Letter to New York Times Magazine

I wrote this letter on 3/27/06 in response to a lengthy article detailing the "thrill of hunting pigs" by Michael Pollan. As the character Rowf says in Richard Adams' novel, The Plague Dogs: "it's a bad world for animals." (Richard Adams also wrote Watership Down.)

Dear Editor,

There is no doubt we humans are flawed animals, but one defect seems to stand out among the rest: our arrogance. It is this fault alone that causes more harm than any other - not only to ourselves but to all of the creatures with whom we share this planet. It is our perception of our own superiority that compels us to act with unnecessary cruelty and gluttony when it comes to our treatment of animals, but worse yet, to justify our actions with specious rationalizations.

I regretted to observe this in Michael Pollan's 3/26 article in a number of places; first, when he declares that animals have "no concept of death" and "don't give it nearly as much thought as we do," a groundless and arrogant conclusion that conveniently assuages him of any guilt for being the cause of an animal's death. At another time, he concludes that because she happened to be chosen as the quarry of a "thrilling" hunt, the sow he shoots "has lived, and arguably even died, in a manner consistent with its creaturely character." When he goes on to say that the sow's death, "by the standards of animal death" was a "good one," you'd think he believed he actually did her a favor by terrifying her and ending her life in such a way.

The height of Pollan's arrogance, however, is when he writes that, though he sometimes envies the "moral clarity of the vegetarian," he also pities them, because vegetarians live in "dreams of innocence" predicated on a "denial of reality." With all due respect, this smacks of yet another attempt to mollify any discomfort he has with his own dietary habits.

It is precisely the ethical vegetarian's awareness of animal suffering that enables us to live fully and painfully awake in this age of institutionalized animal abuse. Pollan's romanticized vision of humans hunting animals or eating "grass-fed beef" is just that. Neither reflects the reality of the 10 billion land animals confined, mutilated, and killed each year in the U.S. merely for human consumption. I don't need to kill an animal to fully know that I live by the grace of nature as I thrive on plant foods, and I'm grateful that I don't have to make any excuses, as I did when I ate animals and their products.

I long for the day when a publication as prestigious as yours features a cover story not about the joys of hunting but about the joys of not killing - or paying for the killing - of animals. Though I appreciate Pollan's attempt to thoroughly experience the topics about which he writes, I find his methods as well as his conclusions unsatisfying and disturbing. I fear, because of this lengthy article, the animals have lost yet again. That is the "true cost of our food." They pay - unnecessarily - with their lives.

The Golden Rule

There seems to be an unspoken societal expectation that vegetarians be as silent about their food choices as possible. Written into this expectation is the following clause: "vegetarians must be considerate, respectful, and sensitive to meat-eaters at all times. They must not speak of their reasons for being vegetarian unless asked first. But when they are asked, they must make their answers as brief and sanitized as possible so as not to upset the meat-eater while he/she finishes lunch."

I've learned a lot about animals in my many years as an animal advocate, but I have learned much more about human animals. The stereotype that vegetarians talk about being vegetarian all the time is so funny to me, because, well, in my experience, once someone finds out I'm vegetarian, I become their Confessor, counselor, and sounding board. I can't stop them. Unsolicited, they proceed to tell me how often they eat "meat," how much they've cut back, or how they've become vegetarian except for the chickens and fishes they still consume. They tell me they eat only "humanely killed" animals (??), or they challenge me to solve the great hypothetical dilemma: "if everyone went vegetarian overnight, what would we do with all those animals? So, you see, it's much more humane to eat them." Ummmm...

You see, I really do love every encounter I have with animal-eaters, because it offers me the opportunity to offer a perspective they may not have encountered before (such as "well, stopping breeding usually takes care of any overpopulation concerns"). However, I do wish the expectation of respect was a two-way street. Every vegetarian/animal advocate I know treads ever-so-gently in the speciesist realm in which we live.

That doesn't mean we don't challenge the status quo through outreach, education, demonstrations, etc. But it does mean that we're sensitive. For instance, when is the last time you heard a vegetarian ask a meat-eater to defend why she eats animals? And yet how many times have you heard a vegetarian asked why he doesn't? Can you imagine a vegetarian saying to a meat-eater "Oh my word! You're a meat-eater? Where do you get your folate, fiber, Vitamin C, Vitamin E, and selenium?" And, yet, how many times - how many blessed times - does a vegetarian have to answer the question "where do you get your protein?"

