How You Eat Yo Grits?

KJ Kearney started this by saying, “Good morning, even to the people who eat sugar on their grits,” and it triggered me. Don’t ask me why, I think it might be the same as some things within our culture we just don’t do, and I thought sugar in our grits was one of those. A staple is fish and grits or shrimp and grits, so why does sugar come to your mind when making a bowl of grits?

What are you eating sugary grits with, a bowl of fruit? Wouldn’t oatmeal be healthier? I don’t understand…and please don’t help me try because I don’t want to understand.

I want to judge you for putting sugar on your grits. This is how you want to exercise your free will?

Now, before you tense up or start forming an opinion too fast, just… relax for a second and sit with ya girl Soul x SWMarie ✨, because this is a conversation that has been dividing households, friendships, and probably a few aunties at Sunday breakfast for generations—and me? I’m here to offer a new perspective… and possibly cause a little more ruckus.

So the other day, me and my friend Shawn found ourselves on what many would call the wrong side of history after boldly claiming our allegiance to sugar in grits during what was supposed to be a very unserious conversation in Flow Hour and Accountability Hour…but somehow turned into a full-blown debate like we were trying to rewrite the Constitution.

Now okay. Let’s be fair. Some people reach for butter and let it melt all the way through… real slow…you know? Letting it slide into every bite, followed by a little salt, maybe something savory— something that feels familiar to them and says this is how it’s always been done and don’t play in my face about it.

And listen… I love that for y’all. I really do. I respect tradition, and I’m not here to disrupt nobody’s household. But me? I’ve always been the kind of woman who leans just a little bit toward the wild side of things. The kind of woman who might look at a bowl of grits and say, “You know what this needs?” A lil sugar. Sometimes I like things to be a lil sweet, like me. *insert meme with Megan with her tongue out!*

I like a little sugar, a little spice, a little “everything nice” woven into my life, and if that shows up in my breakfast too, then so be it.

Because some people like something that makes sense the moment it touches their tongue. And for some of us, our taste buds got range. We got curious taste buds. We like to switch things up, add a little extra flavor to the plate…you know, kind of like you do in the bed—

…wait. My fault. We talking about grits 😌 But still. All I’m saying is…don’t knock it till you’ve had it made right. The sugar in grits warriors? We’re not out here trying to convert nobody or nothing like that. We just like to add a touch of sweetness where we can… and mind our business while doing it. Hell, life is salty enough! Pass me that damn sugar.

And here’s the thing! You would’ve never guessed… savory grits and sweet grits can coexist without all the tension and without somebody feeling like they gotta defend their plate at breakfast. WHAAAT!? MIND BLOWN! Because at the end of the day, we’re all just sitting over something warm, stirring, tasting, adjusting, trying to get it just right for ourselves and create something that feels good. So go right ahead and butter yours, salt yours, cheese yours up real nice. As for Marie? I’m still reaching for the sugar with a smile on my face.

Free the sugar grits.

#ForeverASugarInGritsWarrior

There is an age-old debate that goes back to who the fuck knows when about whether sugar belongs in grits or not. And as an equal opportunity grits eater, I am here to say, they indeed do belong in grits. My name is LaShawn Taylor, and I love sweet grits. I also love savory grits, but I apparently do not need to defend my love of savory grits—just my love of sweet grits. Now, before ya’ll bring that black Airforce One energy to my opinion about sweet grits, I’m not saying I’m over here asking niggas to make my shrimp and grits or fish and grits with sugar in it. I’m not a sociopath. I just like what I like when I like it. Call me an adventurous eater, if you will.

Now ya’ll probably like Who raised this nigga!?

To answer your question, here’s a little story about how I was introduced to sweet grits. I was just a youngling under the care of my dear mother. She was the one who always made the grits. One day, she put a nice, hearty bowl of grits in front of me, with a perfectly cooked side of bacon and some eggs. Me being the deviant that I am, crumbled up the bacon and threw them in the bowl with the eggs. I put a spoonful in my mouth, and what transpired afterwards could only be described as a spiritual awakening. I’m talking pupils dilating, angels singing, trumpets blowing! I swear I saw God. My toes curled, and I devoured those sweet grits wrapped in butter like it was my last meal, all while rubbing my feet together.

