The New York Times Magazine - USA (2022-02-12)

in Van Nuys or Rowland Heights, where

my grandma shops.

In school, my preteen insecurities

became indistinguishable from my inse-

curities around not being able to aff ord the

Kate Spade bags that my white, wealthy

classmates clutched. After- school, then,

was a time when those I envied and

was invisible to were no longer there to

remind me of what I wasn’t and what I

didn’t have. After school, Flamin’ Hots

were what my friends and I had that the

others did not.

Something as perfect as Flamin’ Hots

could only come out of unauthorized

innovation: a challenge to acceptable

taste that embraces artifi cial excess. On its

face, it was proof of American ingenuity,

with the implicit lesson that Flamin’ Hots

were for everyone — a product of the self-

made Everyman. But as the upset around

The Times’s discovery makes clear, there

are some of us for whom what’s on the

record matters less than the unoffi cial,

self- mythologizing stories we conjure to

tell. I like to think that Flamin’ Hots are

for those of us who, like Montañez, take

up residence in the after- hours, when tall

tales are the order of the day. They’re for

those who rule the school when no one

else is around, leaving no trace behind —

except the faded stain of dust in the tell-

tale shade of Red Dye 40 on our tongues,

lips and fi ngers.

Illustration by Radio 19

Tip By Malia Wollan

factor in where I went to school: Through
the school system’s inter district permits,
which allow students to attend a school
outside their districts based on parental
employment, I was able to attend a school
in the exclusive nearby neighborhood of
Holmby Hills.
After school, I learned how time and
space work in Los Angeles: how people’s
relationships to the city are shaped and
distended by commutes, the demands of
child care and the ebb and fl ow of rush
hour. My mom’s work was close to school,
but on days I stayed with my dad, he drove
from the Valley. When my mom needed
extra help, my grandma drove from Haci-
enda Heights and stayed over, or my uncle
drove from Torrance and back again. We
took indirect routes to and from school
across an array of neighborhoods with
their race and class diff erences. When I
was in seventh grade, after I had switched
to a private school in Santa Monica, my
mom and I moved to Topanga Canyon
with my stepdad; my world became small-
er, whittled down to the West side.
But those after- school hours aff orded
a more capacious sense of place; Flamin’
Hots guided me across that geography.
With a tug of the bag, the edges of your
nostrils singed with anticipation. You
shoved your hand in the bag, wedging
each Flamin’ Hot between your fi ngers,
and with each crunch the burn grew, but
you couldn’t stop, not until you funneled
the last crumbs at the bottom of the bag
into your mouth.
Not everyone could take the heat,
and those who went straight home after
school didn’t know to go across the street.
I also doubt that they knew how to place
the nuanced fl avor of the Flamin’ Hot
spice, which now reveals to me a hidden
map of L.A.’s sprawl, constellated by its
overlooked, disregarded communities
of color, undetected by and adjacent to
the richer, whiter sheen of the West side.
Flamin’ Hots tasted like the Tajín season-
ing sprinkled on fries and cups of mango,
melon and pineapple sold by fruit-cart
vendors on the East side of L.A.; the
powder packets in Shin Ramyun noodles
stored in a cousin’s kitchen cupboards in
Orange County; Tapatío and Valentina
hot sauce slathered on tacos and burritos
from a truck or a strip mall; and even, with
its slight hints of onion and garlic, a bit
like kimchi from big plastic tubs sold at H
Mart in Korea town or Greenland Market

How to Smile

Dominantly

‘‘ Yo u n e e d a little bit of a sneer in there,’’

says Adrienne Wood, an assistant pro-

fessor of psychology at the University of

Virginia who studies social signals like

smiles and laughter. Researchers have

identifi ed three main smile subtypes,

each with its own morphology and social

functions: reward smiles, affi liation smiles

and dominance smiles. To make any smile

requires upturned lip corners, resulting

from the activation of the zygomaticus

major muscle. Unlike the other two, a

dominant smile is asymmetrical. ‘‘In other

words,’’ Wood says, ‘‘it’s crooked.’’

The dominant smile is layered in

meaning; it’s an expression associated

with feelings of superiority and pride

but still more friendly than a frown or a

leer. One study found that observers of all

three smile types experienced the high-

est cortisol levels when smirked at in this

way. ‘‘It might stress people out,’’ Wood

says. Other studies have shown that peo-

ple fi nd dominant smiles to be the least

trustworthy; you’re basically using your

face to say, ‘‘I’m better than you.’’

‘‘To be convincing, you want to involve

every part of your body,’’ Wood says. Lean

back. Lift your chin so that you’re looking

down at the person. Pull one side of your

mouth back toward your ear. Scrunch

your nose just a little. Psychologists have

developed a detailed taxonomy of unique

facial- muscle movements that can be

identifi ed with expression- recognition

software. Those associated with dom-

inant smiles include elevated eyelids,

raised cheeks, wrinkled nose, lifted upper

lip and that signature crookedness. Your

smile might not translate everywhere,

though. Recent research suggests that

there are more distinct, culture- based

expression dialects too.

An intimidating look isn’t the same as

having real, earned prestige. ‘‘In animal

groups, often the most overtly aggres-

sive individual is not the one with actual

power,’’ Wood says. Dominant smiling

makes you a self- aggrandizer; she believes

that people who are truly comfortable

with their status don’t smile to unnerve.

For respect, try smiling because you’re

genuinely joyful and want to connect.

Wood chose to study facial expressions

and vocalizations in part because she loves

animals and liked the similarities between

the ways humans and animals use their

faces and voices. ‘‘It’s just really fun to

study humans as though we are just anoth-

er animal,’’ she says, ‘‘which we are.’’

Flamin’ Hots

revealed a

hidden map of

Los Angeles.

Summer Kim Lee

is an assistant professor

of English at the

University of California,

Los Angeles.

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