins to desire taste, all of that is part of that intimate, sensual experience, and then more. So once we actually take a bite of the food, and it makes us go, “Oh, my goodness, this is so great,” there's like this deep joy. And I'm sure other food lovers could understand that. And for me, I finally began to really appreciate those moments. Because it was about me and the food exchanging and touching and tapping into my sense that it was a whole other next-level experience. And again, very intimate, very soft. It's a type of food sexuality that really kept me and keeps me wanting to play with flavors and texture, and be open to the unknown.

Ayana Young I'm just remembering orgasmic food experiences. And really, how much pleasure that has brought me over the years, and I think in a time where we're being sold so many things to fulfill us how simple and beautiful fresh bread is. And of course, food takes its own energy to get to us, but I just really want to pause on that for a minute because I feel that. And I think too, there's something so vital and simple about the act of cooking as well. I’m thinking of the ways recipes are passed down, the communities that can form within kitchens, in gardens… I’m wondering if you can give us a glimpse into your kitchen. What does the act of cooking mean for you?  

 Dr. Claudia Serrato Yeah when I was growing up, I understood cooking as domestic labor: the way I was told, it was a gendered place. And for me, it was really problematic. But it wasn't until I began to really work on creating a relationship with food that I began to realize that no, the kitchen actually was a safe and brave space for me. It was a space where I can explore or I can, again, be vulnerable. And more so where I can become the medicine woman that I have always sort of been destined to be, and it's become, like a borderless, unbounded zone. 

This is a place where I have the ability to heal myself and my family, it is a place where I can take up my molcajete, it is a place where I can bring up my mortar and my pistol and pound my salts. It's a place where - it's a decolonized zone, right? That there are colors, there are plants, there are ancestral realities that exist there, and there are my ancestral foods that don't have to be in a place of submission. They're remembered, they are celebrated. And it's kind of like when we say, “oh there's a food party in my stomach,” when we're eating, I feel like it’s a party, it's a gathering, it's a celebration. And so when I enter the kitchen I burn my sage, I create my offerings, I thank the ancestors for being there with me, the elements, I really have been taught to pay attention to how the Earth resides in my kitchen, how air, water and fire, how they play out in the creation of the recipes that I prepare for myself and for my family, also to the volcanic rocks, and the wisdom that they bring into the kitchen. 

And so it really humbles me, and it makes me grateful to be in a kitchen, to have a kitchen, and more so to extend my kitchen beyond the four walls of my home. I have also created an outdoor space where I can cook and prep and where I can walk up to my mint and my poblano chiles and harvest right there and then, and the same thing with my front yard. It's an extension of my kitchen. I can go out there and I can harvest my fresh California bay, I can harvest elderflowers, my sage, my black sage, my white sage, my culinary sage. And so it's a beautiful reality for me because my kitchen is open, there's a flow. And there's an honoring of who I am, who my family is, and our cultural heritage. 

And we are cooking technologies that weren't meant to be here just like our food, right? So it represents resilience. It represents going back to autonomy and sovereignty. We're thinking about Indigenous food sovereignty - my kitchen has become that for me. It's a safe sovereign space and a brave space. And where we're constantly rupturing the colonial paradigms of food, and when we eat, and how we eat, and so forth. And, too, I welcome color so my walls are purple. And for me, it just reminds me of being the royal person that I am. It really elevates me as a woman who is continually thriving within the state that we live in.

Ayana Young Yeah, I just feel so important to be reminded to thrive during this time when so much of the media and so much of what we experience is really heavy, and I think can be really wearing on us. And so to find these simple, sensual, nourishing ways to thrive is so beautiful. It's such a good reminder, and I'm feeling it in my body as you speak. This connection to the senses seems to connect well with your understandings of Indigenous womb ecology. So often, we forget the ways our environments, what we eat, how we talk to ourselves and others come to deeply impact us at an intrinsic level– even in the womb. Can you give us some insight into what Indigenous womb ecology is and how it shapes how you view the importance of nourishment? 

Dr. Claudia Serrato Yes, thank you for that. I'm always happy to talk about Indigenous womb ecology. And so I want to kind of backtrack just a bit so that there's some context to this. So many years and moons ago, I was really working towards understanding how our taste buds are colonized. And for me, I understood that one way to liberate myself… so before there was cooking, before there's food, is that my taste buds are what's really dictating what I'm eating and what I'm choosing to eat. And so for me, a part of my decolonial mission was to decolonize my taste buds so that I can begin to crave the food of my ancestors and begin to taste the food of my ancestors. 

