The Sexual Politics of Meat: Why Your Dinner is More Political Than You Think

The Sexual Politics of Meat: Why Your Dinner is More Political Than You Think

Ever looked at a burger ad and felt like it was selling you more than just ground beef? You’re not imagining it. There’s this weird, sticky overlap between how we talk about eating animals and how we talk about women. Carol J. Adams literally wrote the book on this back in 1990. It’s called The Sexual Politics of Meat, and honestly, it’s one of those things that, once you see it, you can’t unsee it. It’s everywhere. From Carl’s Jr. commercials featuring bikinis and grease to the way we describe "meat markets" at bars.

Food isn’t just fuel. It’s a language.

The core idea here is pretty heavy but simple: meat-eating is a pillar of patriarchal culture. Adams argues that we treat both animals and women as "absent referents." Basically, for a steak to exist, the cow has to disappear. We don't say "I'm eating a dead cow's leg," we say "I'm having a ribeye." The animal is erased so we can consume the product. Adams suggests we do the same thing to women in media and language—fragmenting them into parts (legs, breasts, "curves") so they become objects rather than people.

How the Sexual Politics of Meat actually works in the real world

It’s about power. Historically, meat has been a "masculine" food. Think about the tropes. The "man of the house" carves the turkey. The "real man" wants his steak rare. Conversely, vegetables and salads are coded as feminine, or "diet food." This isn't just a marketing gimmick from the 1950s; it’s deeply rooted in how societies have distributed resources for centuries. In many cultures, when food is scarce, the meat goes to the men. The logic? They’re the "protectors" or the "providers."

But it goes deeper.

There’s this concept called the cycle of objectification. It starts with a living being being turned into an object. Then that object is fragmented. Finally, it’s consumed. This happens to the cow in the slaughterhouse. It also happens to women in advertising. Have you noticed how many ads for BBQ joints or butcher shops use a cartoon pig that looks oddly "sexy" or "feminine"? It’s a weird mashup. It’s a way of saying that both are there for someone else’s pleasure.

The Absent Referent

This is the big academic term you need to know if you want to understand the sexual politics of meat. An absent referent is someone whose existence is necessary for a product to exist, but who is completely removed from the final result.

When you eat meat, the animal is the absent referent.
If we kept the animal in mind—the breathing, feeling creature—most of us would have a much harder time eating. So, we change the name. Pig becomes pork. Cow becomes beef. This linguistic shield protects the consumer from the reality of the violence involved. Adams argues that women become absent referents in a similar way through metaphors. We call women "chicks," "bitches," or "pieces of meat." By using animal terms for women and objectifying terms for animals, we create a world where it's okay to dominate both.

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Why are we so obsessed with "Manly" meat?

Society gets really uncomfortable when men don't eat meat. You've probably heard the jokes. "Soy boy." "Real men eat bacon." This isn't just harmless ribbing; it's a way of policing masculinity.

If meat equals power, then refusing meat is seen as a refusal of power. It’s viewed as "feminizing." This is why you see so much aggressive "pro-meat" marketing targeted at men. They’re selling more than protein; they’re selling an identity. They're selling the idea that you are at the top of the food chain, and therefore, the top of the social hierarchy.

But let's look at the facts.

Biologically, men don't "need" more meat than women. In fact, heavy red meat consumption is linked to all sorts of health issues that hit men hard, like heart disease. The link between masculinity and meat is entirely cultural. It's a performance.

The Role of Advertising

Let's talk about the 2000s-era burger ads. You know the ones. A famous model in a swimsuit, eating a giant, dripping burger in slow motion. Why? Because the ad is equating the consumption of the burger with the "possession" of the woman. It’s a double hit of dominance. The message is: "This is for you, the male consumer. You get to consume the meat, and you get to consume the image of the woman."

It’s "bro-culture" in a sesame seed bun.

Is it just about being vegan?

