Living Among
Meat Eaters

SELECTED TITLES IN THE BLOOMSBURY REVELATIONS SERIES

Neither Man nor Beast, Carol J. Adams

The Sexual Politics of Meat, Carol J. Adams

Aesthetic Theory, Theodor W. Adorno

Being and Event, Alain Badiou

The Language of Fashion, Roland Barthes

The Intelligence of Evil, Jean Baudrillard

Key Writings, Henri Bergson

Brecht on Performance, Bertolt Brecht

Brecht on Theatre, Bertolt Brecht

The Shifting Point, Peter Brook

The Essence of Truth, Martin Heidegger

Impro, Keith Johnstone

Jihad, Gilles Kepel

Rhythmanalysis, Henri Lefebvre

Time for Revolution, Antonio Negri

Three Uses of the Knife, David Mamet

The Invisible Actor, Yoshi Oida and Lorna Marshall

Goering, Richard Overy

Old Mistresses, Rozsika Parker and Griselda Pollock

The Politics of Aesthetics, Jacques Rancière

The Right to Speak, Patsy Rodenburg

Course in General Linguistics, Ferdinand de Saussure

An Actor Prepares, Constantin Stanislavski

Building a Character, Constantin Stanislavski

Creating a Role, Constantin Stanislavski

My Life in Art, Constantin Stanislavski

Some titles are not available in North America.

For Douglas, Kelly, Benjamin,

and

Marianne Lee

the next generations —

may they live abundantly among vegans

Living Among
Meat Eaters

The Vegetarian and Vegan
Survival Guide

Second Edition
Carol J. Adams

The symbolism of meat-eating is never neutral.
To himself, the meat-eater seems to be eating life.
To the vegetarian, he seems to be eating death.
There is a kind of gestalt-shift between
the two positions which makes it hard to change,
and hard to raise questions on the matter
at all without becoming embattled.

—Mary Midgley

Preface to the Bloomsbury Revelations Edition

I have been living among meat eaters since that day in September 1974 when I stopped eating meat. Until then, I had no idea that I lived among meat eaters. Being one of them, I didn’t stand out. I mirrored their habits and beliefs. But, once I demurred from eating meat, I cracked the mirror that reflected the belief that it was natural, normal, and necessary to eat animals.

I never expected so many people would try to convince me I was wrong to become a vegetarian. Not just their argumentativeness, but my responses to them surprised me. I became a passionate explainer and defender of vegetarianism. No matter what they suggested, I was ready! That’s because I assumed nonvegetarians truly were interested in my reasons for giving up meat—after all, they kept asking me. I also believed that since I found the reasons for becoming a vegetarian convincing, why wouldn’t others? I thought, “If I can answer their questions, they will see why this change not only makes sense but is urgently needed, and, after listening to my arguments, they will change.”

How wrong I was! The result of these interactions wasn’t the conversion of meat eaters, but confusion, alienation, anger, and sadness on my part.

Most meat eaters who asked about my vegetarianism were not actually thankful when I answered truthfully. They really didn’t want to know why I wasn’t eating what they were eating, especially since, by the 1990s, I had also stopped eating dairy and eggs. My answers to their “whataboutisms” (what about protein? what about the homeless? etc.) resulted in me being called “relentless.” I decided it meant that I had one more answer than they had questions. But, by being labeled relentless, I didn’t have to be taken seriously.

Each time I engaged with meat eaters on their terms, they became the mover in the conversation—with their little verbal shoves pushing me slightly off center—and I became the moved. I knew I needed a different way. In 1994, I took the time to examine my mistaken assumptions. Out of this experience of searching for a better understanding of these interactions, I conceived of this book. I wanted to suggest a place to stand where those verbal shoves would land unsuccessfully and help others reverse the mover-moved momentum.

Sometimes I joke that Living Among Meat Eaters is autobiography without an “I.”

What I propose in these pages is counterintuitive. As Martin Urschel, a young German scholar told me, “The most helpful thing, to me, has been that you walk us readers through typical situations and that you show how in various situations, it’s best to be prepared but avoid engagement. . . . It has transformed the way I talk to my parents and some acquaintances: it simply works.” That’s right, in these pages you will find advice suggesting that in most cases we should not engage with meat eaters who want to discuss our decisions to be a vegetarian or vegan (and let’s just refer to this group as veg*ns from now on). I know this advice goes against our instincts. We have discovered something exciting, wonderful, revolutionary—why wouldn’t we want to share it?

Martin explained that the advice not to engage “is counter-intuitive, because of course, we want to share what we’ve learned ourselves, when we discover all the lies and manipulations around animal agriculture. So, I suppose most of us think we can just walk up to people we love and care about and make them aware of what we’ve just discovered. And then we feel pain when we realize that they do not want to actually think about it, even when they say they do.”

The pages that follow explain my reasoning for the advice to avoid engagement, while providing precise and helpful guidelines for accomplishing this. I suggest that our veg*nism causes a crisis for meat eaters. In their responses, they want to make us responsible for ending this crisis because they blame us for catalyzing it. As you will see in the following pages, I advise stepping aside. Let it be their crisis; we resolved ours already!

You might be thinking, haven’t things improved since the book first appeared? Yes, much has thankfully changed. I remember how moved I was when, in 2010, just after my father’s death, two of his caregivers arrived with vegan dishes they had prepared for me. Their kindness touched me deeply. And their ability—as nonveg*ns who had never thought about cooking vegan meals—to use the internet to find recipes and to purchase meat substitutes at a local grocery store in a small city in Western New York, suggest just a few of the changes that have occurred in the twenty-first century.

We’ve cheered as an author of a novel with feminist/animal rights themes won the Nobel Prize (Olga Tokarczuk’s Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead); we’re engaging in conversations about how Western colonization distorted the plant-focused foodways of many cultures; we’ve watched deeply affecting films like Okja and Gunda. Along with critical animal studies and ecofeminism, vegan scholarship offers amazing insights into the construction of our unequal, animal-reliant world. Veg*n culture is thriving.

As my father’s caregivers discovered, the grocery landscape has changed for many veg*ns. Local supermarkets may host dedicated places in their refrigerator section for tofu, tempeh, and vegan products such as butter, cheese, burgers, hot dogs, and plant milks. We can even check to see if a food is marked “vegan.” That’s because veg*n food culture is thriving! We’ve benefited from chefs like Amanda Cohen of Dirt Candy or Rick Landau and Kate Jacoby of Vedge and Fancy Radish crafting vegetable-based meals that allow the vegetables to sing. We celebrated when, in 2015, Superiority Burger’s vegan burger was chosen the best burger by the magazine GQ (Gentlemen’s Quarterly). Their headline proclaimed, “The Best Burger of the Year Has No Meat in It.”

You can find the recipe for that jaw-dropping burger in Brooks Headley’s Superiority Burger Cookbook. This signals another development: wonderful veg*n dishes that we can order at Dirt Candy, Vedge, Superiority Burger or countless other wonderful veg*n restaurants, can also be made at home using their accompanying recipe books. In my veg*n cookbook collection (I stopped counting at 500), I have a section for veg*n restaurant cookbooks—and it occupies several shelves.

The raw food movement educated us about using dehydrators, while teaching us how to make raw seed cheeses and crackers, raw pastas like zucchini spirals, or raw avocado cheesecakes with chopped dates and pulverized nuts mixed for crusts. I credit them for popularizing the kale salad.

Like my father’s caregivers, we can go online and find a dizzying variety of veg*n recipes, many with step-by-step photos, or videos that narrate the preparation instructions for the recipe. That’s a change from 2000. And this has allowed for a decentering of the Eurocentric approach to the dinner plate (as the English called it “meat and 2 veg”).

Adding to the plentiful Chinese, Japanese, Indian, and Thai vegan recipes that have been familiar for decades, are online offerings that help decolonize food traditions from around the world, including—from Food Empowerment Project—recipes for Vegan Mexican, Filipino, and Lao food. Books like The Korean Vegan, The Vegan Iraqi Cookbook, or Tahini & Turmeric (a Middle Eastern vegan cookbook) have been received with acclaim and joy. And many of us can order ingredients online.

Often, the impoverished ideas about what goes on a plate that prompts meat eaters to ask, “where do you get your protein,” originate because they’ve been eating a Western-oriented diet. The reclamation of the food heritage of pre-Conquest peoples, led by vegans of color is transforming food practices. Bryant Terry, author of several cookbooks including Afro-Vegan refers to “Afro diasporic food.” He writes, “for thousands of years traditional West and Central African diets were predominantly vegetarian—centered around staples like millet, rice, field peas, okra, hot peppers, and yams—and that many precolonial African diets heavily emphasized plant-based foods.” Christopher Sebastian shows how Black consumers play an important role in driving cultural trends and mass communication. New developments, especially Black-owned restaurants which have sprung up from New Jersey to Atlanta, from Baltimore to Michigan and Oakland, illustrate his thesis. He concludes, “If you want to normalize veganism, normalize Blackness.”* Worldwide, vegans of color are offering innovative and reclaimed plant-based approaches to re-arranging the plate.

Mainstream newspapers have recognized the role of Black and Brown communities in developing vegan awareness, through their coverage of vegan Soulfests, restaurants, education, and recipe development. The narrative that identified veganism as white has been unsettled, along with the whiteness narrative that accompanied colonization’s meat-centered displacement of traditional food practices.

Those mainstream newspapers also compete with each other with vegan recipes. The New York Times explains how to make vegan Yorkshire puddings, while the Washington Post provides a recipe for the best vegan mac and cheese and many newspapers cover other vegan issues (vegan travel! vegan cosmetics! vegan clothing!).

The COVID-19 pandemic accelerated the expansion of takeout practices. With the swipe of our mobile screens, the menu items of many veg*n restaurants or the veg*n foods of any restaurant become available to us.

The first edition of Living Among Meat Eaters referred to TVP as the meat analog of preference for many veg*ns at that time.* But such a reference would be unusual now because of the expanding plant-based meat possibilities. In the United States, people who rely on SNAP (supplemental nutrition assistance benefit) and food stamps can use them for plant-based protein. Some of these products, even with the food apartheid system in the United States, are found in local food stores.

Of course, “new” vegan foods appear regularly. Ever since Seventh Day Adventists were encouraged to go vegetarian in the 19th century, products have been created for this market. Now, the rise of food tech has meant that fast-food entities like Kentucky Fried Chicken, Burger King, and others offer veg*n equivalents to their signature foods. Centuries ago, the Chinese in their development of seitan anticipated this development. In the 20th century, seitan-making knowledge was passed from one Seventh Day Adventist cook to another (beautifully described in Karin Hubert Allison’s 1998 Vegetarian Compass). Now we can prepare or purchase seitan ribs, roasts, unturkeys, sausages, etc. (Allison’s elegant book, for instance, offered recipes for seitan sauerbraten and seitan roulade stuffed with mushrooms and figs.)

At-home cooks can make pulled “pork” from seitan, Royal trumpet mushrooms, or jackfruit. Jackfruit—an oxidant rich source of protein, whose texture resembles that of flesh foods—is so versatile that it can be used in “chicken” drumsticks, “tuna” salads, chili, “crab” cakes . . . Well, you get the idea. Meanwhile, deep-fried banana blossoms substitute for a dead fish in British “fish and chips.” I had my first one in London’s Soho district in November 2021, at a traditional fish and chips shop. The owner told me that during the pandemic a vegan customer ordered their chips, which his shop prepared in oil separate from the oil used for the dead fish. The owner felt he should be able to offer something more than chips to this faithful customer. He experimented with silken tofu, firm tofu, roasted eggplant, and settled on banana blossoms. That’s a change in twenty years!

Bacon can be made from mushrooms, eggplant, tofu, carrots, seitan, coconut, or chickpeas, and that chickpea water can be the basis of meringue pies, challah, quiches, macaroons, and madeleines. (If you have missed this development, aquafaba is so much fun to play with in the kitchen!) The variety of plant milks exceed what I could have imagined the first time I tried to become vegan in 1976. From macadamia nuts to hemp, almond to rice, soy to oat milks, our cups runneth over.

There’s vegan culture, and there’s vegan culture—the microbes for making cheese are now grown in a vegan environment and available to vegan fromagers. What an exciting development! First it was recipes exchanged among friends using cashews and nutritional yeast,* then it was fermentation with barley water, and now it is commercial or DIY brie, blue cheese, and smoked cheddar, among many other choices.

All these changes might make us optimistic. But don’t let your optimism set you up for disappointment. Yes, people find veg*n community online; however, some people can only find veg*n community online. Yes, “plant-based” meals are available, but the term “plant-based” no longer guarantees that something is vegan. It’s like the recent cookbooks titled But I Could Never Be Vegan, You Won’t Believe It’s Vegan, Veganize This, and Vegan Food for the Rest of Us that capture this time period: it’s all a little more familiar, but can it be trusted?

Despite widespread coverage of the role of animal agriculture in climate change—with newspaper articles, UN recommendations, think tank reports, podcasts and books telling us that the most important thing one can do to help reverse climate change is to abandon dependence on animal agriculture for food—the percentage of overall vegans in, for instance, the United States is still in the low single digits, though in the high single digits for Black Americans. Governments continue to financially support animal agriculture. And, as Simon Price (@simon_price01) tweeted, “Dear restaurants, cafes and hotels: ‘vegan option’ does NOT mean ‘normal option with things removed’. This is not the Nineties.”

That’s just it. When you are living among meat eaters, it may still feel as though it is the nineties. The positive changes over the past twenty years offer no guarantee that the nonveg*ns you love, work with, and are friends with have necessarily become more accepting about a situation in which they realize for the first—or hundredth—time that they have a choice they’ve decided not to take.

I have seen the way the anti-vegan world flexes its muscles, from lawsuits challenging the labeling of veg*n products as “meat” or “milk” or “cheese”, to immense advertising campaigns promoting meat, dairy, and eggs, to moving factory farms to China, or countries in the developing South with less regulatory oversight than the United States.

We’ve been saddened to learn of the callousness with which meat conglomerates treated their workers, allowing them to be exposed to the COVID-19 virus in their work in slaughterhouses. Yes, the in-depth coverage of their cruelty by mainstream media is important. But after learning of these practices, few meat eaters were induced to stop buying meat produced by these conglomerates.

Yes, many nonveg*ns know how to accommodate veg*ns and they do. But nonveg*ns still feel entitled to express hostility toward veg*ns. Remember the British food critic who joked about running stories about killing vegans? Or the dead beheaded squirrels that two men brandished and bit into at a London vegan market in 2019? Most responses may not be as brazen as theirs, but hostility to veg*ns continues, so much so that now there are academic studies of this hostility, and names for its—vegephobia, vegaphobia, veganphobia. A 2011 study by Matthew Cole and Karen Morgan found 74 percent of the media coverage of vegans was negative. In 2015, scholars Cara MacInnis and Gordon Hobson concluded, “Only drug addicts were evaluated [in the media] more negatively than vegetarians and vegans.”

In 2013, Richard Twine interviewed vegans in three UK cites: Manchester, Glasgow, and Lancaster. The majority reported experiencing negative reactions from friends and family. They were told they were being ridiculous, that they were going to waste away, that it was “massively extreme,” etc. Meanwhile, a 2019 ad campaign by Sweet Baby Ray’s for their barbecue sauce, promised “At Long Last: The cure for veganism.” (As though barbecue sauce can’t be used on vegan foods.)