Frankly, I think vegetarians should start asking our friends and family members these questions, because left unchallenged, our species allows 10 billion land animals to be born into this world every year only to be killed - for nothing. For appetite. Out of habit. In the name of tradition. Every time vegetarianism is silenced, disregarded, ridiculed, disrespected - another heart stops beating.

Honestly, I can cope with the lack of respect for my choices. What I have a hard time with, however, is that it really has nothing to do with me. I'm just the vegan in the room that reflects all the misery, pain, and suffering of every life that's ended by a steel blade. So, I take my role very seriously and will continue to be as respectful, considerate, and sensitive as I can be. I have to be. Ten billion lives are at stake.

Call me Chicken-Hearted

When we say that 45 billion land and sea animals are killed every year in the U.S. for human consumption, I don't know about you, but I can't wrap my head around that number. It's daunting. In terms of land animals alone, 10 billion animals are bred and killed for humans every year, and the death toll continues to rise. Of this number, over 9 billion are birds: chickens raised for their flesh, egg-laying hens who are no longer "productive,"turkeys, ducks, and well, rabbits (since they fall under the USDA's "poultry" category which is exempt from humane slaughter laws). Of this number, hundreds of millions die of disease, malnutrition, injury, suffocation, and stress before they even reach the slaughterhouse. They literally suffer to death. The exact numbers are not reported - they're just considered economic losses.

I often hear people say they "gave up 'beef' or 'red meat'" or that they're reducing suffering because they "only eat chicken and turkey." What they don't know is that in terms of the immense amount of suffering inherent in breeding, raising, confining, and killing animals for food is that "beef cattle" actually have it the best of all the species. Birds raised for their flesh and for their eggs live in a nightmare situation from the moment their born until the moment their sad lives are ended by a blade and/or feather-removal scalding tank. (The same applies to "dairy cows.") I urge you all to visit the links I've included below to learn more about the torture we inflict upon other species.

Ingrid Newkirk, the founder and director of PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals), has [facetiously] said that she wishes she had vials of red dye she could inject into chickens so that when people say they aren't eating "red meat" anymore, chickens would be included. Lovely thought, but she knows that's not realistic. What is realistic, however, is each person realizing their power to make a difference. I do believe that people do not wake up each day thinking about the ways in which they can cause suffering to sentient beings, but until we all wake up thinking about the ways we can eliminate suffering to sentient beings, it will all continue. Only a conscious awareness of the part we play will empower us to each save a life - or many lives.

If you, like me, cannot imagine what "10 billion animals killed" looks like, think of it in more personal terms: the average American meat-eater eats 2,485 chickens, 78 turkeys and ducks, 33 pigs, and 11 cows and sheep during a 75-year life span. These numbers don't even include sea animals.

GoVeg.com - Chickens
Compassionate Over Killing - Investigations
Foster Farms Investigation (Foster Farms is the largest poultry processor in the U.S.)

Washington Post Letter to the Editor

A couple of weeks ago, I read an article in the Washington Post that I immediately felt compelled to respond to with a Letter to the Editor. Much to my delight, they published it on Sunday, March 12th. The original "article," which wasn't exactly a paragon of cutting-edge journalism, was written by a non-vegetarian who wanted to see "if a vegan could dine with carnivores, and all be satiated." At first I thought a vegan was going to sit down with some lions and tigers, knowing the poor human would be fair game for the big cats' dinner, but then I realized the author was using that common misnomer to refer to human animals who eat other animals. It was that faulty premise - "can non-vegetarians be satisfied eating a vegan meal and can this non-vegetarian prepare one satisfying enough for all?" - that got me riled up enough to write the letter.

I wrote that the "experiment" was doomed from the start, for several reasons. First off, the psychological bias of a non-vegetarian toward "vegan" cuisine is powerful enough to inhibit impartial judgment, especially considering the fact that the meat-eating "judges" clearly hold fast to their meat-eating habits. One clever chap declared himself a "trickle-down vegetarian. The cow eats the grass, and I eat the cow." Another referred to human teeth to prove that we're supposed to eat meat. (Snore.) I have seen people embrace "vegan" food they didn't know was "vegan" and reject the very same food (the very same dish!) because, upon learning it was "vegan," declared it inferior and unappetizing. About the chocolate cake, one judge said it was good but he just couldn't help missing the eggs. That's just absurd; if he ate that cake without knowing it was "vegan," I am fairly certain he wouldn't make such a statement.

