Good Taste: Canceling Bon Appétit doesn’t hold them accountable


Photo of a blue Bon Appétit magazine with a peach and sesame crumble dish on the front cover. Some additional magazines underneath on a wood table with floral designs.
Accountability does not come from cancel culture; rather it comes from analyzing our current social structures and personal biases as a whole (Photo courtesy of Unsplash).

I can still remember the first Bon Appétit video I watched. Sitting in my freshman dorm, Claire Saffitz attempted to create gourmet Doritos, experiencing constant setbacks and asking fellow chefs for advice.

For years, Bon Appétit has been one of the most popular food magazines, but the launch of their YouTube channel made them a cultural phenomenon. As a lifelong foodie and Food Network lover, it seemed only natural I would get sucked into the Bon Appétit multiverse. Throughout the pandemic, the Test Kitchen staff kept many of us entertained, offering moments of laughter during a trying time.

George Floyd’s murder in May 2020 forced a racial reckoning within our country,  and Bon Appétit was not immune to the criticism. Staffers began posting on social media about the ways in which the magazine’s Eurocentric view of food fed into racist narratives about non-white communities.

Tammie Teclemariam, a Bon Appétit staffer, tweeted a picture of the magazine’s then-editor-in-chief, Adam Rapoport, dressed in brownface for a Halloween costume.

As the photo gained media attention, many staffers pointed out that Rapoport’s leadership had given way to rampant racism, sexism and homophobia within the Bon Appétit workplace.

Sohla El-Waylly, a Bengali American chef and Test Kitchen personality, took to her Instagram stories to condemn Rapoport’s actions and point out she made significantly less than her white counterparts.

At the same time, Christina Chaey, a Korean American chef, announced that she had not gotten paid for her video contributions. Alex Delany, another Test Kitchen star, was called out for a Confederate flag cake posted to his Tumblr and a Vine in which he says a homophobic slur.

Andy Baraghani, a senior food editor, explained the ways Delany’s Vine reminded him of the homophobic abuse he has experienced throughout his lifetime. However, Twitter users were quick to point out the paradox of this situation.

Though Baraghani is gay, he is also a beloved and power member of the editorial staff. Contributor Alyse Whitney pointed out that Baraghani frequently used his influence to make it hard for her to advance her career at Bon Appétit.

Like many of us, I assumed that unsubscribing from Bon Appétit’s YouTube channel and ignoring the stars of the Test Kitchen was enough to absolve myself. However, an organization as powerful as Bon Appétit will always regenerate.

Once the media blitz died down, Bon Appétit returned with several new editors of color, led by editor in chief Dawn Davis, a Black woman committed to creating change within the magazine.

Bon Appétit now has almost six million subscribers, even more than what they had in May 2020, just before they were “canceled.” An organization with this much power over the food industry is not going anywhere.

Though Bon Appétit promised to create a more diverse workplace, it is our job as content consumers to hold their feet to the fire.

We cannot ignore the political significance and monetary control the food industry has, and Bon Appétit accounts for much of that power. We need to ensure that they fulfill their promise to diverse and equitable food media coverage.

It is not enough to get rid of blatantly problematic staff members like Rapaport and Delany. We can’t create a world in which Baraghani is not held accountable for his racism and misogyny because he has experienced homophobia.

In an intersectional world, it is important to remember our marginalization and our privileges interact with one another. Despite his oppression, Baraghani wields power privilege within the Bon Appétit hierarchy, putting him in a position to hurt other marginalized folks.

As celebrities do their best to dodge the bullets of cancel culture, they are quick to point out that marginalization, assuming this makes them immune to oppressing others. Baraghani remains a senior food editor at Bon Appétit, retaining his position of power despite the allegations against him.

While this article centers the food industry, these conversations about accountability extend much further. Cancel culture hopes that the monetary and social consequences media personnel face will be enough to force abusers to learn about social issues.

In reality, canceling someone rarely extends past a few media cycles. For the most part, the Bon Appétit staff who came under fire in June 2020 eventually regained their social media following and high-powered positions, and as other stories begin to dominate media headlines, supposedly canceled celebrities are easily able to return to their former status after generic apologies and claims of growth, once again wielding the power to hurt those around them.

By canceling a single person, we never have to critically analyze the systems that put them in power in the first place. We never have to consider the ways sexism, racism and homophobia are entrenched in our power structures. We never have to push ourselves to hold both individuals and establishments accountable for their everyday abuses.

Reena Somani is a senior writing about food and its social implications. Her column, “Good Taste,” runs every other Tuesday.