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Balut is a fertilized duck egg popular in the Philippines and Southeast Asia. The eggs are fertilized, partially incubated, and then, when deemed ready, they are boiled and consumed. It is often seen as a "rite of passage" for Filipinos and a symbol of cultural identity.

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For men, balut is a symbol of masculinity and ethnic pride. Like Taggard Hispanic Southwest foods as markers of authwntic masulinity and toughness in "Food, Masculinity, and Place in the Hispanic Southwest", balut is a test of bravery as a man. Some believe that it has aphrodisiac properties that benefit men in sexual circumstances. It is visually unappealing, which adds to the general assumption that it is a male-centered food, paralleling Neuhaus's "Is Meatloaf for Men", which suggests the idea that meatloaf is a low-maintenance, high-protein recipe for men to enjoy and for women to serve.

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For women, the aphrodisiac effect is not the selling point. In the Philippines, baliut is said to be beneficial for pregnant women as it is believed to make pregnancy safer. In a way, for both men and women, balut has similar effects. One to make the baby, and the other to protect the baby. The irony is that eating one type of baby whole helps to create another one, which is where the questions of ethics, fertility, reproduction, and women's autonomy come into play.

But while men are praised for stomaching balut and applauded for their bravery, women are often expected to be disgusted by it. The stereotype of women being too sensitive or emotional to handle the reality of what it is they're eating leads to disapproval of the women who do choose to eat it as it's not "delicate enough for them". In Carol J. Adams "The Sexual Politics of Meat", she critiques the broader sexual politics of food consumption and the societal limitations of who eats what and where. To her, meat and balut may parallel each other in their gendered stereotypes. This continues to show how the genderfication of food consumption leads to the objectification of women's bodies.

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In developing this project, I thought of the fertilized egg as a metaphor for reproductive potential and how easily it can be taken. As mentioned before, the balut eggs are incubated and then cooked "when deemed ready", meaning that the control of whether or not this "baby" can develop is in the hands of whoever is in power. The duck that lays the egg has no say in whether she wants to sit on it to protect it until her chick hatches, just as women nowadays are losing their say in whether or not they want to keep their child. The power is in the hands of the government, the farmer, and the CEO of the food industry. They're all the same.

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In a Western perspective, balut is considered "gross" or "unethical." This is the same view that labels natural female processes such as menstruation and childbirth as TMI. These natural processes are stigmatized and silenced as if speaking about the pain women feel when their uterus is tearing itself apart is too uncomfortable for men to hear about. Because of that, there is an internalized shame that comes with both being a woman and consuming balut. Two wildly separate things with some of the same societal arguments.

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At this point, we know what it's made of and how it's prepared. But what is it really? Is it homemade viagra? Or an at-home remedy for an easy pregnancy? Perhaps it's next-level protein for a gym bro? Or maybe, it's just a duck that got its future involuntarily taken away. A duck that could have grown up to be the next school mascot or fair winner, or future mother to her own ducklings. But where ethics should matter, we look away. Because at the end of the day, it's just food to us. It's a snack, a tool for sustenance, and a way for families to bond over the dinner table. The possibilities of what this fertilized egg could be are stripped down to its raw form of food, like the possibilities of what a woman could be or wants to be are stripped down to a vessel of reproduction. No choices, no arguments, no future. Women are minimized to the same value as a fucking egg just like how in Ruth Ozeki's My Year of Meats, the wellbeing of womens health is put on the same level as slaughter meat. But authority will continue on as is, just like I will go home and ask my mom to cook up some balut for us to share. Not saying it's right, I'm just saying it's normal.