The story has been told that a piece of beef was the first solid food my little paws reached for. And up until about 10 years ago, I didn’t think a meal was complete without a big, honkin’ piece of cooked flesh. I honestly thought that in order to survive, one had to consume animal protein. That is what we have been programmed to believe. However, this is clearly a myth proliferated by ______ (fill in the blank with any industry driven by profits from meat and dairy consumption). This “myth” has been countered by science. Not a bunch of hemp-wearing, kumbaya-singing, paint-splashing, hippies. Science. In fact, the ‘protein myth’ should be referred to as the ‘protein scam’ because not only do you not need animal protein, it is unhealthy and dangerous. But this essay is not about that. I’ll leave that up to the China Study. This is about my long, ever-winding, sometimes backtracking, still-in-progress, road to veganism.
If you would have told me eight years ago that I would ever utter that previous sentence, I would have laughed at you and then snapped-into-a-Slim-Jim just to spite you. I grew up on meat in central Oklahoma in the 80’s and 90’s. Bologna, salami, hot dogs, pork chops, KFC, steak, jerky, nuggets, burgers, chili, Spam, you name it. I don’t recall hearing the word “vegetarian” until at least high school and “vegan” was just another word with the same meaning…Crazy-ass, tree-hugging, hand-holding, weirdos. You get the picture. Eating meat was “normal” and everyone else was cuckoo.
The first time I actually met (and liked) a vegetarian was my best friend in graduate school (and still to this day – Hi Leslie!). I remember interrogating her FBI-style on many occasions about this lifestyle choice. I was shocked to learn she made this decision sometime in high school (High school! The biggest decision I made in high school was what to wear on a daily basis). Leslie would entertain my litany of questions with the patience of saint. And I, being the tried and true devil’s advocate that I am, would pose every argument possible. She never budged. I never budged…or so I thought.
With all of my questions and all of her answers, it was a question she asked me that started turning the wheels in my meat-loving brain. “What about Connley?” she asked. Connley, you should know, is my family’s golden retriever. He’s pretty much the most amazing creature on earth. While he doesn’t have the equivalent of a primate insula or prefrontal cortex, I swear he has the ability to process emotion and possesses interoceptive awareness (but that’s all beyond the scope of this essay). What about Connley? Hmmm. Now that was a humdinger. How could I love him so much and anthropomorphize his every act and not do the same for all animals? How entirely different is a canine from a primate from a bovine and so on? Yes, I know the phylogenetic differences, but really…What difference do a few sub-branches make? Well, this was a mental pickle I wasn’t ready to examine. Not just yet. And so the interrogation sessions stopped, and life went on.
The first time I actually met (and liked) a vegetarian was my best friend in graduate school (and still to this day – Hi Leslie!). I remember interrogating her FBI-style on many occasions about this lifestyle choice. I was shocked to learn she made this decision sometime in high school (High school! The biggest decision I made in high school was what to wear on a daily basis). Leslie would entertain my litany of questions with the patience of saint. And I, being the tried and true devil’s advocate that I am, would pose every argument possible. She never budged. I never budged…or so I thought.
With all of my questions and all of her answers, it was a question she asked me that started turning the wheels in my meat-loving brain. “What about Connley?” she asked. Connley, you should know, is my family’s golden retriever. He’s pretty much the most amazing creature on earth. While he doesn’t have the equivalent of a primate insula or prefrontal cortex, I swear he has the ability to process emotion and possesses interoceptive awareness (but that’s all beyond the scope of this essay). What about Connley? Hmmm. Now that was a humdinger. How could I love him so much and anthropomorphize his every act and not do the same for all animals? How entirely different is a canine from a primate from a bovine and so on? Yes, I know the phylogenetic differences, but really…What difference do a few sub-branches make? Well, this was a mental pickle I wasn’t ready to examine. Not just yet. And so the interrogation sessions stopped, and life went on.
Back in that first year of graduate school, I spent a lot of time driving back and forth from Kansas to Oklahoma on good ol’ I-35, a.k.a. the industrialized cattle drive. I would see the herds on the side of the road. See (and smell) those big rigs covered in holes and filled with cattle. I watched the calves play in the pastures on the side of the highway, swishing their tails. I watched the bulls graze and the cows drink from the ponds month after month. One day, as I passed one of the stinky 18-wheelers on I-35, I ventured to gaze into one of the holes that covered the trailer. And there it was, a big brownish-black sparkling eye. Not all too different from the chocolatey-brown eyes of Connley. I made the connection. That day I vowed to never eat beef again. And while I was at it, pigs too. I was too far gone to compartmentalize specific mammals. So that day in March of 2004 I decided to not eat mammals anymore. I didn’t tell anyone. This wasn’t a conscience choice, I just didn’t. It seemed natural and like the right thing to do so why would I bore anyone with this inane information. Or maybe I didn’t believe I would stick with it. In any case, that’s what I did.