The other problem I had with the article I tackle in my letter, the gist being that our food habits are just that - habits. If you're accustomed to a particular kind of music and someone introduces you to a totally new form, you will definitely have a transition period while you learn the different aspects of that new sound. It's the same with film, with visual art, with anything that challenges our comfort zones.

It's good flavor and texture we all seek; it's not eggs in cake! Chickens didn't get together and figure out that the products of their reproductive cycle would be a great binder for baked goods. We still use eggs in cake because it became the norm, especially after WWII when using animal products became a symbol of affluence.

Amazing the impact a seemingly innocent article can have, eh? My suggestion to the Washington Post was that they accept articles by people who celebrate plant-based cuisine, who know how easy it is to "satisfy vegans and" non-vegetarians. (So, get writing!) The article they printed just perpetuated - once again - the myth that vegan food is unsatisfying. One judge even ate hot dogs after the vegan meal. If that doesn't create a bias against "vegan" cuisine in the minds of the non-vegetarian readers, I don't know what does.

There are No Neutral Actions

My delightful next-door neighbors leave their day-old NY Times for me on my doorstep every day. It's a great system: they read through the paper each day, and I get to read the Arts section and do the crossword puzzle. (It's how I relax.) The only problem is sometimes if I'm not careful, I get a glimpse of the Dining section. Painful stuff. Now, I know as an activist it's important to 'know thy enemy' and all, but if I took in every article, every advertisement, every piece of propaganda out there, I'd be a puddle right now. A big, wet puddle.

The other day, as I ritually pulled out the beloved Arts section and started a recycling pile for the rest, I happened to see a cover story in the Despicable Dining section entitled "Reductio ad Perfectionem: What a Pigeon." I knew I should have moved on, proceeded to the crossword puzzle, and sunk into my word play. But, I just couldn't. I had to know. I regretted it the moment I read the first sentence: "A ROAST pigeon changed life. And his career." The author gushed over the chef's "duck foie gras with stuffed duck neck" and "rack of lamb," as I glowered at the description of the chef's "epiphany" the first time he "put fork to pigeon" and realized his training was all wrong." The poor dear went back to his room and cried. Amazing what a dead pigeon can do!

The thing that frustrates me the most, I think, is that millions of people go about their days thinking these are neutral stories, that our meat-eating culture is just the norm and that anything else is a "political position." I've encountered this trying to get a veg show on TV, trying to get certain articles published in print media, and when told to be careful what I say during a lecture lest I "offend" anyone. The joke that pro-meat-, -dairy, and -egg stories are actually neutral and anything that smacks of "vegetarianism" is political would be funny if it weren't so pathetic. Think of all the product placements, the commercials, the print ads, the dinner scenarios on your favorite shows - they're all political, every one of them, and whatever products appear are a reflection of the interests of the person making the decisions. It's like saying journalists can be "neutral," as if they don't each come with their own agenda. It's nearly impossible.

I was thrilled and surprised by a breakfast scene in a film called The Secret Lives of Dentists (which I do recommend) when the a carton of what was clearly labeled "soy milk" sat on the table. In another scene, the father was putting their dinner on their plates, and the girls said "what's that?" The father said "it's tofu" and moved on. It was just part of the scene, nothing dramatic, no statement made that was relevant to the scene. But a statement had been made, and it was so refreshing to see a vegetarian meal as a matter-of-fact part of a movie scene. We need more statements like this.

Each one of us is in a position of power. We influence each other every day in so many ways: what we eat, what we wear, how we spend our free time. None of our decisions are neutral - they're seen and processed by everyone we encounter. If we all knew the power we have to inspire and influence those around us, when it comes to food in particular, perhaps we wouldn't be so afraid of making that statement, of speaking our minds, of speaking our truth. Cause whether you like it or not, you're already sending out a slew of messages about who you are and what you believe just by the way you do your hair or which shoes you wear to work. You don't have to be a journalist to influence minds. Use everything you are and everything you do right now to reflect what you believe. The chef who sticks his forks into dead pigeons and sundry other animals' body parts is making his statement. Why shouldn't you?

