Food for Thought: Jennifer Barckley and Ashley Chang dish on food, family, and culture

Ashley: Jennifer, I’d love to hear about what comes to mind, for you, when you think about food and family?

Jennifer: Like so many children, I grew up hovering next to my grandmother in her tiny, always fragrant kitchen. We’d fry, we’d steam, we’d whisk, and we’d bake. And with nearly every meal, we’d make rice. Sticky, piping hot Japanese rice. On special occasions, we’d mold them into rice balls, called Onigiri. I’d jump about as the steamy rice hit my hands. But my grandmother’s arthritic hands seemed impenetrable—tough and storied from decades of manual labor picking cartons of tomatoes as a child and cultivating an apple and pear orchard in the nourishing earth of Oregon.

Ashley: I feel like I can taste that Onigiri—and I can see your grandmother’s hands so clearly. Did you grow up visiting those orchards?

Jennifer: On most weekends and summer vacations, my parents, sister, and our dog would jump in our old, beloved Honda and drive over an hour to my great-grandparents’ and grandparents’ modest, 16-acre orchard. As we turned the bend into Dee, Oregon the air would start to feel different. Fresher. Apple, pear, and cherry trees dotted the landscape, embraced by a backdrop of Mt. Hood—a mountain considered resemblant of Mt. Fuji in Japan.

My parents would work alongside my grandparents in the orchard pruning trees, picking fruit, or driving the tractor. When I was older, I was allowed to climb the ladder and pick apples, pears, and peaches—many of which I’d instantly devour. And in the summers, I’d help my grandma harvest carrots, tomatoes, green beans, and corn from their small garden. We’d then sit around and snap the beans one by one. I can still hear the crisp “pop” in the air, as the sharp ends of the beans broke free.

How about you, Ashley? What comes to mind when you think about the relationship between food and family in your life?

Ashley: Thank you so much for sharing, Jennifer. Thinking about my own family, I definitely feel like food is such an integral part of how we’ve always come together. My parents immigrated to the States from Korea during the 70s, and for me as a second generation Korean American, cooking and eating Korean food—much of which is far from vegan—has always been integral to how I connect to my mom and dad, aunts and uncles, grandmas and grandpas, especially because, for the most part, I don’t know how to speak Korean. In place of language, and in place of living in Korea, food has just always been how I connect to the place where my family came from—by sitting around a table and eating things that feel like home: galbi jjim, seolleongtang, samgyetang, gyeran bap.

As you know, I’m really new to the farmed animal movement, as well as to any kind of veg lifestyle, and these two obviously go very much hand-in-hand. Since I joined the team at THL almost a year ago, I’ve started eating vegetarian meals at home with my husband, which has meant taking some plant-forward liberties with my mom’s recipes: doenjang-jjigae with mushroom stock rather than the usual anchovy base, or bulgogi marinade slathered over a pair of portobellos. I’m learning how to negotiate forces as vast as culture and decisions as simple as what’s on my plate—and it feels clumsy and new! It’s a conversation I’m constantly having with myself, particularly because I choose to eat meat with my family during the few times I see them every year. How do I hold onto the truth that industrial animal agriculture is a travesty in every way, while also holding onto the deeply personal truth that, right now, my relationship with my family is hugely defined by dishes we all grew up eating together? Right now, I feel like I’m really deep in the thicket of these questions, wandering around and learning as I go. I think Michelle Zauner wrote Crying in H Mart because she felt something similar—that the love and longing you can feel for home, or for a parent, often looks and tastes and smells like food. But then there are changemakers like Joanne Lee Molinaro, whose cookbook The Korean Vegan is a guiding light for me, as I search for home in food and find that there might be other ways to get to the same place.

Jennifer: Your story really resonates, Ashley. In so many ways, food is culture. And culture is a big part of our identity.

Ashley: Yes! Can you tell me about what it’s been like for you bridging your animal activism with your identity?

Jennifer: Like you shared, I grew up far from vegetarian or vegan. While I was surrounded by a plethora of fresh fruits and vegetables (and loved eating them as a child), some of my favorite dishes were teriyaki chicken, pork chow mein, and of course, the (naturally vegan) Onigri we spoke about. About fifteen years ago, I made the personal choice to eat vegan—simply because it dawned on me that chickens and cows and other animals have deep feelings, desires, and needs like I do. But I went vegan in a way that largely dismissed my cultural upbringing. I rarely ate Japanese food. And eating many of the foods I grew up with felt out of the question. I know it was tough for my family, as they’d candidly reflect, “I wish you’d still eat...” (At least mochi—a sticky Japanese rice cake—is traditionally vegan!) So to your question, I really separated my veganism, my animal activism, and my identity.

It’s only recently—through our Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion work at The Humane League—that I’ve come to really confront my mixed-race Japanese American heritage and to start to integrate all the bits of me into one whole identity. Beyond food, I think I subconsciously grew up realizing that who I was could hurt me—just as it hurt my grandparents and great-grandparents when they were taken from their land and barricaded in Japanese American internment camps during World War II. (Ironically though—because it all comes back to food somehow—my grandfather served as a cook in the US Army during the war.)

Ashley: Thank you so much for sharing, Jennifer. That feeling of needing to tread carefully, just because of who you are, really resonates with me. This is a big question—and maybe it’s two big questions—but I’m curious if these questions of identity ever affected your decisions around food or how you show up as an advocate for animals?

Jennifer: I think my mixed race, Japanese American identity has helped me see the world beyond the binary—right or wrong, vegan or not vegan. While I can certainly campaign less persistently for my family to eschew animal products, my identity—and the continued journey of ‘identity integration’ that I’m on—usually helps me meet people where they are with empathy. I really try to value everyone’s individual journey—even when it’s very different from my own.

