Thoughts About (Ghetto) Love.
Being unabashed about my love for Ghetto Gastro because bell hooks said so.
My love affair with Ghetto Gastro has not been a long one. I only became familiar with them shortly after creating Black Food Fridays…so, about three years ago. And it’s not like after I learned about their existence, I became a super fan. I thought they were cool and all but in no way would I have written what you’re about to read. Three years ago, Black Food Fridays was nothing more than a #PandemicProject. My thought was that I’d post about Black owned restaurants once or twice a week and that’d be that. So the idea of crafting a 1000+ word essay, for a group of dudes I’ve never met, never crossed my mind.
But these ain’t no regular dudes.
For those of you who aren’t familiar, Ghetto Gastro is a culinary collective of three Black men from the Bronx who–and I pulled this part straight from their website–use “ancestral ingredients to bring a multitude of flavors and recipes to eaters everywhere”. You can see this playing out via their food offerings of organics syrups and RBG themed pancake mixes. But Ghetto Gastro does more than just make food.
Collaborations with the likes of CRUX, Union, and Sacai prove that their vibes can be extended to a variety of products. This love for Ghetto Gastro was not based upon a deep knowledge of their lives, their experiences, or their philosophies on life. I wouldn’t learn anything about what makes them tick until I was graciously sent a copy of their cookbook, “Black Power Kitchen” sometime last year. So what is it about them that I love so much? In a word, their vibes (I know, I know…that’s two words).
Black Food Brands With Great Merch.
The year was 2010. I’m 5 years removed from my college days, about 100 pounds lighter, and eagerly telling anyone who would listen about this Canadian rapper named Drake, who I had learned about a few years ago via his “Comeback Season” mixtape. This is also around the time that I was
To be specific, I’m in love with their “streetwear meets high fashion” aesthetic. I love the comfort and confidence they exude, their willingness to show up as themselves in all places and situations. I love that they can collaborate with Williams & Sonoma or create content with Wolfgang Puck and at no time will you ever forget that these are Black men from New York City. Spend any time checking out their various social media accounts and it becomes clear to see, these men are obvious practitioners of a culinary culture that combines the ethos of Hip-Hop, the style of The Bronx, and an effortlessness of Black American swagger. They are chefs, yes. But it’s their dialed-in aesthetic that grabbed my attention, not anything they may have cooked. The phrase “the brand is strong” (RIP the Desus & Mero Show) is more than appropriate for these gentlemen.
When I look at Ghetto Gastro, I see rap stars. And just so we’re on the same page, I don’t mean that in a pejorative way, ya know? Like, in a way that diminishes their culinary expertise. I mean that I see them as the full embodiment of Hip-Hop's most fascinating export: aspiration. Like your favorite rapper, Ghetto Gastro has a coolness about them that others want to emulate. The same type of je ne sais quoi that distinguishes the talented rapper from the “Rap Superstar”. You admire the work of talented rappers. You sing their lyrics, dance to their songs, save their music to your playlist. But the Rap Superstar? You pattern your bars after theirs! You study their business plays, and try to bring meaning to their work that may not actually exist. You’re fans of rappers. You create fan fiction about Rap Superstars.
I also want to point out that, up to this point, I’ve typed the word “love” seven times. That includes the instance in the previous sentence. Make no mistake, that was by design. See, in addition to admiring Ghetto Gastro, I am currently in the midst of reading “All About Love'' by the late bell hooks. At the time of my writing this, I have about three chapters left in my journey. But I must admit, this book has already had a profound impact on me. On numerous occasions I’ve read a passage, let an audible “mmmmm” emerge from my pursed lips, and closed the book just to reflect on the words I just ingested.
She implores us to use love as the basis for every decision we make. Whether that decision be on political policies or personal relationships, love must dominate the deliberation process. More importantly, she talks about this cognitive dissonance between what we say we believe and the actions we are willing to take to stand firm on those beliefs. That concept is why I’m spending time telling y’all how much I love some dudes I ain’t never met.
Remember when Michael B. Jordan and Jonathan Majors caught all that heat for taking pictures, all hugged up on each other? Or how about when the aforementioned Jordan and acclaimed filmmaker Ryan Coogler–the man who brought the world of Wakanda to life– caught a bunch of homophobic strays for their photo in Vanity Fair, back in 2016? I still think about those instances. It makes my skin itch to think that one’s manliness can be called into question for showing affection for your homie(s).
Well, that’s unless you’re toxic.
