From videos captioned “trying the viral sweet potato beef bowl” to “make a steak birthday cake with me,” content creators touting the benefits of protein-dense meals are inescapable. The fixation on red meat stems from the construction of a false perception that there is a societal epidemic of protein underconsumption.
In reality, Americans are eating record amounts of animal products — an annual average of 138.4 pounds of red meat and poultry per person, increasing 24% since 1975. On social media, this mindset is stimulated by a false and intentionally constructed correlation between protein consumption and masculine construals of strength, as well as the perception of vegetarian and vegan diets as effeminate. This societal overemphasis has bolstered the cattle farming industry, leading to an upward trend in protein consumption that is detrimental to both the environment and our own health.
The Trump administration recently moved forward with the Grazing Action Plan, which intends to open up to 24 million acres of federal land to cattle grazing. The administration solidified this initiative without consulting the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, which, under the Endangered Species Act, must review the impact of plans like these on protected species. This program would increase the unregulated hunting of predators by ranchers and rangers. Additionally, cattle strip the land of essential vegetation and pollute streams with feces, urine, sediment, and carcasses. These consequences pose a greater threat to the environment than industries often at the center of the discussion on combatting climate change like logging and mining.
The horrific consequences to the environment posed by the Trump administration’s plan are grossly disproportionate to their negligible benefits for the beef industry, as cattle grazing on public land accounts for a measly 2% of the nation’s beef supply. The alternative — densely populated, low-cost environments for raising livestock, known as Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations — is notorious for extreme animal cruelty and accounts for 14.5% of all human-caused greenhouse gas emissions, among a plethora of other harmful environmental impacts. Produced by both systems, beef has become intrinsic to American culture, diet, and values, thus raising questions regarding the existence of a moral obligation to cease participating in these systems as individual consumers entirely.
Unfortunately, environmental concerns are not widely considered by consumers blinded in their pursuit of healthy living due to social media’s temporarily trending protein fixation. The oversaturation of TikTok and Instagram with content lauding protein-centered meals is not coincidental but is incentivized by capitalistic objectives of the cattle farming industry.
Commenting on this connection in an interview with The UCSD Guardian, UC San Diego philosophy professor Karen Kovaka said, “The beef and dairy industry in the U.S. has … mounted these big public awareness campaigns to try to convince the public to eat more meat.” Consequently, this produces an inaccurate perception of red meat as directly correlated with “peak health” and what is currently regarded as the optimal physique.
This desirable appearance, prioritizing muscle mass and leanness, is a superficial aesthetic. True health is diverse and supported by a variety of diets in different people. Conveniently disregarded in the current dietary discourse is the fact that red meat contains high concentrations of saturated fat and cholesterol, resulting in increased risk of heart disease. Where we truly fall short is fiber: 90% to 95% of Americans’ diets fall short of the recommended dietary intake and thus lack foods such as beans and leafy greens.
It is imperative to note that cultural standards regarding our physiques and diets are subject to change and not absolute, factual conceptions of fitness or health. Factors including corporate capitalist objectives, political greed, and resulting cultural values shape this fluctuation. In the mid-1800s, German chemist Justus von Liebig regarded protein as “the only true nutrient” due to its vital role in tissue building and muscle growth. Following World War II, the American government heralded protein as a mechanism of revitalizing weakened veterans, thus forming an early correlation between red meat and masculinity.
In today’s fitness culture, alternative food groups, including carbs and fats, have faced vilification on a scale unfamiliar to red meat. The influence of protein has even made an insidious encroachment on the sphere of political influence; many supposed “experts” behind flipping the food pyramid have economic interests in the meat industry and ties to organizations such as the Texas Beef Council and the Global Dairy Platform.
Collectively, public perceptions and policy decisions fueling our beef obsession support the Trump administration’s fight against what they have deemed an affront to traditional masculinity and gender roles. Complementary to this view of masculinity is the portrayal of vegetarianism and veganism as effeminate. This is evident in the pejorative term “soyboy” circulating on social media, emasculating men for consuming soy-based products or pursuing plant-based diets. The term originates from the myth that consuming soy alters hormonal balance and increases estrogen levels.
Historically, plant-based proteins, including soy, have been an integral element of healthy living in East Asian cuisine — a demographic of men which are often subject to stereotypically effeminate portrayals in Western culture. Henceforth, under President Donald Trump’s leadership, veganism and being vegetarian are the antithesis of the strong, dominant America he envisions when making us “great again,” a future with beef at its dietary center.
“Eating red meat is so politically polarized,” Kovaka said. “It’s not about the truth at all. It’s about your tribe, and your identity, and what club you’re in.”
Understanding the cultural and environmental underpinnings of the American obsession with red meat should lead one to question their personal involvement in the cattle-farming industry. The tragedy of the commons is a concept in which everyone knows that overconsumption of certain goods is unsustainable and produces negative externalities, yet they continue to do so anyway. This behavior is often justified by the assertion that if no one else ceases consumption, individual action seems negligible. Regardless, we have a moral obligation, within our means, not to contribute to systems that cause harm to others and our planet.
As someone who witnessed the havoc and cruelty of this industry while growing up in Texas and voluntarily stopped eating beef at 10 years old, I often face jokes that “the cow is still dead,” whether or not I eat it. On the contrary, even a single In-N-Out burger patty harbors contexts much more sinister than simply providing macronutrients. Regardless, this article is not a call to go cold turkey — pun intended — on beef.
In regard to the role of individual action, Kovaka maintains that, “There’s what you actually eat as an individual, and then there’s how you participate in collective action to try to change things.”
Even if you cannot entirely eliminate red meat, you can advocate for more ethical farming practices and against the expansion of the beef industry. In doing so, you will improve both your own health and the health of our planet.
“There’s opportunities to actually rebuild and change our institutions to be, you know, better than they are now, right?” Kovaka said. “You just have to think you can be a part of that somehow, you know? And you could be. You really, really could be.”