No Excuse for Compassionate Eating

There seem to be as many excuses to eat meat as there are land animals killed for such a purpose (10 billion in the U.S. each year, by the way) and though I have heard many of these excuses, I have yet to hear a convincing reason. I don’t think people really give much thought to the justifications they create; or rather, they have never really been challenged when they say such things as “If we didn’t kill and eat animals, the world would be overrun with them” or “These incisors in my mouth prove that we were meant to eat animals.” Lacking the space to address these tenuous arguments, I would rather focus on one that sounds fair enough on the surface, but which falls apart upon closer examination. It goes something like this: "Eating meat is my personal preference, and since I respect your desire not to eat animals, I would appreciate your respecting my preference to dine on them."

The problem with this justification is that it assumes there is no victim, no other. It implies that the meat-eater’s desires, traditions, culture, or taste buds are superior to anything — or anyone — else and that because of this, he or she is absolved from the harm eating meat causes.

As a society, we collectively decide that certain behaviors, certain actions, certain personal preferences are inappropriate or morally reprehensible, particularly when they cause injury or harm to another. When confronted, abusive parents or spouses often protest that it is nobody else's business how they treat their child/wife/husband, that people should not meddle into their affairs, and that they can do what they like in their own home. Though there was a time when the law protected such people and practices, this is no longer the case. As conscious consumers, we make choices every day about the products we buy — we choose those that do not contribute to child labor, those that use the least amount of the Earth's resources, those that do not exploit indigent farmers. How, then, can we possibly ignore the animals whose miserable lives have been so violently cut short because we hold onto a particular taste preference or habit? The animals whose bodies we have locked up, used up, and cut up for our enjoyment are no different than the victims of domestic abuse who, if they had a choice — if they had a voice — would choose not to be tormented or killed.

When we take away the choice of another and then use that as license to hurt or kill, we are participating in an egregious act of cruelty — whether we do it ourselves or pay others to do it for us. We only tell ourselves that our personal choice is our own business — our own preference — so we can sleep soundly at night. A choice made from personal preference might be the color I paint my bathroom, the kind of car I buy, or the way I style my hair.But a personal choice to hurt someone else? Deconstructed, it comes out looking like an unpleasant credo to live by. Yet, because millions of people do live by it, billions of animals unnecessarily die by it — year in and year out.

There are as many reasons not to eat animals as there are lives that could be saved by making a simple dietary change. One of the joys of being vegetarian is that my behavior is consistent with my values, and though it’s not a perfect world and I’m not a perfect person, it feels pretty good knowing that my personal choices reflect nonviolence, compassion, kindness, and simplicity. Adopting a vegetarian lifestyle is the best choice I’ve ever made, and I’ve never had to offer any excuses for it.

Selective Compassion

I believe we are born compassionate and kind. I believe we are taught cruelty and indifference. As a child, and still now, I could never stand to see someone suffer, regardless of who that someone was. I have typical childhood stories of saving injured birds or taking in stray animals. Of staying up whole nights with my dog when she was a scared puppy or a sick adult. I volunteered at animal shelters. And when I learned how animals were treated and killed for human consumption, I stopped eating their bodies and the reproductive products of female animals, such as milk and eggs.

This did not happen until I was an adult, despite the fact that my childhood kindness towards animals was supported and encouraged by my parents. Kindness towards CERTAIN animals, I should say. Like most Americans, I was raised on hamburgers and ice cream and didn’t realize that my parents created and society reinforced in me what I call “selective compassion.”

When I started to make the connection, it became very clear to me that a split had been created in my mind – and in my spirit. I know I’m not unique. This society-supported psychic split enables us to love certain animals as “pets” and others as “dinner” – a purely cultural phenomenon illustrated by our disgust at the fact that dogs, cats, and horses are eaten in other countries. This split is all-too apparent in the meat served at fundraisers for some (not all) SPCAs, implying that the suffering felt by pigs and cows is somehow different in quality than that felt by dogs and cats. And we know this simply isn’t true.

