When I was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes more than eight years ago, I experienced a wave of shame and self-blame. As I left my doctor’s office, I told myself (and not kindly) that I had failed.
I didn’t exercise enough. I didn’t eat the right foods.
This was particularly painful because I’ve always loved cooking – trying out new recipes for weeknight family dinners and challenging myself with more complex ones for special holiday meals. I even had a sizable cookbook collection that I loved adding to. Food was a source of comfort, creativity and joy.
But one of the first (and most persistent) thoughts that circulated in my brain as I rode the subway home was “say goodbye to that joy.”
I have learned so much since that day in the doctor’s office. I have learned that my diagnosis wasn’t my fault, and that I didn’t choose to live with a chronic condition.
I also learned that managing that chronic condition does not mean giving up the joy of food, whether cooking it or sharing it with others. And thank goodness … as in my humble opinion it is one of life’s great joys.
Since that time nearly a decade ago, I became the President & CEO of Diabetes Canada, and every week my organization receives hundreds of calls and emails to our 1-800-Banting line from people who live with diabetes.
Many are reaching out about something to do with food. Some are struggling to afford the healthy or fresh foods that are recommended to help manage their diabetes better. Others feel lost and anxious about what they can and cannot eat … what they can and cannot cook.
More than 4 million people have been diagnosed with diabetes (like me), and millions more either don’t know they live with it or are living with prediabetes. Together we represent every culture, every community, every culinary tradition this country holds.
In fact, diabetes disproportionately impacts racialized and Indigenous communities in Canada, with South Asian and Black adults facing up to two times higher prevalence than white adults.
So, rigid meal-plans based on a traditionally Western diet are going to represent yet another hurdle for many newly diagnosed people in this country.
For so many, food is not just fuel … it is identity.
And for so many, food is not just fuel … it is identity. For Indigenous communities, traditional foods carry generations of knowledge. For newcomers, recipes are threads connecting them to home. For all of us, food is how we celebrate, grieve and gather.
Diabetes education must reflect the diversity of Canadian food traditions. Otherwise, we risk driving people away from the care they need. It turns diabetes management into a lonely, joyless exercise in deprivation.
These feelings can be exacerbated by our current culture of social media-fueled food trends and the rise of health misinformation. Prominent TikTok stars urging their followers to eat ludicrous amounts of protein or picture perfect health & wellness influencers (often White) showcasing “clean recipes” or “natural detoxes.”
But the antidote to dubious social media diets can’t be finger-wagging from health-care professionals and authorities or more strict nutrition calculators or meal plans.
The antidote is more joy.
Whether you live with diabetes, struggle with weight management or live with another metabolic chronic condition … you don’t have to abandon the food traditions or childhood dishes that brought joy. And if, for whatever reason, you’ve never found joy in the kitchen, I encourage you to give it a try.
Reach out to a family member who is the caretaker for your great-grandfather’s cabbage roll recipe and ask them to help you learn it.
Spend a Saturday with your teenager learning how to make an omelet together.
Ask your best friend how to make that lentil soup she always serves you.
And remember you are not alone. There are certified dietitians, many of whom are certified diabetes educators, who can support you and help you adapt your great aunt’s prized (and closely guarded) recipe or your family’s favourite Sunday meal.
In fact, at most local community/health centres there is a registered dietitian or nutrition program that is free to access.
Almost a decade into this journey, I’ve learned that managing diabetes is a daily practice. But it doesn’t have to be a joyless one.
I still cook. I still gather around meals that matter. I still celebrate with food. Yes, I do it with more awareness and planning. But I do it.
The millions of Canadians living with diabetes deserve better than a lifetime of restriction and shame. We deserve health care that honours our whole selves, our cultures, our traditions, our right to joy.