And during this time, I was blessed to conceive life and hold life in my womb. And I was really curious as to when taste develops within intrauterine life. So I began to research and what I discovered was that amniotic fluid takes on the flavor of the food we eat. And this made sense to me, particularly because within my cultural heritage I was always told don't eat spices when you're pregnant and don't eat this because it's going to be bad for the baby. And I was like, “Well, is it really?” And so it was this question of curiosity that opened me up to studying and learning about the impact of the food we eat while holding intrauterine life makes and contributes to the development of taste within early life. 

And so immediately, I began to eat everything you can possibly imagine because I was very determined that I was going to birth a baby with decolonized taste buds. Meaning, Indigenous flavors, Indigenous memories, and really building a taste palette that would honor the Indigenous foodways that were culturally relevant to me. I went down that rabbit hole and I began to also discover that there was actually work that was beginning to ask those same types of questions within even the hard sciences, beginning to really ask: what are the impacts from that early taste development into an adult and into Elder life? 

And what was determined is that what one eats from the time of conception up to the age of two, even up to five, will ultimately make that type of determination. And so I began to understand this in terms of epigenetics, and epigenetic memory, which basically suggests and says that what some of us are craving today, and how some of us are choosing to eat is a result of what our grandmother's grandmother's grandmother ate, right? 

This is also passed down within Indigenous knowledge systems which we refer to as “ancestral memory.” But ultimately, it's epigenetic or genetic memory. And so I was able to put all this together in such a way that I was able to then expand into the doula world and into the midwifery world, speaking with other Indigenous birth workers who too understood that part of their role was to safeguard Indigenous food as prenatal food and as postnatal food so that we can protect our babies from being victims to dominant food systems that would then take them away from wanting to crave and or eat their cultural heritage foods. And so Indigenous womb ecology is a combination of these particular knowledge systems that speak to reproduction, that speak to health, that speak to food sovereignty, that speak to ancestral memory. And so the work of an Indigenous womb ecologist would be towards revitalizing, remembering, and regenerating a particular type of taste palette to achieve food sovereignty through what we eat and what we crave for the next generations to come.

 Ayana Young Yeah, thank you for sharing some of those personal tidbits with us. That was really nice to hear. And thank you. Following this, how does understanding womb ecology show us a different, less insular way of understanding the body and perhaps connect more intimately to a world of senses, smells, tastes, and feelings? 

Dr. Claudia Serrato So with womb ecology, at the end of the day, is about our senses: about what we are seeing, what we are hearing, what we are tasting, what we are smelling, and what we are touching. And it's all connected as we say, it's all related. And so, it's not enough to just taste the food, right, we have to have that relationship with it. So, in essence, we're also teaching and providing opportunities to rebuild that relationship that we've always had with food that was ruptured. It's a different type of way to heal. It's how we heal our body. It's how we heal the land. It's how we heal the food. 

And so womb ecology, just like taste, doesn't happen alone. It's all in relation. So we're tapping into all the senses. And this is going to happen in different stages. Obviously, in intrauterine life, the only ability that they have there at the moment is to taste the flavors through the amniotic fluid. But there's also sound - the preparation of the food, the songs if we are singing with our food. And so we're tapping into the hearing, so we're developing that memory, we're creating that memory as a process of remembering. And then we have postnatal life, and so then if we are chest or breastfeeding, we're still transmitting those flavors through the milk and we're stimulating. So now we're engaging the touch, the mouth. And it's sort of like this is the type of programming that's occurring. 

And we begin to engage our babies in the preparation of the foods and the snacks that we are giving them. They're beginning to see the colors and process, okay, when I see this… and then the smell of food, right? So all of this becomes part of that, it becomes embodied. So we're going back to embodiment, it becomes a form of embodied memory, which is what womb ecology ultimately too holds space for. And really what we're really working towards is creating that particular type of sensory embodiment or sensorial experience. So that way, the foods, the flavors, and the taste are remembered. So that we can continue to work towards and achieve the kind of food sovereignty and autonomy that many of us doing this particular type of food work I'm hoping to achieve.

 Ayana Young Yeah, this is really bringing me a lot of joy, hearing your responses. I think it's really easy to get mired in what's wrong with the world. And it's really important for us to be reminded of the beauty and the connections that we still have so much access to if we dedicate ourselves to our senses and these connections. And I'm just thinking about how tradition is such an active and evolving reality, and it must be practiced to be maintained. How do these memories forge connections that challenge linear versions of time and static views of tradition?  