After all, S-P-C-A stands for “Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.” It doesn’t say that some species should be favored and others disregarded. In fact, Henry Bergh founded the ASPCA to protect farm animals and “work horses” as well as dogs and cats. The goal of a humane society should be to help create just that: a Humane Society – one based on consistent values and “unselective compassion.”

Albert Einstein, a vegetarian, envisioned a world where our circle of compassion includes all creatures – for our peace as well as theirs. I believe that until all animals are embraced and respected, any efforts to create a nonviolent and compassionate world will be thwarted. (Learn about Animal Place's Food for Thought campaign.)

A Violent Industry

Alley Cat Allies, a feral cat rescue group, included a poignant and powerful article in one of their recent newsletters. It addresses the psychological toll that killing healthy animals takes on the shelter and agency personnel who must perform the deed. The article refers to the people whose job it is to euthanize the 5 to 6 million companion animals we don't "have room for" each year in the U.S. Research conducted in 2004 and funded by the Humane Society of the U.S. asserts that "thousands of people charged with performing animal euthanasia are an at-risk population ... at risk for a variety of psychological, emotional, and physical ailments such as high blood pressure, ulcers, unresolved grief, depression, substance abuse, and suicide."

As I read the article and felt deeply for these people and animals, I couldn't help thinking about the emotional toll killing animals in a slaughterhouse takes on those workers. Investigative journalist Gail Eisnitz writes about such accounts in Slaughterhouse, the book that led me to become vegan. Not surprisingly, in an industry whose workers spend all day every day killing, the atmosphere is one of immense violence and anger. Most of you would not read on if I quoted some of the stories here; they're so upsetting, I still can't get them out of my mind after all these years. I do, however, encourage you to read the book or at least excerpts, but please know at least this much. All of the workers she interviewed attested to the pain they inflict upon the animals beyond the actual killing; they would simply torment and torture the animals out of frustration, apathy, anger, or drunkenness. One slaughterhouse worker said, "Animal abuse is so common that workers who've been in the industry for years get into a state of apathy about it. After a while, it doesn't seem unusual anymore. Animal abuse is so commonplace nobody even thinks about it."

Nobody even thinks about it. That's what they bank on. It's why 10.2 billion animals will be killed by the end of this year - in the U.S. alone. 10.2 billion animals. When I have this dialogue with people - about the ethics of eating animals, someone always says, "Let's say you were on a deserted island and had no choice. If you were going to starve, would you eat animals then?" We grasp for such hypothetical scenarios because we consider ourselves compassionate people and don't want to confront the horrors our dollars pay for. But if we support non-violence, we absolutely cannot support eating meat, dairy, and eggs - as all the animals wind up in the same horrific, violent place. If we support worker's rights, we cannot justify eating meat, dairy, and eggs. If we support environmental integrity, animal welfare, animal rights, compassion, and healthful living, we cannot support these industries.

Avoiding looking at the problem doesn't make it go away. Only when we confront the truth of what we most desperately want to avoid can we find peace. It's only then that we discover that we can become part of the solution - with our dollars, with our personal choices, with our behavior-aligned values. If we say we support non-violence, then we have to match that with our actions. Otherwise, we're a nation of people with empty values, bloody hands, and a lot of good hypothetical stories to keep us from feeling guilty.

For now, I'm just glad my options aren't between starving on a deserted island and keeping alive an industry that makes apathetic automatons out of human beings and cutlets out of animals. Until that day comes, I have many, many choices.

Daunting Numbers - Increased Suffering

When we say that 45 billion land and sea animals are killed every year in the U.S. for human consumption, I don't know about you, but I can't wrap my head around that number. It's daunting. In terms of land animals alone, 10 billion animals are bred and killed for humans every year, and the death toll continues to rise. Of this number, over 9 billion are birds: chickens raised for their flesh, egg-laying hens who are no longer "productive,"turkeys, ducks, and well, rabbits (since they fall under the USDA's "poultry" category which is exempt from humane slaughter laws). Of this number, hundreds of millions die of disease, malnutrition, injury, suffocation, and stress before they even reach the slaughterhouse. They literally suffer to death. The exact numbers are not reported - they're just considered economic losses.

