It was a Christmas dinner with friends. In November. It had been a tradition for a few years running; sometimes even meeting as early as October if schedules were simply too busy in the lead up to Christmas. We all took turns hosting and this time it was the lovely Marc and Maria with their warm, inviting, immaculate home. Both were in their 50’s and Marc had the wistful eyes of a perpetual dreamer; while Maria was a beautiful, bubbly soul from Portugal. Both had travelled. Both had lived a life free of children and a life full of wine. They shared a passion for good food and good friends and their cheerful banter was infectious.
A week earlier, my husband Nick and I had watched The Game Changers on Netflix and decided to do the vegan challenge for one week. The dinner party, unfortunately, fell towards the end of that week. Nick was concerned about the inconvenience of our new diet, particularly because our wonderful hostess was a passionate and skilled cook and because it was a Christmas meal; turkey was certainly going to be served. How would they react when we told them we wouldn’t be partaking? Was it rude? Would our friends disown us? Would they be frustrated? Insulted? Would they take it personally?
I decided to send a text to the group letting everyone know that we would be trying our best to eat vegan but that we didn’t want to inconvenience the hosts so I would be bringing a nut roast for myself; (Nick would more than likely still enjoy a little meat) and I would be making a vegan crumble for all. There was a little banter back and forth but general acceptance seemed to be the presiding theme and so, breathing a sigh of relief, I started preparations for the dinner.
Piling into the car (our Secret Santa gifts at the ready) we were excited for the evening that lay ahead; an opportunity to share a night of Christmas joy with eight of our favourite people. Upon arrival, it was clear that Marc and Maria had gone to every effort to make the house perfectly festive. There were elegant decorations everywhere and the table was nothing short of a masterpiece. The mouth-watering smells from the kitchen permeated the entire house and yet nothing in there was out of place. It wasn’t the first time that I was in awe of Maria’s ability to host a dinner party without a scrap of mess anywhere and I wished that some of that could rub off on me; (I am a notoriously messy cook and generally leave Nick to clean the disaster zone that is our kitchen after I have prepared a meal).
As soon as we arrived and exchanged pleasantries, the comments and questions began: ‘Ah the vegans are here!’ ‘So why are you vegan?’ ‘If you care about the planet so much are you going to stop taking holidays overseas?’ ‘It’s not healthy to not eat meat, we need it to survive.’ ‘If you’re vegan why do you have a leather bag?’ And so on, and so forth.
Ah, to know then what I know now. I guess I expected there to be questions, but the sheer volume really surprised me. I didn’t have the answers to everything; I told our dear friends that we had watched a documentary that was about the health benefits of a plant-based diet and therefore felt compelled to try it. This coupled with my desire to not harm the planet (and yes, animal agriculture is the number one leading cause of greenhouse gases, trumping all worldwide travel combined) was a good enough reason for me to make this change. At this point, they generally accepted that Nick was just ‘going along for the ride’ (which was partly true, since I am the cook of the house!)
Not once did I try and convince our friends to jump on the V train. Not once did a preach about the cruelty of animal agriculture and the destructive nature of factory farming. If I didn’t have a particular answer to a question I simply encouraged them to watch The Game Changers (or a number of other documentaries) that were very informative. I also shared with them how great both Nick and I felt after just one week of eating this way and how surprisingly easy it had been. Well, I felt sure that this would put an end to the questions; we would simply all smile and move on. How very wrong I was.
As we sat down to our delicious dinner, a torrent of words were hurled at me across the table like weapons. On the surface it looked like humour, but I felt like a hunted beast; eyes seeking me out hungrily, glaring at my humble nut roast with disdain. I looked down and scrutinised my plate. Everything on there was identical to the rest of my friend’s meals except that instead of meat I had a tasty loaf of nuts smothered in vegan gravy. And yet, the absence of meat was enough to elicit such a passionate response that I was dumbfounded. Suddenly I felt like I was insulting the people I loved simply by my choice of food. It didn’t help that Nick had succumbed to a little turkey and while he jumped to my defence frequently throughout the meal, I still felt as though I was an island. An island surrounded by hungry sharks who had the taste of blood in their bellies.
