The Real Organic Project strives to provide a higher standard for American farms

By SAGE KAMOCSAY— skamocsay@ucdavis.edu

The Real Organic Project (ROP) is a movement that aims to raise the standard of what constitutes “organic.” Though other organic labels for food products exist — the most common being the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) Organic labels — ROP seeks to create a label with more selective requirements. Food with their label is certified with USDA Organic, but must also meet ROP’s higher standards. 

Organic food — grown without certain chemical additives, pesticides or growth. hormones — has been around for a while. For animal meat, certain living conditions must be met to qualify as “organic,” such as grazing on pasture. Real Organic only offers a label for “organic” food. On the contrary, food classified as “Made with Organic” — a term meaning that only 70% of the ingredients within the product are organic — does not meet the standards of the ROP. Therefore, you can be sure that the food you see with the ROP label is at least 95% organic. 

To get a seal from the ROP, farmers must adopt a number of safe and ethical practices, ranging from how they manage their soil to how they treat their workers. These regulations ensure the safety of their livestock and employees, and they give consumers peace of mind, in addition to helping protect the environment from pollution and farmland expansion.

Under ROP guidelines, farmers are prohibited from performing unnecessary and painful surgeries on animals, such as tusk removal, tail docking, beak trimming and face branding. These provisions, which are not required by the USDA organic regulations, help to ensure that animals are treated ethically. Other provisions require animals to be kept outside year-round and given appropriate housing. These standards ensure that livestock can live as painlessly as farmers can manage — something of a rarity when 99% of the world’s animals are raised in factory farms. 

Farmers are also barred from using synthetic herbicides, pesticides and fertilizers on their crops. Synthetic chemical soil additives have a documented association with increased risk for cancer and neurological issues in later adulthood; food grown without these types of chemicals, therefore, is safer than food farmed with them. These provisions also have profound environmental effects — runoff from synthetic nitrogen and phosphorus fertilizers can cause algal blooms in nearby bodies of water, leading to the collapse of ecosystems in those regions. 

Soil management is also an important condition of the ROP’s certification: Practices like crop rotation, composting and safe tilling keep soil arable and fertile. This allows for more sustainable farming, where the same land can be used for longer periods of time without need for expansion or nutrient pollution. It also means that crops are more nutrient-dense, yielding healthier and more satiating veggies — a win for the environment and a win for your plate.

The ROP also provides important protections for farm workers — safe working conditions, housing and tools must be provided by the farm owner. Workers are also required to have freedom of movement and association, meaning they are free to travel to and from the country and allowed to organize unions as they see fit. Practices like document withholding and blackmailing of migrant workers are strictly prohibited. and workers must be given clear pay stubs and documentation of their rights in their native languages.

While organic food may be more expensive than conventional meat and produce, the ethical practices behind them are worth the extra money. The safety of all parties involved — plants, animals, farmers and eaters — are prioritized and protected. When you buy food with the Real Organic label, you know that the farms are sustainable, animals and workers are not abused and that the food on your plate is nutritious and safe; you can rest assured that your money is going to farmers who believe in treating the environment with respect. 

The next time you see an ROP sticker on a bundle of veggies, consider supporting the cause — a few extra dollars out of your pocket is a worthwhile price to pay for a healthier meal and a brighter future.

Written by: Sage Kamocsay— skamocsay@ucdavis.edu

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie.

The fashion industry has long advertised itself as a frontier of individualism, but is this really a valid presentation?

By GEETIKA MAHAJAN — giamahajan@ucdavis.edu

Our society is predisposed to buying much more than we actually need, which rings especially true when it comes to clothing. Practicality might be able to answer for some of our consumption, but over the past few decades, people have been investing in their style to an extent that far surpasses their basic needs or common sense. 

Carrie Bradshaw’s complaining in “Sex and the City” that “I will literally be the old woman who lived in her shoes” wasn’t just funny because of its absurdity. Even in the early 2000s, before the era of relentless fast fashion, people could relate to a character who spent so much money on shoes that she could no longer afford her rent. 

