Gone Vegan

"I'll never be vegan," I said. "I couldn't give up cheese. Besides, I think that's just too far."

That's how I typically responded when veganism came up in conversation. I've been a vegetarian since high school. First I quit eating veal, once I really thought about what it was. Then I gave up meat altogether. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but the idea stuck in my head after watching an episode of The Simpsons where Lisa connects a lamb with the food on her plate. My parents thought it was odd, but they told me to go ahead, as long as I was willing to cook my own food. That's when I decided that chips and salsa was a food group. 

It's been 17 years and I've never looked back. Overall, it was easy. Sometimes I'd be at a restaurant where the only options were a veggie burger or a grilled cheese sandwich, but at least there was always something. I never had trouble finding at least something to eat. My family would even buy turkey-shaped faux meat for me at Thanksgiving.

I really didn't have to think much about it. Well, other than when I traveled to the Philippines after college. Because of language and cultural barriers, it was difficult to communicate my diet to my host mom. After trying a couple times to explain it, I more or less gave up and just focused on eating the most plant-based foods I could. One day my host mom came home, after having visited with another host mom, chastising me, "Why didn't you tell me you were a vegetarian!?" I didn't mention that I'd told her many times before. I was just happy that we were finally on the same page.

That night at dinner, I finally felt relieved. And then - she served me a pork chop. With green beans on the side. Because vegetarians are people who enjoy vegetables, in addition to their meat. Who wouldn't eat meat? She watched me closely, so proud of the meal. And so, I ate a little of the pork chop. Not because I wanted to, but because I didn't want to be rude. I was the only one at the table with a pork chop. My host mom fed me better food than she served her own children, because I was the guest. That's when I determined my dinner strategy. I ate all the vegetables, and a couple small bites of the pork chop. Then I declared the meal delicious, and that I was so full. "Busog na!" I said, having learned that the only way she believed I was really full was to say it in the local dialect. Then I turned to the kids and asked them if they wanted the rest of the pork chop. Their eyes lit up, they were so excited. That's how I ate at dinner until I moved across the country to my next host family, who better understood. There I happily subsisted on rice, eggs, and veggies. 

But I never, not even once, considered being vegan. Vegetarian to me seemed normal. Vegan, to me, said "extreme". It reminded me of the kids with their vegan table in the high school cafeteria railing against the evils of Skittles because they had gelatin in them. It reminded me of the hardcore straight-edge vegans who were angry and passionate, and judgmental and unforgiving. I associated veganism with PETA, an organization that, in general, I find embarrassing, tone-deaf, and attention-seeking. In college they plastered our campus with posters showing a woman's crotch, with lots of hair coming out of her bikini briefs. "Fur trim is unattractive," it declared. They seemed more interested in creating billboards featuring nude models and celebrities with the slogan "I'd rather go naked than eat meat." No matter that some of those models ate meat, or modeled fur. The PR, and the shock value, was the most important thing. I conceded that vegans had some good points, but it was like any number of good causes I agree with in theory but don't align myself with. And that's where I left it.

But. 

Last month, a friend invited me to see a documentary called Cowspiracy. While I secretly hoped it was a movie about a secret conspiracy of super-intelligent cows who run the world, I assumed it would be a film along the lines of Food, Inc., talking about the influence of the cattle industry and the ways in which our food system is really messed up. I assumed it was one of those movies that had good information for the uninitiated, but which wouldn't really tell me anything new. I was prepared to be unimpressed. 

But it got me. Because the film began by talking about climate change. Cowspiracy is framed like an expose - with the goal of revealing that the heads of major climate change nonprofits know that animal agriculture is the single biggest cause of climate change, and that they are hiding that fact and choosing to do nothing about it. I was less interested in the conspiracy part of it, and more interested in the facts. Thinking about the sheer amount of land it takes to raise the food for animals, and to graze and raise animals, and thinking about the fact more and more meat is needed to meet demand all the time, it completely makes sense that there would be massive environmental effects.

That's not to say that I wholly love the film. Kip Anderson, the filmmaker, started off the film reminding me of Michael Moore. That's not a good thing. I have very much enjoyed parts of Michael Moore's documentaries. But only part. The smugness, the sanctimoniousness of Moore always makes me feel dirty. Moore actually made me feel sorry for George W. Bush when he showed the clip of Bush being told about the World Trade Center while reading a book to children, and then Moore's voice broke in mocking him. Even the head of a country can have a moment of shock when receiving news like that. In that moment, he looked human, and I pitied him. But just for that moment. I'm getting off track here. 