Not exactly. While Carol J. Adams is a vegan and her work is a cornerstone of animal rights theory, the sexual politics of meat is more about a system of thought. You can be a meat-eater and still recognize that the way we market meat is incredibly sexist. You can also be a vegan and still participate in patriarchal behaviors.

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The point is to look at the intersections.

Intersectional feminism asks us to look at how different forms of oppression overlap. Racism, sexism, and speciesism aren't separate silos. They often use the same "logic" of one group being superior and entitled to use another. When we look at the history of colonization, for example, the "civilized" meat-eating Europeans often looked down on the "primitive" plant-eating indigenous populations. Meat was a tool of class and racial distinction.

The Problem with "Sexy" Veganism

Interestingly, some animal rights groups have tried to use the sexual politics of meat in reverse. Think of the PETA ads featuring naked celebrities with "body parts" labeled like a cow’s.

Adams actually hates this.

She argues that you can't use objectification to end objectification. By "using sex to sell sizzle" (even for a good cause), these campaigns just reinforce the idea that women’s bodies are objects to be looked at and categorized. It doesn't break the cycle; it just puts a green sticker on it.

Common Misconceptions

People often get defensive when you bring up the sexual politics of meat. They think you're calling them a bad person for liking a cheeseburger.

  • "It's just nature." People love the "lions eat zebras" argument. But lions don't have a multibillion-dollar advertising industry that uses sexualized images to sell zebra legs. Our consumption is cultural, not just biological.
  • "It's not that deep." Sometimes a burger is just a burger, right? Sure. But when the same patterns of language and imagery show up for decades across every medium, it’s not an accident. It’s a structure.
  • "Women eat meat too." Of course they do! But the meanings attached to that eating are different. When a woman eats a giant steak, it's often framed as "brave" or "unladylike" or, weirdly, as a way to "hang with the boys."

The Reality of the Meat Industry

If we’re talking about the "politics" of meat, we have to talk about who does the work. The meatpacking industry is one of the most dangerous and exploitative industries in the world.

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The workforce is largely made up of immigrants, people of color, and folks with very few other options. The physical toll is massive. When we talk about the "power" of the meat-eater, we’re ignoring the lack of power held by the person standing on the kill floor for ten hours a day. The sexual politics of meat isn't just about ads; it's about a system that treats bodies—human and animal—as disposable inputs for profit.

Actionable Steps for the Conscious Consumer

You don't have to overhaul your entire life overnight to start pushing back against these structures. It's about awareness and small, deliberate choices.

Audit your media consumption. Start noticing how food is gendered in the commercials you see. When you see an ad that uses a woman's body to sell a steak, ask yourself why they chose that imagery. Recognizing the "absent referent" is the first step to breaking the spell.

Change your language. Try to avoid using animal-based slurs for people. It sounds small, but it stops the mental habit of equating "different" with "lesser."

Support transparent food systems. The less "absent" the referent is, the better. Whether you eat meat or not, knowing where your food comes from—the actual farm, the actual conditions—forces you to engage with the reality of the living being involved. It moves the conversation from "object" back to "subject."

Question the "Manly" myths. If you're a man, realize that your masculinity isn't tied to what's on your plate. Eating a salad doesn't make you less of a man, and eating a 20-ounce T-bone doesn't make you more of one. Rejecting the "meat-equals-masculinity" trope is a quiet but powerful way to push back against patriarchal norms.

Read the source material. If you’re really interested, pick up a copy of Carol J. Adams’ book. It’s dense, it’s academic, and it’s controversial, but it will change the way you look at the grocery store forever.

The sexual politics of meat is a lens. It’s a way of seeing the world that connects the dots between our plates, our politics, and our personal identities. It’s about realizing that nothing—not even lunch—exists in a vacuum. Everything we consume has a story, and often, that story is about who has power and who doesn't.

Start paying attention to the fragments. Look for the absent referents. Once you start seeing the patterns, the world looks a lot more complicated—and a lot more interesting.