I am happy that my book has been out in the world for the past two decades doing the work I envisioned for it. But I’m sad that it is still needed. For this new edition, I have added a chapter about living among meat eaters online, while also updating information throughout the book. I also replaced some recipes with new favorites.

We know the word “meat” once referred to all foods, as when the King James Version of the Bible, in Genesis 1:29 referred to the foods God intends for humankind as meat when those foods were seeds and fruit. We know that today there are wonderful meats made from peas, tofu, wheat protein, etc., and that they replicate the texture, shape, taste, and nutrients of meat that come from animal flesh. We who live among meat eaters know that the word “meat” when used for foods taken from dead animals hides more than it reveals. So, you might wonder why this book is still called Living Among “Meat Eaters” and why it continues to use the term “meat” when it speaks of dead animal flesh.

My friend, Martin Urschel, has a good explanation for this. He points out that

Great plant meat exists but it is not acceptable to self-described “meat eaters” - for them, “meat” means dead animals. Therefore, “meat eating” is an ideology, not just a habit or diet. Meat eating is an implicit set of ideas about what the good life must be like. That meat is “good” is taken to be self-evident by meat eaters. We plant-eaters live in a society that is still deeply committed to the ideology of meat eating, thus we live among ideologues, and this book is about the sort of strange encounters we regularly have when our very existence is taken to challenge this ideology. The word “meat” can mean many things in different contexts, but in the context of this book, it’s about animal flesh. One day, when meat eating won’t be associated with killing animals, there will hopefully no longer be a need for this book.

Readers continue to report to me how my book helped them. Some indicate that, like me, first they did it wrong. One of my readers told me how during her first year of “vegan struggle I made every social mistake and more.” She explained that she now understood those mistakes and she was at peace, “because [of] your book.”

Some readers thank me for the solace the book provides, others for the concrete advice and examples it offers. Many reported returning to it every year to review my suggestions. I have also heard from readers who urge the book on new vegans or have lent their books out so often they are falling apart. Several spoke of the pain that meat eaters caused them. A reader from Spain wrote,

After almost 30 years of being a vegetarian and less than 5 being a vegan, I have reached a point of experiencing tremendous pain, sadness and anger for being the target of constant jokes and defensive attitudes on the side of the meat eaters. It did not bother me at the beginning, but I suppose time takes its toll. It pains me that friends and family treat with such triviality the suffering of so many sentient beings which underlies my choice for a vegan lifestyle. You showed me the key in Living Among Meat Eaters and, even if I don’t know whether I’ll be able to put it into practice, it has certainly giving [given] me solace.

A vegan cheesecake business owner told me, “Your book, Living Among Meat Eaters, has preserved my sanity.” Another reader, a novelist, explained the impact of the book this way:

Living Among Meat Eaters saved my life and i mean that! I found it at a time when i was the living incarnation of Elizabeth Costello* and feeling suicidal about being part of a species that inflicts such monstrous horror on other sentient beings. Your book taught me compassion and tolerance and gave me an understanding about why people attack vegetarians and vegans and what is really going on (the hole in the conscience . . .).

During the years of writing Living Among Meat Eaters, two sons lived at home with my spouse and me—they were 7 and 12 when I started, and 12 and 17 when I finished. Now they are in their 30s. I loved those hectic years during which I wrote this book because it felt so empowering to have devised a way to respond to nonveg*ns that freed us from being trapped by their reactions. Now, twenty years later, we still live among far too many meat eaters. It is not our job to fix the mirror that cracks when we enter a room of meat eaters and fail to reflect their views back to them.

It is time for us to be the movers not the moved. Let me tell you how.

Notes

* You can follow him at the_christopher_sebastian and find his post about Black Twitter here: https://www.instagram.com/p/CE4MkflpefA/.

* TVP stands for texturized vegetable protein, made from soy flour. After the soybean oil has been extracted, cooked under pressure, extruded, and dried the result is a dense textured food that is chewy and “meatlike.” It is sold in granules, flakes, chunks, or slices. When rehydrated the granules resemble ground “beef” and the chunks have the texture and appearance of chunks of “meat.” Especially, when cooked in certain ways, it is often mistaken for meat and it can be substituted for meat, such as “hamburger,” in recipes like “sloppy joes.” TVP is an excellent source of protein and fiber, and has zero cholesterol. The initials are the registered trademark of the Archer Daniels Midland Company.

* Yeast flakes that provide a “cheesy” flavor to foods—not brewer’s yeast.

* Elizabeth Costello is one of J. M. Coetzee’s signature fictional characters, a vegetarian, who in several books, including The Lives of Animals, always raises issues about animals, and so is experienced as difficult, rude, unfriendly, and depressed.

Chapter 1
When worlds collide

We all live among meat eaters. When I was a meat eater, I never thought about this fact. Once I became a vegetarian, and then a vegan, it was inescapable. If nothing else, popular culture reminds us at every turn:

Eat low on the food chain. Barbecue a vegetarian.

—Bumper sticker in Texas

Screw vegetarians.

—Postcard from Oregon

Vegetarians Not Welcome.

—Billboard at the border to South Dakota, mid-1990s

VEGETARIANS WELCOME . . . to watch us eat steak.

—A Minnesota steak house

I didn’t fight my way to the top of the food chain to be a vegetarian!

—Bumper sticker in California

Horrifying Vegetarians Since 1980.

—Recurring ad in the New York Times for a steak house

I like animals. They’re delicious.

—Bumper sticker in New York

Because meat eaters are in our lives, we are in theirs. And then what happens? Our worlds collide.

Here are stories of collisions from veg*ns:

Just before Thanksgiving, I was having a conversation with a meat eater. When he learned I was a vegetarian he said, “So I guess you don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.”

Once I was forced to eat at a barbecue/grill/steak house. Of course, I was doubtful going in, but I consoled myself with the assumption that most such places sport a salad bar. The funniest part was a chalkboard sign at the entrance advertising that the vegetable of the day was . . . “Chicken and dumplings!!!” Yow. I knew I was in trouble at that point. Still I forged ahead, but to my dismay I found that nearly every item at the salad bar (except the iceberg lettuce) contained meat in some form or another—“for flavoring.” Oh well.

I adopted a turkey from Farm Sanctuary for Thanksgiving, and my mother and brother were trying to figure out how to get that particular bird on the Thanksgiving table to thwart my efforts.

When I explained to someone why I was a vegetarian, he said, “If we don’t kill the cows, they will die.”

Two years ago when my father died, I went back to the small town in rural southern Indiana for the funeral. The neighbors had a potluck dinner for the family after the services and there was not one dish without meat or by-product! Even the wilted lettuce salad had bacon grease. I ended up going to the local sub shop for a veggie sandwich. I was upset, but didn’t say anything since the neighbors were trying to be helpful. In the middle of cow country where all meals have meat and potatoes, people just don’t seem to realize it is possible to live without meat.

They simply don’t understand that I don’t miss meat and I’d probably drop dead if I ate it. I’m not missing out on anything. I never get the urge to go have a closet Big Mac. I get very defensive when someone gives me a knowing grin and says, “A little meat won’t hurt you, just try some, it’s really gooood.”

A woman I met recently would not eat popcorn that I offered her as she said it was part of a violent process when the chemical reactions occur to make it pop. She then turned around and ate meat for lunch.

I pointed out a comparison of [the] water required to yield one pound of beef versus one pound of vegetables to my father, a GP. He replied, “Paranoid, neurotic.”

Someone introduced me as “Paige, she’s vegan.” And the woman I was introduced to asked, “Where’s Vega?”

When we are meat eaters living among meat eaters, our world is reflected back to us, confirming our choices. When we become veg*ns, we stop being reflections; we may even be accused of breaking the mirror.

Meat eaters always ask with derision whether or not I’m associated with PETA; they think that my food looks unappetizing; one fellow likened my alfalfa sprouts to “shaving my Chia Pet.”

“What do you eat, salad?” Grrr. . . . I can’t understand why what I eat (or don’t) seems to bother people so much. I’m like a novelty at work. The vegetarian. I can’t argue my point of view without getting into an unwanted debate, trying to justify myself.

I feel like bonking people over the head sometimes when they say, “What do you eat?” especially because when I start in with my recipes for various Indian, Italian, and other dishes they quickly change the topic. They wanted the question to be rhetorical. One friend asked me this same question repeatedly, and clearly didn’t give a damn what my answer was! She seemed more bent on convincing herself that vegetarianism would be impractical than on observing the patience necessary to think about it. I almost wanted to say, “Oh, cardboard boxes and aluminum cans.”

I am sixteen and ever since I turned vegetarian four years ago, I have not gotten much support from my peers. In fact, when I told a good friend of mine, she became extremely defensive. The next day she had written the following on her backpack: “We were not put at the top of the food chain to eat vegetables.” I wasn’t terribly hurt by the comment or anything, but [by] the fact that she had been fine with all the other oddities of my character, except for this one. I was now introduced as Erika . . . “the vegetarian,” accompanied by the rolling of her eyes in a sarcastic manner. I suppose things are better than when my mother was in college and people called her a communist for her vegetarianism.

Just when we think our work is done, we discover that it has only begun: the challenge isn’t becoming a veg*n; it is being a veg*n among meat eaters.

When I was thirteen and newly vegetarian, a friend of my parents offered me tortellini salad, saying it was vegetarian. And after I had eaten it he laughed as if he had played a marvelous trick on me and told me the tortellini was filled with veal. I don’t know still if it really was. But I am still shocked that an adult could derive joy from “playing” that sort of trick on a child.

Every time I visit a friend in California, she goes through a great fuss to be sure she’s hidden all the meat. She also makes a big fuss about how difficult it is to feed me, and how worried she is that I won’t get enough to eat. She never forgets to tell me about her vegetarian aunt, who lived to be well over ninety but, supposedly, always had a lot of gas.

When I flew home from France, the airline did not get my request for a vegan meal, and all they had was chicken or steak. I explained to the flight attendant that I do not eat meat, and asked if I could have the vegan sidedishes. She was nice, but then another attendant told me that chicken was not meat, and when I said that it came from an animal, he insisted that chicken is vegetarian. He would not give me the sides unless I took the chicken, but finally the other flight attendant told him it was my choice.

Once we stop eating meat for whatever reason, the meat-eating world seems less welcoming. Plenty of books exist that tell you how to become a veg*n. This book discusses how to relate to others after you have taken that advice. This book is not about diet; it is about self-understanding and interpersonal relationships.

The problem

When my older son was in second grade, the discussion one week focused on nutrition. The children were handed a chart about the food groups provided by the American Dairy Association. One of the charts was called the “meat group.” Depicted on this page, besides various forms of meat, were images of tofu and peanut butter. The discussion about the “meat group” began.

After a while, Douglas stated that he did not eat meat.

Another child exclaimed, “But I would die if I didn’t eat meat.”

At home, Douglas described that day’s interaction. He told of the child who exclaimed, “But I would die if I didn’t eat meat.” Looking at us, confused about that boy’s ignorance, he said, “But I don’t eat meat and I’m not dead.”

This is the gestalt shift that Mary Midgley describes in the epigraph to this book: meat eaters and veg*ns see the others’ choices completely differently. We see the meat eaters’ food as death (the death of the animals especially); they see it as life-giving—they get nourishment from it. In fact, to extend Midgley’s insight: we see our decision as a choice of life (whether it is our own, healthier life, the life of the animals, or the life of the planet); meat eaters see our choice as death (if not actually death, as this second-grader feared, then the death of traditions, of pleasure as they know it, of their control over food choices).

When adults ask, “How do you survive as a veg*n?” they are asking two questions at once: “survive” meaning, (1) How do you “make do?” and (2) Can you really survive on that food? To take away meat may not mean literal death, but it implies to them the loss of everything associated with the pleasures of eating. To them, we have chosen scarcity, limitation, loss, deprivation, and they abundance, choice, enjoyment. This is the gestalt shift. More than anything else, this explains the oft-heard exclamation, “I’d die without a hamburger.”

How you live your veg*n life can become a challenge because of this conflict in meaning—we see death in their meals, they see it in ours. Attempts will be made to disempower your viewpoint. Your veg*nism is the issue, and it makes you the target.

Imagine that the gestalt shift is like the shifting of the tectonic plates when an earthquake occurs. An intense amount of energy is released; and the world is changed. Sometimes after an earthquake, we must rebuild. So, too, with the gestalt shift.

To you, your veg*nism is a natural progression in eating habits and philosophy. To nonveg*ns, it represents a profound disjunction. Most meat eaters experience it as a judgment on them as well, and get defensive. Veg*ns sigh and say to themselves, “Here we go again.”

Veg*ns’ pet peeve: Defensiveness

I asked veg*ns to send me their pet peeves about meat eaters. What a lengthy list I compiled! A recurring “peeve” was that meat eaters experience our veg*nism as a judgment on them:

“People take my culinary decisions so personally!”

“People apologizing to me for eating meat.”

“Meat eaters who ask me why I am a vegetarian and, when I tell them, accuse me of preaching, proselytizing, judging them.”

“When they make rude comments that make others laugh and are hard to recover from without being rude yourself. You feel alienated and attacked. You also feel their stupidity and are tempted to lash out at it.”

“I find that most of the time people try to disgust me by making stupid comments like ‘So you’re a vegetarian. . . . So I guess a nice piece of animal flesh is out of the question.’ I find this totally absurd and rude. What are they trying to prove? I don’t try to force my opinion on anyone, and I don’t criticize their choices, and I expect the same respect for mine.”

“I haaaaaaate when people challenge me about it, because in no way am I forcing my opinions on everyone, so why should they force theirs on me?”

“I spend twice as much time defending my diet as eating it.”

In the category of frustrating interactions, the question “How do you survive?” and its variations was a close second:

“People who ask, ‘What do you eat?’”

“The @#$%! protein myth.”

“Trying to convince my father that I’m not going to die.”

“People who think I eat fish.”

“People who ask, ‘But do you eat animal crackers?’”

Another set of pet peeves originates from the fact that we veg*ns become easy targets:

“People who blame my diet if I get ill. If I’m sick it must be because I’m a vegetarian. If I’m tired it must be because I’m a vegetarian.”

“You are afraid to give any bad impressions, because everyone you meet will tell somebody else, ‘I met a vegan once. She seemed weary and unhappy to me.’ They’ll conveniently forget that you just ran two blocks to catch a school bus that left early.”

“Being teased at many a meal.”

“When someone heard I am vegetarian, he said, ‘Oh, what about your husband. Is he normal?’”

“Being looked at as a freak or extremist.”

Meat eaters, seeing themselves as the normal ones, often throw curveballs at you, trying to bring you back into the meat-eating world:

“Having my grandmother call me long-distance from her deathbed, asking me to please eat . . . MEAT LOAF!”

“Meat eaters who try to bring me back into the fold.”

“Meat eaters who want to talk sense into me.”

“People purposefully not disclosing nonvegan food contents to get me to ‘try’ something.”

“People who try to get me to eat meat.”

Meat eaters seem clueless at times about what your life-giving foods are. Consequently, the frustrations of actually eating with meat eaters are many:

“Being told, ‘You can pick the meat off.’”

“People who don’t understand that I won’t ‘pick the meat out.’”

“Being duped about what is in the food.”