Dr. Claudia Serrato Yeah it's really interesting because there's this idea like you just shared that tradition is never changing. When we think of tradition, some of the dominant ideas around that is that it has to remain and be the same as it was 10 years ago, 20 years ago. And for me, that's a misconception because the way I have understood tradition has been through the kitchen, through food work. It's constantly changing, it's constantly evolving. 

And tradition is a remembering of those types of celebrations in the way that we gather, in the way that we interact with one another. But it's to say that it hasn't always been the same. And when there are conversations around ancestral and traditional memory or ancestral and traditional foods, it doesn't mean that there was never room for change, it doesn't mean that it was one way and the only way. Tradition is situated within time, place, and space. And it moves just like our bodies, like our mobile geographies. They are culturally relevant. They are culturally situated, they do take on cultural meanings. But it doesn't mean that they can't evolve. They change when they do. And we see that through food. We have the Churro lamb out in the Navajo Nation - it was introduced, however, it has become part of the traditional diet. And so it's how we give new meaning and new experiences and how it shapes us culturally and geographically. 

So when thinking about tradition, I really rejoice in being able to create new traditions, moments, and opportunities that my family can create to gather and come together and to honor ourselves in the food and the symbolic meaning, the cultural meaning that we have created to take on what we have decided to call a tradition. And by following up with it the next year and the year after and allowing it to evolve because it too takes on its own life. And within its own life, that tradition might tell us what, I want this to change its change up or I want to be more inclusive of this particular way, or this particular teaching. And so in some of those teachings our teachings from our ancestral past and some teachings are those of the ancestral future, so we're talking about Indigenous futurity. And so it evolved, there's a whole change of flow, it's like you said earlier, there's this energy. And so some of that energy is deeply rooted since time immemorial, and some of that energy is the energy to come. And so we honor that through our practices.

Ayana Young This really is bringing me to a phrase that comes up a lot in your work, which is eating for the next seven generations. And it seems like this connects so well to tradition and memory and the connection we fostered for the next generation. To me, this means far more than inventing sustainable replacements for meat or engineering less water-intensive farming techniques, although, of course, that's important because there's a vital spiritual and cultural aspect to it as well. So I'd love to hear how might we eat with the next seven generations in mind, considering not just sustainability, but also, of course, ancestral connections and the importance of food that fuels both body and soul.

Dr. Claudia Serrato Yes. So I love this, when I began to really understand my calling, I began to really understand what the food was asking of me: it was asking me to remember. And I began to ask, “well, why do I need to remember?” and it was a form of accountability. And it's like, well you are the future ancestor. And so, there's a responsibility that comes with doing this food work, there's a responsibility that arrives with the processes of and remembering food the way you are, the way you're preparing it. And I was able to understand that part of this responsibility was, in fact, so that the next seven generations to come have the particular memories that this generation has worked so hard to remember, but also has access to the recipes, the cooking technologies, the taste, and the flavors. And for me, that meant I have to bring back these foods that my ancestors and my relatives have said to me that if we don't do this work, then the food's gonna go away. And if the food goes away, then what does that leave for the next seven generations to come? 

And that was an immediate alarm. I was like, “no,” because I understand. And my whole existence is really centered around food, right? I come from a food culture. And it's life. And so when I imagine what life would be like for the next seven generations without having access to the cultural food traditions, and again, the meals and the flavors and the recipes and so forth, then, for me, it really suggests that what colonialism set out to do was to “kill the Indian,” erasure us, will happen, then where are we at when it comes to thinking about our identity? And not that I'm trying to play into identity politics but understanding this a little differently in terms of cultural and spiritual elements. And for me, I don't want to see that go away. And so I have understood that this work today, yes, it's to keep me and my family alive but more so to pass it on. To continue the oral and all the different sensory ways of passing down knowledge, maintaining the culinary epistemologies, and being able to document them through like our cookbooks these days: other ways of how we engage with kitchen and food work so that they can tap into their womb ecologies, tap into their genetic memories and thrive as cultural peoples. 

We're talking about autonomy, we're talking about sovereignty, and we're also talking about healing and we understand that food is our medicine. And so, this really speaks to the healing of a nation, the healing of people, and who these people are, these are the seven generations to come. And so, for me, this is actually critical work, critical healing that has to happen, critical culinarias so that we can continue to survive as a people and as a nation right which is inclusive of humans and non-humans alike. 

