Why IS meat mean?

Nothing like a cold snap to get a girl writing!  Here we go.

Something weird happened yesterday.  Maybe troubling is the word for it.  As I perused the Facebook sphere of silly, political, annoying, ranting and quiz-taking I came upon this:


A friend of mine had liked and commented on this.  I read it and read her comment and then made the mistake of reading other comments.  They were all by carnivores and all quite cruel.

Then I commented privately in a message to her, trying to be kind of funny but also to let her know I saw it.  Saying, I saw you dissing the vegans, tsk tsk.  She came back really hard at me.  I won’t say everything she said here…no I will!  It’s my blog, damnit!  Here was her reply:

“I don’t believe that eating meat is bad.  I don’t believe that its bad to kill game for food.  I also do not believe in killing game to just waste.  If you kill it, be responsible and harvest it.  Its your choice if you don’t want to eat it.  But for people to tell me I am destroying animal life and my life by eating it…is hilarious to me.”

Who tells you that?  Who?  Other vegans?  I have to say, I don’t walk around telling people that.  The vegans I know don’t walk around telling people that either.  We are sort of shy about it at times.  We wear it close to our hearts.  It is important, for us.  We get it is not important to you.

We cringe at every potluck, every invite to a sit-down meal.  We struggle to find something you might like that we like to eat.  Because you won’t like it, you rarely ever do.  We go hungry sometimes and don’t complain about it.  We watch you eat dessert and have none.  Because it means something to us.

To be honest, I could care less if a vegan or non-vegan live longer.  I don’t do this for my physical health.  In fact if you told me being a vegan would take years OFF my life, I still would be a vegan.  So why?

I am a vegan because I love animals.  I see no difference in a cat or dog’s eye than I do in a cow or goat’s.  I feel sadness in thinking of the loss of life, the struggle of living in a pen or a tiny cage in a hopeless place that smells of death to be killed among many.  Never having been thanked for the gift of your life.  For you having to be made pregnant so you will produce milk that someone else takes, not your calf, but some rank ugly human, who kicks you if you balk or yells at you when you are too old and stressed to produce and then you just die.  Having been pregnant and then breastfeeding two babies myself, I can imagine how that would feel.  I would hope for death.

I don’t know why you don’t care.  But I do.   I don’t know why you have to be so very mean about it.  I don’t judge what you do.  I live with a man who is a carnivore almost exclusively and my two wees are omnivores.  I don’t think other people have to do what I do. I choose to live this way, not to rub it in your face or tell you you are bad or live longer than you.  I do it because I feel lighter.  I feel I have walked a good walk in doing no harm.  I do it because of the love I have not just for my own cats but all the beasts I see.

So here it is.  Why make fun of someone who is different?  I am vegan not to hurt you or insult you.  I am vegan not to outlive you or best you.  In fact, my choice is not about you at all.  So why the anger?  Why the hate?  If you don’t like me simply because I am a vegan, then just maybe I don’t like you either.  Not because you eat meat.  Because you are mean.

We had some additional words and left things in a good way.  I still don’t understand the hilarity of this sign.  I am glad I am a vegan and if you don’t want to invite me anywhere, particularly anywhere dangerous then so be it.  But I won’t be crying into my cup.

Oh and the kicker?  In looking up the sign for the above picture, I found this article where in fact this “quote” was an original joke told by a vegan.  Stolen by a meat shop.  Oh the irony…


2 thoughts on “Why IS meat mean?

  1. Oh sweetie! I’m sorry for the hurt and I know just how you feel having been there many times myself and for many reasons: sometimes it was about food, sometimes it was my ethnicity, sometimes it was what I wore or didn’t wear or how many children there were in my family or how short I am or …

    Mostly I just think it’s the age old “if-I-knock-you-down-I’ll-be-taller syndrome.” It is hard when it’s happening and I’m sending you a big hug by way of antidote to the poisoned feeling meaness can leave behind. But I also want to say that I love how you handled it. Good job! You plant your feet a little wider, you bend your knees to help you keep your balance … you’re not a target. My brother used to always be able to think of something funny to say back. I wasn’t as good at it. When I was little I used to hit people. I try not to do that anymore.

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