I am a 30-year-old woman living with celiac disease. A friend of mine, “Todd” (32m), has an allergy to kiwis.
It is frustrating because the general public really doesn’t grasp what celiac entails. They overlook hidden gluten sources and fail to realize how dangerous cross-contamination can be. Because I don’t suffer an immediate, fatal reaction, there is a common myth that it isn’t actually that painful or risky. There are only three individuals I actually trust to prepare food for me, and I feel fortunate to have even that many.
A few months back, Todd hosted a housewarming barbecue. He approached me quite proudly, claiming he had prepared gluten-free chicken specifically for me.
I don’t want to seem unappreciative, as I do value the effort to include me. However, I often wish people wouldn’t try. It creates an awkward situation where I have to cross-examine them about their process, only to turn the food down anyway because they accidentally used something like soy sauce. People take this as a personal insult, feeling like I’m telling them they failed. It’s hard to hurt people’s feelings like that.
I anticipated the outcome, but if I didn’t ask, he would have expected me to eat. I inquired about the ingredients, and he said it was just chicken and his homemade BBQ sauce. When he listed the sauce components, he mentioned Worcestershire sauce, which frequently contains barley or malt vinegar. I asked if he was sure it was a gluten-free brand, and he rolled his eyes, asking if I was “going to make a scene.” I didn’t want to demand to see his pantry because it was already tense, so I just explained that I couldn’t risk eating it without being certain. He seemed annoyed but dropped it.
Or so I thought. He later complained to my boyfriend that I went out of my way to shame him by asking questions he couldn’t answer, and insisted that a tiny amount of gluten wouldn’t have hurt me. My boyfriend corrected him, explaining that isn’t how it works.
I run into him about twice a month at social gatherings. Now, every single thing I bring—whether it’s potato salad, snacks, or even a bottle of bourbon—is met with a loud, theatrical, “I can’t touch that, it might have kiwis in it!” He never acted this way before the BBQ incident and only does it to me. It’s clearly a passive-aggressive jab because I wouldn’t eat his chicken, rather than a genuine fear that I’m putting kiwi in guacamole. Furthermore, I’ve literally seen him pick a piece of kiwi out of a fruit bowl and eat the rest, so he clearly isn’t worried about cross-contamination for himself.
This past weekend, he did it again when I brought snacks to a friend’s place. I finally lost my patience and snapped, telling him that there obviously wasn’t any kiwi because, unlike him, I actually care enough to read a label to ensure my friends stay safe.
He got angry and walked out. A few people there suggested I should have just ignored him, but I was just completely fed up.