You’ve probably seen the steaming pots of peas on New Year’s Day. For millions, it’s a non-negotiable ritual for luck. But there's a flip side. For some, the taboo of black eyed peas is deeply rooted in a history that isn't about luck at all. It’s about survival, trauma, and a complex social hierarchy that dates back centuries.
Most people just think of them as a cheap protein. A humble legume. But if you dig into the cultural memory of the American South and West Africa, you’ll find that these little beans carry a weight that some families still refuse to bring to the dinner table. It’s weird, honestly, how a simple seed can trigger such visceral reactions.
Where the Bad Luck Myth Actually Comes From
Usually, we hear that black eyed peas are "lucky." The story goes that during the Civil War, Union soldiers raided Confederate food supplies but left the fields of black eyed peas untouched. They saw them as "cowpeas"—fodder for livestock, not fit for human consumption. Because the peas were left behind, the starving Southerners survived the winter.
But that's just one side of the coin.
For many African American families, the taboo of black eyed peas stems from their association with the "slave diet." During the era of chattel slavery, these peas were one of the few crops allowed to the enslaved because they were considered low-class. They were survival food.
When you spend generations eating something because you have to, not because you want to, that food becomes a symbol of oppression. After the Great Migration, many Black families moving North deliberately stopped eating "soul food" like black eyed peas and chitterlings. They wanted to distance themselves from the poverty and pain of the Jim Crow South. For them, putting a bowl of black eyed peas on the table wasn't an act of tradition—it was a reminder of a life they were trying to outrun.
The West African Root of the Restriction
It isn't just about American history, though. If you look at the Yoruba people in West Africa, the black eyed pea (or vigna unguiculata) actually has spiritual baggage. In some traditional lineages, there are specific taboos, or eewo, against eating certain foods.
✨ Don't miss: Am I Gay Buzzfeed Quizzes and the Quest for Identity Online
Sometimes, a family or a devotee of a specific Orisha (deity) is forbidden from eating these peas. It’s not because the pea is "evil." It’s because the legume is considered sacred to a particular spirit, and consuming it would be an act of disrespect or spiritual contamination. If you grew up in a household influenced by these traditions, the taboo of black eyed peas is a literal matter of spiritual health.
Why Some Families Still Say No
I talked to a chef in Charleston once who told me his grandmother wouldn't let a black eyed pea cross the threshold of her kitchen. To her, they were "hard times food."
He said, "She worked too hard to get away from the fields to ever go back to eating what she ate there."
That’s a perspective people often miss. We love to romanticize "peasant food" today. We call it "heritage cooking" or "farm-to-table." But for the people who actually lived it, those peas represent a time when there were no other options. The taboo is a boundary. It's a way of saying, We have arrived.
The "Dirty" Association
There is also a lingering social stigma. Because black eyed peas were historically used as cattle feed, there is a persistent, if subconscious, idea that they are "unclean" or "lowly."
You see this in how people prepare them. There is an obsessive level of cleaning required. Soaking. Rinsing. Skimming the foam off the top of the pot. While some of this is just good cooking—removing the complex sugars that cause gas—a lot of it is cultural performance. You have to "clean" the "dirt" off the "poor man's bean" before it’s fit for a "proper" house.
🔗 Read more: Easy recipes dinner for two: Why you are probably overcomplicating date night
The Science of the "Taboo" (And Why Your Stomach Might Agree)
Beyond the cultural and spiritual, there’s a physical reason why some people treat black eyed peas like they're toxic. They contain high levels of oligosaccharides.
Basically, these are complex sugars that the human body can't fully digest. When they hit your lower intestine, bacteria go to town on them. The result? Intense bloating and gas.
For someone with a sensitive digestive system or IBS, the taboo of black eyed peas is purely biological. It’s not a ghost or a memory—it’s a localized inflammatory response. If every time you eat a specific food you feel like you've swallowed a bowling ball, you're going to develop a personal taboo pretty quickly.
Are They Actually Poisonous?
Let’s be clear: No.
But they do contain lectins and phytates. These are "anti-nutrients" that plants use to protect themselves from being eaten. If you don't cook them properly—meaning a long, slow simmer until they are soft—these compounds can interfere with mineral absorption. In extreme cases, undercooked legumes can cause food poisoning-like symptoms. This is why the "taboo" often includes a strict rule about how they are cooked. If they aren't "mushy," they aren't safe.
Redefining the Legume in 2026
We're seeing a weird shift now. The taboo of black eyed peas is fading in some circles while being fiercely guarded in others.
💡 You might also like: How is gum made? The sticky truth about what you are actually chewing
Gen Z and Millennial chefs are reclaiming the pea. They see it as a drought-resistant, nitrogen-fixing superfood. It’s sustainable. It’s "ancestral." But for the older generation, seeing a $28 plate of "deconstructed Hoppin' John" in a gentrified bistro feels like a slap in the face.
It’s the commodification of struggle.
The taboo persists because the history hasn't been fully reconciled. You can't just take a food associated with the Transatlantic Slave Trade and turn it into a "superfood" without acknowledging the blood in the soil.
How to Navigate the Tradition
If you’re someone who grew up with the taboo of black eyed peas, or if you’re just curious about the etiquette of serving them, here is the reality.
- Respect the "No": If an elder says they don't eat them, don't push it. It’s not about being a "picky eater." It’s often about a trauma or a spiritual vow you don't understand.
- The Preparation Matters: If you are going to serve them, the "soak and skim" method isn't just an old wives' tale. It genuinely helps with digestibility and removes the bitter saponins that contribute to that "dirty" taste.
- Know the Geography: The "luck" tradition is mostly a U.S. Southern thing. In many other parts of the world, a black eyed pea is just a bean. But in the South, it’s a political statement.
- Diversify the Pot: Traditionally, these are cooked with pork (fatback, ham hock, or hog jowl). If you’re trying to break the "heavy" association, try the "Sea Island" style, which uses more aromatics like bell peppers, celery, and onion (the Holy Trinity) and less heavy grease.
Actionable Steps for Exploring Black Eyed Pea Traditions
If you want to understand this cultural touchstone better, don't just buy a can at the store.
- Seek out heirloom varieties: Look for "Sea Island Red Peas." These are closer to the original varieties brought from Africa than the mass-produced white-and-black versions we see today. They have a completely different flavor profile—earthier, nuttier, and less "mushy."
- Read the real history: Check out the work of culinary historians like Michael Twitty (author of The Cooking Gene). He explains the "foodways" of the enslaved and how the taboo of black eyed peas evolved from a survival mechanism into a cultural marker.
- Test your tolerance: If you have digestive issues, try sprouting the peas before cooking them. This breaks down the oligosaccharides and makes the nutrients more bioavailable, potentially bypassing the "biological taboo" of the legume.
- Document your family story: Ask your oldest living relatives what they think of black eyed peas. You might find that your family’s "tradition" was actually a "refusal" that just got lost over the generations.
The taboo of black eyed peas isn't just some spooky superstition. It’s a living map of where we’ve been and what we’ve survived. Whether you eat them for luck or avoid them out of respect for the past, you're participating in a story that’s much bigger than a dinner plate.