“Having someone tell me a dish does not contain meat and it does, and then they say, ‘Oh, that little bit of meat doesn’t matter.’”

“My family insists on calling Gardenburgers ‘Stinkyburgers.’”

“People who say about a restaurant, ‘Oh, it’s okay. They have a salad bar.’”

“When the table is full of people and I’m asked in front of everyone why I don’t eat meat.”

“Relatives who bring foods like Kentucky Fried Chicken when I invite them over for a meal.”

Little things and daily frustrations often remind us of the conflict in meaning that organizes our world. The world is structured for meat eaters:

“There’s a ‘meat’ compartment in every refrigerator.”

“It’s not easy to find a vegan friend.”

Meat eaters can be so tiresome with their poking, prodding, and joking. The frequency with which veg*ns are made the butt of jokes has become sadly predictable. The popular joke, “How do you know someone is a vegan?” with its answer, “They’ll tell you,” implies we are the tiresome ones. If we dare say, “then why did you ask me?” we’re seen as combative.

Finally, there is simply the olfactory problem. Many veg*ns reported that they were discomforted by “the smell of meat” and “the smell of meat eaters.”

What do these pet peeves reveal about living among meat eaters?

Many of the interactions that were reported violated trust. It is natural to expect that we can take others at their word—that they are not going to serve us meat or mislead us about meat. Yet veg*ns continually report that they cannot trust this to be so, as the person who was given veal tortellini discovered. Some meat eaters, and maybe it’s just a few—but veg*ns all around the world keep encountering those few!—are willing to lie and dissemble to ensure that what you eat is the same as what they eat.

These pet peeves also tell us that many meat eaters don’t listen to you. You define veg*nism, and yet they offer you flesh from a dead fish. You say you are happy and yet you are encouraged to try something “just this time.”

Additionally, these interactions reveal the rigidity of some meat eaters. They cannot welcome change. Even from a deathbed, a grandmother reaches out in concern about veg*ns. At a more mundane level, we experience this rigidity when we are asked, “What will it do to our holiday festivities?” or, even more profoundly, it is assumed we can’t celebrate certain holidays without having a dead animal present.

These pet peeves also tell us that there is something more going on than simply repetitive interpersonal reactions. They reveal that meat eaters feel that your change is about them. They read themselves into your choices.

For, in fact, becoming a veg*n often reveals more about your friends, family, and society at large, than it does about yourself. Why? You changed. They didn’t.

Now I know that some veg*ns have not experienced these frustrations and that some meat eaters are always gracious, loving, and accepting of another’s veg*nism. Great. No problem. For those who do not experience the dramas revealed in the list of pet peeves, I say, “Hurrah!” This book was written for those not so lucky: those who have stopped eating meat or wish to stop eating meat, and live among difficult meat eaters. I know that both groups—frustrated veg*ns and frustrating meat eaters—exist. Ever since the publication of my book The Sexual Politics of Meat, I have been hearing from them. A few years ago, I invited veg*ns to write to me specifically about their experiences living among meat eaters. I was surprised, and saddened, by the answers, often poignant, to one specific question: “What was your best experience interacting with meat eaters?”

Three responses recurred. The first one was “I have had no good experiences with meat eaters.” Many of them reported on exhausting discussions that became debates. Repeatedly I was told:

“I have no tales of inspiration.”

“I don’t know of any.”

“I have yet to have an amusing/inspiring incident happen with a tableful of meat eaters.”

“I’m scared to eat with friends sometimes.”

The second response revealed that, for many veg*ns, a good experience with meat eaters is merely the absence of criticism, not the presence of acceptance. They reported, “I call a good experience one in which I am not picked on for being a veg*n.” This is a minimal standard at best, and I discovered it being applied in various situations:

“I was on a date with a meat eater, and he didn’t ridicule me for not eating meat.”

“The most successful time I had eating with a meat eater was when I happened to be fasting.”

The third response revealed that the positive could be experienced. It centered on stories about sharing veg*n food. Repeatedly I encountered variations on this statement: “My best experiences are around the food I eat and prepare for others”:

“When they like my meal better than theirs. Mine is cheaper and healthier.”

“A meat-eating friend who calls often just to ask what I’m making for dinner.”

“Cooking a meal for meat eaters and they never missed the meat.”

“ ‘Converting’ a meat eater.”

“Getting served a preordered veggie plate at an expensive wedding, and all the meat eaters were jealous of it.”

“When I finally got my father to try tofu. Granted, it did take a heart attack to get my father to start eating a more vegetarian-based diet. . . .”

This third set of responses proves a point we often forget: show, don’t tell.

Living Among Meat Eaters wants to transform your experiences from the negative to the positive. Why should you be burdened with meat eating—albeit someone else’s—when you have stopped eating meat? I want to raise our standards for interactions: a good experience is not just the absence of a bad experience. But how do we change these relationships when we often feel powerless in the face of what meat eaters are doing, both in their eating patterns and their behavior toward us?

It is easier than you think! Change your perspective. A meat eater’s reaction to a veg*n often has less to do with the veg*n and much more to do with the meat eater.

You don’t need to shoulder someone else’s burden. There is something affirmative you can do instead. You have the power to keep the worlds from colliding. All you need are some elemental navigational skills.

The answer

Simply put, the thesis of this book is that you should see every meat eater as a blocked veg*n. Despite knowing at some level that their failure to change reflects a crisis of conscience, meat eaters have decided not to change. Something is keeping them blocked, and whatever it is assumes more importance than the pull of veg*nism. This blocking force will be present in their relationships with veg*ns. Meat eaters teach us what their issues are. They are daily showing us what is blocking them.

Yes, it is hard at times to live with a decision that separates us from our friends, family, and co-workers. Even harder, though, is realizing that one does not need to be a meat eater and then failing to do anything about it. After all, meat eaters live among meat eaters, too. We may feel excluded from meals centered around meat. They face a different problem, the omnipresence of meat. Meat-centered assumptions about meals drown them in opportunities to eat meat. The words that explain our veg*nism, which to us express freedom, joy, relief, and happiness, are heard as pronouncing judgment on them for being blocked. We are happy, but we are heard as angry. They don’t want to be reminded about meat eating because it reminds them of their unfinished work.

Veg*ns remind meat eaters that they are blocked. What is blocking them are issues specific to them. Simply by being a veg*n, you will most likely trigger those issues that are blocking them. Consequently, meat eaters’ interactions with you announce the symptoms of their blockage. Meat eaters project their own uneasiness on veg*ns. If they accuse you of judging them, that is because they are judging themselves. If they sabotage you, that is because they are sabotaging themselves. By recognizing that the issues they bring to interactions with us represent their own inner conflicts—inner crises that preexist these interactions—we can respond better in terms of our own peace of mind, and also in terms of theirs. We can say to ourselves, “This person has a problem with my veg*nism. It is their problem, not mine.”

People have many explanations for eating meat; veg*ns have heard all of them. If their explanations sound hollow, it may be because they are. For some people, their predicament is not so much that they choose to eat meat as that they have chosen not to change. As a result, interactions are often really about the nature of change—or, more precisely, not changing. We are drawn into the meat eater’s drama of being blocked. And what do blocked veg*ns do? They spend more energy antagonizing, interrogating, criticizing, fearing, and belittling us than dealing with themselves. This is the best way for them to stay blocked.

A liberating approach to living among meat eaters is available to each of us: recognize them as blocked veg*ns, but relate to them as potential veg*ns. As a result, we reorient our own goals in any interaction: it is not to defend our decision but to help them remove the defensiveness encircling theirs. This means that you have to be alert to what they are keeping hidden from themselves. Relate to them on a deeper level by finding ways to keep them from setting the agenda. Their agenda is, most often, to stay blocked.

The benefits of this approach

Something happens—a confrontation, a conflict, a disturbance, an unpleasant interaction. “What just happened?” we ask. “And why?”

Often the first answer that comes to mind is “This interaction is about me. It is about my veg*nism.” We offer an explanation that focuses on us, keeping it personal, and thus take the interaction personally. “It happened because of something I did.” If we keep the explanation at the personal level, we will not understand. It is not solely because of who we are.

Or we answer the question by saying, “This happened because of the relationship I have with X. We just can’t talk about this.” If we keep the explanation at the interpersonal—“It was because of who X is and how X and I interact”—we will still not understand what just happened. This book offers a more systemic approach to understand “what just happened.” Our culture produces blocked veg*ns, and our interactions with meat eaters are a result of that. So, we say to ourselves, “This happened because our culture has caused this individual to be a blocked veg*ns.” With this systemic approach, we ourselves are removed from the equation.

A systemic approach offers several benefits. First, these interactions are not about you. So try not to take them personally or explain them by focusing on yourself. No longer situated in the realm of the personal, the interactions can be objectified. Second, this approach gives you the opportunity to be prepared. Third, an interpretative framework provides you with tools for responding. Ordinarily you experience the push and pull of these daily interactions; now you are the one who has leverage. This gives you choices among a range of responses or nonresponses. You do not have to be the one who is moved, thrown off course, by an event. Instead, you can be the mover.

I don’t assume that you want to change meat eaters into veg*ns (though many meat eaters, being blocked, project this motive on you). I do assume that you would like to move through the meat-eating world with more ease. That is what this book offers: the opportunity to gain some control over difficult situations.

For those of you who do wish to convert meat eaters—I’ve got some news. The methods we often choose to convince meat eaters of the appropriateness of our decision instead convince them that they would never want to adopt veg*nism. That is because we send nonverbal as well as verbal messages.

Several fronts exist when meat eaters and veg*ns interact. Meat eaters keep us focused on their arguments. This front is often the least important one. We have to become equipped to read social interactions. Here are the basic guidelines for doing so:

Guidelines for Living Among Meat Eaters

View meat eaters as blocked veg*ns and their reactions to you as their symptoms of being blocked. When something happens, tell yourself, “This is happening because meat eaters are blocked veg*ns. What shall I do? I have the choice to respond or not to respond.”

Be at peace with your veg*nism and help others see that you are at peace with it.

The closer the relationship (family, lover, roommate), the more likely that differences about food choices will bear the burden of many nondietary conflicts. Watch out!

Nonveg*ns are perfectly happy eating vegan meals, as long as they are unaware that they are doing so.

Living among meat eaters is a lot like living with adolescents: don’t take things personally; their outsized reactions are ways of trying to level the playing field.

Be patient. Assume everyone can become unblocked.

Viewing meat eaters as blocked veg*ns changes the nature of our responses. At times, this means we must cultivate the art of not responding. It also means that we must develop the ability to work with blocked energy. Finally, it requires recognizing that people who are blocked cannot take care of our needs; theirs overwhelm them so. Thus, it is essential for you to be prepared to take care of yourself.

On the one hand, I am saying there is a simple solution to meat eater-veg*n relationships—consider all meat eaters blocked veg*ns. On the other hand, I am saying something more: once we recognize this fact we have to acquire certain skills. Living Among Meat Eaters offers these skills. They are easy to adopt and they will immediately change the dynamics that have deprived you of the ease of living as a veg*n. They start with essential rules of thumb:

Rules of Thumb for Living Among Meat Eaters

Assume your needs will not be met in any meat-eating context—airplanes, traveling internationally, private homes, restaurants. Always have a backup plan when eating out.

Don’t let any rudeness spoil your experiences. Respond to offensive behavior courteously, according to the rules of etiquette, and move on.

You have the right not to answer questions you are asked and to stop a conversation that makes you feel uneasy.

Don’t talk about veg*nism at a meal if people are eating nonveg*n foods. Learn the art of deflecting attention.

Volunteer to bring something whenever you are invited somewhere.

Channel negative energy to the positive. The constellation of negative emotions associated with blocked meat eaters—denial, guilt, defensiveness—can dissolve in the presence of positive energy. As one vegetarian explains, “I love hearing the word ‘vegetarian’ from the lips of those who are not! They are rehearsing for the future!”

Remember that being a veg*n is an affirmation of wholeness. Bring that sense of wholeness to your interactions with meat eaters.

I know that my recommendations often seem to run counter to our desires. I am basically asking veg*ns to exhibit a moral, emotional, and spiritual maturity that is quite demanding. And yet it is as worthwhile as it is demanding. Moreover, this approach works! If what I recommend seems hard and perhaps even unfair, because I am asking veg*ns s to be the mature ones in their relationships with meat eaters, please trust me! All of that hardship is outweighed by the benefits you will acquire. You will be able to move through the meat-eating world with a sense of freedom and less conflict.

If everyone is a blocked veg*n, then what we experience in our culture and in our interactions isn’t the “meat-eating world” as much as it is immense blocked energy surrounding veg*nism. We have confused the two. Their world is hurtling toward us because of the gravitational force of our world. But they don’t need to collide.

Because of the intensity of the gravitational force, we are drawn into the meat eater’s drama of being blocked. But we don’t have to be. We do not have to feel, “Here we go again!” Instead, we can say, “I know what is going on and I know how to respond.” Often this involves simply stepping out of the way. In the pages that follow, I’ll tell you how to do so.

Chapter 2
Are you at peace?

Meat eaters want to know if you are at peace with your decision to give up meat. They won’t ask you this directly. They ask, “But don’t you miss meat?” They mean, “Are you at peace with giving up meat?”

If you are at peace, maybe they, too, could be at peace as a veg*n.

If you are not at peace, why should they try?

Are you at peace?

If you are, how do you communicate that sense of peace?

If you aren’t, what is needed to discover a sense of peace?

* * *

It has been suggested that only two main story plots exist: a journey is undertaken, or a stranger comes to town. When you stop eating animals, you are both the person who goes on a journey and the stranger who comes to town. The journey is the decision to stop eating other beings and the steps you take to change. Through this process, you become a stranger to family, friends, and co-workers, because you are no longer like them.

They want the old familiar “you” back. How they experience this new “strange” you may influence whether they themselves set out on the journey. They are watching you.

Yes, people are studying you. They want to know that veg*nism has improved our lives, not just our health. Have we shrunken in spirit because we are anxious about food? Are we more argumentative, even if it is because nonveg*ns draw us into a debate and do not want to drop the issue? If we are embittered, they think, Why bother? We are being judged by how we relate to others and to food. Has our journey made us more open, happier, relaxed, at peace, or have we returned tired, cranky, and, as with many journeys, complaining about the food we were served?

It does not matter to them that it may be difficult to be at peace living at odds with a meat-eating world, living among them. It does not matter to them that after the journey we are feeling hungry, alienated, depressed, bitter, excluded. What matters is, are you at peace with your journey? Veg*ns who are not at peace with their veg*nism represent to nonveg*ns their worst fears, not their best hopes and dreams.

Our journey

To become veg*ns, we undertook an inner journey, a journey that required unpacking rather than packing. We decided what we could live without. Could we live without eating animals? At first we might have hoped that the answer was yes; soon we knew the answer was yes. Along the way we probably discovered many aspects of ourselves that we did not know.

Any journey is disruptive of everyday life. This journey is no different. We disrupt whatever relations with our family, friends, and ethnic group that are consolidated by traditions of eating animals. You soon discover how meat eating at times mediated your relationships not only with family members but with your heritage and your family’s expectations about that heritage. People may feel personally rejected if you don’t eat meat and if you don’t participate in the local or ethnic traditions.

