Feasting For Fame

These videos, however, were not always so secretive and performative. Mukbangs first began in Korea in 2011, where they were used to foster connections. In a culture where eating is seen as a social activity, the rise of individual housing in the 2010s left many feeling alone, and mukbangs were used to recreate the feeling of eating together. However, the focus began to shift as mukbangs spread globally. Mukbangs once were made to foster comfort and community. Now, they have become performances, creating a negative culture around health and food to draw in as many views as possible.

Enter the pandemic. During lockdown, connections around the world were severed, and social media soon became a platform for reconnection. As social media rose, so did mukbangs, as the act of eating on screen became increasingly popular globally, boosting a sense of community. But as mukbangs gained more and more traction, the dynamic began to switch. With so many mukbangs posted every day, it became harder and harder to stand out with simple, everyday meals. So, mukbang creators took drastic measures to make themselves seen. Portion sizes increased as presentation became the main focus, rather than nutrition. Fast food chains such as Crumbl Cookies, Dave's Hot Chicken, and Wingstop have all become notorious for providing the meals mukbangs eat, engaging the viewers with massive amounts of well-known, appealing food. Mukbangs now prioritize appearance over real nutrition, and we as the audience tend to be drawn to the spectacle, becoming more and more used to these portion sizes and even to some extent, expecting it. In the process, we not only consume content, but fuel the fire that distorted the image of food online.  

Take a look at the comment section of a mukbang. Oftentimes, there’s at least one person commenting on how “there’s no way they eat all that!” or “they’re spitting out food in between takes!” These responses not only create a distrust between the mukbanger and the audience, severing any remaining form of connection from the original meaning of mukbangs, but also cause viewers to question what a “normal” serving size should look like. The constant viewing of such huge portion sizes can normalize behaviors such as binge eating, as the line between harmful eating and entertainment is blurred. It causes a culture of scrutiny where meals are judged based on appearance rather than individual needs. Streaming overconsumption on a platform for millions of people to see not only puts the mukbanger’s health at risk, but promotes habits that could put others at risk. This could have long term effects on people's money, health, mental well being, and perception of food.

One of the most popular mukbangers was someone who posted pre-recorded mukbangs for two years, known as Nikocado Avocado who amassed over 4.7 million subscribers in his time on YouTube. While early videos started off as simple, healthy meals, as his popularity grew, so did his desire for views. Over time, he gained over 200 pounds, documenting his journey over 800 videos totalling more than a billion views. His most watched video is an hour long video of eating 4 party sized bags of Takis and 18 packs of Buldak noodles. His exaggerated pre-recorded content normalized harmful eating habits while broadcasting a visible physical and mental health decline, as he often started crying during his mukbangs. Additionally, he rarely finished the meals he made. Compared to mukbangs’ original purpose of community, Nikocado Avocado’s content shows just how far mukbangs have shifted into a performance, and just how much us as viewers are eating it up.

Food isn’t the only thing that gets distorted as a result of these mukbangs. We as the audience consuming these videos is another form of overconsumption. Social media platforms such as TikTok and YouTube only amplify this more to the point where millions of people see these videos daily. The more people that see it, the more it gets normalized. 

At the end of the day, mukbangs were made for connection, to allow for a fuller enjoyment of meals through community. But the rise of mukbangs in social media has created unrealistic expectations, turning the act of eating into a performance for the creator to stay “relevant”. Somewhere along the way of huge portion sizes and Raising Cane's, we’ve lost the true meaning of sharing a meal.