Harshi Pannala Q3 #4 - Fed with Love
There is a famous experiment in psychology called the Harlow experiment that I recently read about in my psychology class. The experiment was run to answer the question of whether younglings are attached to their mothers for contact comfort or for food. Due to our survival instincts, being attached to our mothers for food makes sense. We want to stay close to our consistent food source. However, the results were quite surprising to me. The monkey stuck close to the physical representation of an older, female monkey made out of cloth over the wire stand holding a bottle of milk. In fact, the baby monkey sat with the cloth monkey but drank out of the milk bottle held by the wire stand. It stood out to me because it proved that sometimes our attachments and relationships are beyond logic and survival, which sounds kind of dehumanizing for me to admit.
I think my surprise can be attributed to my own experiences with my dear mother.
My mom has never loved physical touch. So her love for me was always shown in different forms. The form I most resonated with the most may not be much of a surprise—food. My mom just cooked for me nonstop. Perhaps it was just because I wouldn’t shut up unless I was eating. When I was living in an apartment building, my neighbors would often complain about my incessant talking, or maybe I should say babbling and screaming.
I would have numerous idlis and dosas every single day. Much more than the average toddler must be eating. Her cooking essentially claimed me and definitely showed up in the data. The reports that always came back saying I was in the 99th percentile for weight wasn’t very surprising given how much food my mom was feeding me. Even to this day, my mom loves to cook food for our family. Hugs are not acceptable forms of affection in my family. But a hearty, homecooked dish represents unconditional love.
My mom’s delicious love language combined with numerous hours of Food Network-watching led to my adoration for food. It not only helps me survive and stay healthy, but it proves how loved I was to my mom. I still can’t fully understand how the baby monkey wasn’t immediately drawn to the milk bottle, but perhaps it’s just because my mom’s cooking had such a possessive hold on me. Because of that, I will always see food as one of the strongest ways to show one’s love for others.
Hi Harshi! I used to love seeing videos and experiments like this. Being initially taught that humans are the only species capable of intellectual and emotional maturity, it’s oddly relieving to know that we aren’t alone. Time and time again, animals have proven that they have not only the capacity for cooperation, societal organization, and even emotional attachment. Nevertheless, it fascinates me every time I see it.
ReplyDeleteMy mom also communicates her love through food. She does it through other ways as well, but the idlis and dosas that she made for me and my sister tell us more than enough. Basically every day, she would work to make sure that we were fed and satisfied—and so she must have been confused when I became incredibly underweight. Honestly, I’m confused too. My dad also communicates his love in a much less overt way; through how much he works for us. The amount of times he’s mentioned taking meetings with all sorts of different teams while actively driving me or my sister to a class or practice says a lot, even if he isn’t always explicit about it. The ways our parents (and others too!) show us affection is something I think deserves more attention. It’s important to recognize that others care for us.
Although I’m not a psych student, I really love learning about psychology experiments in passing, and this really resonated with me sort of as a case against the commodification of relationships I initially agreed that it would make most sense for offspring to be attached to their mothers for food over comfort---although after reading that it was in fact the opposite, it made me wonder if I had that preconceived notion because I thought animals were below what I viewed as empathy. Hearing about your own experiences with this was honestly heartwarming as it reconciled the need for food as something that is given as an expression of love. I have personally tried to do different things with my diet (attempted responsibly), but I have never really been able to let go of the home cooked food my mom makes. I’m attached for the same reasons you are, but also because it’s one of the few direct ties I have to my culture as I have never been to the Philippines nor do I speak any of its languages/dialects. Thank you for writing about this!
ReplyDeleteAlthough food is definitely one of my favorite hobbies, I can’t exactly say I started the same relationship with food as you. When I was much younger, I barely ate any baby food. My parents have several reasons for why this could be the case: I’m too curious about my surroundings, I just don’t have much of an appetite, I’m jealous of my big brother’s In-N-Out french fries (this one makes the most sense). As a result, despite being quite tall for my age as a baby, my first weight check landed me at a hefty 8th percentile. My mother, coming from a Chinese culture where having a fat baby is a clear sign of a mother’s success in feeding their child, was obviously distraught. My relationship with my mother had always been quite strong, and I think that simply the act of cooking, not just the food, was what helped create and strengthen that bond despite me previously not caring for food (I am much “healthier” now).
ReplyDeleteJust today, I greeted my mom who came home from work in the evening. As we were talking about school and whatnot, I barely realized that she had gone to the fridge, pulled out the sliced mushrooms she had prepared the day before, and began cooking them while still talking to me. All the times I’ve begrudgingly emerged from my room for dinner and seen—and, without fail, smelled—freshly cooked food on the stovetop were times my mother consciously cooked food for me and my family. I hope I have given and will continue to give her appropriate appreciation for the amount of work she puts into keeping us fed.