When we journey away from eating animals, we know where we are heading. We may be equipped with marvelous guidebooks explaining how to undertake the journey. But what do we know of the destination itself? Until it is realized, it is an idea only. We know what we are giving up—familiar tastes and the comfort of a diet shared by so many of our acquaintances and family. But we don’t know what it feels like to arrive, to be a “veg*n.” Will we miss foods we once enjoyed? How will we handle the day-to-day demands of veg*nism? Beginning our journey, we know this absolute truth: One cannot be a veg*n in imagination or desire alone. Consciousness and act must be united. A journey requires leaving home.

Facing our fears

To take our journey we had to prevail over our fears about leaving home and its comfortable familiarity. In avoiding their own journey, meat eaters have permitted these fears to have legitimacy in their lives.

People then bring their own fears to their interactions with you. If we are at peace with our decision, we can be a sign of reassurance that these fears can be dealt with. If we are not at peace with these issues, then they will have confirmed, at a nonverbal level, that their fears are legitimate.

Fears meat eaters have

Clearly, one fear meat eaters have is that they will have to forgo one of their few pleasures in life. Most people today feel very stressed and quite unhappy. Many have few things to look forward to, and these are almost always sensual pleasures. Eating animals feels like a central pleasure, a loss of which appears to be a central disaster. Take away their favorite foods, and life has that much less to offer them. Tasty food gives them one of their few reasons for putting up with life’s many unpleasant struggles. This is a major fear, but not the only one:

They fear separation, a break in relationships with friends and family, of disrupting the family or inner circle.

They fear being different and being judged for that.

They fear calling attention to themselves and becoming the center of attention.

They fear the unknown.

They may have a fear of new foods.

They fear that their appetite will not be satisfied: “I’ll miss the meat.” “I’ll be hungry.” “I won’t like the food.” “I won’t enjoy the taste of veg*n food.”

They fear that they will endanger their health rather than improve it: “I’ll get sick.” “I won’t get enough protein.”

They fear confronting a negative experience: the loss of security and enjoyment and identity of being a meat eater.

They fear losing the feeling of comfort, the comforts associated with eating meat, including a sense of being taken care of, of being a “child” in relationship to a parent.

They fear that they or their background will be judged.

They fear realizing that their culture and their parents betrayed them by telling them, “Meat is good for you.”

They fear losing their sense of humor.

They fear being mocked.

They fear becoming like veg*ns they already know.

They fear losing the power and control associated symbolically with eating meat.

They fear that they’ll lose their cynicism. They might discover they do care.

They fear that others will interact with them the same way they have treated veg*ns they know.

They fear that “my life will no longer feel abundant.”

We who have returned from the journey—changed, as journeys tend to change us—have a degree of wisdom about these fears that entrap others. Facing our fears, what we have learned is that fears don’t have to frighten us. We have found ourselves on the other side of them.

We discovered that some of those fears were simply the games the mind plays upon us as it clings to an old self, the comfort of the past, and a fixed identity. We had to acknowledge what our fears were and to examine them.

We also discovered that some of those fears were legitimate. We did feel some of the things we feared feeling. But in the process, we learned something more important: it was okay to experience those feelings. One can live without eating animals despite having these feelings. “Hello, discomfort; hello, craving; hello, awkwardness. I feared I would feel you, and I do. Here you are again. But it’s okay. This journey is more important to me than letting you limit my sense of possibility.” It takes courage to acknowledge that fear exists yet still do what one feels is necessary. Acting despite fears does not eliminate them; it just puts them in their place.

Meat eaters fear the emotional effort required by being a veg*n. When we are at peace, we communicate the ease of being a veg*n.

Meat eaters fear living with uncomfortable feelings; they fear that their desire for meat will no longer be satisfied, and this does not, to them, seem bearable. They don’t understand that homesickness is a natural part of traveling. It is okay to have that feeling of missing meat. It is okay to have the feeling of desire for meat foods. It is even okay to feel regret at times. At that time, we talk to others for support, or choose a veg*n comfort food, or write in our journal, or whatever it is we have developed as a tactic to balance those feelings with the freedom of being who we are now. We remind ourselves why we started on this journey.

What meat eaters don’t realize is that the worldview that includes veg*nism can offer the kind of joy they fear they will lose by adopting veg*nism.

We who have stopped eating animals know that there are worse things than those seemingly unbearable feelings. What would be worse for us would be to have remained at home because we feared homesickness. Then we would be living with the sense of failing our own best intentions or intuitions. Furthermore, meat eaters are living with uncomfortable feelings right now. They are simply familiar uncomfortable feelings.

What we learn when we face our fears is that fears don’t have to frighten us, immobilize us, keep us from moving. Now we have the wisdom and confidence that comes from facing our fears.

But other things may be keeping us from being at peace. Yes, meat eaters may reveal their symptoms of being blocked. But there is also the possibility that though we are unblocked, we are not symptomless. Interactions with meat eaters may trigger feelings in us. If you need to be recognized, or you need to be taken care of, and you go out to eat and there is nothing for you to eat, your neediness can be triggered. No one has acknowledged your veg*nism, and no one has taken care of you. These are needs you have regardless of whether you are a veg*n or not. But now your veg*nism triggers them. We have to be prepared to recognize our own neediness and ensure that veg*nism does not accentuate it.

Veg*nism, while enacting our best hopes for ourselves, may also arouse or raise some of our deepest insecurities. If you were uptight about food, your anxiety may now be more pronounced. If you weren’t, you may become so. If you have always had a sense of feeling left out, issues of meat eating and veg*nism in mixed company may arouse those feelings. If you already feel neglected in relationships, when meat eaters may neglect your food needs this may touch you more deeply. If you feel you aren’t listened to, this will be magnified if you try to explain your decisions about veg*nism and nobody wants to listen to you. If you are already argumentative, debates with meat eaters may become ferocious expressions. Few people really want to watch their friends’ home movies of their vacation trip. Not having it together is like showing a travelogue no one wants to see. Moreover, it reinforces meat eaters’ fears that veg*nism, regardless of its claims, really doesn’t improve people’s lives. It leaves them lessened, reduced, diminished.

The fear of scarcity

One particular fear circles around many an interaction between meat eaters and veg*ns.

“What do you eat?”

“What’s left to eat?”

“So, do you only eat plants?”

“Where do you get your protein?”

“I just never feel full when eating a veg*n meal.”

Or, as one man in Austin, Texas, yelled out his car window at activists for a vegan Thanksgiving: “What do you want us to eat, vegetables?”

Meaning: “How can you accept diminishment of food choices?”

Meaning: “Are you at peace eating just those few foods? Because I certainly wouldn’t be! I want to feel abundance in my life! How can your life be abundant?”

Their question is not really “Can it be done?” but “Will it diminish my life?”

The epigraph to this book identified a gestalt shift: we see death; they see life. Conversely, we see life in our plant-based orientation; they see death—the death of pleasure and enjoyment. They see deprivation and scarcity where we see abundance. We answer their questions about what we eat by declaring, “There is plenty of good food for us to eat!”

But, often, in interacting with meat eaters, they encounter us in places where that assertion is clearly not true. We might be at a restaurant (that they picked!) and nothing is available for us. Whatever the situation, the emotional tension around food—needing a sense of its abundance—spills over into the interaction. People not only want to feel nurtured, they want to be sated—jumbo meals, groaning buffets, triple burgers, all appeal to this desire to be fed abundantly. They do not want a feeling of limitation. This is what they fear veg*nism will cause.

We need to experience in veg*nism a sense of completeness in the moment. Otherwise, the insecurities meat eaters bring to the relationship, because they are blocked, interact with the insecurities we bring to the relationship because we aren’t blocked.

I invited veg*ns to send me their survival tips. So many of them emphasized this dilemma: how to have a feeling of abundance in food in the midst of a culture still committed to eating animals. We will experience scarcity of food choices in the midst of meat eaters, but there is something we can do about it: Be prepared.

Being prepared is a way of saying to yourself: “I am going to experience scarcity. But I need abundance. Meat eaters cannot ensure that my needs are met. Only I can ensure that I have abundance—and that’s okay.”

Preparation involves positive energy—planning ahead, anticipating what will happen, knowing how to take care of your needs. Preparation energy that affirms abundance is easier to integrate into our lives than the feelings of scarcity that a meat-eating world often causes. And while 21st-century developments—more vegan options at restaurants, more vegan recipes in many daily newspapers, more vegan foods on the market—seem to promise abundance, don’t be surprised that there will continue to be times when you find little to eat.

Survival tips—being prepared

Think ahead.

Learn to have quick meals.

A packed lunch is your friend.

Be flexible. Eat whatever is okay, even if it’s not a whole meal or a balanced meal. You will do better at the next meal.

Eat plenty of fruit.

Eat things you love.

Offer to bring a dish.

Make plenty of food beforehand and freeze it.

Try to buy the cheapest things from the bulk section and treat yourself to good products and prepared foods like vegan ice cream.

BYOF (Bring Your Own Food).

Think pasta.

Share recipes.

These survival tips emphasize not only being prepared but expanding your food repertoire so that you experience the abundance plant-based foods offer.

Survival tips—ensuring abundance

Experiment with many recipes to find the ones you really like.

Expand your repertory by exploring new vegetables and new flavors for vegetables you love to eat.

Make your meals as exciting, interesting, and nutritious as possible. Eat a wide variety of foods.

Read vegan recipe books as an intellectual exercise. Learn from the author their thoughts about veg*nism and how they approach cooking.

Bring a dessert. That way, you don’t miss out on the fun time.

Something revolutionary exists in these tips: we must take care of ourselves—after all, it is our journey. When you take care of yourself, you reveal that you are happy—happier with this “limitation” (from the meat eater’s perspective) on your food choices than when you had a multitude of choices. Because, of course, you still do.

Taking care of ourselves

The traditional veg*n question is “Will there be food for me?” The real question is “Do I understand how to take care of myself?” Our needs may be invisible to others, but they must not be invisible to ourselves. Self-care affirms: “I have needs. No one else can meet them. It is appropriate and necessary for me to meet them.”

If you have never felt abundance in your life, if you have felt discontented and unhappy, now is the time to cherish yourself.

Survival tips for self-care

Remind yourself why you took this journey and that it is an act of affirmation of compassion and making connections.

Don’t be afraid to ask for ingredients lists.

Take vitamins.

Exercise. Find the kind of movement that feels good to you.

Know where to find the products you want in your pantry.

Follow your heart.

Ask what is being served beforehand.

Mention to people that gelatin, lard, and anchovies are from animal.

Learn to read labels.

Be creative!

Use the internet for recipes and support. (See Chapter 12.)

Thank the self you were that figured out how to become a veg*n, and keep that self in mind as you continue to fulfill that vision.

You are more likely to be at peace in mixed company if you are taking care of your own needs. Your choice is happiness or martyrdom.

The problems with martyrdom: Accepting scarcity

When you are not able to ensure that others will meet your needs and if you fail to be prepared to take care of your own needs, you experience martyrdom. What do I mean by martyrdom? Sacrificing your own well-being to your veg*nism and not taking seriously the need to be prepared when eating in mixed company. It is not spiritually nourishing for you or for others in your company. Martyrdom makes everyone unhappy. The starkest example of this was told to me by a young vegan college student. Every year she went to her grandmother’s for a holiday dinner. But because everything was cooked with butter, there was absolutely nothing for her to eat but a toasted, unbuttered bagel. What did this tell everyone else, as they enjoyed their traditional, abundant meal? Her choice was scarcity. She felt left out, neglected, and martyred. The others were convinced of the impracticality, the downright unpleasantness, of following one’s ethical decisions. I encouraged her to take care of herself by planning ahead. She should prepare something to bring, to help others see how exciting veganism can be. The bagel solution is really no solution. It only confirms meat eaters’ fears.

If martyrdom makes you feel superior, your friends and family will notice it and feel hostile toward you. If martyrdom makes you feel alienated, your friends and family may not notice it and you will feel hostile toward them. In either case, martyrdom teaches meat eaters their fears are accurate—there is nothing that veg*ns can eat. They will believe we don’t celebrate some of their favorite holidays because we can’t.

Martyrdom may mean that you are eating poorly, which not only raises food dramas for you, but is also not healthy. You lack a balanced diet. Martyrdom is a mini-death. Should a commitment that embraces “life” cause mini-deaths? Martyrdom accepts the meat eater’s scarcity model as the only legitimate one. What do we do when we realize this? Overturn the scarcity model: abundance is not something I achieve by eating, but by the attitude I bring to eating: “I am glad I am a vegan, but this means that I am the one who is responsible for ensuring that my needs in this area are met. I must bring some food.” This acceptance, which often feels like a step backward, and may even be tinged with grief (“No one cares enough for me to watch out for my interests”), actually becomes a step toward liberation. When you lower your expectations about food in mixed company, you have the freedom that comes with lowered expectations—you are less likely to be disappointed.

We all need a sense of abundance: a sense that we have everything we need, now, at this very moment; a sense that arises not from the quantity that is before us—whether specifically the quantity of food at a meal or in general assessing our circumstances through some quantitative measurement—but from the quality of inner joyfulness at being who we are this very moment. If, instead, we seem to be willing to live with scarcity, that makes us strangers. Who would choose that? We are then judged for choosing scarcity: our “constricted diet” has constricted our spirit. When we choose martyrdom, in at least this way—and perhaps in other ways, too—we accept estrangement. We become strangers.

The stranger

In classic movies, the stranger’s arrival in town is noticed immediately. “How’d you come to this ol’ town, pardner?” The question is posed as the stranger ambles into the town’s saloon. The stranger has a secret—a mission, a plan—harmful or good. He (usually a he) is just passing through, inadvertently discovers something, and triggers a chain of circumstances, or he has come looking for something, finds it, and this triggers unexpected and revelatory events. His purpose will soon come into conflict with the town. The town’s residents will learn something about themselves from the conflict. Are they the loving people they thought they were? Maybe not. Did the arrival of the stranger touch off a response that is evil, revealing to themselves their own inner struggles and what they have denied? Maybe yes.

We’re strangers to meat eaters because we have changed. We have done something that they haven’t. We let go of our attachment to nonveg*n foods. They don’t understand, or they understand but fear stops them; they understand but can’t change. No one else can know your unique process of becoming a veg*n. In any case, a person discomforted by your veg*nism can’t relate to the process. They see the product—the veg*nism—and it is alien. They fear the process because it is different.

Our reasons for eliminating meat are often very intense ones. We may seem like strangers because of the sheer intensity with which we answer the question “Why did you become a veg*n?” Meat eaters often do not feel this intensity around the same issues. So a question arises: Why intensity for this and not for something else? For instance, why are you this intense about dead animals and not about the homeless or the hungry?

Change is threatening. This is why strangers are not trusted when they first appear in a town. And when you become a veg*n, people in your immediate surroundings do not welcome your change. It requires that they also have to change—change by adapting to you, the veg*n. Your family, friends, co-workers may be secretly or overtly furious when you change, if your change is seen as saying no to a part of themselves. They also assume that anything that changes a part of the world will also change their part of the world. Such a change is unwelcome. The result? A slew of small, medium, and large negative encounters between you and them. These negative experiences may rebound on us—causing us to be negative in our outlook on life and in relating with others.

