Our fizzy friend, our spicy milk, our chemical comfort. Our afternoon amulet, the silver bauble we reach for on deadline, the Grey Lady who revives us when we have no pep left.
In the first week of January, Americans acknowledged the anniversary of a dark day for democracy on which they saw the consequences of the erosion of faith in once-trusted institutions. And in Australia, we marked a year since McDonald’s unceremoniously removed Diet Coke from its menus.
People are noticing that franchise after franchise, pub after pub, corner store after corner store have stopped stocking the drink.
“I have resorted to bulk-buying cases from the supermarket,” one woman told me. “I just want my beautiful silver gal back,” another despaired. “I think we need to unionise or something,” came a late night message. “It is slowly being erased from our lives and memories,” read another with a crying emoji before a follow-up message in which she described ordering a Diet Coke at a cafe only to be told by the teenage waiter: “Oh, I’ve heard of that but we don’t have it.”
“Just drink Coke Zero!” some will say. “It’s the same thing!” Sure, and – to quote the Italian chef Gino D’Acampo – “If my grandmother had wheels she would have been a bike.”
If we wanted the saccharine mouthfeel of Coke we would just drink a regular Coke, not its “creepy twin with the vacant gaze”, as the New Yorker so aptly described it. As someone on Reddit said: “I’d rather have water than drink that cat’s piss called Coke Zero.”
We want the singular crisp carbonation of a Diet Coke, not your ersatz Coca-Cola in its sinister red and black can. Yet that is all that is on offer now at many once reputable establishments. Imagine if the last seven – that’s right, seven – times you’d been to the pub you ordered a lager and someone looked you in the eye as they handed you an IPA (I would like to briefly acknowledge that the two times it was a female bartender, one winced and sheepishly mouthed “sorry” and the other acted honestly and declared, “This is a Coke Zero and that’s the closest we have”).
Diet Coke was originally made for men, which ultimately didn’t work, and now women are being punished for their loyalty. Meanwhile Coke Zero is growing at Diet Coke’s expense and research has shown that black cans and avoiding the word “diet” in beverage names attracts men. When Coke Zero launched, the then Coca-Cola marketing executive Pio Schunker described the drink as a “defender and celebrator of guy enjoyment”. Good for them! Keep your sham soda. Just give me mine. One woman sent me a voice memo that summarised the sentiment of much of my correspondence on the issue. “They know everyone will drink Coke Zero but the men won’t drink Diet Coke,” she said. “It’s just a small pleasure in this horrible life and it’s being slowly taken away from us.”
So listen up! – and if you’re not listening, you’re sexist, OK – it is my turn to declare something a feminist issue simply because it inconveniences me, a woman. I am prepared to stand next to the vending machine at my local train station and weep on television, the camera tracking my shaking hand as it hovers above the buttons that once delivered my life force. We will deconextualise every seminal feminist text into bite-size quotes written in Coca-Cola’s custom font (Spencerian Script) on pastel Instagram tiles. We will infantalise ourselves to fit into whatever “girl boss”, “girl dinner”, “girl math” trend we need to get this off the ground (girl nectar?). We will stigmatise men who drink Coke Zero for not being allies. Hell, we’ll stigmatise women who drink Coke Zero as traitors. We’re out for blood.
I will forfeit any credibility I have earned for the years I’ve reported on reproductive rights to make this campaign about bodily autonomy. Women are not truly equal unless we have the right to ingest our favourite possible carcinogens as a little treat. My body, my choice – and this campaign hinges on choice (mine). We vote with our dollar, ladies, not with our literal votes (though if we can find someone in a red pantsuit to run on a single issue platform I’ll take her).
We’re going to need global allies. Could we get Hilary to tweet about this? If not I’ll take her husband, who had a can of DC buried in a time capsule in his presidential library, or, in a pinch, Donald Trump, who reportedly drank a dozen a day while in office (interestingly, that’s almost the amount you’d need to exceed the World Health Organization’s recommended daily aspartame intake). Joe Biden, who upon entering the Oval Office got rid of the big red button Trump used to summon a butler with a bottle of Diet Coke on a silver platter, is going to have to jump on this bandwagon or get left behind. The Real Housewives star who was “slammed” for taking an entire suitcase of Diet Coke on vacation after she became convinced there wasn’t any in Europe? Get in babe, it’s time for your redemption arc!
We will reclaim the drink as a “talisman of taste” and remind people that Karl Lagerfeld drank it “from the minute I get up to the minute I go to bed”. The beverage’s association with diet culture – “One Awesome Calorie” – is no bother. Once again, if a woman wants something it is a feminist pursuit. I don’t make the rules!
In defence of Diet Coke’s demise, the Atlantic’s Derek Thompson argues that many of the jobs the drink once did have been outsourced to “superior beverages” (sports drinks for hydration, coffee for energy and fancy seltzers for fizz).
The duties of our darling girl just can’t be bottled into such categories. She is a cartridge of confidence, a moist towelette on a burning brow, a companion to link arms with as you roam a shopping centre. “You have to drink so many Diet Cokes to get cancer,” one fan posted on X. “But you only have to drink one to see beauty all around you.”
• Gina Rushton is editor of Crikey. She is the author of The Parenthood Dilemma and The Most Important Job in the World