In a culture of mass-consumption, Shein hauls and TikTok shopping, it’s easy to click and collect outfits, accessories and personalities like groceries. If you like what someone on your social media feed is wearing, you can shop their entire closet because they’ve linked their Amazon storefront to their profile. Anyone can completely change their style to reflect whatever new aesthetic is trending that week. Consequently, brands must be focused on anticipating consumer wants rather than cultivating their own identity. 

Fashion, and to a broader extent, beauty, has never existed within a bubble — it’s always been about signaling something to the outside world. In the past, this form of communication had been somewhat authentic; “copying” someone else’s style meant trying to imitate their makeup or find a leather jacket that looked like theirs. Today, it’s more about wanting to be a “Blair-Waldorf-coded-older-sister-academic-weapon” or an “Alexa-Chung-rockstar-girlfriend” and attempting to completely emulate such an archetype; the markets have also shifted to reflect this. 

Fashion houses and their designers used to display their clothing as works of art. Alexander McQueen was so invested in the theatrics of his fashion shows that he originally planned to commit suicide on the catwalk after one of his last shows. Whether it was John Galliano’s reconstructed, grandiose rendition of the French Revolution or the sculptural coherence of Issey Miyake, the houses thought of their designs as more than just consumables: They were part of a visual language that was unique to the brand. 

Consequently, brands became symbols that were as much reflections of subculture as creators of it. The most important part of maintaining authenticity within the branding was that it was based on individuality and integrity, not just on catering to as many people as possible. This is what allowed fashion to categorise itself as an art form, not just a productive industry. 

To be interested in fashion — to be dedicated to it in a way that transcends just wearing what you saw someone online wear — you need to consider everything except what’s sellable. This is what allowed Vivienne Westwood and John Paul Gaultier to go beyond just being designers, but instead, being shapers of the art world. By incorporating aesthetics and designs from the fringes of the fashion arena, they were able to establish themselves as a unique brand. 

Fashion has always been a consumer-based art form, but the focus on profit has novel effects. Brands no longer display this kind of interest in the world around them, and consequently, the conversation around fashion becomes much more limited. Instead of reflecting the art and politics of the current moment, our clothing choices simply reflect everything we want to buy.

Written by: Geetika Mahajan — giamahajan@ucdavis.edu

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie.

You’re not locked in — ultra-processed foods may be why

By NEVAEH KARRAKER — nakarraker@ucdavis.edu

The “Curious George” books, first published in 1941 by H.A. Rey and Margret Rey, depict George as a lively monkey always getting into mischief, all with a pipe between his lips. During the mid-20th century, smoking tobacco or cigarettes was normalized — and even perceived to be beneficial — to the point where it was acceptable to advertise them to children.

Today, however, we know just how inaccurate that belief was. With long-term consequences of chronic lung damage, cancer and reduced life expectancy, that image would never fly in modern media.

As new research unfolds before the public, the acceptability of the products we consume rapidly fluctuates. Our generation hasn’t been exempt from this ignorant tolerance — just as smoking is no longer deemed harmless, other things we consume are damaging us without our knowledge.

One of these is the consumption of ultra-processed foods (UPFs). The main side effects of these foods are well-known and evident. Oily foods, rich in saturated and trans fats (as many UPFs are), can manifest not only in daily appearance such as acne or poor hair quality, but are directly linked to inflammation, difficulty maintaining concentration, a weakened immune system and numerous diseases. And, oddly enough, those same tobacco industries, like Philip Morris and R.J. Reynolds, have driven the surge of UPFs through acquiring companies such as Kraft and Nabisco in the 1980s — they’re selling the same unhealthy habits, yet masked by different products.

Beyond these easily observable consequences, there are even more insidious and urgent effects that are considerably less well-known. In September 2023, Harvard published a study on the eating habits and mental wellbeing of over 20,000 middle-aged women. The results indicated that the more ultra-processed food was consumed, the higher the risk of depression — by as much as 50%. 

