Enough With The Protein Propaganda

At first, it was cool to see it everywhere. Now, ProteinMania is weird.

The modern fixation on protein has seeped into nearly every food product on the shelves. There are protein-enhanced cereals, popcorn, pancake mixes, chips, cookies, and Pop-Tarts. I’m sure that in the next few years, protein-fortified serums will promise to get the macronutrient directly into your bloodstream. It’s annoying and I’m over it.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Protein is great! Personally, I eat between 100 and 120 grams every day, a number based on my individual needs. It reduces hunger, improves energy, lowers blood pressure, improves bone density, and helps maintain muscle mass. The boom in plant-based proteins expanded options for people avoiding animal products, and protein-forward foods can be a helpful way to stay satiated throughout the day. But most of us don’t need to eat as much protein as a bodybuilder or pro-athlete. (Here’s a useful post to help calculate how much protein you need.)

This missive isn’t about the science or the nuance of individual needs, though. It’s about why we, as a society, care so much about protein right now.

No, I don't want protein-dusted popcorn. Have you lost your mind? (Source: @khloudfoods/Instagram)

ProteinMania didn’t come out of nowhere. Preoccupation with it exploded after COVID. As people searched for ways to rebuild strength, boost their immunity, and feel in control of their bodies again, protein became one piece of the go-to solution. Brands leaned in hard, turning everything from cereal to coffee creamer into a “high-protein” product. Add in the wave of post-pandemic fitness culture and the collapse of trust in public health institutions, and suddenly, protein was among the great kings of nutrition.

With this in mind, I present my two-part hypothesis for why people care so deeply about protein right now.

1. The boom in wellness culture, alongside the increased visibility of people with ripped, lean bodies online. A lot of objectively hot people who post about their bodies ignore any physical or socioeconomic advantage¹ they may have and say their physique is due to eating a billion grams of protein every day. This has left the average person—meaning someone who doesn’t lift heavy, play a sport, or is extremely active—thinking they need to eat like a ripped influencer to be ripped themselves.

2. The wellness to white supremacy pipeline. ProteinMania, like many things with a MAHA-tinge, is rooted in purity and hyper-individualism cloaked under a faux concern about the health and well-being of the general population. Both of these attributes of white supremacy are deeply embedded in modern wellness culture, but especially in how we talk about food, health, and people’s bodies.

Purity culture has roots in Protestant asceticism and white supremacy. Its rigidity and emphasis on perfectionism also inform the obsession with amorphous wellness habits like “clean eating” and “detoxing.” It upholds the bodily control of “eating right” as evidence of spiritual or moral superiority. In this frame, health is not a factor shaped by environment or access; it reflects someone’s character. And if someone isn’t thin and appears healthy, they must not be trying hard enough. Shift to the hyper-individualist framework, and wellness becomes a personal project defined by diet optimization, macro tracking, doing a “morning routine,” and buying the right supplements. This doesn’t allow structural inequality to exist, so everything becomes a choice versus the result of inequity.

Wellness influencers who claim to care about health and well-being rarely, if ever, mention the rising cost of food, the cuts to SNAP funding and enrollment, and other political motivations behind upending the U.S. safety net. Instead, ProteinMania worships discipline, hierarchy, and bodily control, by default rejecting collectivist community care models.

I see these two things at the foundation of ProteinMania.

Of course, I am not saying that all of wellness culture is rooted in individualism, consumerism, and white supremacy. That would be dumb! And historically inaccurate, considering that the foundations of modern-day wellness sit within many cultures of color. Practices like herbal medicine, communal eating, bodywork, breathwork, and seasonal living have long existed in Black, Indigenous, and non-Western traditions—often rooted in collective care, spiritual balance, and deep respect for the land and the body. What I am saying is that once those traditions are filtered through a capitalist, individualist, white-dominant lens, they become distorted. The original context of community, ritual, survival, and resistance is stripped, leaving a performance of wellness that centers optimization, aesthetics, and self over healing, accessibility, and the greater good.

So what’s the alternative?

For starters, people can advocate for:

Funding care infrastructure.

Prioritizing community care.

Food and environmental justice.

Walkable cities. Clean air. Clean water.

Equitable access to high-quality healthcare and culturally coherent clinicians.

To name a few.

MICROS

• The “protein cigarette” memes are hilarious, though. Keep those coming.

• I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that Nazi leaders, such as Hitler and Himmler, had an affinity for organic and natural diets—though they seemed to lean towards vegetarianism—that emphasized food purity.
  Like … “Created in 1937, “Healthy Woman - Healthy Nation” demonstrates the Nazi ideal of young “Aryan” women making themselves fit and strong so they can become healthy mothers.” That’s spooky ooky, and very aligned with America’s shift toward conservatism, the rise of tradwives, etc!

• I didn’t go deep on the carnivore diet, which is based on the misguided belief that humanity’s hunter-gatherer ancestors ate a meat-based diet. There is virtually no evidence that early humans systematically consumed meat, but it’s still fascinating from a sociological perspective. Mostly, I think about how it sells the fantasy of rugged American individualism. People who espouse it remind me of the modern icons of manifest destiny—like the Marlboro Man, John Wayne, and the 2009 “Go Forth” campaign from Levi’s.

1. Examples include plastic surgery, for instance, or the money to afford high-quality fresh produce.