I often hear people say they "gave up 'beef' or 'red meat'" or that they're reducing suffering because they "only eat chicken and turkey." What they don't know is that in terms of the immense amount of suffering inherent in breeding, raising, confining, and killing animals for food is that "beef cattle" actually have it the best of all the species. Birds raised for their flesh and for their eggs live in a nightmare situation from the moment their born until the moment their sad lives are ended by a blade and/or feather-removal scalding tank. (The same applies to "dairy cows.") I urge you all to visit the links I've included below to learn more about the torture we inflict upon other species.

Ingrid Newkirk, the founder and director of PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals), has [facetiously] said that she wishes she had vials of red dye she could inject into chickens so that when people say they aren't eating "red meat" anymore, chickens would be included. Lovely thought, but she knows that's not realistic. What is realistic, however, is each person realizing their power to make a difference. I do believe that people do not wake up each day thinking about the ways in which they can cause suffering to sentient beings, but until we all wake up thinking about the ways we can eliminate suffering to sentient beings, it will all continue. Only a conscious awareness of the part we play will empower us to each save a life - or many lives.

If you, like me, cannot imagine what "10 billion animals killed" looks like, think of it in more personal terms: the average American meat-eater eats 2,485 chickens, 78 turkeys and ducks, 33 pigs, and 11 cows and sheep during a 75-year life span. These numbers don't even include sea animals.

A Joyful Vegan

I often talk about being a joyful vegan, a phrase I've borrowed from activist Julia Butterfly Hill, because it reflects my truth. I came across an essay that beautifully expresses what this means for people like me, Julia, and many others. It's written by Robert Bass, Ph.D., a philosophy professor of whom I had never heard before reading this short but poignant essay. Everything below is his words, but I celebrate them as if they were my own.

"If you look at a photographic negative, the colors are reversed, nothing seems quite as it should, and the image may be unrecognizable. Once you see the picture developed, you recognize the face of your best friend.

That’s a bit like a common impression of vegans. We don’t eat dead animals. Or their products. Pork and beef, seafood and fowl are out. So are milk and cheese, eggs and caviar. And it doesn’t stop with what we don’t eat. We try to avoid leather and wool and fur. We don’t use them to cover our bodies or our furniture or our floors. It sounds like a long list of negatives, of don’ts: Thou shalt not this; thou shalt not that. Why would anybody want that?
You get a better picture by reversing the colors, developing the negative. The incomprehensible prohibitions turn out to be the boundaries of something positive, visible in its true colors and proper proportions. Instead of a list of don’ts, we see an abundance of healthy, delicious foods, with plenty of options for home and clothes and personal care. We do not grudgingly practice a creed of self-denial. We select from an embarassment of riches.

But that is still just a flat, two-dimensional picture instead of the solid, three-dimensional reality. At the heart of being vegan is a kind of compassionate awareness. We share this planet not only with billions of fellow human beings, but also with uncounted billions upon billions of other creatures, with lives, wants, enjoyment and suffering as real as our own. Humans have had and used the power to crowd them out, push them aside, sometimes driving them to extinction, and often, making them into tools for our use, servitors of our desires, food for our tables, clothes for our backs. As vegans, we look, we pay attention, we see the unnecessary suffering imposed on our fellow creatures. We respond in compassion, refusing to pretend that might makes right, refusing to turn away and ignore what we know. The vegan message is ultimately very simple:

Look. Pay attention. See the unnecessary death and suffering. We don’t have to contribute or help to keep it going. We can stop being a part of this. And so, that’s what we try to do."

The Righties of the World

I am a lefty. A proud lefty. No, I'm not talking about my political leanings (though, you can probably guess what they are). I'm talking about the hand I use to write and eat with. Technically I'm ambidextrous, but that's another story. The point is, for all intents and purposes, I am considered a bothersome lefty, mainly because at restaurants I am often told where to sit lest I bump elbows with the almighty "righty." But what if we looked at it another way - my way, for instance. Maybe - just maybe - the righty is sitting on the wrong side of me! Let me give you another example to illustrate my point. I'm 5'5" - not really short, but compared to my 6'3" husband, I'm a shrimp. (And I say that with only affection for shrimp!) Now, who do you think has to stand on her tippy toes and modify her height for the I'm-off-to-work-I'll-see-you-later smooch?? Not the (right-handed) hubby, I assure you. It's all about the lefty accommodating the righty and the shorty accommodating the giant. "That's all very sad," you're probably thinking, "but what does this have to do with vegetarianism?" Glad you asked.