Negativity can be something we bring to an interaction or experience, a preexisting bitterness, suspicion, alienation. Or, it can be the outcome of an interaction. Negativity often requires two for it to gain its strength. Someone feeling negative about our decision can pull us into that vortex of unresolved emotion. We need to learn to understand ourselves when we are thrown against this negativity. Yes, there will be disappointment, frustration, rage, disillusionment, disenchantment. And we must learn to identify when these feelings are present and what to do about them. They are barometers of a situation, but they don’t have to turn into a storm themselves. There can also be revelation, surprise, mystery. That is because we don’t do this to become someone, but to be someone. We don’t do this against but for. We don’t do this only for the future, but for right now.

Survival tips—when you are the stranger

Approach meat eaters carefully. Assume they don’t want us to be at peace and that they will work to prove to themselves you aren’t.

Try not to get angry.

You have to have a thick skin. For many people, our decision is incomprehensible.

Remain in control. Don’t let others manipulate you.

Educate yourself.

Don’t try to convert others.

Don’t let anyone put you down.

Use humor but not sarcasm.

You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone.

Be relaxed.

Be patient with people.

Make your choice interesting rather than pushy.

Stay cool.

Be positive.

Affirm and nurture goodness, respond to others with respect.

Love the process.

A stranger threatens the status quo. They see immediately what the town has tried to deny—the corrupt sheriff, the bribe-taking mayor, the murderous banker. The stranger often exposes injustice. That’s us: with our hands on our holsters, we challenge everyone we encounter. “Whoa, there, pardner,” we say. “What kind of burger are you eating there?” Maybe we don’t actually say it; we simply imply it with our veg*nism. We enter the saloon and suddenly everyone realizes the saloon food is tainted. “Oh, by the way,” we yell, as we jump onto our trusty steed, “I know what’s going on down at the town’s edge—that killing. You thought you could cover it up? Not while I’m here.”

We are often strangers because of our anger. Maybe we turn on one of the townspeople and, attacking them, say, “And who do you think you are?” We let loose with the equivalent of a series of cuss words: “climate change!” “slaughterhouses!” “baby animals separated from their mothers!” “compassion!”

Become aware of your anger. Anger announces; it tells us something has happened we need to pay attention to. Often anger proclaims that something is not right. We have a right to our feelings; the question becomes whether we should express them. But first we need to understand, “What am I angry about?”

Is anger a sign of powerlessness or an attempt to be powerful, judging, controlling?

Are you powerless in an eating situation, experiencing your own forced martyrdom? There’s no food for you, no one notices, and everyone else is eating their food, oblivious of your needs? The question is not, “Should I be feeling this anger?” You are. It is not a feeling to be denied or deemed appropriate or inappropriate; it is there—it is announcing something. The questions should be:

How can I learn more about this anger?

Can I identify the feeling and acknowledge the feeling to myself?

Do I need to express my anger?

Is there a way to express my anger without alienating the meat eaters with whom I must continue living or working?

Can I explain my anger without attacking others?

What can I do instead, if my expression of anger is not possible?

In other areas of activism, passion and outrage may be welcome. They prod, they jog, they transform. But here, something else happens. Passion and outrage lose people. Anger makes others defensive. We need to develop internal resources to handle our feelings. And this is why the question is, “Are you at peace with your decision?” If we are not at peace, we confirm meat eaters’ fears. Recall the fears that keep meat eaters from starting their journey. Consider them in the light of your experience:

Did you experience a separation, a break in your relationship with friends and family, a disruption of your family or inner circle? Do you feel alienation from them? Frustration, anger, disappointment? Does this meat eater with whom you are interacting trigger these feelings of alienation?

Do you experience being judged for being different? What does this make you feel?

Do you experience veg*nism as calling attention to yourself? What transpires? What do you do?

Did you experience the unknown in becoming veg*n?

Do you fear new foods? Is this keeping you from embracing the joy of veg*nism completely? Have you settled only for converted-meat meals and familiar foods?

Have you found that your appetite is not satisfied?

Did your health improve, remain the same, or get worse?

Did you have negative experiences around the loss of security and enjoyment and identity of being a meat eater?

Did you lose the feeling of comfort, the comforts associated with eating meat, including a sense of being taken care of, of being a “child” in relationship to a parent?

Did you end up judging yourself and/or your parents?

Did you realize that your culture and your parents betrayed you?

Did you lose power and control associated symbolically with eating meat?

If so, you are probably feeling estrangement from others and from yourself. This estrangement will confirm to meat eaters that their fears are legitimate.

The final set of survival tips from veg*ns exists because veg*ns know that we are susceptible to estrangement:

Get involved. Find other people like you. Start or join a veg*n society.

Use social media for connections with other veg*ns. (With caveats, see Chapter 12.)

Avoid dining out with your (unreceptive) friends when you are first converting.

Keep your chin up.

Don’t let anyone coerce you into eating something you don’t feel good about eating.

Don’t get down because it seems like nobody agrees with you. Keep in mind how much good you are doing.

Tell your friends that it is important to you to be a veg*n and ask that they help you.

Know that, even if you are the only one, you are doing the right thing.

Call on your veg*n friends who understand. If you don’t have any, find ways to meet or talk with other veg*ns.

Write a letter to the editor.

To feel connected, read other books on veg*nism.

Live with lowered expectations. Cultivate resilience. Bounce back.

After all, the pertinent question is not “Are you at peace with everyone else’s decisions about what they eat?” Or, “Are you at peace with everyone else’s opinions about your decision to be veg*n?” The only issue is “Are you at peace with your decision about what you eat?”

It’s in your own hands

You did change. But hopefully, you did not become a stranger—that veg*n. You became someone who knows how to change and who can help others begin their own journeys.

Being at peace involves acting with the assurance “I can take care of myself.” Not only that, but “I am comfortable with this choice. You do not have to take care of me or worry about my veg*n decision. In fact, let me share this wonderful food with you.” Being at peace is being matter of fact. Being at peace lowers your expectations of others while raising your expectations for yourself. You come to view everyone as a potential veg*n and simply get out of the way of their process of recognizing this.

Rather than feeling that we have to show, to demonstrate, to vindicate, we say, “Here I am, come to me.” In this case, less is more.

The more we are at peace with our veg*nism, the more we free others to embrace it. When I stopped talking about veganism and started preparing marvelous meals, when I simply lived my life as a vegan, carrying my sourdough culture and misos* with me when I went on extended visits to family, when I assumed I had to meet my own needs, and that was okay, when I created foods from that place, simply wanting to share my joy at being a vegan, it created an openness. I felt abundant, and others around me could feel it, too.

A story is told of some willful young people. One of them intensely disliked an elderly person, whom everyone else judged to be very wise. “We’ll show him,” the young person said. And grabbing a small bird within his two hands, he accosted the old man.

“Old man!” the young person called brusquely.

The old man approached him.

“Tell me, old man, is the bird in my hand living or dead?” The young person had decided that if the old man said the bird was alive, they would crush the bird in their hands and reveal a dead bird. If the old man said the bird was dead, the young person would release the living bird into the air. Either way, the young person would show that the old man was wrong.

The old man appraised the young one standing there. He could see the tension in the young person’s arms, the nervous hands cupped together. He watched as the young person defiantly repeated the question, “Is the bird in my hand living or dead?” The old man paused a moment and then replied:

“It’s in your hands.”

Will the animals live or die?

Our journey to veg*nism has been made; now it’s in their hands.

Note

* Miso is a fermented soybean paste that adds flavor to sauces and soups. Some misos are made solely from soybeans and salt. Others are made from soybeans, salt, and a grain such as rice or barley, or legumes such as chickpeas. It is a fine source of high-quality protein. It provides a salty flavor, and can mimic, at times, Parmesan cheese in some recipes (see, for instance, the pesto recipe). Avoid boiling miso once you have added it to a dish because intense heat will destroy its healthful enzymes. Keep refrigerated. Miso is found in health food stores, natural food stores, and Asian food stores.

Chapter 3
Repairing the hole in our conscience

“Thanksgiving with a Conscience”

—Title of cover story on a vegetarian Thanksgiving

New York Times Magazine, 1974

If a vegetarian Thanksgiving is a Thanksgiving with a conscience, what then is a nonvegetarian Thanksgiving? The following story suggests an answer.

Traveling on an airplane once, I was seated next to a child psychologist. We had already engaged in a long, relaxed conversation about his profession and his work with troubled, gifted children. We had discussed my elementary school-age children. Then mealtime arrived. His meal of dead chicken arrived first and he began to eat it. When my vegan meal was delivered to my seat, not surprisingly, it prompted a discussion. He admitted knowing that meat eating was unethical, but still persisted in his ways. Because we had already explored some of my parenting concerns, I felt comfortable turning to him and asking what this felt like:

“What happens, then, when you sit down to eat meat?”

“I have a hole in my conscience,” he said.

I thought about that, a compelling and honest answer. But I was troubled. “But our whole culture says it’s okay,” I responded.

“Well, we’ve got a collective hole in our conscience.”

Meat eaters believe explicitly or implicitly that animals are less morally important than human beings. But that is not all they believe. The novelist David Foster Wallace, in his famous essay “Consider the Lobster” points out that this belief means “a lot less important, apparently, since the moral comparison here is not the value of one human’s life vs. the value of one animal’s life, but rather the value of one animal’s life vs. the value of one human’s taste for a particular kind of protein.”

His statement reminded me of Erik Erikson’s comment on Gandhi’s vegetarianism. In his biography of Gandhi, Erikson begins by acknowledging that “the eating of animal flesh” is “an easy matter of course for most people.” Yet, Erikson says, turning from thoughts about Gandhi to thoughts about our culture, this may not be a good thing. The eating of animal flesh, he proposes, “may yet turn out to be a problem of psycho-social evolution.” Erikson believes that awareness of this problem—awareness that we have a hole in our conscience—will occur “when humankind comes to review the inner and outer consequences of having assumed the life of an armed hunter, and all the practical and emotional dead ends into which this has led us.”

Wow, that’s a mouthful. In fact, he says all this in one long sentence, filled with clause after clause. It is as though the structure of the sentence demonstrates how he was following his awareness about this issue. It seemed to me when I first encountered the sentence that each clause was Erikson’s consciousness encountering the hole in his—and his culture’s—conscience. We see how awareness unfolds, thought by thought, clause by clause. He acknowledges that this hole has repercussions for us individually and collectively, having both inner and outer consequences. These include “practical and emotional dead ends.”

The epigraph to this book, Mary Midgley’s quote about the gestalt shift, observes that meat eaters and vegetarians look at the same thing differently. We see death; they see life. Erikson, as though adding a commentary to Midgley, suggests that we are correct to see not just death, but dead ends.

What do you do when you become aware that you have a hole in your conscience? Where does this awareness go? Either you follow the awareness and become a veg*n or try to ignore the hole and become a blocked veg*n. Awareness interrupted is a dead end, as surely as Erikson’s sentence finally came to a full stop with a period.

Awareness

How do we repair the hole in the conscience? The process cannot be one of simply filling the hole with information, as though we could shovel dirt to fill a hole. Consciences are not formed like this. I imagine the hole in the conscience to be like the hole in a finely knit cotton sweater. Repairing it requires adding some new thread and interlacing it with the old. It is a delicate process. We have to start with what is there. The same is true with a meat-eating culture and individual meat eaters. We have to start with what is there. What is there is awareness. Awareness may be blocked, but it is there.

When we became veg*ns, we began to repair the hole in our conscience about animals, our bodies, and the environment. Meat eaters, in asking, “Why are you a veg*n?” may be actually asking, “How did awareness work this change?” When we understand how the process of awareness works in us, it helps us understand why someone becomes blocked.

The movement in thought is important to recognize, and it can actually be followed in the same way that Erikson piled up clause after clause. First, something happens—a personal experience of reading, talking, seeing something, feeling something, a hint of discomfort, a spark of insight that we have a hole within us. Something makes us aware that we are eating not just “food,” we are eating “meat” or dairy products. This initial thought may be momentary: “I am eating a dead cow.” Or “Why am I eating this fish?” Or “Veal calves are the byproducts of the dairy industry.” Or an amorphous feeling of “This doesn’t feel right.” This is awareness.

Awareness can easily be dismissed—“I don’t want to think about it at this time”—and you move your awareness elsewhere. Or you accept the insight as a gift and think, “What am I going to do with the awareness? I need to look into veg*nism. Then I’d be [whatever spark brought awareness]: not contributing to the suffering of animals/not supporting the immoral animal agriculture industry/reducing my contribution to climate change.” Awareness leads to attention.

You can feel awareness become attention. Awareness is the path your thoughts wish to take. Attention is when you let your thoughts follow their own path and you can respond to the insight they raise for you without fear, rejection, or control. Let’s look a little closer at an example. “Dairy. Oh, it comes from cows. Cows suffer. But I want a cheese pizza.” The cheese pizza is more important and immediate than the awareness. So, I have to banish the idea of what happens to cows. But I look at the pizza and now it looks bloody. Still the desire remains. “I want the pizza. I will eat that pizza anyway! I want this pleasure now!” Afterward the thought arises: “Why did I eat that pizza? I could have had something else. I could have ordered pizza without cheese. I could have found a place that uses vegan cheese. Now I feel guilty. I didn’t have to eat that pizza.” But being blocked, I might on the following Friday go through the same cycle again. I have a closed energy circuit: I want that pizza. Therefore, I will eat the pizza and ignore my own conscience.

When awareness moves into attention, we have an open energy circuit. “I want the pizza. But if I eat the pizza, I am compromising my own commitment. How can I keep this important commitment? I could have a pizza loaded with veggies and no cheese, or I could learn to make pizza. I could order a take-out pizza without cheese and add some vegan cheese when I get home. Or I could make a different kind of cheeseless pizza.” I follow my thoughts and discover they are taking me to another place. There is no dead end. When awareness becomes attention, there is growth and flexibility, not frozenness and a sense of being caught.

Awareness interrupted, deflected, denied becomes guilt, defensiveness, a dead end. Awareness that is followed becomes attention. Though it is thought that becoming a veg*n requires energy, in fact, not becoming a veg*n requires energy, too. The difference is that the veg*n can follow the energy from awareness; the meat eater must block or redirect that energy.

After following awareness, we may feel pain, alarm, distress. This is what awareness often does; it opens us to the suffering of ourselves and others. Meat eaters, not being able to follow awareness, feel numb. They must deaden (dead-end) the part of them that would respond to this awareness.

It could be said that following awareness lets “flow” happen. Inner flow allows energy to follow its path. It is the liberation of energy, the opening up of channels of energy, an internal pull that we develop the ability to heed. Three characteristics can be observed in following the flow: openness, receptivity, freedom. Flow is freedom from attachments to meat eating, to old expectations, freedom from old needs. Then we can begin to repair the hole in our conscience.

But what of those individuals blocking awareness? They, too, sensed something about meat or dairy or eggs, but then diverted the energy. Yet at some level, the message comes through that their actions are inconsistent with their conscience.

If one knows one is being inconsistent, the response may be to defend oneself against this knowledge, rather than to acknowledge that one is being inconsistent. The hole gets bigger. The nonveg*n may not be aware consciously of what she or he is doing in dancing around this hole in their conscience. “What I am doing cannot survive close scrutiny, it does not accord with my idea of my own—and others’—humanity. It clashes with the values I believe I have. So, I am going to distort this action, split it apart from everything else, and do everything to defend myself against the realization.” The more people are uncomfortable with what they are doing, the more they will have to defend it.