Ashley, as you hold the truths you spoke about—animal agriculture being an absolute travesty, alongside the truth that your family relationship is deeply intertwined with the Korean foods you grew up eating together—is there anything you’ve found helpful to build connection and commonality with your family?

Ashley: I’ve had fun sharing pictures of Korean dishes I’ve made with plant-based meats—like ssamjang with rice and Impossible ground beef, wrapped in lettuce—or even letting them know our family’s pancake recipe works just as well with flax meal eggs.

I’m also so grateful that my husband is really confident and comfortable in his vegetarianism, because we get to try veg recipes together—which includes eating our way through all the plant-based chicken nugget options at the grocery store. We’re also now at the point where my mom will have some Beyond meat in the fridge for him when we come visit, which is definitely a win.

We’ve also had many a phone call with my mom to ask which banchan—Korean side dishes—are veg or not. There’s actually a lot of secret-slash-not-so-secret fish or shrimp sauce in Korean food—but there are also plenty of dishes that are straight-up veg, which has been a neat way to approach the cuisine as a whole.

Also, The Korean Vegan has been a great conversation starter—and I have you to thank for my beautiful copy! I recently gifted it to one of my younger cousins, who’s in high school at the moment. She’s been curious about eating veg—and the latest I heard is that she gets to eat veg as long as she cooks it. Baby steps!

I know these are all pretty run-of-the-mill, everyday, casual moments—and there’s nothing spectacular about them. But I think that’s key—they are actually a very special space for sharing little experiments, for getting familiar with new ways of doing things, and ultimately for turning something foreign into something you do all the time.

I’m curious, where have you looked for inspiration when it comes to cooking and eating veg across cultures?

Jennifer: In many ways, it has started close to (my now) home. My husband, Rahul, and I live in NYC. He grew up in India, and in our time together, he’s made many dishes—traditionally made with meat or dairy—vegan. Chicken Tikka Masala, made with chickpeas and dash of Impossible meat, instead of chicken. Palak Paneer with tofu in lieu of paneer. (Rahul swears it’s better than the original!) And for the holidays last year, Rahul gave me Vegan Japanese Easy, a cookbook of both traditional and westernized Japanese dishes. For New Years, we had our neighbors over for dinner. Despite differences in our cultures and food choices, we sat together, laughed, and shared stories over plates of sizzling Japanese sweet potatoes, fragrant eggplant with miso sauce, deep red sweet miso beets, crispy tofu, and brownies made with soy sauce.

I also look to social media for a lot of inspiration (although I’ll share websites, here, for those who choose to skip Instagram or TikTok): Veggiekins (Remy Park), Okonomi Kitchen (Lisa Kitahara), The Korean Vegan, as you mentioned (Joanne Lee Molinaro), Turnip Vegan (Todd Anderson), and Plant-Based on a Budget (Toni Okomoto and Michelle Cehn)—to name a few.

Where do you look for food-meets-culture inspiration?

Ashley: I’ve tended to draw inspiration straight from my mom, because if Korean food is home, then her Korean food is home, if that makes sense. I’ve also been grateful for Maangchi and, more recently, New York Times cooking writers like Eric Kim and Kay Chun. Now my new challenge, with all of these amazing chefs, is to figure out how to get more plants into their recipes!

Zooming out a little bit, when it comes to these questions of identity, culture, and race, what do you hope to see more of in the farmed animal movement?

Jennifer: I see a massive potential to lean into, listen to, and uplift our unique differences with great curiosity and compassion—while of course celebrating our shared connection, too. I think if we can start by seeing differences—different lived experiences, different ethnicities, different cultures, different races, different languages, different brain functions, different physical abilities—as valuable and imperative to our growth, impact, and success as a movement, we can truly transform our food system and with it, peoples’ and animals’ lives.

What do you hope to see more of in the farmed animal movement?

Ashley: I agree with you, 100%. As I mentioned, I definitely consider myself new to this community, but I’ve been really grateful for the chance to be in dialogue with people at all different stages of their activism and veganism. I’m excited to continue learning, to continue listening, and to find ways to keep leaning into these conversations that cut across questions of justice, culture, and food—it can all feel really intimate and vulnerable and awkward, so how do we leave room for all of those sticky feelings? I’ve really loved getting to talk to you about all of this, Jennifer, and I’m so looking forward to hearing more stories from folks who are on this journey!

Jennifer: Thank you, Ashley. I feel very enriched by this conversation and your story.

Jennifer Barckley is the VP of Marketing & Communications for The Humane League—leading strategic communications, including branding, omnichannel content, CRM, social media, advertising, SEO, PR, design, and video production. After joining the organization in 2018, she spearheaded THL’s global rebrand, earning a finalist spot for the Shorty Awards best “Brand Redesign.” Prior to joining THL, Jennifer worked in the US and internationally for several pro-social organizations, leading their marketing communications, alongside CSR, sales, and training development. As a fun side project, she also started and ran a vegan cookie company. Jennifer holds a Bachelor of Professional Studies from Marist College, and a graduate certificate in Strategy & Leadership from NYU. She lives in New York City with her partner and adorable rescue dog.

Ashley Chang is a writer and editor dedicated to elevating powerful ideas with powerful words. As Content Manager at The Humane League, she ensures the organization’s narratives on factory farming and animal welfare are clear, compassionate, and impactful. Prior to joining The Humane League, Ashley developed new plays and artistic programs at acclaimed Off-Broadway and regional theaters: Playwrights Horizons, Page 73, and Yale Repertory Theater. Ashley holds a doctorate from Yale School of Drama, where her research examined environmental activism and the role of the ecological sciences in contemporary theater. She earned her undergraduate degree in English from Stanford University. Her writing has been published in PAJ: A Journal of Performance and Art, Afterall*,* Global Performance Studies*, and elsewhere. *