On the way home in the car, we both sat in silent shock for several moments before reflecting on what had just happened. Part of growing up in Australia is accepting a fair amount of teasing and realising that this is generally a sign of affection. You develop a fairly thick skin early on in life and no one takes the mickey better than my crazy family. But that night, it felt like ‘the banter’ crossed a line. I couldn’t help feeling victimised for my food choices. Could it really be that what I had on my plate actually offended some of my friends? And if so, why?
Now, if I were to be specific at this point I would mention here that the majority of the commentary, teasing and banter hailed from some of the middle-aged males in our intimate group. In fact, the lovely hostess (who could have been insulted by our last-minute change in dietary requirements) was utterly non-plussed. For the most part, the women seemed curious and interested in our new way of eating; asking for recipes and actually trying my nut roast. My friend Mimi even admitted to being vegetarian for many years until she was corrupted by the smell of bacon (and who can really blame her for that?!)
But this entire experience made me think. I questioned why the response was so out of proportion with what I deemed acceptable. Did I blame my friends? Of course not! I knew that no matter what I ate they would love me regardless. But I did want to delve into why it elicited such a passionate and at times defensive response. Why did I feel so marginalised? Why did they care about my food choices so much? And how did my choices affect them when their food choices didn’t affect me? Since then I have come to realise that it’s a common problem the world over. ‘Coming out’ as a vegan isn’t an easy thing to do. And I think this is largely down to terminology.
Had I walked into that dinner party and said ‘I have decided to stop eating animal products because it’s been the main cause of my reflux and it’s destroying my vocal chords which in turn is preventing me from doing my job as a singer and a teacher,’ (which coincidentally turns out to be true!) I possibly would have been met with sympathy and then left alone. Instead, because I used the ‘V’ word, all hell broke loose. I think this is because of the connotations that surround veganism.
Vegan:
A strict vegetarian who consumes no food that comes from animals. Also, one who abstains from using animal products (such as leather)- The Merriam Webster Dictionary Online.
The general consensus is that vegans abstain from animal products for moral reasons and in turn when you tell someone you’re vegan what that person is actually hearing is that you are morally superior to them. Of course, this statement isn’t entirely true as many people start their vegan journey for health reasons (like my friend Rosie) or to manage serious illnesses, like my friend Sarah who has MS and has sworn that a vegan diet has helped her condition. (Since she’s one of the fittest people I know and has run marathons I would have to agree).
But for argument’s sake let’s focus on the general belief that many people are vegan for moral reasons. This, in turn, leads meat-eaters to question their ethics and their will-power. Do the majority of people like the thought of animals suffering and dying? No. Will they still enjoy a bacon sandwich that comes from a factory-farmed pig who has been forced to live inside a barn it’s whole life? Yes. And therein lies the moral dilemma. This my friend, is called cognitive dissonance and human beings are masters of it. We have the psychological intelligence to bottle feed a lamb at a petting zoo and then eat that lamb as part of our Sunday roast. The thought of killing and eating a dog utterly disgusts us but we will happily tuck into our pork sausages at a summer BBQ even though a pig is just as intelligent (arguably more so) as our pet poodle.
You might think that I’m judging the humble omnivore for succumbing to this cognitive dissonance but how can I? I was once exactly the same. I remember a couple of years ago my friend Sally recommended that I watch What the Health on Netflix and I told her ‘I’m sorry, I can’t, I’m just not ready to give up cheese.’ How many people do you know that would say the same thing? When made to sit down and discuss the facts and figures related to factory farming, climate change and the truth about how and where we get our food how many people would simply throw up their hands and say ‘I can’t talk about this, I can’t hear this, I can’t watch this because it’s just all too depressing?’