Meat eaters must actively repress a considerable amount of information to continue eating meat. To keep that resistance operating requires quite a bit of emotional energy. They must continuously control what they have repressed so that it does not come to consciousness. To someone who is actively repressing information, a veg*n is implicitly perceived as a threat. Our veg*nism exposes people’s repressed feelings and thoughts, and this makes them uncomfortable. We demonstrate that awareness does not have to be blocked. Holes in the conscience can be repaired.

We cannot halt a meat eater’s reaction to a veg*n, since merely announcing our veg*nism provokes it. You are to blame for their awareness of discomforting feelings. You aren’t telling them something new, but this is the problem. You are a reminder of something that has been postponed, justified, banished, and repressed. The interaction then becomes a battle of control, and they attempt to rid themselves of those unpleasant emotions prompted by the reminder that one can change and abandon old ways of eating (and looking at animals). Often you—the veg*n, the person who has reminded them of this feeling of discomfort—seem to be the cause of the discomfort. Once there is an external cause for this feeling, there can be an external remedy. You are the problem. If you are the problem, then their own decisions aren’t the problem.

This results in Erikson’s inner and outer consequences of accepting being an armed hunter. Control must be maintained to keep energy from following its path.

Denial short-circuits awareness and in its place defensiveness erupts.

Flow and control are the opposite of each other. The problem is that control has a hook—it’s easier, simpler, more “real,” more tangible. It’s got history on its side. The payoff for staying committed to control is more immediate, but so are the frustrations.

Flow

Control

grace

blockage

faith

worry

inner

outer

no fear of failure

anxiety

process

product

life

standing still

movement from the center

movement from the past

How do meat eaters exercise control over this rebel awareness that wishes to overthrow it? By saying, “I don’t want to know.”

They don’t want to know because then they are aware; being aware, they would have to assess how they feel; feel the feelings they are avoiding and learn how to respond to them. In responding to them, they would find they could change. In saying, “I don’t want to know,” each nonveg*n says, “Don’t come between me and my self-deceptions. I want to see myself as a good person. I perceive that you have made a sacrifice for moral reasons. You threaten my sense of being a good person because I have not acted in a similar way.” It does not matter that veg*nism does not feel like a sacrifice to you. It appears that way to them.

When they interact with a veg*n, in this way, they reveal a knowledge about themselves that they don’t want to have. But they sense that we know it immediately, and if they are sensitive, they know it through our knowing. Our knowing enables them to grasp it, too. This is the crux of the problem. Through our knowing, they may see they are not doing what they tell themselves they are doing (eating humanely, eating healthily, protecting the environment). This is troubling. We reveal to them one aspect of who they are.

In response, we may be told how trivial, how unimportant our concerns are. On the other hand, they may say, “Don’t tell me about this, it’s too upsetting.” Well, it can’t be both. If it is trivial, it is not upsetting. And if it is upsetting, it can’t be trivial. Answer: They have made it seem trivial because it is upsetting.

People say, “Don’t tell me” or “I don’t want to know” because they fear this knowledge, and to fear it means they sense or already possess some of this knowledge (but to acknowledge this would mean that they already know what they need to do). They wouldn’t be stopping you in this way if they were ignorant. They fear if they truly engaged with the knowledge, they would have to do something about it themselves. Unlike other social problems where you can praise the activists, write checks to vital groups, and support issues without a more personal involvement, the issue of veg*nism requires the individual’s active engagement—and change.

I have your book, but I am afraid if I read it,
I might not be able to eat meat afterward.

or

Don’t tell me! I don’t want to know because I would have to change.

or

Don’t tell me! I don’t want to know because if I know, I will feel, and those feelings make me uncomfortable.

or

Don’t tell me! I already know and I don’t want to be reminded that I know and still haven’t changed.

Nonveg*ns achieve a delicate inner stasis in constantly deflecting their awareness. And so they remain blocked, and resolve to stay blocked. . . . Until they encounter a veg*n. Then their delicate stasis is threatened because a veg*n redefines the nonveg*n: we make them conscious they are making a choice.

Veg*ns prompt awareness in meat eaters

It is mostly unwelcome

Eating animals, dairy, and eggs is generally experienced as a relationship between an individual and their food choices. Veg*ns know—and remind others—that there is a third, hidden dimension; namely, everything that we have concluded makes the animal agriculture industry immoral. Our presence often reminds nonveg*ns that something is hidden and it is not just the hidden dimension of meat production. Something is hidden within them—their awareness.

The problem of meat eating quickly becomes a problem with meat eaters. One of the major dramas for nonveg*ns is the questions of one’s individual responsibility for animals’ deaths and for the continuing support of the animal agriculture industry. Government subsidies and tax breaks for the industry are part of the problem, too. The problem facing nonveg*ns is that they like to think they are doing what veg*ns are doing—eating humanely, ethically—without actually doing what veg*ns are doing: not eating meat. They can only believe that they are eating ethically as long as there is no veg*n around. A veg*n in the midst of meat eaters implicitly announces, “What you claim to be doing is not what you’re doing.” We remind them of the hole in their conscience. Deeper than our need to eat foods from animals is our belief in our own humanity and kindness. But the conscience is saying that there is a conflict between these two desires—to “do good” and be humane or to depend on animals for food.

Veg*ns become reminders of what meat eaters have failed to do. Meat eaters’ unresolved issues with their own meat eating encumber their relationships. Meat eaters are not necessarily aware that this is what is happening. The world is structured to help them forget. There is a collective hole, too. Because of the collective hole, meat eating is not perceived as one of two choices: meat eating or veg*nism. Since it is not seen as one of two choices, meat eaters rarely have to define themselves as meat eaters or acknowledge that they are making a choice about what or who to eat. As I have argued, the result is that their decisions and actions are unmarked. Until a veg*n enters the room, a group of nonveg*ns eating together are merely a group eating together. But our presence marks them as meat eaters. At the same time that they are reminded of this identity, “meat eater,” it becomes threatened by your identity as a veg*n. They may be prompted to think, “oh, why am I eating meat?” and then, “Why did this person remind me that this is what I am doing? I was so much happier when I took for granted what I ate.”

Simply by being a veg*n we make others aware of their choices and demonstrate that what they think can’t be done or is too hard to do—change—can indeed be done. This is the power of veg*nism: something taken for granted as a given becomes marked as a choice.

It is our veg*nism that is seen as separating us from them, not their meat eating. We are experienced as creating a dualism. Where once there were simply people who went out to eat, now there are different types of people who are going out to eat—veg*ns and meat eaters.

Anything that labels us and separates us into opposing groups reinforces a them versus us approach that drives a wedge into the interaction. Where there was unity in eating, there are now two sides, meat eater and veg*n. You are seen as the cause of this and of the awareness, too. You have created the schism. Difference creates anxiety.

We may be made to feel that we are the cause of this sense of divisiveness and difference. We aren’t. We have caused it to come to consciousness.

It does not matter what you believe about your veg*nism. It does not matter what your motivation is. The dualism between meat eater and veg*n exists separately from you as an individual. You are on one side of the dualism and the meat eater is on the other. You set off a chain of reactions because you remind the meat eater that there is a choice.

In announcing that you are a veg*n, you are saying, “I’m not blocked in this area anymore.” And de facto you are saying, “You still are.” Besides all the energy they are using to block their own veg*nism, they are expected to be receptive to your unblocked veg*nism. For many, this feels impossible.

Encountering blocked veg*ns

While it might be tempting to spend time asking, “Why aren’t you here?” it is more profitable to figure out, “Why are they there?” The answer is that something is keeping them blocked.

Why meat eaters stay blocked

Taste: Many people enjoy the taste of cooked flesh.

Change takes too much energy: “I don’t have the time or the energy. Cooking is a chore. Meat is simple to cook. You have to work so much harder to cook a veg*n meal or to figure out where to order veg*n food from.”

Ignorance: “I don’t know how to begin.”

It’s trivial: “I don’t think it’s necessary” or “We’re talking about animals here! Cows and chickens and pigs! Who cares?”

Passivity: “I have a sense that I don’t have the ability to change.” This is reinforced by the general passivity fostered by a social media culture that encourages distraction, not action. We have become a community of “watchers.” We need villains and victims but don’t want to be either. We want to be voyeurs, not the actors.

Laziness: “It’s too hard to do this. And it would be too inconvenient if I did.”

Age (regardless of whether one’s 25, 35, 45, 55, 65, or 75): “I’m too old to change.”

A sense of fragility: “I cannot handle anything else! I can’t handle any more changes!” Some people have been injured in ways that they decide “an animal’s suffering is not comparable to mine. I cannot care about what is happening to them. I can only handle what is happening to me.” Or they think, “I have changed so much of myself already, I just can’t change anything else.”

It is too difficult, requiring too much mental work, prompting statements such as “I don’t want to think about this” meaning “I don’t want to put myself through a new way of thinking.”

Food issues: “I’ll feel cheated if deprived of any kinds of food. I love to have free food. I cannot bear to give up any choice.”

Comfort: “I am comfortable this way.”

Cost: “It’s too expensive.”

Apathy: “I don’t care about what is happening to the animals used for food.”

Denial: “I don’t want to admit that I was lied to and that I am lying to myself.”

A sense of meaninglessness about an individual’s behavior: “What’s the use? My changing won’t have any effect. The animals are going to die anyway. We’re committing ecocide anyway.”

Apocalyptical thinking: “I’m going to die anyway” (or “The planet is going to die”), so “I might as well enjoy myself.”

Someone else can’t change: “I’d become a veg*n, but my husband needs meat.”

A need for the status quo: “I know who I am. If I change, I won’t know who I am.”

Priorities: “We have to help humans first!”

All of these reasons remind us that it is easier to be someone than to become someone else.

Yet there you stand: you became someone else. You stopped eating meat. How did you repair the hole when they can’t? The nonveg*n will have to explain your changing somehow without its reflecting on themselves.

How meat eaters explain your decision

Veg*nism is only one part of who we are. This part becomes magnified in veg*n-meat eater relationships. The question meat eaters struggle with is how this part relates to the rest of who you are. Inevitably, they come up with an explanation. It may not be accurate, but it is comforting to them, because it confirms them in their blocked status.

If you want to learn what a meat eater thinks about you, it will be revealed in their explanation. In explaining why we changed, their assumption often is that veg*nism expresses a negative aspect of one’s personality rather than a positive one. It is something to analyze and resist rather than accept. This is a way to deflect attention from their own practices of meat eating, but it also may reveal the thorny, prickly areas of our own personalities. After all, our personalities affect how we respond to giving up meat. We may respond tenaciously, laconically, bitterly, enthusiastically, evangelically. You may be embittered, impatient, and also a veg*n. You may be accepting, nonjudgmental, and a veg*n. To explain your veg*nism, these aspects of your personality may become a focus, a redirection of the veg*n impulse into a more controllable area—not who you have become but who you have always been. They don’t see veg*nism as transformative, but as something that unleashes your old, predictable demons. If you are fastidious in life, you are “fussy” in eating. It has to do specifically with who you are, not with the legitimacy of your decision. These explanations can be merciless as they describe something about your personality to explain your veg*nism.

Nonveg*ns usually explain your veg*nism by mixing three things together: trying to defend what is blocking them, attacking your personality tics, and labeling you—pigeonholing you into one of several “types” of veg*ns. They resort to this because it makes the “you” you have become more understandable. A label is interposed between who you really are and how your veg*nism is experienced. The label is a buffer. If you are perceived as having a legitimate concern about eating animals you will be experienced as saying something to them, something they do not want to hear. Stereotypes are so much easier on their conscience. They begin with whatever group we are associated with, whether by birth or choice: so it may be thought “it’s a woman thing” or a teenage girl thing. If he’s a man, well, he’s gay. If she’s a person of color, “it’s her ‘tradition’”; if he’s white, “he doesn’t have to worry about his tradition.” If the person is rich, “she can afford to be a veg*n.” If the person is poor, “he doesn’t have a choice.” Besides the obvious social groups to which we gravitate, explanations of veg*nism also classify us into different types.

Meat eaters’ classification of veg*ns

The ascetic

An ascetic, according to The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, “renounces material comfort and leads a life of austere self-discipline.” An ascetic is admired for holding to her principles, but the life she has decided to live is too hard for any average person to aspire to. Several things happen when a veg*n is considered an ascetic:

You are admired, but it is believed that what you have done cannot be achieved by anyone else.

The belief takes hold that to be veg*n requires giving up the enjoyment of all foods that are pleasurable (meat eating = pleasure).

Then it is assumed that the veg*n expects you to do the same, which leads to the Puritan.

The Puritan

This is almost a subset of ascetic but constitutes its own type because the Puritan does not prompt positive feelings. The label represents the fear that you want to deprive others of their enjoyment. Your reasons are not seen as admirable. Your self-denial is explained in this way: “She doesn’t enjoy anything, and she doesn’t want anyone else to either.” One reason veg*ns are thought to be against pleasure is because they have the potential to destroy the pleasures of the meal for a meat eater. This potential exists precisely because meat eaters are blocked. They don’t know the pleasures of our meals, but they do know the pleasure we have deprived them of. They now cannot eat their own meal without awareness of our not joining in.

It is assumed the Puritan is fixated on purity, and that the ends purity is trying to achieve are not worth the means. Why would anyone want to live like that?

The Puritan is perceived as humorless and preachy, deriving no enjoyment from living. Because of this, the Puritan is always suspected of wanting to deny others their pleasure. In the face of the assumption that it is our right to maximize our pleasure, the Puritan is seen as legislating and controlling.

The “Bambi” or “Babe” veg*n

As individuals, we grow up learning to deny the legitimacy of our feelings. Being matter of fact about animals’ deaths is a sign of health and maturity in our culture. Thus veg*nism is thought to be a problem of misplaced or immature emotions. The implication is that caring about animals’ suffering in the food industry is inappropriate.

It is assumed you’re just too sensitive; you never got over those sentimental movies of your childhood, whether Bambi or Babe. You can’t accept death. You don’t know how to focus your emotions properly on “real” problems. In fact, you are just too emotional. Animal-loving is seen as a sign of arrested development. “Grow up.”

For many meat eaters, the competent part of their personality believes that emotions are a sign of incompetence and childishness, not only must they control theirs, but they see veg*ns as “incompetent” and childish for not controlling our emotions. In their efforts to control emotions, they worry that grief creates vulnerability by exposing the “incompetent” part of oneself.

“The wimp”

The wimp, the sissy, the fruit is a classification that arises from and reinforces the gender binary. This type identifies as a man and his identity and sexuality (presumed to be heterosexual) are thought to be undercut by his veg*nism, which is attributed to his being a “feeling type.” Caring by people who identify as men threatens the gender binary. The gender binary requires its adherents to patrol behavior for deviations and try to pressure those not conforming to abandon whatever threatens the stereotypes of gendered behavior. If the person who identifies as a man is gay, meat eaters may assume that veg*nism is the result of his gayness, rather than understanding that a gay man has gained experience in working on identity issues, of which veg*nism is one.

The “freak”/the “weirdo”

You eat strange. You have weird beliefs. You like tofu, for heaven’s sake. You separate yourself from everyone else. You alienate meat eaters, so you must be alienated. “I could never do it. I don’t want to do it, and I don’t know how you can do it.” A derivative type, the “Birkenstock” veg*n or “California” veg*n: You’re still living in the ’60s, eating granola and raw foods. Your choices are incomprehensible, thus the label. “What else is there to give up?” “You actually like this stuff?”

