When was the last time you ate meat? Was it today, this week, or perhaps years ago? Have you ever found yourself debating the ethics, environmental impact, or health effects of eating meat? Do you wrestle with guilt after savoring a steak, only to crave it again soon after? If so, you’re far from alone in this emotional tug-of-war surrounding meat consumption.
From carnivore diets to plant-based “meats” and lab-grown alternatives, meat is everywhere in our cultural landscape. But despite its ubiquity, many of us are deeply conflicted about it. Science journalist Marta Zaraska calls this pervasive attachment “meathooked.” And it’s easy to see why: meat is not just food. It’s woven into our history, rituals, and identities—yet it also sparks some of the most heated debates about morality, ecology, health, and social norms.
So, why do we hold such contradictory feelings about meat? And why does it continue to occupy such a central role in our diets despite these tensions? Recent research into the cultural roots of these contradictions reveals that meat’s contested status goes back centuries—and that the issues around it are as much about power, gender, and identity as about nutrition or the environment.
Meat and Gender: A Historical Divide
Although popular culture often portrays meat as a “man’s food,” archaeological evidence tells a more nuanced story. For instance, a 9,000-year-old burial site revealed a female hunter buried with hunting tools, challenging the stereotype that men were the sole providers of meat.
Still, culturally, meat remains deeply gendered. From who butchers the meat to who cooks and who eats it, societal norms shape and reinforce these roles. Meat consumption is frequently tied to masculinity—think of over-the-top shows like Epic Meal Time, which celebrate huge, meat-heavy meals as symbols of manliness. This portrayal helps explain why plant-based diets are often seen as “less masculine” and why some men resist adopting them.
Women, on the other hand, face barriers to entering meat-centric professions, both due to societal expectations and gendered stereotypes. Thus, meat becomes more than just food—it is a symbol embedded in gender performance and social roles.
Meat and Class: A Marker of Power and Status
Historically, meat consumption has also been a marker of social class. Medieval nobles and elites enjoyed prime cuts and rare meats like swan and certain organs, which were regarded as delicacies. Conversely, the working class had access to lesser cuts and ate meat less frequently.
With industrialization and factory farming, meat became more accessible to the masses. Quantity of meat consumed rose across classes, but quality and type still reflected social status.
Today, the ethics and sustainability of mass meat production spark intense debate. Factory farming not only destroys ecosystems and biodiversity but also exploits animals and workers, eroding rural communities’ quality of life. This has led to calls for reduced meat consumption by activists, governments, and international organizations like the United Nations.
Still, the entrenched cultural importance of meat, alongside economic and practical factors, makes reducing consumption a complicated and sometimes contentious goal.
Rethinking a Future Without Meat
Despite decades of scientific progress and technological innovation—including the rise of plant-based “meat” substitutes and cultured meat—data shows that most people are reluctant to let go of meat entirely.
One reason is that ideal meat substitutes must mimic the taste, texture, and sensory experience of real meat, a difficult challenge scientists have yet to fully solve. But beyond the sensory, meat carries deep cultural, symbolic, and emotional weight.
Our conflicting feelings—loving meat for its traditions, flavors, and social meaning, while hating it for its environmental cost and ethical dilemmas—reflect a broader cultural contradiction. Meat isn’t just a food choice; it’s a battleground where issues of identity, morality, gender, and power play out.
So, even as we envision a meatless future, the complex history and symbolism surrounding meat will continue to influence how we relate to it—and to its substitutes.
The Cultural Baggage of Meat
Our “meathooked” nature is not just a biological craving but a deeply embedded cultural narrative. Meat connects us to ancient practices, family traditions, celebrations, and social status. It reflects who we are, where we come from, and what we value.
At the same time, awareness of meat’s environmental and ethical costs challenges these long-standing attachments. This tension fuels ongoing debates, activism, and innovation in food.
Understanding this duality helps explain why many of us hate to love meat—and love to hate it. It is both a source of pleasure and a cause of guilt, a symbol of status and a target of critique.
Final Thoughts
Our relationship with meat is far from straightforward. It is shaped by centuries of social norms, power dynamics, gender roles, and cultural meanings. Recognizing these layers can help us approach conversations about meat with empathy and complexity.
Whether you’re a committed carnivore, a plant-based eater, or somewhere in between, the future of meat—and how we relate to it—will be shaped by both innovation and the enduring cultural stories we carry with us.
Zeynep Arsel is a Chair in Consumption, Markets, and Society at Concordia University. Aya Aboelenien is an Assistant Professor of Marketing at HEC Montréal. Their insights illuminate the intricate dance between culture, identity, and our food choices.
