I feel like I’ve had the joyous gift of having been often and excessively fed by people I am not related to, happily and warmly, most of my life. Aunties in a village. My Vietnamese neighbors across from me in SF. Literal aunties in Indonesian and Indian trains, stuffing food into my mouth (with their hands. I have photos). Connecting with people different from me through delicious food, and me appreciating it very enthusiastically, is a core part of my sense of self.