By Meg Chu, Staff Writer, Emerson College
The day I told my parents, I was terrified. What would they say? Would they judge me for it? Would they try to convince me I was wrong? I was sixteen years old, sitting in my dorm room at boarding school, when I finally mustered up enough courage to make the call and confess to my parents the truth I’d been hiding from them.
“Hello? Meg? What’s up?”
I gulped and took a deep breath. “Mom, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you and Dad.”
“Yes?”
“Mom, I’m… vegan.”
There was a little gasp at the other end of the line.
“Oh, my,” my mother whispered. “But… why?”
In the beginning of my junior year of high school, I made the decision to adhere to a strict vegan diet. No whey, no honey, no Guinness beer, no Tropicana omega-3 enriched orange juice. None of that. It was all being cut out of my diet entirely.
I didn’t make the choice based on ethical reasons – I love animals, but I also love my Doc Martens. My choice was entirely because of stomach problems I’d developed – food just wasn’t sitting well with me anymore, and I was developing lactose intolerance, which seems to run on my father’s side of the family. I’m perfectly happy with my decision – I feel healthier, I have more energy, and I haven’t had a stomachache since I made the dietary switch. But there’s one thing that makes me feel absolutely horrible about my veganism: the judgment I receive from non-vegans.
Omnivores make me feel as if my veganism is something to be ashamed of. I am reluctant to tell people I am vegan, and whenever I am in a situation in which I am forced to explain why I won’t eat something, I feel as if telling them I’m a vegan is a confession, like it’s a big secret that I have to keep hidden for fear of the way people will interpret it. I shy away from “preachy vegans” eager to thrust veganism down the throats of meat-and-cheese-eaters, not because I disagree with their beliefs, but because I am afraid of being associated with them. I don’t want to preach to anybody. I don’t want to feel like I’m wearing a Post-It stuck to my forehead that has “VEGAN” written on it in huge letters. I just want to eat my goddamn tofu in peace.
Why are people so judgmental of vegans? What’s wrong with being a vegan? Despite the hours I’ve spent pondering over this while sipping on soy lattes and snacking on raw almonds, I still can’t seem to come to a conclusion.
After I tell people I’m vegan, I am almost always immediately asked to justify my own veganism. But then when I try to explain why I eat vegan, the people who asked for the explanation interrupt me, automatically accusing me of trying to convince them that veganism is the only morally correct way of life.
Some people try to talk me out of it, saying things such as, “God gave humans canine teeth for a reason – to eat meat.” God also gave humans an appendix and a tailbone, but we don’t exactly need those anymore, do we? God gave men nipples, and what the fuck was the point of that?
Part of me wants to blame the aforementioned preachy vegans for the stigma attached to veganism as a whole. Sometimes, I think, God damn those loud, opinionated, righteous, animal-loving motherfuckers! Damn them! But why should I blame them for advocating for something they believe in? They’re just trying to educate people about a cause and make the world a better place. Who am I to argue with that?
At last, I have decided to blame the omnivores. They are the ones stereotyping vegans; they are the ones who jump to conclusions. They are the ones who over-generalize, accusing all vegans of trying to belittle them for eating grilled cheese and ice cream. Not all vegans consider themselves to be strolling on moral high ground. Not all of us are going to force-feed people sautéed kale and try to convince them that veganism is the almighty force that will save the world. Some of us are just trying to avoid spending half an hour clutching porcelain after drinking an eight-ounce glass of milk.
I don’t shame people for being omnivores. I don’t shame people for being vegetarians. I don’t shame people for being pescatarians. Ovatarian, gluten-free, raw vegan, freegan, fruitarian, paleo – I don’t care what you eat, as long as you’re not Hannibal Lecter. There is an entire spectrum of dietary preferences. No one should have to subscribe to an omnivorous diet, nor should any type of diet be considered better than another. As long as people are making informed personal choices that reflect their own preferences, why should they be looked down upon? It is absolutely ridiculous that I should feel ashamed to admit I don’t eat meat and animal by-products. I don’t want to feel as if I have to hide that part of me from other people so that no one judges me negatively. I may not want to wear that Post-It note reading “VEGAN,” but I shouldn’t be afraid to wear it.
Vegan-haters, let’s make a deal. I won’t judge if you won’t judge. I won’t preach if you won’t preach.
But still, you should really try getting into kale. Just saying.
Image: Asianfoodgrocer.com
Meg Chu is a freshman WLP major from New York. She was born on the day the Metropolitan Museum of Art closed its Origins of Impressionism exhibit, and she enjoys wearing a variation of black and dark grey. In her spare time, she likes running, reading, eating tofu, and complaining about things on the Internet.
