The Dark History Behind Drinking Wheatgrass

In trendy juice bars and wellness cafes across the United States, wheatgrass shots are treated with reverence (and their not-cheap prices show that). These 1-ounce green elixirs — touted as detoxifiers and marketed as buzzy "superfoods" – are tossed back with the same spiritual devotion I usually reserve for very expensive tequila. But behind their virtuous glow lies a murky history of pseudoscience, fringe ideologies, and iffy health claims.

Wheatgrass, the young grass of the common wheat plant, is not inherently harmful. In fact, its nutritional value is pretty solid: It's rich in vitamins A, B, C, and E, contains essential amino acids, and is packed with chlorophyll. But surprisingly, the wheatgrass craze didn't emerge from nutrition science or culinary innovation; its popularity came from a philosophy that gives precedence to so-called living enzymes and natural treatments rather than peer-reviewed research.

The person most responsible for popularizing wheatgrass as a cure-all was Ann Wigmore, a Lithuanian-born health guru who immigrated to the United States in the early 20th century. Wigmore believed that raw, living foods (especially wheatgrass juice) could heal virtually any ailment, including cancer. Her conviction was inspired in part by her grandmother, a village healer in Europe who reportedly used grasses to treat wounded World War I soldiers. She also drew inspiration from the biblical story of King Nebuchadnezzar, who apparently went insane and ate a lot of grass. Wigmore claimed she cured her own gangrene and later cancer by consuming wheatgrass, though these anecdotes were never supported with medical evidence.

By the 1960s, Ann Wigmore established the Hippocrates Health Institute in Boston, Massachusetts, which attracted both the health-conscious and the seriously ill who were desperate for a last-resort solution. Visitors were encouraged not only to drink wheatgrass juice but also to use it for enemas and bathing. The darker side of this story is the false hope it offered to people with life-threatening illnesses. Wigmore was frequently accused of practicing medicine without a license; she claimed — without substantiation — a Doctor of Philosophy (PhD) and a Doctor of Naturopathy (ND) degree at different times. The Massachusetts Attorney General even sued her in the late 80s to try to stop her from claiming that her methods could cure AIDS.

Despite mounting criticism from the medical community, Wigmore's influence endured even after her death in 1994. In 1986, former colleague Brian Clement parted ways with Wigmore and moved the Hippocrates Health Institute down to West Palm Beach, Florida. This health resort follows Wigmore's teachings and continues to thrive despite longstanding controversies and legal challenges. An 11-year-old child named Makayla Sault even died in 2015 after her parents withdrew her from cancer treatments and instead paid for unlicensed "medical" care at the Hippocrates Health Institute.

The raw foods movement of the late 20th century also picked up Wigmore's baton, and wheatgrass made its way from fringe clinics to mainstream juice bars. Its popularity spiked again with the rise of wellness culture, appealing to the same demographic that believes the hype about lemon water and other health fads. To be clear, there's nothing wrong with enjoying a wheatgrass shot. Just know that its origins are steeped in more than chlorophyll. They're tangled in a century-long story of quackery, mistrust of conventional science, and the human desire to seek healing at all costs.