Now, why my mama gave me a bowl of something she doesn’t even eat herself is beyond me. She likes her grits with butter, salt, and pepper. I’m not gonna hold you, this combo is still nasty af to me. My daddy don’t even eat sweet grits. But maybe my love of sweet grits is their karma for whatever transgressions occurred before I was born. I mean, I’ve always been a rebel. Blame it on the Aquarius sun. But you can’t blame me for liking sweet grits. Blame my mama for feeding them to me.

But when I tell ya’ll that bowl of sweet grits took me down a path I could not return from; I mean, I was already in too deep after eating the first spoonful. Make me a bowl of sweet grits and give me some good ass bacon or sausage to put in it, and an over-easy egg, and I will ascend to heights no human has ever reached. I’m talking Super Saiyan type shit. And yes, I see ya’ll out there with the pitchforks and torches. Already dressed in your Timbs and black Airforces, ready to come at my neck, shouting, “This nigga eat sweet grits!” Do I care? Not really, cause like I said, I do love some good ass savory grits, but I love me some sweet grits too. Now if you hand me a bowl of grits with nothing but butter in it, I’ma add me some sugar, cause why you playin? I’m an equal opportunity grits eater. I’m not here to convince ya’ll to put sugar in your grits, but if you haven’t even tried them, how do you even know you don’t like them? Like, huh?! Why you over here yuckin my yum, and you ain eem try it? Whole time I don’t even know how to cook grits. I’m just a nigga that like to eat. Judge all you want, but I’ma always eat my grits how they’re prepared— sugar and all.

In my job as a community organizer, I use food as a tool–a lot! Whether I’m bribing people with pizza to get them in a room where they can become knowledgeable on an issue like tenant laws or incentivizing parents to come to an after-school community resource fair by offering free dinner for those who attend, food does a lot of heavy lifting in my work.

When I’m not attending neighborhood association meetings or planning community events, I’m spending my time highlighting Black foodways via a social media account I run called BLACK FOOD FRIDAYS (BFF). Think of it as “Taco Tuesday” but for encouraging people to spend money with Black people. In addition to trying to tell grown folks how to spend their money, I create content that talks about Black food culture and history. And one of the most valuable food lessons I’ve had doing both jobs is this: don’t yuck someone’s yum.

Politics can get messy, but have you ever tried to tell someone from Texas that brisket is trash? Have you ever tried to tell someone from Chicago that catfish and spaghetti is a weird combination or tell a Gullah Geechee person that eating rice every day is an abomination? That type of food-absolutism can lead to verbal fisticuffs. And for a while, poking the bear was a valuable content strategy–it kept my views high, and my subscribers engaged. But after a few years of that, I started pulling away from that type of talk.

For one, it’s just not in my nature to be going back and forth with randos from the interwebs. Secondly, I realized that in most cases, people don’t even know why they eat what they eat. For most of us, the act of eating is mostly muscle memory. Meaning, we tend to consume whatever we grew up eating. So trying to hold someone accountable for some shit they never put any real thought into seemed like a fool’s errand. Nowhere is this more prevalent than with grits.

While not a Black American invention, grits are culturally tied to us. Southern Blacks, in specific, have been whipping up pots of grits since our unscheduled cross-Atlantic move from the Motherland, so the topic is full of institutional pride. Working as an organizer and running BFF has shown me that people consume food in a variety of ways for a variety of reasons. And at this point in my life, I rather use food as a way to bring people together, not rip us apart.

Mobb Deep said it best: “there’s a war going on outside no man is safe from”. Our climate has gone to shit, women are losing bodily autonomy, Black folks seeing Civil Rights dissolve in front of our eyes, and the rent is too damn high! Of all the things to worry about, whether or not someone decides to lace their milled corn with sucrose is the least of my worries–and should be the least of yours.

Now, I personally ain’t interested in sprinkling sugar on my bowl of grits, but if you are willing to help us defeat Fascism, you can scoop your grits with a Reece’s Peanut Butter Cup for all I care.

Feel free to unify in the comment section, I promise not to be a hard ass; however, I am taking mental note!