Ayana Young I'm thinking now about how the Earth has changed, and in many ways that has alienated people from their traditional food practices both geopolitically through colonization and also through changing soils, water, and temperatures due to climate change. And this change is not stopping immediately. So, how do we come to recognize the future of food as connected to ancestral foodways as deeply rooted, but not as an overly romanticized or unattainable past? 

Dr. Claudia Serrato Yeah. I mean honestly, it's not easy work. I'm here to just first-handedly say it's going to test us: it's going to test our bodies, it's going to test our minds. It's one thing to say, “Oh, well, we need to decolonize or we need to re-Indigenized our foodways.” And like Eve Tuck reminds us, this is not a metaphor, right? Like, there is a critical praxis that needs to occur that ultimately is also going to challenge us spiritually. And it does mean working with the land, and to work with the land, it's very challenging. I've heard this many times from folks and community circles, like, “oh, well, we know, all it takes is we need to just return to the land,” or we need Land Back, and it's so wonderful when we think about these concepts, and we think about how true we can make this be. 

But there's the physical element, we're going to break a sweat, and the truth is not many of us have that physical ability because of the way our bodies have changed, our food habits have shifted from eating cultural heritage foods to eating processed foods and so forth. Our mindsets are very, very different. And so it's definitely not something to romanticize. I mean, yes, we can dream. But with any dream, we have to put in the work. And so, that work means, yes, we need to go in and pick up a shovel. And sometimes we need to dig holes, we need to move tree trunks, we need to squat, and we need to climb. And then we need to go into the kitchen, we need to lift, we need to chop, we need to pray. And this is hours and hours and hours and days and years of work. This is not something that is an overnight experience, and we have arrived, this is something that we have to be consistent with. And it's going to take a while for us to even get to the place where we can say that this has been restored. And by restored, I mean it's self-sustaining. And we're not quite there yet. 

And so this really means we need to open ourselves to our senses - we need to be able to see and feel and touch and hear embody, and it can be painful. The processes of remembering are not always joyous. I mean, there's pain involved. We need to reconcile who we are, find ourselves, having a sense of self, some of us are not there yet. And so, definitely really creating a body to this is not all theory. It's not all in the imagination, this is something that we can attain, but it takes a village, it can't just be one person, it has to be many of us. And what's wonderful and beautiful is that our plant relatives, our Earth relative, are there with us. They're just patiently waiting for us to remember and understand and be willing to sacrifice our time in our bodies and break sweat in order for us to be accountable like we would like to be and create a better place, a better movement, a better kitchen, a better palate, for the generations to come. And so yeah, it's a lot of work.

Ayana Young It is a lot of work, for sure. I mean, it's really worthy work, though, too. I feel like so much of the work we've been conditioned to believe is worthy is really just feeding the distraction, or not feeding our healing. And I think it's by design that so many of us now don't feel comfortable sweating, or squatting, or getting our hands dirty, or thinking that that's not worthy work, and how it's been looked down upon. And again, I think this is by design, that so many of us are uncomfortable in our bodies, disembodied, and so I really see what you're saying. And I see what has been, in a sense, done to our humanity in this way to block us from being sovereign and involved and desiring to get up and really put our bodies to the land. Yeah, I don't know, I just had to riff off that for a minute.

But I also wanted to read a little quote from this article, because part of the understanding of the power of our diets comes from understanding their histories as well, and you've written extensively on the ways Indigenous diets existed pre-colonization, and were significantly changed by colonial forces. These forces are far from gone. In fact, you are quoted in the ABC article “Through food, language, and dance, Latinos preserve their unique cultural identities” as saying “If we’re not cultivating and cooking and preparing cultural heritage foods, then not only do we lose the culture, but we also lose the sense of identity that comes with that. And then what happens, not only would the food disappear, but we’re also talking about that generational memory. So, the songs, the ceremonies, the agriculture, the recipes, and the flavors. And that’s what keeps us alive. It’s what keeps us going. What makes us resilient is that sense of identity that is rooted and grounded in food.” In so many ways globalization and standardization of food has been a violent practice that has stripped so many from one of the most tangible cultural ties – foodways. Can you talk us through the benefits of decolonizing our taste buds as practice? and in a sense, is revolution.