Seeing a vegan, therefore, is like coming face to face with a giant megaphone. Except that the vegan doesn’t even need to speak. The very fact that they are acting on their beliefs in what is deemed to be quite an extreme way speaks far louder than words. In doing so, it forces omnivores to in turn question their own decisions and they then find that they are face to face with an ethical conflict within themselves. Opening themselves up to the vegan discussion takes incredible courage because they know that deep down it will probably lead to feelings of guilt, which will, in turn, force them to act on these feelings and change their life. This is why I have found that the people who seem most interested and open to veganism are those who have been mulling it over for some time. Perhaps they have a friend or family member who’s vegan, or they’ve watched a lot of David Attenborough and are wondering what they can do to help the planet. Maybe they like the idea of eating more vegetables or they want to lose a bit of weight and feel healthier. These are the people who ask me for recipes and seem genuinely curious. They are teetering on the edge of a vegan lifestyle.
Then there are the others. This group of people love their steak. They love their cheese. They love the food that they have always eaten and they have no interest in giving it up. And because they represent the majority of the western population, they think they are right. Well, most of the time. Coming face to face with a vegan forces them to question their decisions, which can be incredibly uncomfortable because they have no desire to change and don’t want to be reminded that there are people out there not just living without animal products but thriving without animal products. And so to handle their discomfort, the defensiveness and the mocking begins, (hidden behind a smile). It gives them the upper ground.
But in my eyes, it’s not a battle. I have made a choice and you have made a choice. I don’t want to fight you and I certainly don’t want you to fight me. What’s the point? There is enough pain and suffering in the world without us quibbling over food! But I certainly won’t apologise for the way I choose to eat. Especially since you wouldn’t dream of apologising yourself. And let’s face it, if I’m a moral vegan shouldn’t the dead carcass on your plate otherwise known as a ribeye steak cause more offence to me than my organic broccoli does to you?
As Nick and I drove back from Christmas dinner on that cold November night, we were forever changed. We sat there in muted silence, each questioning our own behaviour and thinking back to how we had treated other vegans in the past. Vegans who we felt ‘inconvenienced us’ because they were coming for lunch and ‘what on earth will I cook?’ Vegans who told us the horrors of egg farming (yes, even ‘free-range’) and we only half listened because part of us couldn’t and wouldn’t accept a life without scrambled eggs for brunch. We told ourselves that ‘it’s too expensive to be vegan’ or ‘it’s too difficult to be vegan’ or ‘we won’t be able to eat delicious food if we’re vegan.’ All of which are excuses; narratives we weave for ourselves to make our choices easier to accept. Easier to justify. These issues may not be important to everyone but the truth is, they are important to me.
How can I preach that I want a better world; a world without suffering and pain and destruction to the planet and yet not actually do anything about it? How can I demand a change from the government and condemn the burning of the Amazon rainforest and then sit down and enjoy a steak dinner? What we realised that evening in the car is that rather than deter us, our friend’s reactions inspired us. We felt more determined than ever to stick to this change we had set in motion. Yes, we were just two people but two people can become four people and four people can become six people and before you know it, you have changed the world. Because food is power. It’s not simply about nourishment, it’s what makes us human, it’s what makes us happy; it’s a language in itself and it brings families, cultures and friends together.
So thank you, friends, for helping me realise just how important this path is to me. We may not always be walking it side by side but don’t worry, I have your back. Do you have mine?
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Great post!
I remember being on the other side of that during uni when a couple of my friends went vegetarian. As a group we would frequently have ‘rib’ nights or ‘steak’ nights where we would compete to eat the most (the joys of being 18 and forever hungry). When a friend decided to try being vegetarian it was like a massive part of our groups identity had shifted. Being young and dumb we felt compelled to tease them because we didn’t know what to do going forward. We certainly didn’t want to change so how could we keep having fun as a group in the meantime?
Since then I’ve become the vegetarian and get to feel what it’s like to be on the other side. Thankfully my friends are a lot more supportive! (They just don’t always like to share an UberEats order with me 😄)
Yes your story is indeed a common one, thanks for sharing! It’s interesting being on both sides. Food is so wrapped up in social convention that it’s often difficult to accept a change as you’re right, it forces you to question your identity as a group. But when you’re on the other side you realise how silly that is! I think we all need to talk about it more and then the prejudice will stop. But like anything it takes time. At least you don’t have to share your food! 😉