One of the first questions a vegan will ask another vegan is, "So, how long have you been vegan?" How long was it since you became a vegan. What's really interesting is that you just don't turn around one day and say hey, I'm a vegan!--you really actually become one.
I say this because in order to be a successful vegan, it has to be consistent with your ethics and outlook on life. You have to have some good reason to make you avoid a food you previously thought was great. The thing is, sometimes it takes a while to figure out exactly what your ethics and outlook on life actually are with regards to food.
Let me tell you the story of how I became vegan.
First, it's important to establish that I am an animal person. My entire family is particularly fond of animals. I grew up with three dogs, two cats, and a rabbit. I identified intensely with my pets, loved them as much as I loved my family. I never really did think about the meat that I ate though--my favorite sandwich was ham and cheese; Happy Meals were my nirvana.
I remember my grandfather. He would often speculate about how cruel slaughterhouses are, how sad it was that cows were getting shot between the eyes. I would listen with fascination, but still never really made the connection between the vivid images of death and dinner. But I was listening.
My parents often received mailings from the Humane Society of the United States, or People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. I remember when I first read those words, I wondered what that meant, the ethical treatment of animals. What was that? The more I thought on it, the more I liked the idea. Ethical...interesting.
Then one day I was reading a magazine, and read that some celebrity was vegan; that was the first time I saw what a vegan was--no meat of any kind, no cheese, no eggs, no milk. I remember thinking that I couldn't go vegan because then I wouldn't be able to eat any of my favorite foods. A thought later and I reasoned, well, I could go vegetarian--I'd still be able to eat lasagna. Then I forgot about it all in the rush of growing up.
When I was 15, I opened up a PETA mailing and there they were, the slaughterhouse pictures. I started reading. And reading. And something just clicked inside my head. When I ate Kentucky Fried Chicken, I saw the bones piled up on my plate and I thought how strange and weird it seemed, how caveman like. Then I had dinner at my grandmother's house, and she served a very rare roast. I couldn't stop staring at the blood on my plate. Meat stopped looking like food, and more like something dead.
I announced to my Mom one day that I was going vegan. She was a bit skeptical. I believe the actual words were something like, how can you go vegan when you don't even like vegetables? Good point. We hit on a compromise; I could begin by going vegetarian, and she would support my decision to go vegan only if I did more research on what it was exactly, and what to eat. So, I became vegetarian for about a month, and then I switched to being vegan (after reading Diet for a New America). That was just shy of 15 years ago, and I'm quite happy in my vegan world.
This is what's kind of cool about vegans--a hard-core meat eater today could very well be the militant vegan of tomorrow.
I say this because in order to be a successful vegan, it has to be consistent with your ethics and outlook on life. You have to have some good reason to make you avoid a food you previously thought was great. The thing is, sometimes it takes a while to figure out exactly what your ethics and outlook on life actually are with regards to food.
Let me tell you the story of how I became vegan.
First, it's important to establish that I am an animal person. My entire family is particularly fond of animals. I grew up with three dogs, two cats, and a rabbit. I identified intensely with my pets, loved them as much as I loved my family. I never really did think about the meat that I ate though--my favorite sandwich was ham and cheese; Happy Meals were my nirvana.
I remember my grandfather. He would often speculate about how cruel slaughterhouses are, how sad it was that cows were getting shot between the eyes. I would listen with fascination, but still never really made the connection between the vivid images of death and dinner. But I was listening.
My parents often received mailings from the Humane Society of the United States, or People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. I remember when I first read those words, I wondered what that meant, the ethical treatment of animals. What was that? The more I thought on it, the more I liked the idea. Ethical...interesting.
Then one day I was reading a magazine, and read that some celebrity was vegan; that was the first time I saw what a vegan was--no meat of any kind, no cheese, no eggs, no milk. I remember thinking that I couldn't go vegan because then I wouldn't be able to eat any of my favorite foods. A thought later and I reasoned, well, I could go vegetarian--I'd still be able to eat lasagna. Then I forgot about it all in the rush of growing up.