Another study determined that the consumption of these types of foods is associated with a decreased volume in the mesocorticolimbic brain network, linked to reward processes that can cause addictive, habitual behaviors along with other mental health conditions. Most of these symptoms were stimulated by artificial sweeteners common in UPFs. The British Medical Journal also published similar findings of metabolic, mental and mortality issues.

The growing prevalence of mental illnesses has transgressed into a national health crisis. Depression, anxiety and other mental conditions are all real, tangible and dangerous, but also more common now than ever before, especially in youth populations. While a multitude of reasons contribute to this — including personal trauma or grief — another huge factor is the diet we maintain and the substances we readily consume.

When we replace whole, nutritious foods with UPFs full of chemical imitations, we suffer significant impacts on our neurodevelopment. Since UPFs are more affordable and popular, the prevalence of whole foods has dramatically declined in favor of UPFs as a primary food source for adolescents and pregnant women, which has indirectly contributed to the mental health crisis. 

Yet, our approach to treatment reveals deep flaws in our society. To be clear, advanced medicine is not inherently harmful and medical treatment is often necessary. But alongside that, we have developed a cultural norm of overprescription. Nearly a quarter of elderly United States citizens have been overprescribed antidepressants, according to a National Institute of Health study. Controlled substances that alter brain chemistry, like benzodiazepines acting as antidepressants and anti-anxiety drugs, are commonly handed out — even just for mild symptoms. 

Receiving therapy or being vulnerable wasn’t culturally acceptable in previous generations, and, as a result, most mental illnesses went severely undiagnosed. Even so, this pattern of overprescription continues to reinforce the idea that mental illnesses should be chemically eliminated, rather than understood, empathized with and treated at the source. 

UPFs are not the root cause of the mental illnesses, but they are likely a massive contributor. Whether it’s food or medicine, the things we choose to consume affect us in more long term ways than we may expect. It’s a silent parallel to the tobacco Curious George munched on: we normalize convenience — packaged foods and quick fixes — before discerning how they might affect us. We must choose with caution what our culture normalizes, and we must analyze the products we consume before the consequences take hold of us.

Written by: Nevaeh Karraker — nakarraker@ucdavis.edu

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie.

Exploring how people perceive themselves in time

By VIOLET ZANZOT— vmzanzot@ucdavis.edu

Perhaps the present pandemonium about the future is all a response to the past. If we believe ourselves to exist at the end of history, life may continue on as we know it simply because we have evolved enough as a society. Maybe it’s because dystopian media has been so popular with our generation, but whatever the cause may be, people seem to think a clear fear of an imminent future is written in stone — or, more aptly, permanently coded in artificial intelligence. 

It’s almost comical how this seemingly constant anxiety about the future diametrically opposes the nostalgia that exists in popular culture. In movies, fashion and music alike, there is a general gravitation towards the past. Amidst trepidation about the future and longing for what used to be, our generation is caught between eras. 

It seems that as society has progressed into late-stage capitalism and the age of technology has taken over, anxiety about the future has overwhelmingly increased. Despite this, we have also seen a cultural shift toward idealizing the past. This growing sense of nostalgia not only reflects back on earlier generations, but is also reminiscent of our own childhoods — such as the rise in biopic films and “show yourself five years ago today” trends on Instagram.

It is not necessarily that the increased prevalence of technology and hyper-globalization has a greater magnitude than any other revolutionary time; the difference is that today, these anxieties (while possibly man-made), seem to circumvent human control. It’s unclear where the stopping point of growth is and what that means — there is no certainty that what we know as reality today will still feel so real a month from now. 

At the same time, however, technology allows us to access the past in ways we’ve never been able to before. It’s never been so easy to see ourselves constantly through a camera lens, let alone to look back on what we once were. Further, we’re now able to immediately view the past as a living history more than we ever could. We use culture and media to personify the endless facts about the past that we only now have access to — just think about every recent movie, show, song or fashion piece that harkens back to an earlier era. 

What are the implications of all of this? Could it possibly be good that we’re caught between two vastly different imaginations of time? The world is constantly spinning so fast and far away from us that it can feel impossible to keep up. At the same time, there are so many parts of society that feel irretrievable; it’s sad to think we can never band together and put on Live Aid or go out for dinner without a phone to keep us safe and properly distracted. By many appearances, much of the past seems kinder, safer and more open to change compared to today.

