Reflecting on the kitchen tour
Edit: since writing this post, my partner and I discontinued our collaboration and thus deleted the channel on the video-sharing platform.
Recently, after receiving several gentle requests from my fellow humans, I filmed a kitchen tour. It was a collaborative project: my partner was filming. I asked him in he wanted to do the tour (and I would film) to create some balance (I did the wardrobe and the home tours), but he said no. And that's ok.
I watched the kitchen tour myself after spending some time with the Sun. And I experienced different emotions. I was glad that I could show our kitchen to my fellow humans just as it was at that very moment. The idea behind it was that the space must be exactly as it would have appeared to a fellow human entering our space and asking if they could take a closer look at the kitchen. One might think, no one would ever ask anything like this. Yet, many fellow humans in our immediate social circle are sustainability researchers and practitioners. They enter this space, our home, as a space where my practice of sustainable living unfolds. I'm always happy to show them around and I always tell them that they can go anywhere in our apartment, open any door, look at anything. Then we talk about sustainability, our sustainability journeys and practices, experiences, empowering and constraining factors. I believe that such conversations should be normalised. I notice that they help me cope with eco-anxiety that I feel as a sustainability researcher and as a human being. Some years ago, my sustainability-related conversations with fellow humans focused a lot on capitalism and how capitalist systems and structures constrain. It's important to know and understand (I've co-written a whole book where many chapters focus exactly on this topic). But these days, I am equally, and perhaps even more, interested in what practices exist, what motivates and what empowers them. After my ex partner and I went our separate paths (we are very good friends now), he mentioned to me that he found endless conversations about "how things are so bad" draining. I accept his critique. And he is a sustainability practitioner too. His current project focuses on dealing with e-waste.
In the kitchen, there are items that I feel a certain amount of shame about. Single-use plastic (e.g., packaging), imported fruits. Carbonated beverages in plastic bottles. But it had to be an authentic tour. Raw. One can certainly go to Torvehallerne here in Copenhagen and bring home abundant local, unpackaged produce, fresh fish, fresh bread, locally made beverages, honey, unpackaged cheese and jam. But I don't think it's how most people live. We certainly don't shop there often. It would not be affordable. I used to walk all the way to Torvehallerne at times, to get some local produce. In the past few months, I've been struggling to walk. First, due to hyperemesis, then due to dizziness.
Watching the kitchen tour made me realise that I want to step back into some of my previous practices. I say it not with a feeling of shame but rather because I finally feel empowered again. A couple of weeks ago, I began to feel much better, though this week is the first one I'm feeling almost normal.
It is interesting to observe how my and my partner's consumption patterns co-exist and intertwine in the same space. In the video, I say we most of the time, but my partner and I are individuals with our own preferences. For example, he makes tuna salad and likes baked beans and spices. He enjoys baking. For many years, I used to be completely plant-based. If there is one type of food I could choose to eat forever, it would be raw fruits and vegetables, supplemented by some pasta, rice, beans, and perhaps olive oil. I never use spices when I make food for myself. I love salt and herbs, especially fresh ones.
My partner and I don't always eat together. He eats dinner with his child at his ex partner's and the child's apartment every Monday and Wednesday, as well as every other Friday and Saturday. We eat together at times, but not very often. Those are the days I eat exactly what I prefer. The kind of food that I eat would probably not be inspiring, interesting or delicious to many fellow humans. I would make a bowl of rice for myself, with a huge salad. Lots of chopped fresh herbs. And I would have a large plate of cut up fruits and a few pieces of dried fruits.
There are some ideas in our kitchen that my partner implemented and I certainly should not take credit for them. For example, he set up our tiny refill station that serves us well. When I lived on my own, I would use soap bars for cleaning, or concentrated liquid Castile soap which I would then dilute. But then I lived in smaller spaces and didn't need as much as we need now. There are two, sometimes three of us, and the baby's on the way. The sparkling water making machine is something I could certainly live without, but it's wonderful to have sparkling water sometimes. I would live happily without the smoothie maker. When it's on, it makes a very loud noise which is almost painful to someone living with sensory processing sensitivity. It's less expensive to make smoothies than to buy ice cream from local ice cream shops (and they are closed now!). But if I lived on my own, I would rather buy ice cream from a local shop rarely to save money, and not have a smoothie maker.
I feel ashamed of not loving the plates, bowls and cups that my partner inherited from his grandparents. I use them with gratitude, but their design feels very busy to me. I would not buy new ones because there are more than enough plates and bowls in our society, but when I see some free ones in a swap shop, I am certainly tempted to take them home. I don't do it because we have enough and the ones we have are usable and have sentimental value for my partner. I just don't love them as much as I would have loved something without any decorations.