The holier-than-thou veg*n

You are angry, arrogant, and judgmental, holier-than-thou, and godlike in your wrathful nature. Nonveg*ns feel your anger because your anger fills all the space between you and them. They say: “You make me feel guilty.” They think: “Who are you to make me feel guilty?” They conclude, “You are a veg*n because you see yourself as better than everyone else.” The “vegan police” are a subset of the holier-than-thou veg*n.

The phobic veg*n

“You just have a hang-up about food.” You are neurotic. Self-obsessed. It’s a rejection of your

sexuality

father, mother, family, heritage, nationality

fallen nature

[fill in the blank]

If you are a teenage girl and thin, you are accused of becoming a veg*n as a cover for your anorexia.

It’s all framed by the language of “giving up.”

What does each of these types teach us about blocked veg*ns? The ascetic and Puritan labels tell us that meat eaters fear their own suffering. They cannot require something difficult of themselves.

The Bambi or Babe label reveals how hard it is to engage with the suffering caused by animal agriculture. Meat eaters project onto us their fear of relating to animals who are victims of meat eating. Rather than confront those concerns (which would then force them to reconsider their decisions), they try to dismiss the veg*n as sentimental, emotional, and irrational. They fear grief.

The “wimp” reminds us that for some people adhering to gender roles protects them from examining the many lies our culture tells us about gender. It’s their armor; but it is paper-thin.

The freak label says, “You’re different and I don’t want to be different. I don’t want to separate myself from others. I cannot understand you.”

The holier-than-thou label, which will be expressed as “Who do you think you are?” or, less confrontationally, “You make me feel guilty,” reveals that the meat eater has issues around self-judgment.

With the phobic label, much is going on. It reminds us that we live in a therapeutic age, and with it a gravitation toward explaining all food-related concerns as psychological issues. Everything’s going to be seen as an individual hang-up rather than as a political awareness and engagement. It is often assumed that the catholic eater, the generic eater, the gourmand, who is willing to try anything and is open to new tastes, does not have issues with food. Only those who actively change what and who they eat, are seen as having issues with food. When Julia Child characterized vegans as having a hang-up with food, she captured this viewpoint. But this drive to be seen as unconcerned about food is suspiciously like protesting too much.

And so friends, co-workers, parents, and/or other family members pathologize your decision. They need to figure out what your veg*nism means, but the framework available to them is the one that has blocked veg*nism in their own lives. If you are the problem, if you have no sense of humor, or are a wimp, etc., then it’s not anyone else’s problem. So they try to find out “what is wrong with you?” You may be feeling, “Wrong? Finally, something feels right to me!” But for them, the untangible—awareness—has to be translated into the tangible, an explanation. Why are you different? It is much safer to attribute it to anything but awareness, since awareness can operate equally in everyone, but doesn’t.

When you hear the comments associated with each type—for instance, “Grow up,” you can then say, “Oh, I see, they think I am a Bambi/Babe veg*n. That means they are uncomfortable with their feelings about animals and must not acknowledge them.”

Now the catch in this analysis is that, in your interactions with meat eaters, you may indeed be manifesting aspects of one of these types unknowingly.

Have you unprocessed anger? You become holier-than-thou.

Are you oppressed by how unfriendly the world seems to a veg*n? You may be perceived as a Puritan, or phobic. You are either legislating or hung up about food.

“Everyone knows”

Most meat eaters, of course, will let you know how they size you up. This often occurs in a certain statement that follows a formula:

“Everyone knows you just have a hang-up about food.”

This damns at the beginning and the end of the sentence. Not only do you have a problem, but you are apparently the only one who doesn’t recognize it!

The formula looks like this:

A knows B about YOU!

A is who knows.

B is what they know about YOU! It is knowledge that is supposed to shame you.

This formula tells us that they are trying to figure out what’s wrong with us, rather than our culture. Remember: if it is about us, it doesn’t have to be about them. Thus, a frontal assault occurs:

A:

Everyone

knows you . . .

All your friends

know . . .

The whole family

knows . . .

Your co-workers

know . . .

B:

you have a hang-up with food.

you never got over the death of your bunny/chicken/horse/pig.

you are trying to control everyone’s food habits.

you aren’t committed to the family tradition.

you love animals but you hate people.

you are doing this to hurt your mother/grandmother/father.

you just want to be different.

you just want to be difficult.

you just want some attention.

you just want to rebel.

etc.

Take one phrase from A and add one phrase from B. For instance: “Everyone knows you just want attention.”

Here is a classic drama enacted in numerous households, workplaces, college dorms, and anywhere else. This sets you up because it makes you the issue. Don’t respond by saying: “I don’t want attention! That’s ridiculous.” Or depending on the attack: “I don’t have a hang-up with food! What do you mean?” Or “Of course I care about the family tradition!”

None of these responses diffuses the attack. They only intensify it. These responses accept the basic premise of the statement. Not only that, but in accepting the validity of the charges that make you the target and offering a response, you sound emotional, upset, defensive. They will have won. “We said you had a problem, and you are showing us you have a problem. Why would you get upset if there weren’t a problem? There is something wrong with you, that is what we are saying. . . . Wrong with you, and not with us. We don’t have a hole in our conscience!”

What should you do instead? Step aside. Don’t let the statement land on you. To all of these charges, you can always say: “People adopt veg*nism for a wide range of reasons, some perhaps better than others. Undeniably, there are good reasons to be veg*n.” And leave it at that. The conversation might then take this turn: “What, is that all you are going to say?”

To which you reply, “Yes.”

This is not your drama and don’t let it become yours.

To the charges that “everyone knows you have a hang-up with food,” or “everyone knows you never got over the death of your pony,” you can simply say: “How very kind of them. I am deeply touched.”

Another way to describe this formula is that nonveg*ns are explaining your veg*nism by classifying you into a “type”: “Everyone knows you are a veg*n because you are [a description of one of the types].”

Thus, if you are seen as an ascetic veg*n, you don’t enjoy eating. If you are seen as a holier-than-thou veg*n, you like to judge other people. If you are seen as phobic, you have a hang-up. And so on.

To any of these statements—those following either the simple A-B formula, or “Everyone knows you are ‘X’ type”—you have a choice of responses. You can respond by saying: “I’ve noticed that a lot of people, who generally are very nice and respectful, say insensitive or mean things to me about my veg*nism. I wonder whether this may reflect their own conflicts about what is the most ethical way to eat.”

Meat eaters want the conversation to stay about us. If it is about us, it is not about the animals, or the earth, or climate change, or disenfranchised people trapped within animal agriculture.

We can respond in a way that transfers the focus by saying, “I’ve noticed that people often confuse food issues with thoughtful decisions about animals/environment/social injustice. Why do you think everyone makes that mistake?”

This is a much more sophisticated turn, which does not dignify the attack with a direct answer. But it continues the conversation, which is something you might not want to do at a time when you know the other person is feeling defensive. You can deflect the implicit criticism and offer some guidance, but you need to be careful not to allow this response to pull you into a debate: “Hmmm. That’s a strange observation. [‘Strange’ can be a very disarming response.] I’ve never thought of that. Perhaps it’s true, but I really don’t think that is a major motivation for my decision. I suspect strongly that it simply reflects my deep ethical convictions regarding animal treatment, environmental protection . . . [etc.].”

Or you can choose a traditional avoidance response to defensiveness: postponement. Choose one of the other responses and postpone the confrontation. After all, the meat eaters are postponing something, too: acknowledging the hole in their conscience.

Postponement

How comfortable to postpone consciousness and to find excuses for not acting! We ourselves may know such postponements and hesitations all too well.

Signs of a blocked veg*n

“Oh, I wish I could do that, but it’s just so hard.”

“I’ve been waiting till I’m not so busy, less stressed, [etc.].”

“I thought about it once.”

“I’ve been thinking about it myself.”

“I tried it once.”

“Seeing you makes me feel guilty.”

Awareness that one has a hole in one’s conscience and not addressing the hole prompts the discovery of painful and uncomfortable aspects about ourselves—aspects we would prefer not to know. It is painful to know that we failed to live up to our own expectations. When we feel the pain of this failure, we have two choices: either to examine the conditions that caused us to fail and determine to create the conditions for success, or to reorient our own expectations for our behavior and actions.

It may seem easier to reconcile oneself to the hole in the conscience rather than sustain awareness of what has caused this rupture. Thus, it becomes more painful to experience the failure of will or consciousness, than to be aware of meat eating. It is safer to believe “I don’t need to do this” than “I can’t do it.” The belief evolves that no change is necessary. This belief holds true as long as a meat eater interacts only with other meat eaters. But, upon encountering a veg*n, the rationalization stumbles—there stands someone who hasn’t postponed. What was postponed then becomes a source of either guilt or defensiveness.

In the presence of a veg*n, meat eaters may be reminded of decisions they made at one time about veg*nism but never accomplished. They are aware; but they have not acted. They know; but they fail to change. It is hard to learn this about oneself: “I have failed to live up to my own expectations for myself.”

Were their reasons for postponement legitimate in their eyes, now, given your presence and your ability to adopt veg*nism? You are the reminder of what has not been done. You changed. They didn’t. Their unresolved relationship to meat eating—the hole in their conscience—now encumbers your relationship.

Meat eaters postpone becoming veg*ns because they think change is hard. Not changing is even harder. They just haven’t discovered this yet.

Chapter 4
Judgment, guilt, and anger

My brother-in-law Merv is a minister and marriage counselor. One summer I was helping him rehabilitate an old house. A contractor arrived around 9:00 a.m. to give him an estimate on a furnace. Later—so much later that I was ready to quit for lunch—Merv reappeared. Clearly, the conversation had taken longer than he had anticipated. Explaining what had been so time-consuming, he observed, “When you tell someone you are a minister, they say, ‘Let me tell you about my faith.’ When you tell someone you are a marriage counselor, they say, ‘Let me tell you about my marriage.’”

I added, “And when you tell someone you are a vegetarian, they say, ‘I don’t eat that much meat!’”

We both laughed.

Blocked veg*ns do not want to be reminded that they are blocked. In everyday interactions, such reminders may not occur. Enter a veg*n. Now the veg*n is the reminder that one has made a decision not to change. People generally want a self-image that tells them they are good, worthy, and moral individuals. We veg*ns threaten this self-image. The veg*n is experienced as judging the meat eater simply because of their veg*nism. This dynamic actually has nothing to do with the veg*n in question, but everything to do with what they represent—someone who integrated awareness with action. Our acting, becoming a veg*n, provokes defensiveness on the part of the nonveg*n who has failed to act.

Meat eaters bring to their relationship with veg*ns their own unresolved guilt about continuing to eat meat. They feel they have to defend their own practices. Consider this story from a vegan in Brooklyn:

I went to visit my parents; my brother was in the kitchen cooking.

As I entered the foyer I am greeted with, “Shut up! I am eating it anyway. . . .” I was confused, so I asked, “What?” My brother launched into a rampage of excuses as to why he was going to eat veal.

“You know,” I responded, “it is the guilty conscience that speaks the loudest.”

Or this from California:

I have spent a lot of time talking to people about the issues at a vegetarian information table on the boardwalk at Venice Beach, California. The majority of people who come up to me are not really interested in learning about vegetarianism. It seems that most of them just want to pick a verbal fight. At times they even yell, scream, and call my partner and me names. This can be very agitating, and most of the time I just ignore them or I tell them that they would not be picking a fight with me if they were okay with their dietary beliefs. I feel that even the combative people who approach vegetarians are in search of change, although they themselves don’t know it.

As we saw in the previous chapter, awareness that is followed becomes attention. Awareness interrupted, deflected, or denied transforms into negative energy. “I have a hole in my conscience that allows me to eat meat. The more I understand of the hole in my consciousness, the more compelled I am to stop eating meat. But I don’t want to stop eating meat! Yet the more I understand of the hole, the more pressure there is to stop. I will resist this pressure.” Blocked energy is expressed through emotions such as guilt and anger. People who say, “You make me feel guilty” or who act belligerently to you are saying, “I’m stuck.”

Resisting an internal pull takes a lot of work; it is working against the flow. The old needs continue to control the individual. Three characteristics of resisting the flow are judgment, guilt, and anger. Suspicion arises toward someone from the outside who appears in a position to judge—someone who, unlike the blocked individual, followed the flow. What stands between them? The blocking force.

The blocking force

The primary problem for blocked veg*ns is that something is keeping them from repairing the hole in their conscience. This something is probably a combination of the reasons identified in Chapter 3 and the fears meat eaters have about veg*nism, discussed in Chapter 2. Together, these are the blocking force. If left unexamined, it will grow in power.

Interactions with individuals who are blocking the flow may proceed in ways akin to this:

Most of my frustrating experiences stem from one friend of mine who is a very socially conscious individual in issues of human rights. However, in terms of animal welfare, her awareness is lacking. Her attitude toward meat eating is that humans will evolve one day but right now it is “natural” to eat meat. . . . It is an argument that disguises the real issue, which is that she really likes/craves the taste of meat and does not want to give it up for more expensive/worse-tasting alternatives (though I have tried to explain to her that this is not the case). In my company she will eat meat even after we have just had a discussion on the issue and it angers me but makes me disappointed and sad also. We have often been in heated arguments over the issue and are both left frustrated.

After such interactions, one feels exhausted, disappointed, sad, outraged, frustrated. For many years I walked away from conversations feeling this. That is because I presumed that no matter how well-crafted the other person’s arguments were in defense of eating meat, dairy products, and eggs, I had better arguments against them. I didn’t realize that these arguments were a part of their protection plan against the blocking force. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was coming near the real reasons for staying blocked.

If an individual senses that what blocks them is not as legitimate as they keep telling themselves it is, they will already feel defensive. But you are going to be seen as the agent of their discomfort. Defensiveness represents a quarrel with their own conscience. Defensiveness is a no-win situation for us because it protects the status quo.

It is not the content of the friend’s defenses that is important here: it is the dynamics. These dynamics are actually in meat eaters’ interests, because they get to defend their ground. They don’t want the veg*n or themselves to get too near to the blocking force that keeps them from acting. Instead of examining this blocking force, they get to bring this energy toward the vegan friend. This allows them to avoid what is really needed: their own internal conversation.

Perhaps their internal dialogue goes something like this:

Insight: “Gee, I’m eating a dead animal. Why?”

Response: “Yes, but I don’t want to change. I like the taste of meat!”

Insight: “But this can’t be very good for you or the world. Look at all those statistics linking animal agriculture to climate change.”

Response: “I can’t handle any more change. I don’t want to learn anything new. I don’t want to give up meat.”

Insight: “Well, what are you going to do with me, then?”

Response: “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to change and I won’t. So I am just going to ignore you. Push you down and keep you out of my thoughts.”

Insight: “I’m not going to go away that easily.”

Response: “We’ll see about that!”

This is the blocking force at work. There is something they can do with this inner war; they can take it into the world. Their interaction with you allows them to externalize these conflicting feelings, and so works to protect them from their own sense of failure. Now, they have someone to blame for their feelings and an arsenal of warring skills they have used against themselves. The blocking force leaps to battle. They turn their internal tumult against you and put down your feelings to avoid dealing with theirs.