But, it’s not all hopeless. Our generation is becoming something new; although sometimes it seems we haven’t yet had the agency to call it the present culture. We’ve been scared to take ownership of the present moment, but there are still ways in which we seem to be regaining control. We can make an impact on the present. We can speak to the happenings of today, not just yesterday or tomorrow. 

Politicians like Zohran Mamdani, Abigail Spanberger and Mikie Sherrill, along with Proposition 50 and the “No Kings” marches, are awakening a modern political pushback. I’m so proud to be part of a generation that is trying to combat the tug-of-war between the past and present that we’ve been subjected to. Time is not the villain — but allowing it to rule our lives is. It may do us some good to learn from the past and think of the future, while living in the present.  

Written by: Violet Zanzot— vmzanzot@ucdavis.edu

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie.

Modern beauty standards have perpetuated a fear of growing older: Let’s change that

By SABRINA FIGUEROA — sfigueroaavila@ucdavis.edu

A couple of weeks ago, I had a conversation with my oldest sister. She brought up how the skin on her face was beginning to form jowls — sagging folds of skin typically on the jawline. She expressed feeling the need to get Botox to get rid of them, along with other wrinkles forming on her face.

By the way she had been talking about herself, you’d think she was about 25 years older than she actually was. While I, as a younger sibling, would usually be inclined to agree just to get a reaction out of her, I didn’t see the point in perpetuating a beauty standard that makes us (and especially women) ashamed of getting older.

This concept — however modern it may seem due to its prevalence on social media — has been around for centuries. Ancient Greek women used to dye their gray hair with henna to make themselves appear younger, and both men and women in 18th-century Europe wore thick, sometimes tall wigs as symbols of status and health. 

Facelifts — a type of cosmetic surgery that lifts sagging facial skin to make it appear tighter — have also been around since ancient times. However, it wasn’t until the emergence of Suzanne Noël, the first female plastic surgeon, that facelifts were seen as a feminist act, empowering women in the face of the beauty standards that told them wrinkled skin decreased their value as people.

Today, women go under the knife for facelifts and similar procedures at increasingly young ages. While they have been common among people over the age of 60 for decades, the American Academy of Facial Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery found that 32% of facelifts are now performed on patients ages 35 to 55. The use of Botox and other “anti-aging” products, from face creams to retinol, has also been promoted toward younger audiences in recent years: a stark change from conventional marketing tactics.

As much as we mask “anti-aging” procedures and products behind female empowerment, they provide merely an illusion of freedom from societal beauty standards. The more these procedures are performed, the more we perpetuate plump, bouncy, youthful skin as a societal standard — fueling our collective fear of aging. 

This is not to say that we should shame women who feel the need to “fix” their insecurities, but rather, that we should think about why we feel the need to do anything to alter our appearances in the first place. Beauty is subjective, yet an ever-changing, strict definition of it has been used to assign morality and value to us throughout all our lives. 

Although aging is scary, the beauty of it all is knowing you’ve lived. Smile lines and crows feet are evidence of the smiles and laughs you’ve had in your lifetime, wrinkles on your forehead are reminiscent of all the expressions you’ve made from anger to sadness to fright — your face is a display of what makes you human.

When I think about the older women in my life, a majority of them still dye their hair to hide their grays and some pick apart their skin in the mirror. It only reminds me that the ever-shifting beauty standard — and the lack of empathy for ourselves because of it — never goes away, and no one is immune to it. It’s not a war we can win unless we begin to truly empower ourselves in ways beyond our external physiques.

Life can be ugly, but that doesn’t make it meaningless. When society deems you “ugly” for simply living, revel in it. Your worth is not defined by beauty standards, nor material possessions — it comes from simply being human. 

Written by: Sabrina Figueroa — sfigueroaavila@ucdavis.edu

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed by individual columnists belong to the columnists alone and do not necessarily indicate the views and opinions held by The California Aggie.