I’ve lived with food allergies my entire life. Peanuts, tree nuts, egg, seafood, mustard—it’s quite

a list. I’ve had to read every label, ask every server twice, and sit out more than a few meals

while everyone else dug in. It’s a routine that’s second nature to me now—but it’s also a

constant reminder that the world wasn’t exactly built with people like me in mind.

That’s why this book, The Hidden Consumer, struck such a chord.

Amy Graves doesn’t just tell her story—she shines a light on the daily reality of people who are

trying to stay safe in a world that doesn’t always recognize or understand their needs. It’s

personal, honest, and sometimes raw. But it’s also a wake-up call to businesses, marketers,

health professionals—anyone involved in shaping products and experiences for the public.

While some of Amy’s experiences may fall outside what’s commonly discussed in medical or

industry settings, they reflect the very real frustrations many consumers live with every day.

Even if not every detail resonates with everyone, her story is worth listening to—because she’s

giving voice to challenges that are often felt but rarely spoken aloud.

At Equal Eats, we create tools to help people with allergies, intolerances, and dietary needs

communicate clearly—whether they’re eating out, traveling, or just trying to live their lives with

confidence. We’ve heard stories from people all over the world who feel left out or ignored by

companies, menus, and systems that don’t reflect their needs. What Amy describes in this book

reflects a real and growing group of consumers—people who read every ingredient, plan every

meal, and often feel like no one’s listening.

And that’s the heart of it: The Hidden Consumer is a book about listening. It’s about stepping

back and realizing that not everyone experiences food—and the world around it—the same

way. Whether it’s someone managing a non-recognized sensitivity, a chronic health condition,

or just trying to shop with a little more intention, these consumers are out there. They’re not

niche anymore. And they’re not going away.

This isn’t a clinical guide, and it doesn’t try to be. What it offers instead is a powerful

perspective on a group of consumers who are often overlooked. It invites us to think

differently—about how we label, communicate, and ultimately include people whose needs

might not be obvious, but are no less important.

If you work in food, marketing, healthcare, or even policy, this book may challenge you—in

ways that are ultimately valuable. It might make you pause or reconsider assumptions. But

more than anything, I hope it helps you recognize people you may not have noticed

before—and understand how their experiences can inform more thoughtful, inclusive systems.