Let's be honest. Non-vegetarians are the righties of the world. (No political implications intended.) They rule the roost. They call the shots. They play first fiddle. Have you flown on a plane lately? No more options for vegetarians. Nope! Vegetarians be damned! "Want some chicken? Some turkey? Some ham? We have that in spades. Vegetarian? No, sorry. We can't accommodate your special needs." I even heard of a vegetarian who was told by a pizza joint that they could make a pizza with less cheese - but not without cheese. Madness! So, who's to blame, and where do we go from here?

Certainly, the non-vegetarians are not to blame. Generation after generation, they've been lazily groomed for this position, never knowing how tenuous their sovereignty has been. Well, I have some news for them. Lefties, shorties, vegetarians - hear me now! If ever you have been relegated to the end of the table when you wanted a middle seat; if ever you have strained your body to reach for a glass in a high cabinet; if ever you have had to accept a plate of wilted iceberg lettuce, it is time to claim your power. It is only because we have not asserted our rights that we have endured dry bread, flavorless pasta, and overcooked vegetables that we are second-class citizens. It is time to usurp the non-vegetarian dominance and claim our birthright. And we will prevail. There will come a time when meat-eaters will have to ask for the special meal when traveling, when restaurants will charge extra for adding meat to the standard (i.e. vegetarian) sandwich, when meat-eaters will be subjected to strange looks and countless, endless questions about what they eat and why they eat that way. The time is nigh. Let us not lose a moment.

In the meantime, non-vegetarians may want to give up peacefully and join the coup. Lay down your sirloin steaks, your turkey breasts, and your chicken legs. Join us where arteries are unblocked, animals are at peace, and cholesterol is normal. As for the righties...well, you're next.

DISCLAIMER: We have intended no offense to righties (either as a political position or as a handedness preference), to people of tall stature, or to shrimps. If we have offended any non-vegetarians, well, it was all in good fun. :)

Children & Animals - Mixed Messages

I have some very good (vegan) friends who are raising their daughter vegan as well. She is almost three now, and her favorite book is Victor, the Vegetarian. She asks to have it read to her every day - though she can recite the whole story herself. She is just starting to understand what it means to not eat animals or their milk or eggs, as explained very eloquently by her parents: "The cow's milk is for her babies. We don't want to take the milk away from the babies." Pretty simple if you ask me, but to some people, it's actually considered radical to tell the truth. I had someone ask me once, very innocently, "so if you had children, would you impose your viewpoints on them and not feed them meat?" My head reeled, as there were so many ways to answer that question.

First of all, parents impose their viewpoints on their kids all the time. It's called raising children. I don't know of many people who actually raise their children with values that don't coincide with their own. And as for the choice not to feed children meat, I can't think of a more consistent message to give to children. I grew up learning that my dog was worthy of loving but the bodies of animals who covered my dinner plate were worthless - or, rather, killed for me! Fortunately, by the time I heard that disturbing justification, I was desensitized enough not to notice. I was (implicitly) taught that the bird with the broken wing who was lucky enough to fall in my yard was worthy of saving, but the chickens and turkeys who "give their lives for us" were valuable only in so far as their flesh was tender and juicy.

It is such a joy to watch my friends give consistent and compassionate messages to their daughter, aware though they are that we live in a culture that doesn't support these messages of truth but that encourages instead messages of domination and control. My friends have a wonderful sense of humor that has been passed onto their daughter, and we've had so much fun making up new words to animal-unfriendly songs. "Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full; One for the master, One for the dame, And one for the little boy, Who lives down the lane" becomes instead: "Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, but it's not meant for you. I have none for the master, None for the dame, And none for the little boy, Who lives down the lane." You have to sing it to appreciate the beauty of it! :) The little piggy who had roast beef (a little human projection there?) has roasted veggies, and the teacher doesn't actually kick Mary's lamb out of the school, as she does at the conventional ending of that nursery rhyme.