Dr. Claudia Serrato Yes, I'm sorry that I'm laughing. It's just one of like, joy, it’s one of like, congratulations because when I began to truly, really, like 100% dedicate myself to this particular path it wasn't well received. Again, I entered this in thinking about ways in which colonization was taking over my body as landscape. And I thought, well, “how is it doing this?” This is when I was pursuing my first Master's. And I came across a quote from Queer Aztlán by Cherríe Moraga, where she states that our bodies were being colonized by white, Eurocentric, heterosexual, imperialist United States. And for me, I was like, “Well, how is it doing this?” I understood the colonization of the mind, I understood those different elements. And at the time, I don't remember what exactly I was eating, and I looked down and I thought, through my mouth: my mouth is this portal, this entryway. And I was like “I need to close my mouth. And I need to liberate myself through what I eat.”

And so immediately for me, decolonizing the diet was the path, was the way. And so with different circles I was part of I would speak to why we need to decolonize the diet and what foods we need to let go of, what foods we need to remember, or what type of particular diet we need to return to. And unfortunately, many in my community - I reside in Southern California - many of my cultural relatives eat a very heavy meat-based diet. And so for me to come around talking about how we need to eat with the seasons, or we need to return to a more plant-based diet like our ancestors, there was a lot of resistance to that. And there was like, “No, I'll never let go of that, or our diet is meat-based.” 

And so what I have come to realize is that part of that decolonial work is returning to our food histories. And so if we want to arrive and get to that place where we can say, okay, yes, part of decolonizing means that we got to change our diets, we need to consume more cultural heritage corn, we need to consume more chayote, we need to consume more of a three sisters diet - is understanding that that particular history that you too mentioned in the arrival of the Spanish, the mindset of the colonial body, and two, understanding how the body became gendered - this is all part of that element. This is what ultimately created a shift in diet. 

There was this idea that one body was more superior than another if one consumed chicken, beef, and pork versus eating an 80% plant-based diet and eating seasonal proteins like deer, quail, and larva. That's one element, it’s arriving at that place and saying, okay, there was this shift that occurred, and then understanding the politics that have played out in terms of the different kinds of economies and food economies that have thrived and overwhelmed some cultures. And so like in Mexico, and how we see the changes of Mesoamerican diet, we have the carnicerias, the panaderias, and the lecherias which are the meat processing, the dairy companies, and bread - and that became a dominant force. But if we were not eating those foods, it meant that we were backward, it meant that we were inferior people. And so understanding that two played out in the development of who we are, who we're meant to be, who we don't want to be, and what we need to eat. 

And so part of again decolonizing is understanding the food history, the gendering of the body, the introduction of the particular foods, and why it is that we have, for example, tamales that are chicken, beef, and pork-based versus tomato-based, avocado-based, deer-based, quail-based, because of this idea of superiority. And then we have the dominant food systems that began to thrive. And again, the ideologies of the rich and poor, like those really became embedded through the social construction of identity, law, and economy. 

And then we have the industrial food revolution, and we have those movements that occurred in terms of concepts around eating processed foods as savior foods. World War Two introduced nutritionism, how we need to really focus on nutrition. And, too, there's so much lack of cultural heritage foods and the nutrition that is embedded in these foods, right? So that gets pushed to the side. Like, folks are always asking me “what are the nutritional benefits of cactus?” And it's like, wow, why is that not in our food pyramids or in the footplates, those kinds of developments? 

And so that decolonizing work means we need to also remember the nutrition, the Indigenous nutrition, and by that, it's not just breaking it down to its calorie intake, but it's also understanding the spiritual nutrition, the cultural nutrition because that's what creates Indigenous nutrition. And then, we have these movements that are like the “eat more” movement, right, the supersize movement. And so part of decolonizing is understanding that our ancestors and our relatives did not eat this way, they did not eat in such a gluttonous way that was introduced early on in colonization. There was a there was this gluttonous way of eating, which pretty much meant you had a high place in society. 

And so returning to understanding, as we talked about in the beginning, our ancestors would break their fast overnight. And so you would reintroduce foods that were soft and gentle to the body, like atole. You would harvest, process, and squat for your food and climb for your food and grind your food. And for the main meal of the day, which occurred in the late afternoon, and then to settle the palate, we would then consume our cacao as a beverage. 