Then you can show love to other men without worrying about whether or not your actions will be interpreted as “gay”. People like Boosie Bad Azz who (allegedly) paid for his teenage son to have sexual interactions with prostitutes, are allowed to show love to their male friends without fear of their manliness or sexuality coming into question. I mean, no one batted an eye when he dropped the song “My Niggas” in 2006, in which he said the following:
Look em' dead in the eye
And tell yo nigga
Tell that nigga you love em' (you love them)
Boosie’s full-throated and open expression of love from one Black man to another could have been a momentous occasion, a reference point for the day my beloved Hip-Hop faced its antiquated views on what makes a man, a man. Instead, that lyric came and went without nearly a mumbling word. And if my recollection serves, there were no think pieces about that line either. But Michael and his homies embrace on camera, now “The Man” is out to make the Black Man look effeminate? (insert eyeroll emoji)
All this homophobic shit is not only stupid but a waste of energy. I could go on and on about how harmful that behavior is but, for one, if you’re reading this you probably already know that. And for two, I choose to use my finite energy resources in a more positive way: by helping to usher in the normalization of Black male tenderness. In order to assist in the softening of the Black Man (not to be confused with the emasculation of the Black Man, just in case some Hoteps are reading this), I must be public about my adoration. I did it last week, in a mini-tribute to my friend (and now James Beard Award winning beer writer) Jamaal Obadiah Lemon. And now I’m doing it with Ghetto Gastro. Because if I want my nephews to live in a world in which Black men are allowed, nay, ENCOURAGED to tell their Black male friends that they love and appreciate them, I must be as unabashed with my love for other Black men.
The teachings of bell hooks require me to do so. Her words require me to be bold and unafraid of being both emotionally available and emotionally vulnerable to other Black men. It’s something that men, in general, don’t have a lot of practice doing but especially my melanated brethren. What I’m learning from hooks is that love is not a blind one-way street. True love doesn’t mean I overlook the wrongs of my brothers nor does it mean I will have to become an apologist for all Black men. It does mean that I must exhibit grace towards him whilst simultaneously holding him accountable for his actions. That goes for Ghetto Gastro as well.
While I am a fan of their steez, I’d be remiss to not mention that said steez isn’t enjoyed without some internal conflict. As I mentioned, the vibes with Ghetto Gastro are high! But as someone who works as a full-time community organizer, the same swag that attracts me to them also makes me pause with concern. A brand who talks openly and proudly about the liberation of Black folks, selling (dope ass) Sacai pullover shirts for damn near $500 and matching pants for $700+, seems kinda…icky for lack of a better term. They speak on using food as a weapon but on their website, you don’t see a whole lot of them weaponizing their culinary skills for the benefit of anyone of themselves. Maybe they are behind the scenes, but if that’s the case, it’d be nice to see them be as loud about that as they are about showing us which celebrities they rub elbows with. For instance, if they are using their impeccable style as a magnet to work with world class brands, then using some of those funds to cut checks to Black-led organizations who are doing food-as-liberation work, then say that both plainly and very loudly! They have been doing shoutouts to “Wavy Women” on their Instagram, and that’s great. But, again, for a brand that touts itself as hyper-liberation minded, is an Instagram post enough?
Please, do not confuse my critique as an admonishment of their entrepreneurial efforts. Shit, I ask people everyday to become paid subscribers to this newsletter because I believe in being paid for my work. But all I’m saying is, wouldn’t it be weird if the only collaborations I did from my ”Buy from Black people every Friday” account, were with non-Black owned luxury brands? I think so. (IT SHOULD BE NOTED: Ghetto Gastro does have a few tee shirts available, on their website, created in collaboration with Black owned Union Los Angeles for $62)
If that was the case, I would need to ensure that I made myself available to the same blend of love and accountability that I’m handing out today. If I’m outta pocket, my brother has an obligation to let me know so that I can work to be more than my mistakes and avoid hindering my growth. So if you continue to support this newsletter, be prepared to see a lot of hot, unapologetic, and unbridled Black-man-to-Black-man appreciation. If reading that sentence made you flinch, then I’m doing my job. It also means we have a lot more work to do but we’ll get there. I’m sure of it.
On one hand, I am expressing my love for Ghetto Gastro because I want other Black men to be inspired by my declaration of love for other Black men. I want them to feel just as comfortable with loving and hugging their niggas as they do rooting for their favorite sports teams. For all they’ve accomplished they absolutely deserve the flowers I’ve laid before their feet today. In an overwhelmingly white and male led culinary industry, Ghetto Gastro sits calmly at the intersection of Hip-Hop, culinary wizardry, entrepreneurship, and liberation. Pointing towards a culinary horizon that has made room for people with a similar combination of culinary know-how and cultural relevance.
But that doesn’t mean they can’t do more. And my hope, if they ever come across this entry, is that they are inspired to either do more liberation work or be more vocal about the work they’re already doing. I think we’d all love that, right?
Peace to all, y’all! - KJ
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