Last week, I watched Bon Appétit editors suffer the consequences of their actions. I wasn’t surprised when their moment of reckoning hit — no one was. I was, however, stunned to see the photos sleuthed out by Tammie Teclemariam of Adam Rapoport in brownface. I was sad to see skilled Bengali American chef Sohla El-Waylly is paid a fraction of what her white, dependent peers make, and how then-editor-in-chief Rapoport publicly confused her for author Priya Krishna, an Indian American contributor, before an audience.
My heart sank even further as horror stories from employees and freelancers hit social media, but ultimately, I wasn’t surprised. Their actions were exposed. Would anything come of it?
As the week progressed, I found out that I was one of the chefs sacrificed in their culture of casual racism and appropriation. My relationship with BA was like one with a man who doesn’t want to be seen with his date in public. It’s one that makes you question yourself while being completely unfulfilling.
Most people are overjoyed about being the subject of a profile on Bon Appétit’s website; I’ve seen counterparts get huge boosts, often leading to more professional opportunities. I was nervous and unsure of how my story would be told, but thankfully…