When I was 15, I opened up a PETA mailing and there they were, the slaughterhouse pictures. I started reading. And reading. And something just clicked inside my head. When I ate Kentucky Fried Chicken, I saw the bones piled up on my plate and I thought how strange and weird it seemed, how caveman like. Then I had dinner at my grandmother's house, and she served a very rare roast. I couldn't stop staring at the blood on my plate. Meat stopped looking like food, and more like something dead.
I announced to my Mom one day that I was going vegan. She was a bit skeptical. I believe the actual words were something like, how can you go vegan when you don't even like vegetables? Good point. We hit on a compromise; I could begin by going vegetarian, and she would support my decision to go vegan only if I did more research on what it was exactly, and what to eat. So, I became vegetarian for about a month, and then I switched to being vegan (after reading Diet for a New America). That was just shy of 15 years ago, and I'm quite happy in my vegan world.
This is what's kind of cool about vegans--a hard-core meat eater today could very well be the militant vegan of tomorrow.
2 comments:
I like that word, "negetarianism." That's when meat-eaters think vegetarians are only "negative" and defined by what they don't do.
The term vegetarian derives from the latin vegetus, which means "lively". A field full of vegetation is full of life. The word "vegetable" comes from the same root, but has the unfortunate alternative, contronym form that means "lifeless."
It's just easier to describe vegetarians by what they don't do, but to really understand them you must know the positive things they do. (If you only focus on the what not to eat, you could end up eating only potato chips and Coke... perfectly vegan, but not varied enough to be healthy.)
This comment is from my friend C.; for some reason blogger wouldn't let her post a comment, so here goes nothing:
hey there... I attempted to comment on your 'becoming vegan' post... and, it
bounced b/c it's too long (but doesn't seem as long as some of your
postings).
Anyway... here it is (maybe if you post directly the whole thing can be
posted.
Becoming a Vegetarian…
When I was about six years old my dad brought home the greatest gift in the
world… a 6-week old Collie that we named Clancy soon after. WOW… what a
life-changing moment. Clancy became my life that day. I made her special
meals, I took her for rides in my doll carriage, I took all the covers off
my bed to make her the most comfy and cozy bed (that soon became my bed
too).
Whenever my mom took me and my siblings anywhere, I insisted that we bring
Clancy too. And we did. Six kids and an extra-large collie (100 lbs) in tow…
and my mom was off (yea… my mom is pretty amazing). All family events
included Clancy… vacations, pool parties, daytrips, etc. Even car purchases.
When I was about 12 we had outgrown our station wagon. We had all gotten
bigger… and so had Clancy (115 lbs). My parents looked for the perfect car
for us… and finally found one. The Checker! Remember the old Boston Cab that
had an old-fashioned bubble look with bumpers made out of steel?? Well, that
was our car. Clancy took her place on the bench seat in the back, and my
siblings and I took our places on the jump seats or on the floor. Clancy
took up the whole bench seat… and not one of us minded. She came first.
Even though it’s been quite some time since Clancy left me, my mentality
towards animals hasn’t changed. Animals come first in my life. My fiancé and
I recently moved to a rural area so our flat-coated retrievers (our boys)
could have more room to play. They love it!! I’m not much of a country girl,
but it’s a small sacrifice to make to see my boys in their glory. Our boys
are considered in every choice we make. Where we live, where we go on
vacation, what jobs we take, etc. We are committed to making sure they live
wonderful lives… so, why wouldn’t they be considered in everything we do?!?!
My love and admiration for animals extends beyond my dogs. I love all
animals. My new home out here in the styx is an oasis for animals. The ducks
and Canadian geese romp around in the pond (and make babies). The deer snack
on berries. The beavers build their dams and chomp on trees. The fish swim
and enjoy an occasional treat of corn. The turtles bask in the sun. The bull
frogs sing their songs. The wild turkeys stop by to entertain my boys. And
the living goes on….
Who are we, as humans, to take away from this?
Now you know why I am a vegetarian… and moving to veganism.
Post a Comment