Prescriptive diet culture, especially (but not exclusively) the sort aimed at losing weight, is ableist and sizeist, with frequent undertones of racism, classism, and sexism. It relies on the premise that all bodies can and should fit into a certain size and a certain range of “health” and ability, that fat and disabled bodies are inherently lesser, and frequently relies on patronizing or limiting the options of poor people for their alleged “own good,” stigmatizing or patronizing the food choices of non-European cultures, and judging women’s and perceived-women’s bodies more harshly than men’s bodies.
In response to this, various fat liberation, body positive, and health-at-every-size movements have arisen to challenge this narrative to varying degrees. One of the alternatives often promoted in these contexts is “intuitive eating,” in which people eat what their bodies crave, whenever they’re hungry, instead of following a prescriptive diet or schedule. This is framed as radical, liberatory rebellion and self-actualization against diet culture.
Intuitive eating is great for some people. However, there are some problems with promoting it as a universal solution.
First of all, “Everyone should eat intuitively” is just as prescriptive as any other prescriptive diet. It still frames food choices as something with a right and a wrong answer. What superficially sounds like “Eat whatever you want” actually becomes “You must eat whatever you want, and examine carefully whether you actually want it, and defend your choices accordingly.”
Secondly, intuitive eating is fundamentally inaccessible to the majority of the world’s population. Perhaps if we lived in a Star Trek universe where we could just command a replicator to create food and have it instantly ready for us, then most, if not all people, could eat intuitively. But in our own world, our food choices are constrained by time, money, and availability, as well as restrictions like allergies and sensitivities.
When I think about what food I want to eat, I have to think about what I already have. What I can afford to buy. What I have the time and energy to prepare. I might “intuit” that I crave a steak, but what I have readily on hand is a bowl of cereal. Intuition won’t help someone with chronic fatigue who can’t stand at a stove for long or chop vegetables, or someone on food stamps who has to stretch their budget, or someone who works long shifts and comes home exhausted, or a parent of three children with food allergies who only feeds themself leftover scraps from feeding them. Who has time and energy to cook a meal from scratch? Who has money to go out to a restaurant? Whose invisible and underpaid labor -- farm workers, grocery workers, restaurant cooks, homemakers -- does this system rely upon?
The third problem with promoting intuitive eating as a universal solution is that many foods are manufactured in such a way as to sensorily mislead the eater about their properties. The idea that “artificial” or “processed” foods are somehow “worse” than “natural” foods -- or that those are meaningful categories -- is ridiculous and baseless. However, it is a fact that many foods are made to mimic the look, taste, smell, and texture of foods they do not actually contain. This makes it harder for eaters to “intuit” a food’s properties by the usual means. Eaters may have to rely on ingredients lists and nutritional information rather than sensory input alone. This is especially true for people who have specific nutritional needs, like allergies or nutrient deficiencies, to either avoid or seek out specific food attributes.
Finally, even if all other obstacles were eliminated, some people are just not good at intuiting their own food needs. People with executive functioning disabilities may forget that they’re hungry, or not recognize their bodies’ hunger signals. Not everyone is naturally good at piloting a meat suit. Food is difficult, and it’s okay to need external reminders to refuel.
Intuitive eating rhetoric can sound suspiciously similar to the common rhetoric of the “natural” “wellness” movement, stemming from the premise that all bodies are born with a natural alignment to a certain standard of “health” and normative ability, and only external factors and individual choices can “corrupt” it. In reality, there are no normative bodies or abilities. Plenty of people are born with food-related disabilities, whether difficulty remembering to eat, anxiety, susceptibility to nutrient deficiency, allergies, diabetes, or all kinds of other conditions. Food is hard. Harder for some people than others. And that’s okay.
There’s nothing wrong with intuitive eating, but it’s not a universal solution to everyone’s food difficulties. We need affordable, accessible food for everyone. We need everyone to have the free time and support they need to perform all activities of daily living. We need living wages for everyone at every part of the food supply chain. We need clearly labeled food ingredients and nutritional values. We need a society where everyone has the resources, time, and support to eat whatever they want, and the information to know what they’re eating. And then, maybe, intuitive eating can be a more attainable goal for people who want it.
We also need a society in which bodily autonomy is respected, and people’s food choices and other health and bodily choices are rightly regarded as no one else’s business. We need widespread recognition that there’s no standard of health or ability that anyone “should” have and no way that anyone “should” eat, and that what matters is ensuring that everyone has equitable access to resources, which each individual can choose how to use, whether that’s eating frozen dinners every day, growing vegetables for fun, eating only purple things, or using a timer to remember when it’s time to eat. But until we achieve that society, “intuitive eating” might as well mean “let them eat cake.”
