Vegan freak

Sometimes I feel like a bit of a freak.  Those who know me closely and personally may find this highly unlikely.  My quiet-mannered, middle class, social worker, classically dressed self does not, by any means, convey the idea of a "freak".  But I do, on occasion.  When I started identifying as a feminist in my 20s, I began feeling that sense of otherness.  I was the one who looked too deeply into things, the one who took an issue to the perceived extreme, the one who wouldn't laugh at the beaten wife joke that was just told . . . the one who often received eye rolls or beaten wife jokes told in front of me because of how strongly I felt about the topic.  It did bother me to some degree--but not enough.  Not enough to keep me from going to Washington, DC to march for choice and not enough to keep me from wearing my "This is What a Feminist Looks Like" t-shirt.  Nonetheless, it was tiring.  Because I cared, and cared deeply, about the rights and respect of people, I got eye rolls and smirks and condescending pats on the head when some misogynistic story or joke was being told.  

Now I have a new addition to my freak flag: not just a feminist, but a feminist vegan.  Gasp!  Super freaky radical animal and people-loving woman!  I'm just starting to get used to this identity, and some of the freak flag discomfort it can provoke.  Everyone knows the sensitive tension that fills the debate between omnivore and herbivore lifestyles, and this is not something I looked forward to encountering when I decided to become a vegan, even if I could now say that I understand and have experienced both sides.  I was tired of always defending my social and political points of view to those who thought I was ridiculous, and here was yet another issue that would likely put me in that position.  I've read estimates that approximately 1 percent of the population identify as vegan; that leaves lots of people who have differing viewpoints on animals and food than I do, which means lots of opportunities for debate.  I thought I was really going to be in for it. 

Thankfully, thus far, most people in my personal circle have been either fully or mildly supportive of my veganism, or just indifferent and disinterested.  I haven't even really (yet) faced the interrogation that so many fellow veggies describe.  I actually wouldn't mind a respectful conversation about living and eating as a vegan, as it offers an opportunity to share what I've discovered and learned over the past several months.  I'd love someone to ask how I get protein in my diet so I can tell him/her that getting protein, calcium, and iron without animal products can be done and done extraordinarily well!  But I am also content with loved ones merely accepting, and respecting, my decision, even if they are not curious about the lifestyle.   

While I have been lucky, the debate about vegetarianism and veganism continues to exist (prominently) online and in others' social circles. Strong, even extreme, opinions and stances can prompt participants on each side to declare their rightness (or righteousness) and the other's wrongs.  Former President Bill Clinton made the news rounds last week after openly discussing his commitment to a plant-based, vegan diet.  The story filled my Facebook feed by vegan and vegetarian groups and blogs, but it was also posted by credible news sources like NPR.  The cheeseburger loving President going all out vegan was, apparently, a pretty big story.  Curious of the general public's responses, I browsed through the comments under NPR's post.  It didn't take long for me to burst with exasperation, "What is wrong with people??"  Intermingled with the expected, yet still distasteful, Monica and sexual relations jokes were brazen comments by both sides of the debate.  One vegan directly expressed disappointment that President Clinton was "selfish" because it was his health, not ethics, that brought him to change his diet.  Others supported the idea that changing to a vegan diet for ethical stances about animal welfare would somehow have been more praise-worthy and noble than the motivation to take control of ones health.  These made me cringe.  On the other end of the spectrum, self-professed carnivores and omnivores made jokes about killing animals, eating animals, and others attempted to completely discredit and disrespect veganism as a diet and lifestyle choice, declaring it unnatural, unhealthy, and overzealous.  The thread turned raucous.  Some comments were filled with logic, reason, and a call for respect; others, many even, were pure emotional lashing out, full of defensiveness.  I shook my head as I read.  Closing my laptop halfway through, I sat and wondered how issues can be viewed in such black and white terms.

The nastiness becomes most obvious in social media outlets like this, when courage and bravery to be just plain rude and disrespectful can be the norm.  But the debate, or discussion, also occurs plenty outside that perceived safety of a Facebook profile.  Workplace offices, family kitchens and dining room tables, college lecture halls . . . all can prompt examination and announcements of our food choices, and how and why they came to be.  Each time a person declares his or her vegetarianism or veganism, in whatever brazen or quiet fashion, others often feel the need to explain their own food choices, why they make those choices, and why they could not become a vegetarian, as though an explanation, or defense, is necessary.  I say this because I used to do it.  I could never give up the occasional cheeseburger...I can't live without chicken and turkey...I can't imagine my life without cheese and ice cream.  With each step toward a plants-based diet, I still hung on to some animal product that I swore there was just no way I could live without.  And while there are those vegetarians and vegans who may respond to these explanations with (I would say extreme) proclamations that meat is murder or anyone who eats meat is morally abhorrent or that a meat-based diet will kill you, I would say that the vast majority do not.  I don't remember once being made to feel guilty for my eating habits by vegetarian friends or even challenged by them.  Not once.  Any reactive guilt came, simply, from myself.

I hope to follow in these friends' footsteps by respecting and accepting the choices of those who eat meat, even if I may not agree with them.  I honestly don't feel I have any right to judge those who do eat meat and dairy products and eggs, because I ate them myself for more than 31 years.  At any point before last October, I could have asked my veggie friends more about their choices and why they made them, but I chose not to, year after year.  I simply didn't want to know.  I didn't actively seek out information about factory farming or the dairy industry.  It was much more comfortable not to.  While I absolutely wish I had taken the initiative to seek the education sooner, I recognize that diet and lifestyle is an individual decision and choice, and as such, people must figure it out for themselves.  That doesn't mean I won't enthusiastically discuss all the yummy ways I manage to get plenty of protein and lots of green vegetables in my diet or how it is possible to have this lifestyle and be happy and healthy.  Or that I won't proudly wave my vegan freak flag when the moment is appropriate.  But I won't push or expect you to fly that flag with me.         

How have people responded to you since becoming a vegetarian or vegan?  How do you see the debate between those who eat meat and those who don't?