And so understanding how we eat is something we need to decolonize, how much we eat is something we need to decolonize because all of that is part of that colonial food legacy that is thriving today. But understanding that all of that is part of this larger political, economic plan. And so, we need to decolonize our mindset. And one way of doing that is by remembering our ancestral gardens, our ancestral foodways, and not just the food, but how we ate, when we ate, and why. And bringing back seasonality into that, because that ultimately determined when we had access to certain plants and vegetables and fruits and fungi and insects and in small game, because it wasn't available all year long. It just wasn't. 

So there's a lot of work and there truly is a lot but it begins with one meal at a time. And we can get there but it's just gonna take - again going back to the work. Yes, there's a lot there and again, when I arrived here, I thought it was just so simple like, “oh, just change my food way. I just eat more plants.” But again, I went down that rabbit hole and I discovered it's more than just eating more plants. It's more than that.

Ayana Young I'm feeling so riled up in a good way from that response. I'm like, “Yes!” There is so much there. And there is so much work. But again, I feel like so many of us are craving purpose. And we are craving work that actually matters. That feels good, that sensuous, that is pleasurable. That is sometimes hard and it's challenging. But again, anything worth our soul's time has challenges to it. I mean, that's just the way it is. It's the way the cookie crumbles. We can't get away from that. And so I feel revitalized. And I hope others who are listening feel that seed planted in us of being passionate to come up against those challenges and rise above, in a way where we're being fed and nourished by the sensuous, by the pleasure of food, by the pleasure of hard work with the land. And because I think at the end of the day, it's so fulfilling, and then we get to lie in bed and feel a sense of true connection. 

And so, yeah, just this has been such a beautiful conversation and has really gotten me inspired. As we conclude, I’m hoping we can talk a bit about your philosophies on healing and relationality which seem like they point to an even deeper decolonial reality. In an article called “Ecological Indigenous Foodways and the Healing of All our Relations” for Journal for Critical Animal Studies, you write, “It is possible to eat and live without disease and speciesism by remembering ancestral ecological, cosmological earth-centered gastronomies which are natural ways of healing.” I love the idea of a cross-species relationality and paying due respect to the kin with which we share this earth. What earth-centered gastronomies are healing, and how are they healing relationships not only between humans but also between our animal kin? 

Dr. Claudia Serrato Yes, how I'm so glad you brought up this piece. I immediately was like, we all heal, we all heal. And I think when we begin to truly embrace and practice Earth-centered gastronomy, then we are truly engaging in a type of healing system that is ecological. And by that, I mean, it's not only between human and human but between human and non-human and between non-human and non-human. So, we allow and make room for all to thrive: the land thrives, the plant thrives, the ladybug thrives, the hummingbird thrives, and the hawk thrives. It's this particular ecology that flows and moves. And in a way that was always meant to be, it wasn't meant to be disrupted at such a high rate that it was as a result of colonialism. And so when we begin to return to an Earth-centered gastronomy, we are also mindful of the seasons, we're also mindful of the particular elements that need to occur like we need to have cultural burns, we need to have this particular type of movement in the land. And one thing I was I was taught about many years back is a concept around ecological chaos, and how important it is that we have worlds within a world within a world to exist, and they all have their system, but when we begin to remember the foods right and eat in such a way, that means everybody eats it, that includes the fungi, that includes micro-life. 

And for me, that is the kind of healing work that we need because we cannot be anthropocentric thinking “Oh, well, it's all about the human,” because it's not right. We are nature and that's been taken from us. We've been told that we are outside of it and that nature should exist on its own. But it's a type of co-involvement, co-creation, and co-engagement that allows us all to eat. And, too, is like the teachings that come with harvesting and gathering: we need to harvest and take what we need, but leave for other life to eat, for other life to consume. And so when we return to these Earth-centered gastronomies, we sort of recalibrate and hit that refresh button that creates cyclical relationality, cyclical flavors, cyclical tastes for all life from now and on to the generations to come, which is inclusive of the next elderberry, the next cactus, the next hawk, the next bear, the next water, the next salmon - were all related.

 Ayana Young Dr. Serrato, thank you so much. For this time, this inspiration, your energy, your passion, your dedication, I think it's so important for us to hear from people like you and be reminded to dig in together. So thanks so much for your time. And yeah, I look forward to continuing to follow your work. 

Dr. Claudia Serrato Awesome, thank you. 

Emily Guerra Thank you for listening to this episode of For the Wild Podcast. The music you heard today is by Justin Crawmer, PALO-MA, and Julio Kintu. For the Wild is created by Ayana Young, Allie Constantine, Erica Ekrem, Emily Guerra, Francesca Glaspell, and Julia Jackson.