I didn't realize that this was a film about going vegan. It was a bit of a sneak attack. The film starts by investigating the impact of animal agriculture on climate change, but then pivots to promoting veganism as the solution. And it worked. Several things hit home with me:

• Of course animal agriculture impacts climate change - I'm not sure why I didn't make the connection before. 
• A doctor described milk as "baby cow growth fluid," a material meant to grow baby cows into full size cows as quickly as possible. Since that's its intent, what effect does it have on our bodies? And why are we the only animal that drinks milk after adolescence? 
• One part that affected me strongly wasn't even a focal point of the film. It was something that was on screen for only a few seconds, and not even center stage. It was at a dairy operation, one that seemed to be better than the usual ones. And I saw a cow walking back out to pasture after being milk, with her udders bloody. That image wouldn't leave me alone. 
• The clincher. I've felt confident being a vegetarian, but not vegan. By being a vegetarian, I was saying no to killing animals for food, since there are thousands of other non-meat foods available to eat. If something doesn't have to die for me to eat, I like that option. If animals were mistreated during the production of eggs or dairy, I thought, that was the fault of the producer. It wasn't required to mistreat animals to get those products, so I didn't feel any responsibility for poor conditions (and yes, as I get older I see how economics forces farmers into the cheapest options, which are the factory farms, but let's leave that aside for now). Somehow, what didn't connect was that to produce eggs, you need laying hens. You don't need roosters. If each batch of chicks born are half males and half females, and you only need the females, where are the males going? Either to be meat, or to be killed immediately because they're unnecessary. Dairy cows need to have babies regularly to keep up milk production and the same goes for them - where do the male cows go? Where do the animals past their productive years go? I realized, as I sat there in the movie theater, that I couldn't divorce my beloved cheese from killing animals. It's all part of the same.

I left the film knowing I was about to go vegan. And that felt... scary. I'm not a radical. I consider myself to be a liberal, but I'm not an in-your-face kind of person. I prefer working from behind the scenes. I think it takes all kinds of people to make change. The radicals shift the center to one side or the other, making the slightly off-center folks look like the more reasonable option. It's incremental change, not a revolution, which we could debate, but I won't here. I don't like being the difficult one. In restaurants, I'd rather just order the salad instead of asking the server to go check and see if the soup has a beef broth. I prefer to fly under the radar. 

I knew veganism was going to seem extreme to a lot of my friends and family. So instead of declaring I would be vegan from this day forward, I decided to be more moderate about it. I decided to eat vegan for the month of October, and then to see how I felt. 

Vegan Mac & "Cheese"

It's nearly the end of October, and it's been an interesting month. I've tried all kinds of new recipes - some of which were delicious, a few of which didn't turn out so great. The vegan mac & "cheese" was really good - the cheesy sauce included cashews soaked overnight and blended with nutritional yeast, among other ingredients (the key is to not expect it to actually taste like cheese, but to appreciate it for what it is). Eating at home really hasn't been a problem. It's eating out that's a challenge. During the first couple days after seeing the film, I went to a work lunch at a place that had nothing on the menu that could easily be made vegan - so I caved and got a cheese-filled dish, but I couldn't enjoy it. I've been to restaurants this month who tell me there's no butter or dairy in the sauce, but when it comes I can taste it. 

I've had some pleasant surprises at restaurants that offer explicitly vegan dishes - Broad Ripple Brew Pub had breaded tofu with vegan tartar sauce - it's always the sauces I've missed, not the meat. They had so many options that sounded good that I'll have to visit them a lot. The Sinking Ship has great vegan bar food, and of course Three Carrots is all-vegan. Some things were just confusing, like Yats' vegan white chili - from what I've read, the rice that comes with has butter in it, and the bread is super buttery. So I'm still figuring some things out, but it's overall good.

Veggie Pot Pie

People ask me if I feel any different after eating vegan for a month, and my answer is no. They seem surprised. They assumed I would feel better. My hope was simply to feel the same, and not worse. I didn't go vegan for health reasons. Vegan doesn't equal healthy. There are plenty of unhealthy foods that are vegan (oh Oreos, I'm so glad you're still my friend). It's harder to eat fresh fruits and veggies than stuff that's already prepared and packaged, and I'll admit that this month I didn't eat as many fresh foods as I wanted. But I still ate well. I've been training for my first marathon, and I still feel good, and healthy, without meat, dairy, or eggs. 

 I've noticed friends sometimes get defensive when I mention, quietly, that I'm eating vegan. It's like they're bracing for an attack, like they assume I'm judging them for not eating like me. I'm not. I wasn't eating like me even last month. I don't assume I know what's best for other people, and I don't stare at their plates thinking angry thoughts because they don't look like mine. If people want to talk about it, I'm open to it, as long as they're not going to try to argue me into submission. But really I'd rather talk about the last episode of Nashville, or Katniss dating the Coldplay guy.

Chocolate Chip Cookies!

I'm planning a vegetarian and vegan-friendly Thanksgiving meal with friends, and I'm really looking forward to it. I feel good about eating vegan, and I love trying out new foods and new recipes. So I'm sticking with it. I'm happy with the choice. I feel pretty darn healthy, and I just feel good about it. And I'm happy to make you some (vegan) chocolate chip cookies. Trust me, they're delicious.