Most people sweep dirt into the trash, but a grassroots social media trend suggests sprinkling it on your lunch as a healthy treat.
Health experts, however, say the risks of injury and disease far outweigh any touted benefits of a “cruncher’s” diet that includes clay, dirt or sand.
Viral videos on TikTok, YouTube, Instagram and Facebook have unearthed the centuries-old practice of people chewing earth, chalk and clay as a diet hack for 20-somethings looking to slim down. They claim the organic compounds in soil give their skin a natural glow, erase acne and soothe digestive problems.
“There’s actually dirt in her mouth,” Kristin Kowal says in one TikTok video after showing a clip of a toddler munching earth. “Now most people might freak out and be like, ‘Why’s she eating that? Get that out of her mouth.’ But that’s actually amazing for your immune system.”
Ms. Kowal, who calls herself a holistic nutritionist on her website, The Venti Blonde, is among a handful of lifestyle influencers who recommend eating dirt-based probiotics to reduce bloating and improve gut bacteria. They contend the nation’s food supply has become too sanitized, stripping it of the nutrients and minerals needed for healthy digestion.
Others have encouraged children to consume up to a teaspoon of organic soil daily. They include the purveyors at Goop, the lifestyle website founded by actress Gwyneth Paltrow, who has faced criticism for her diet advice.
However, not all of the young people who have eaten dirt in recent videos say they do so to lose weight. Some say they are addicted to the tingling sensation they experience from the sound of munching dirt. Others say they crave the taste for no particular reason.
“I love eating the ground,” TikTok user DurableHalo6, who claims to eat fragments of his wooden bed frame, says in a video. “Guys, dude, planet Earth better watch out because I’m going to eat the entire planet.”
Dietitians, nutritionists and other food experts say that earth eaters risk ingesting a cocktail of the heavy metals, germs and excess fluoride present in many soils. They warn that the risks of severe illness and poisoning from such ingredients rise with soil found in humid climates or in forgotten burial grounds.
“My gut reaction is that I certainly would not touch it,” said Jacqueline Aitkenhead-Peterson, a retired professor of soil science at Texas A&M University. “You don’t know where it’s coming from.”
Ms. Aitkenhead-Peterson pointed to skeletal problems and diseases linked to microorganisms in dirt. She noted that agricultural scientists often heat suspicious soil samples to make them safe, stripping them of the bacteria that crunchers claim help their digestion.
Nutritionists have warned that geophagia, the scientific name for intentionally consuming earth-like substances, can lead to anemia and lead poisoning when it takes the form of pica.
Pica, a rare eating disorder, goes beyond the temporary dirt cravings common in children and pregnant women. It most commonly occurs in people with iron and zinc deficiencies.
“What concerns me is that the dirt that people are buying could be filled with harmful bacteria like E.coli, shigella, clostridium, legionella, parasites, or heavy metals like lead or arsenic,” said Stephanie Crabtree, a registered dietitian based on Florida’s Gulf Coast. “There’s no regulation on the safety of these products or what you are actually putting into your body.”
Ms. Crabtree compared the trend to diet crazes that appeal to people looking for “shortcuts” to a flat stomach that do not require them to exercise daily, eat healthy or drink enough water.
’Gourmet experience’
Social media videos of young people happily munching on earth have attracted millions of views, encouraging online sellers to hawk dirt for up to $50 a package on e-commerce sites such as Amazon and Etsy.
Images of the products on Amazon range from Ziploc bags with home-printed labels for “Grandma’s Georgia White Dirt” to french fry-sized chalk sticks and an ice cream saucer filled with “crispy” red chips made of “roasted clay.”
Product descriptions market the items for “anti-aging” purposes, ASMR aficionados and people with “pica cravings.” Some tout an “after the rain aroma,” “gourmet experience” or texture “similar to toffee.”
“Life’s too short for low-quality edible clay. Immerse yourself in the crunchy texture, one-of-a-kind aroma, and irresistible consistency of our Siberian edible clay chunks and enjoy a stunning experience with all your senses,” reads the description of a seven-ounce sealable bag of Chalkovsky Premium Edible Clay imported from Russia and sold for $27.99.
Customers who tasted the “carefully selected edible dirt bites” gave the product mixed reviews averaging 3.4 out of 5 stars.
“They mention it’s too expensive, bland, and rock-hard,” said Amazon’s AI-generated summary of reviews. “Opinions are mixed on the taste, crunch, and clay texture.”
Regulating dirt
Anthropologists estimate that archaic human beings first ate dirt two million years ago. The practice was common in the Americas before European colonization, and some scholars believe slaves abducted from sub-Saharan Africa reintroduced the practice to the United States during the 19th century.
There is no single accepted explanation for why people across the globe salivate over nonfood items such as starch, charcoal, ice and dirt. Those who consume dirt claim it soothes their stomachs, but rarely give logical reasons for their compulsive cravings.
According to doctors, the problem is that eating dirt makes the body more vulnerable to toxins and pathogens that could cause poisoning or illness. Most hospital systems recommend that people who feel stomach pains after swallowing dirt call 911 or a poison control hotline.
“There are no specific poisonous ingredients in dirt,” Mount Sinai Hospital, a Manhattan medical system, states in an online warning. “But dirt might contain chemicals that kill insects or plants, fertilizers, parasites, bacterial toxins (poisons), fungi (mold), or animal or human waste.”
The Washington Times sent inquiries through Amazon’s messaging system to 14 dirt sellers, including the company that imports the Russian clay, for comment.
Most did not reply or responded with automated-sounding phrases that ignored the questions.
“That’s good,” said JKT Group, a seller that markets several items to people with pica eating disorders. “Thank you for your feedback!”
On the product page of an online seller that did not respond, the phrase “FDA approved” vanished after The Times reached out for comment.
In an email, the Food and Drug Administration confirmed that it does not regulate dirt for eating.
“Edible dirt marketed as ’FDA approved’ is considered health fraud, which is the deceptive promotion, advertising, distribution, or sale of a product represented as being effective to prevent, diagnose, treat, cure or lessen an illness or condition, or provide another beneficial effect on health, but that has not been scientifically proven safe and effective for such purposes,” an FDA spokesperson said.
The official said social media companies and online retailers are responsible for regulating “the authenticity of product descriptions, reviews, and advertisements.”
“Online platforms have faced scrutiny over deceptive practices in the past, particularly regarding how some sellers promote products on platforms,” the FDA added.
The U.S. Department of Agriculture declined to comment on government regulations for “edible dirt” and referred questions to the FDA.
The Times also contacted Amazon, Meta, TikTok and Etsy for comment. Only TikTok responded.
Several high-profile videos of young people eating dirt, including some featured in recent media reports on the trend, have vanished from the video-streaming platform along with their users’ profiles.
According to a TikTok spokesperson, the Chinese-owned social media company removes any content that promotes “dangerous behaviors” and has an Eating Disorder Guide for people struggling with persistent dirt cravings.
“This type of content is ineligible and removed from the teen experience, and displays warning labels for adults,” the spokesperson said.
• Sean Salai can be reached at ssalai@washingtontimes.com.