Proud to be a Vegan

I am one of those types of people, the vegans. That means I don’t eat meat, fish, dairy, or eggs; don’t buy anything with leather (or wool, if I can help it); and get very little enjoyment from a day trip to the zoo.

There are quite a few of us now (1 in 400 in the UK and about 1 in 100 in the US), and we have managed to sustain ourselves with the protein of tofu and carrot sticks dipped in hummus for a thousands of years of peaceful existence. We have our reasons for choosing to make life a little more difficult for ourselves, such as worrying about the environmental impact of farming animals, or wanting to lose some weight and pile on the muscle with stacks of celery.

The vegans are coming. Look busy.

The strongest reason, however, and the reason I do it, is ethical: I don’t think there is really any difference between the exploitation of humans (generally considered wrong, one assumes) and the production and consumption of animals for the same reason, so why is it still not thought of as this?

The most common question people ask me, and I’m pretty certain some of you are thinking of doing the same thing, is ‘BUT WHAT ABOUT BACON IT IS JUST SO BLOODY TASTY?!’ But that doesn’t really come into it. I get far more enjoyment knowing that nothing has been killed for my breakfast than if I have a bit of salty meat in my mouth – Innuendo not intended. What bothers me more is why more people don’t think the same way.

Morals? Nah, not for me.

Although I have been vegan for less than a year, it has left its mark on who I am. My friends know me as the vegan one (with the accompanying superpowers as a given) and my relatives send me articles on vegan-inspired dietary fads. Both of those are great, everyone needs an identity and this is mine. The vast majority of people are very accommodating with extensive salad provision, for which I am grateful.

Some, however, treat me as if I were some religious devotee, and need all my food prepared in a separate room with a filter to keep tiny milk particles out of the air. Honestly, I don’t give a flying fuck if there is a gram of cheese stuck to the knife from the last time you used it, as long as you didn’t choose that knife to spite me.

Embrace the broccoli

The reason I do it is because I know that if I drank a couple of pints of fish bladder filled Guinness (look it up, it’s true) at the pub then I would go to bed feeling responsible for getting a bit pissed off of the death of a little mackerel. So I look up what beer is made without egg filtration, and drink those. It’s really not that much effort for a lighter conscience.

As yet, none of the great carnivorous philosophers throughout the whole of human history have been able to come up with anything near a good justification for eating meat. They continue through their lives blocking out that voice that says ‘look here you, this is wrong’ because they want to order a full English without having to haggle with the waitress to swap the fried egg for some more toast or hash browns. If you can come up with a good argument for it being okay to eat meat, then the world should, quite frankly, hear it. So speak up all you carnivores, if ye dare.

Get the vegan look.

If you aren’t vegan yourself, I won’t think less of you for it. It would just be nice if you were, that’s all. Not for me, but for the dead pig in your sandwich.