Seriously, though, I grew up singing "A Hunting We Will Go," "The Bumblebee Song" ("I'm squishing up a baby bumblebee..."), "Three Blind Mice" ("They all ran after the farmer's wife, who cut off their tails with a carving knife")! Granted, I was taught some nice songs about eency weency spiders climbing up water spouts and about a mouse who ran up and down a clock, but I have to say even in those years when I didn't know these songs were reinforcing the lowly status of animals, I was none too thrilled singing about the old woman who swallowed a fly and sundry other animals. It really grossed me out!

Some people label as "politically correct" any attempt to reframe the familiar. Every message we teach to children becomes part of them, and any attempt to teach children compassion is not, in my mind, politically correct, but it is correct. I recently watched a video of my (non-vegetarian) niece sing Thanksgiving songs whose lyrics included "Grab a turkey and stuff him in the oven." It broke my heart. She didn't even understand what she was singing, but it reinforces the fact that she is fed turkeys. But then I thought of my little 3-year-old friend and how she will never have to go through a painful period of realizing the animals she was taught to love are actually the animals who suffer so much just for her pleasure. There is no greater joy than watching her process the actions of Victor, the main character in her favorite book, who saves lambs from being killed for his supper. "Auntie Col," she'll say as she pets our cats, "we love the lambs. We don't eat them. Read it again." There really is no greater joy.

Living in a Vegan World - in my head, that is!

I'm one of those people who sometimes lives in my own Happy Vegan World - in my head, that is. It's a great place to be, and you're invited to visit anytime. For instance, when I'm eating in a non-vegetarian restaurant and I hear people order "chicken," for a moment my brain assumes they're ordering vegetarian "chicken" because my point of reference for "chicken" is a live, friendly, cooing bird - and why would anyone order that in a restaurant!? Sometimes it's fun living in this world, because I get to pretend - if only for a moment - that everyone sees things as I do. But it doesn't last. I'm quickly reminded that the "chicken" on that restaurant menu doesn't come close to resembling the birds who once lived - complete with feathers and a brain and a desire to live. The pain of that reminder is often very acute (and is the reason I tend to eat primarily in vegetarian restaurants)!

I've said this before, and I will say it again: I didn't always see the world this way. I didn't always wince when I saw someone gnawing on a chicken's leg or on a pig's rib cage, because I, too, ate those things at one time. That's the beauty of being human, isn't it? Having new perspectives, trying new experiences, creating new habits. And goodness knows humans loooove their habits! (Some might even say we're stubborn. I'll just say we're steadfast and leave it at that.)

The truth behind humans' exploitation of animals is so hidden, disguised, ritualized, and rationalized that we're encouraged not to think about it at all. It's like we're all walking around in a dream - a dream that provides sustenance, comfort, and the very foundation on which we build our lives. The risk of waking up and having everything turned upside down is too great - so great that we're taught not to use such words as slaughter, dead, corpse, carcass, flesh or refer to hamburgers as "calves," bacon as "pigs," or even chicken as "chickens." We're taught that animals are made for us, that they sacrifice their lives for us, that if they lead relatively happy lives (the 1% that do) there's nothing wrong with killing them.

I once heard a father playing a "question and answer" game with his daughter. She was to think of an animal, and he was supposed to ask questions until he was able to guess what animal she was thinking of. After a series of questions whose answers gave him clues, he asked if it was red. She said it was. The father said he knew the answer! It was a lobster! She very excitedly answered "YES! You guessed right!" And I thought - a lobster?? Red? I wanted to shout: "Lobsters aren't red! It's only when they're cooked that the red pigment in their shell comes out. Lobsters aren't red!" But I didn't shout - or say anything at all, because I would have been pegged a trouble maker, an upstart, a radical. I didn't speak up, and do you know I regret it to this day? It seems like a small thing, but a voice is a terrible thing to waste - especially when you're speaking up for those who cannot speak for themselves. I watched sadly as that little girl was fed lobster flesh (oops! I said that word) and was inured to any pain that animal endured while being boiled alive...

...And I longed to retreat to the place in my head...to my Happy Vegan World, where "chicken" is vegetarian, where all fur is faux, and where people don't assume all "milk" is from cows. It's nice living in this happy place, if only for a moment. I encourage you to visit once in awhile; that is, until we all awaken from our dream and live here for good.