The day I told my parents, I was terrified. What would they say? Would they judge me for it? Would they try to convince me I was wrong? I was sixteen years old, sitting in my dorm room at boarding school, when I finally mustered up enough courage to make the call and confess to my parents the truth I’d been hiding from them.
“Hello? Meg? What’s up?”
I gulped and took a deep breath. “Mom, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you and Dad.”
“Yes?”
“Mom, I’m… vegan.”
There was a little gasp at the other end of the line.
“Oh, my,” my mother whispered. “But… why?”
In the beginning of my junior year of high school, I made the decision to adhere to a strict vegan diet. No whey, no honey, no Guinness beer, no Tropicana omega-3 enriched orange juice. None of that. It was all being cut out of my diet entirely.
I didn’t make the choice based on ethical reasons – I love animals, but I also love my Doc Martens. My choice was entirely because of stomach problems I’d developed – food just wasn’t sitting well with me anymore, and I was developing lactose intolerance, which seems to run on my father’s side of the family. I’m perfectly happy with my decision – I feel healthier, I have more energy, and I haven’t had a stomachache since I made the dietary switch. But there’s one thing that makes me feel absolutely horrible about my veganism: the judgment I receive from non-vegans.
Omnivores make me feel as if my veganism is something to be ashamed of. I am reluctant to tell people I am vegan, and whenever I am in a situation in which I am forced to explain why I won’t eat something, I feel as if telling them I’m a vegan is a confession, like it’s a big secret that I have to keep hidden for fear of the way people will interpret it. I shy away from “preachy vegans” eager to thrust veganism down the throats of meat-and-cheese-eaters, not because I disagree with their beliefs, but because I am afraid of being associated with them. I don’t want to preach to anybody. I don’t want to feel like I’m wearing a Post-It stuck to my forehead that has “VEGAN” written on it in huge letters. I just want to eat my goddamn tofu in peace.
Why are people so judgmental of vegans? What’s wrong with being a vegan? Despite the hours I’ve spent pondering over this while sipping on soy lattes and snacking on raw almonds, I still can’t seem to come to a conclusion.
After I tell people I’m vegan, I am almost always immediately asked to justify my own veganism. But then when I try to explain why I eat vegan, the people who asked for the explanation interrupt me, automatically accusing me of trying to convince them that veganism is the only morally correct way of life.
Some people try to talk me out of it, saying things such as, “God gave humans canine teeth for a reason – to eat meat.” God also gave humans an appendix and a tailbone, but we don’t exactly need those anymore, do we? God gave men nipples, and what the fuck was the point of that?
Part of me wants to blame the aforementioned preachy vegans for the stigma attached to veganism as a whole. Sometimes, I think, God damn those loud, opinionated, righteous, animal-loving motherfuckers! Damn them! But why should I blame them for advocating for something they believe in? They’re just trying to educate people about a cause and make the world a better place. Who am I to argue with that?
At last, I have decided to blame the omnivores. They are the ones stereotyping vegans; they are the ones who jump to conclusions. They are the ones who over-generalize, accusing all vegans of trying to belittle them for eating grilled cheese and ice cream. Not all vegans consider themselves to be strolling on moral high ground. Not all of us are going to force-feed people sautéed kale and try to convince them that veganism is the almighty force that will save the world. Some of us are just trying to avoid spending half an hour clutching porcelain after drinking an eight-ounce glass of milk.
I don’t shame people for being omnivores. I don’t shame people for being vegetarians. I don’t shame people for being pescatarians. Ovatarian, gluten-free, raw vegan, freegan, fruitarian, paleo – I don’t care what you eat, as long as you’re not Hannibal Lecter. There is an entire spectrum of dietary preferences. No one should have to subscribe to an omnivorous diet, nor should any type of diet be considered better than another. As long as people are making informed personal choices that reflect their own preferences, why should they be looked down upon? It is absolutely ridiculous that I should feel ashamed to admit I don’t eat meat and animal by-products. I don’t want to feel as if I have to hide that part of me from other people so that no one judges me negatively. I may not want to wear that Post-It note reading “VEGAN,” but I shouldn’t be afraid to wear it.
Vegan-haters, let’s make a deal. I won’t judge if you won’t judge. I won’t preach if you won’t preach.
But still, you should really try getting into kale. Just saying.
Image: Asianfoodgrocer.com
Meg Chu is a freshman WLP major from New York. She was born on the day the Metropolitan Museum of Art closed its Origins of Impressionism exhibit, and she enjoys wearing a variation of black and dark grey. In her spare time, she likes running, reading, eating tofu, and complaining about things on the Internet.