People whine, gag, and vomit – and millions of viewers faithfully tune in. You know what I’m talking about. Admit it – you are no better than the rest of the obsessed-with-reality-television viewing public . . . you have seen an episode of Fear Factor. I’ve seen it myself – I’m fascinated by what people will do for $50,000. The show is a ton of fun – watching people endure anything for money! But what interests me the most is what Fear Factor forces the contestants to eat. Yes, it is entertaining to watch people stuff pig rectum, caterpillars, and worms down their mouths, but did you ever consider the fact that Fear Factor evokes more serious implications than just making people throw up? At a family gathering, my aunt described how she saw contestants on Fear Factor eating fertilized duck eggs! Now, if you missed the episode, just imagine people eating partially formed baby ducks, complete with beaks, feathers, and claws. My aunt was not telling me so that I could share in her disgust of the thought of eating baby ducks; rather, she was wondering why the food was considered so disgusting. Let me explain: in the Philippines, where my aunt was born and raised, there is a delicacy called balut, or, as the American viewing public now knows it – fertilized duck eggs.

The conversation with my aunt raised some questions – does Fear Factor always exploit a food that is considered a delicacy in other countries? Do shows like Fear Factor shape the way Americans view other cultures? How do people like my aunt feel about their culture after their ethnic food was thrown up on national television? What kind of consequences does Fear Factor present to people like my aunt?

With the help of my mother, who was born and raised in the Philippines until the age of twenty, I ventured into the Fear Factor website and discovered that four out of the seven eating stunts during the first two seasons included ingredients that are commonly found in Pilipino dishes! And, of course, balut is a Pilipino dish, one that is considered a nutritious food prescribed by doctors, a delicacy for the elite, and an aphrodisiac. However, Fear Factor’s website simply states, “In the Philippines, it is called balut. In America, we just call it gross.”

Fear Factor spaghetti, cow brains, and buffalo testicles were the three other eating stunts for contestants that may not have been a problem if they had been Pilipinos. First, Fear Factor spaghetti is made with animal blood encased in pig intestines and lots of live, squiggly worms. Excluding the worms, the rest of the ingredients are familiar to Pilipino cooks. Dinuguan is any Pilipino dish made with animal blood and the animal’s insides. However, dinuguan is almost always made with pig blood and pig intestines, definitely not a far cry from Fear Factor spaghetti. Believe it or not, cow brains are also conconsumed throughout the Philippines. Depending on where you live in the country, you either eat them fried or with coconut milk. Eating buffalo testicles seems quite similar to eating “soup number five,” a soup in the Philippines made with bull testicles.

Bell and Valentine, authors of Consuming Geographies, believe that food and culture are very closely linked to one another. They argue that “consumption is seen as the dominant contemporary cultural force,” meaning that people mainly experience other cultures through food.

Experience proves the veracity of this statement. Is there really any other way that you immerse yourself in a culture, other than actually being in the country, than through food? Do you immerse in the history, arts, politics, and morals of Italy more than you consume pasta? Thus, the foods of a country essentially come to represent the culture as a whole. If this statement is true, what does it mean when Fear Factor portrays Pilipino food as disgusting? Just the fact that the food is on Fear Factor, added to the contestants’ reactions – before and after – to it, make for negative messages about the food to the American public. If food captures the essence of a culture, but that food is nationally televised as revolting and despicable, what does that convey about the culture? More importantly, what effects can these unnerving portrayals of Pilipino food have on the American public? Unfortunately, Fear Factor may reinforce ideas of American superiority and may establish unfair prejudices against Pilipino culture.

Seeing one’s ethnic food on television as a difficult stunt on Fear Factor because it is so appalling to Americans can have a grave impact on Pilipinos and Pilipino Americans. My aunt, for example, is “offended that [Americans] are grossed out because only rich people eat [balut].” Thus, in a society where Asian Americans, especially Pilipino Americans, are minorities, it can be difficult to feel accepted when media such as Fear Factor portray Pilipino culture in a negative light. On the other hand, it is also hard for Pilipino Americans to have pride in a heritage that is ridiculed by popular television shows. Young Pilipino Americans might be determined to shun their heritage because they are ashamed. Finally, Pilipino Americans may be led to believe that what they see on television is true – that their food is disgusting. In a recent issue of Filipinas Magazine, public health doctor Ofelia V. Dirige believes that “we have weird foods that turn people off.”

My main purpose is not to make people stop watching Fear Factor, but instead to challenge everyone to view shows and other media such as Fear Factor with a greater awareness of what the show may symbolize on a deeper level. It is important to understand that a program may be portraying someone else’s culture in an undeserved way despite its entertainment value. So, next time you’re yelling “Ewwwww!” at Fear Factor, just remember that your next-door neighbor might be enjoying that same food at that moment.