In 2021, Mitty alumnae Chidubem Nwosu insisted that pineapple does not belong on pizza because “Hawaiian pizza is just an Americanized version of a traditional Italian pizza” (Hot Take: Pineapple on Pizza is NOT It – The Monarch). 

The enduring debate over whether pineapple “belongs” on pizza is often less about taste and more about labeling foods as “authentic” or branding them “invalid.” Today, the word “authenticity” is rarely about honoring cultures; today it is being weaponized as a form of elitism to exclude others.

Beyond the pineapple-on-pizza debate, performative authenticity has become a form of entertainment. Take the Lionfield “Pasta Protectors” who have 15.4 million subscribers on YouTube for exploding in outrage whenever someone cooks Italian food “wrong.” Ironically, these two have never spoken a word of Italian on screen — their performative gatekeeping is little less than clickbait.  Sure, they’re supposed to be funny, but, alarmingly, they also reflect how audiences appreciate exaggerated antagonism and exclusion as entertainment (“Mamma Mia! Not approved!”). In the end, these self-proclaimed food police are just quintessential gatekeepers of Italian culture.

This kind of culinary gatekeeping, unfortunately, exists past the virtual world of YouTube Shorts. Many cuisines adapted for the American palate have faced the same criticism. We’ve all heard the overdone “Panda Express/Taco Bell sends me straight to the toilet” jokes, and these restaurants get endless hate for adapting “authentic” cuisines to a more diverse audience. But here’s the question: if their food stayed strictly like it is in their home countries, would they even be accessible here? Would the average American really line up for Sichuan peppers and intense Mexican chiles, or would they prefer Panda Express’s signature orange chicken or Taco Bell’s convenient hard-shell tacos? In reality, accessibility drives evolution, a fact that makes Panda Express and Taco Bell just as culturally significant.

At this point, assimilated cuisines no longer knock-offs; they’re iconic staples in the messy, flavorful diaspora that is America. Celebrating fusion or Americanized cuisines doesn’t dilute traditional roots, and dismissing them as “invalid” just because they don’t follow the traditional recipe isn’t cultural pride. Culture, like anything else, also evolves with the times, gaining new significance without losing its original essence. 

So no, liking pineapple on pizza isn’t a crime the food police should arrest you for. Enjoying salty-sweet orange chicken or the Fritos-like crunch of Taco Bell isn’t something to be ashamed of. After all, the only real test of a food’s worth is whether you like it — not whether it’s “authentic.” Respecting culinary roots matters, but preserving them shouldn’t equate to shaming others who enjoy it differently. Let’s be honest, when authenticity becomes an excuse to exclude, it’s really not about culture anymore — it’s elitism in disguise. 

Food is supposed to be good, not correct. If you’re still wondering whether pineapple belongs on pizza, go ask your tastebuds.