A few months later, Leslie and I were talking and I must have referred to “not eating mammals” in the conversation; she was taken aback. “Oh yeah, I didn’t tell you?” I queried. “Yep. No more mammals, “I answered my own question. She knowingly half-smiled; best not to make a big deal of it, lest I change my mind. And so years went by. There were hard days when I really craved meat. I slipped a couple of times; always under the influence of alcohol. A bite of a medium-rare filet at a wedding. A bite of a Sonic burger at 2am. But those “slips” solidified my decision. That steak tasted like a rusty piece of iron. That burger tasted like grainy, salted, tendons. Bleck. Living in Kansas and spending a lot of time in Oklahoma was often trying… “Yes, I eat seafood and poultry…No, chickens aren’t mammals…Sorry, Mema, I can’t eat that gravy you made with beef fat…” But most of the time, it was pretty easy.
Fast forward to May 2009 when I moved to L.A. Enter Cynthia; a friend of Leslie’s that she insisted I connect with upon my move out west. Cynthia was a vision. Further, she was delightful and smart and spiritual and just lovely. And she didn’t eat animals. Or eggs. Or milk. Or cheese!!! Oh boy. Here we go again… But this time, I wasn’t so contrary. I was willing to listen to the ins-and-outs, pros-and-cons. Plus, in L.A., things were easier on the meat front. There were restaurants, full-on restaurants (not just a menu), that didn’t serve meat. Further, there were restaurants that didn’t even serve animal products whatsoever (Hi Real Food Daily!) Dairy-free ranch dressing?!?! Impossible you say? Contraire, Mon Frère. It’s true and it’s delish. But this didn’t stop me from eating regular ranch altogether. It just opened a tiny little doorway in my mind about the possibilities.
September (and the eve of my 30th birthday) brought new leanings. Birds. They’re pretty special too. Why had I neglected them? They’re cute. They have cognitions. They have social order. Fine! No more chicken, no more turkey. Ugh. And I didn’t even get to have a last farewell feast of KFC. It’s like the movie ‘Wizard of Oz’ when the curtain is lifted and the wizard is just a dumpy old man. You can never see him as the all-powerful, wonderful wizard again because you know he is just the dumpy old man. This is how it’s been for me. Once I have knowledge, information, or an emotional tie, I can’t go back. Not even to gnaw on a greasy, original recipe, bird leg for one last self-indulgent time. And down the path I went. A few months ago, shortly after Easter (and my favorite holiday food – deviled eggs), I saw the video “Meet your Meat”. There goes eggs. And kinda milk…but cheese. I’m going to put you in a little box for now. I’m going to continue justifying your consumption with vegetarian/Kosher (i.e., no animal rennet), organic cheese. For now.
See, I’m not perfect. Especially since I’ve continued eating seafood (ah sushi, how I love thee) all this time. That is until now. Two weeks ago I had a delicious crabcake for dinner in downtown La Jolla (where I now live). It was fantastic going down, but not-so-great coming up six hours later. Yep, I had food poisoning. Gut-wrenching, exploding, dry-heaving, food poisoning. I was sick for three days. In the midst of a cold sweat, and writhing in pain in my bed I thought, “This isn’t normal. Food shouldn’t do this to you.” I made another connection. Fish are animals too. I’ve sat on this thought for a couple of weeks. And today, another moving installation pushed that thought out from behind the curtain: the movie Earthlings (available to watch for free online). Today marks my decision to eliminate seafood and thus the last remaining animal in my culinary repertoire. 10.10.10. The official day I can call myself a vegetarian. Still dabbling in dairy…But the wheels, they are a turning. This is my road to veganism. However slow and roundabout it may be, this is my journey. What’s yours?
Danyale McCurdy, Ph.D., San Diego, CA
my favorite vegan things:
2 comments:
I can hear you subtextually thanking the gods that rum & coke isn't animal based....
Thanks for writing this.
Absolutely LOVED this story :-)
Funny, interesting, well written and honest. Good luck on your vegan journey!
x
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