Essentially, the veg*n represents the knowledge that meat eating relies on slaughtered animals (and all that this involves—from the treatment of those who work in slaughterhouses, to the environmental pollution produced by raising and slaughtering animals, and the contribution of animal agriculture to ecocide). The meat eater has probably encountered some of these facts already, but is well equipped to handle them because they have already held an internal argument about this. We inadvertently fall right into line with their accustomed way of handling veg*nism: argument, avoidance, and then suppression. They relate to us as they do to that part of themselves they refuse to interact with. In this process, we actually bolster their defenses. They get to externalize that inner argument, which releases for them the energy that they have been repressing. Like a pressure cooker releasing steam, instead of having to cook the insights through their own process, they get to release their dilemma and make the interaction about us, not them. Their raw feelings tell us this is so.

They are letting you take on the role of judge/critic. This relieves them of being their own judge, listening to their own insights, and discovering that they can indeed change. This gives their blocking force greater strength. It has dug in for the duration. In suppressing inner and outer arguments, the meat eater walks away cleansed of guilt, freed of anger, and relieved. Inadvertently, you helped them stay stuck!

Shoulda . . .

Each of us—whether veg*ns or meat eaters—has an inner compass, complete with a critic filling our heads with self-talk about shoulds and oughts. Thanks to the superego, we know what we “shoulda” done or should be doing. This moral system speaks through the voice of conscience.

The superego is good and necessary. It evolves as we mature. A mature superego isn’t swallowing whole the commands our society gave us. Instead, it integrates them with our own identity, our own experience, and the knowledge we have gained as we matured.

The process of constantly integrating new information is a process of growth. A healthy superego enables us to balance the demands of self and the needs of others. We are able to experience ourselves as embedded within a fabric of life, with responsibilities and rewards. The struggle always is finding the balance between the self and others. We constantly ask ourselves, “What is it that I want to do, given my commitment to myself and also to others?”

For instance, someone becomes aware that animals suffer. They have to integrate that knowledge into their mature and complex superego. But this information can’t be integrated—not if one wants to continue eating meat and continue to see oneself as a moral individual. A part of the individual is aware that the information has not been integrated. What “shoulda” they be doing?

Enter a veg*n. Meat eaters assume we are judging them. We represent that which, when unintegrated, is an immense burden. We seem to be telling the meat eater exactly what he “shoulda” be doing: become a veg*n. We make the meat eater feel even more embattled.

Interactions in which veg*ns are accused of judging meat eaters are some of the most frustrating experiences for us. A veg*n does not necessarily come into a relationship and say, “I expect you to give up eating meat.” The meat eater assumes that expectation is there. This is because meat eaters are already judging themselves. They then use your veg*nism to judge themselves. It is a process we cannot halt, since merely announcing our veg*nism provokes it. We don’t have to say a word about our veg*nism or their meat eating for our presence to be a reminder of these kinds of thoughts.

The veg*n appears before a meat eater as an embodied “shoulda.” This dynamic is rarely liberating. “You should not be eating meat,” we appear to be saying, simply by demonstrating that one can survive without meat. “You don’t need meat. Why are you eating meat?” our embodied veg*nism announces.

When a meat eater reacts defensively to you, it tells you something more than “I am a blocked veg*n.” It also tells you, “I am struggling with my relationship to my conscience.”

Thus, people delegate the role of the superego to us. They aren’t really saying, “You make me feel like a bad person because I eat meat.” They are saying, “You make me feel like a bad person because I am insecure about my decision to eat meat, and you seem secure in your decision not to eat it, and your security, as well as my own conscience, threatens me.”

When we experience expressions of guilt or anger from someone, they are emphatically saying, “Don’t remind me of this shoulda!”

Shoulda, coulda . . . didn’t

The progression of an unblocked veg*n:

“I know about meat eating; I should become a veg*n.” (Awareness)

“I know about meat eating; I could become a veg*n.” (Reflection)

“I know about meat eating; I have become a veg*n.” (Action)

But, with a blocked veg*n, the final statement becomes:

“I know about meat eating (and eggs and dairy); I didn’t become a veg*n.”

As one teenage friend says, “Shoulda, coulda . . . didn’t.”

Didn’t ruptures the flow of consciousness. Justification emerges in its place:

“I didn’t become a veg*n because of [X] (whatever is blocking me).”

Consequently; “[X] is more important than veg*nism.”

And since [X] is more important than veg*nism, the flow of awareness toward becoming a veg*n must be controlled.

To most meat eaters this reasoning is sound. And as long as they are living among meat eaters, few will be challenged. But face-to-face with a veg*n, “shoulda, coulda . . . didn’t” seems less legitimate. Your veg*nism says something about them: you changed, they did not—and that, too, is a choice.

What was that reason that minimized the flow toward veg*nism? “Because I’m so busy”? “Because life is so stressful”? By your presence, they now have to ask themselves, “Is [X] really legitimate?” Their unresolved relationship to [X] now encumbers your relationship. Not your veg*nism, but [X], stands between you. And since it must not be spoken of, something else must become the center of attention.

Unblocked veg*ns like you reveal that whatever is [X]—no matter how strong a force in the life of an individual—can be dealt with, can come under the pull of veg*nism and be transformed. The response of most meat eaters to having that pointed out is not “Thank you for teaching me this” but “Don’t come between me and my self-deceptions!”

The role of guilt

Guilt can help us grow.

First, you have awareness. You are aware that you feel guilty.

Second, you reflect on this. What is causing my guilt? What is it telling me about my behavior? Should I change my behavior and/or compensate for my behavior?

Third, you act. You use your guilt to inform yourself, and then you align your behavior.

As a veg*n, I was aware of the suffering of cows and chickens in their “production” of milk and eggs, and I felt guilty that I wasn’t a vegan. I had to interrogate the guilt. Was it appropriate or inappropriate?

Given my knowledge of the lives of animals, the guilt was appropriate. It was telling me something that I needed to learn. Since the guilt was appropriate, what was I going to do? Change or not change? After reflection, was I going to act? At first, I did not act. I was aware of those guilty feelings. They did not go away. I got tired of feeling guilty and realized the only way to release myself from this guilt was by acting. My feelings of guilt were a gift of awareness.

You can fool yourself into thinking you have progressed through these three steps when you haven’t.

First, some people aren’t aware of feeling guilty.

Second, some are aware, but won’t reflect on it.

Third, some reflect, but won’t act.

Some people use guilt to avoid taking any action. They think the expression of guilt is all that is necessary. They manipulate themselves into thinking they have completed a process when in fact they haven’t:

I have a hole in my conscience. (Awareness)

To live a life with integrity, I need to become a veg*n. (Reflection)

But I can’t because of [X]. (Inaction)

So I will feel guilty because I have made [X] more important than veg*nism. (A manipulative guilt reaction)

In this progression, guilt becomes a detour away from consciousness. Nonveg*ns accept the perpetual presence of guilt instead of dealing with the feelings that prompt the guilt.

I have an older friend who sometimes joins me for a meal at church. Every time she sits down with some form of dead meat on her plate, she turns to me and says, “I always feel so guilty when I see you.” I have not said anything to her. I do not need to. I am not doing anything to catalyze that guilt except living my life. But in simply living my life I demonstrate that it can be done. She could change if she so desired. If growth is going to happen, she has to examine what causes the guilt. Is it legitimate or not? What she is saying to me, each and every time we have this interaction, is, “I don’t want to change, but at least I feel guilty about not changing.” Feeling guilty is reassuring. It says, “I am moral. I do have sensibilities.” The sensation of guilt restores her sense of herself as a moral person despite the hole in her conscience.

The role of anger

Why do meat eaters get angry at veg*ns? Let’s follow the internal process that may be happening:

I know I have a hole in my conscience.

I need to become a veg*n.

But I can’t because of [X].

So you think veg*nism is more important than [X]?

How dare you say that my [X] is less important than veg*nism!

This is a familiar experience for many veg*ns. As one young woman observed in a

letter to me:

The other common experience I have is that someone will ask me to explain why I am a vegan and then hurtle off into self-righteous indignation, claiming that I am “preaching” and demanding respect for his (usually) view that meat eating is okay.

This position—“How dare you tell me that my [X] is less important than veg*nism”—accounts for the sense that veg*ns love animals more than humans. This is because nonveg*ns feel that this unscrutinized but intimate part of themselves—this “[X]”—is an essential part of themselves and cannot see themselves living differently from their current situation. [X] presses too strongly upon them. Yet you appear to be telling them that [X] is not as valid as they claim. They think to themselves, “What is veg*nism anyway? It’s there because of concern about harm to animals. So, you care about animals more than you care about me (represented in my [X])! I knew it!”

Following closely behind this reasoning is this reaction: “How dare you say that my [X] is less important than veg*nism! Who do you think you are?” When you hear that question—“Who do you think you are?”—watch out! You are dealing with a frantic blocked veg*n.

In being blocked, a meat eater may be assailed by several discomforting emotions. These may include: annoyance, dejection, intimidation, tension, vulnerability, uneasiness, insecurity, skepticism, apprehension, suspicion, alarm, reluctance, anxiety, impatience, nervousness, perplexity, helplessness, constriction, bewilderment, confusion, immobilization, ambivalence, awkwardness, puzzlement, hesitancy, surprise, depression, bitterness, terror, fear, or guilt. Most of us are not practiced at identifying or discriminating among these various, and often painful, feelings.

In responding to discomforting feelings, we have at least four options:

Ignore them and hope they go away. (They don’t.)

Get angry.

Identify the feelings and explore them. For instance: “I feel uncomfortable. I am feeling that way because of [X]. What is causing [X]?”

Identify the feeling and remind yourself that later, in a non-stressed atmosphere, you can explore them.

Unfortunately, anger short-circuits the awareness, reflection, action model available to us in steps 3 and 4. How does anger become the emotion of choice?

Feelings such as the ones I have suggested meat eaters experience have a “charge,” an emotional energy. When we don’t acknowledge what we are feeling, these charges floating around inside of us begin to build up. Instead of feeling uncertain and flustered, suddenly someone feels frustrated, uptight, tense. This then gets funneled into an emotion that releases the charges: anger. Often, when experiencing uncomfortable feelings, our tendency is to blame others. Finding an object, someone to blame for causing these feelings, allows the feelings to be released, and simultaneously externalizes them: The problem isn’t an individual’s uneasiness but someone else’s veg*nism!

We know what to do with anger. Anger can have a target outside itself. Anger gives the feeling of power; it also wards off other, more nuanced feelings. Anger replaces feelings of vulnerability with feelings of righteousness and indignation. Physically, it makes one feel strong: adrenaline flows with it; muscles contract to it. If one is feeling passive in the face of another’s actions, judgments, or comments, anger enables the feeling of action and vitality. In this case, anger displaces whatever facility for introspection the nonveg*n might have had. You are the most likely target.

Both guilt and anger reveal how the person is failing to respond to superego issues in their lives. It is in your best interest to get out of the way! Otherwise, you become the issue.

You become the issue

In our interactions with meat eaters, we should assume the process of deadening/dead-ending is at work, and our role is not to aid and abet it. We help them deaden/dead-end the process whenever we allow them to make us the issue. When we are the issue, they don’t have to be. Their awareness becomes interpersonal; their inner conflict transforms to one between us; their feelings turn outward, toward us. The inner conflict becomes an outer conflict. We become the problem, not awareness. It’s much safer that way. The energy required to change is released in external conflict.

Once there is an external cause for the feelings a meat eater is feeling, the remedy also is externalized: You are the problem. If you are the problem, then being blocked is not the problem. One veg*n complained:

When the conversation shifts to veganism, they automatically look at your shoes, your clothes, etc. They try to make themselves feel better by ripping apart the messenger instead of looking at themselves. And who said I was trying to convert you anyway? I thought we were just talking.

Someone who feels judged responds by judging another. This displaces the focus. It is reactionary. But this is what meat eaters usually bring to their relationship with us: reactionary personal politics.

As one veg*n observed: “I have noticed that when you tell someone you are a veg*n, they will go out of the way to insult you.” This tells you that meat eaters are defending themselves against their own inner process: as long as it is about you, it is not about them. If they keep the focus on you, your thoughts, your beliefs, they don’t have to examine their own thoughts. Feeling judged, they reverse the situation and try to take on the role of judging us. They search for the veg*n’s inconsistency. Thus we are peppered with “gotcha” questions and “whataboutisms” such as:

Well, why are you wearing leather? (Even when you are aren’t!)

What about plants?

What about 35mm film?

What about the homeless?

Trying to find some inconsistency in veg*ns is a process of displacement for the blocked veg*n. Suddenly your moral inconsistencies become much more important than theirs. You come under intense scrutiny because you’ve become the moral compass. There is also often a lingering distrust of anyone who is a moral compass. However, if it recurs over time, there can be an upside to this desire to find a veg*n’s inconsistency. Hostile nonveg*ns pay attention to the ways veg*ns live their lives. Then, by paying attention, they begin to realize how many ways animals are oppressed. They say, “You can’t eat Jell-O? Or marshmallows? Not even Altoids?” “What’s wrong with milk?” The search for inconsistency becomes a consciousness-raising experience. What you can offer the conflicted meat eater is a sense of equanimity: This is who I am. This is what I believe. This is how a person lives who becomes aware of guilt, reflects on it, and then acts.

Most often, though, we are made the issue. Simply by being a veg*n you remind them that they are blocked. So what’s a veg*n to do?

What’s a veg*n to do?

We have to avoid ways that keep us as targets. It is not your role to fill the hole in someone else’s conscience, only to give them the space and the tools to do so themselves. Trying to make someone responsible preempts their own responsibility. When we are self-righteous we don’t offer any empty space for them to move around in and explore the implications of their own decisions. The issue is not one of control that is, controlling others’ decisions; this is the meat-eating model, in which a choice is never offered at the time meat eating begins. Children are not asked, “Do you want to eat a burger made of a dead cow or a veggie burger?” Our goal is not to replicate this controlling model.

Meat eaters do not have to experience our veg*nism; they have to experience the way veg*nism touches them. One man offers an example of how this can happen:

I had a friend once whom I hadn’t seen in years. While we made dinner plans over the phone, I mentioned that I was a vegetarian. That evening, as I sat across from her at the dinner table, she said that she had eaten a Whopper that afternoon, because she was afraid that I might get her to become a vegetarian. I just shrugged my shoulders, and said that I wasn’t going to lecture. Midway through the meal, her curiosity got the better of her, and she started to ask me questions. Within a week, with additional help from my copy of Diet for a New America, she was a vegetarian.

Our role is not to insist, “You should become a veg*n.” There is a part within them that desires to live a more environmentally responsible and more humane life. That part is already giving them that message. That is why they are conflicted! Our goal is to connect to the part of them that desires change, not the part that blocks change.

If, through their actions, people reveal they are conflicted, you cannot help their process by stuffing more information inside of them. They need to reflect on their awareness. Moreover, when you argue, or even when you are merely offering a statistic to a nonveg*n, that statistic is associated with a voice, and that voice has a face. Our face. When they encounter a statistic on their own, the voice in their ear is theirs. Awareness happens then because they aren’t also trying to figure out their relationship to us and to the statistics.

Are you judging, angry, bitter? No matter how legitimate you believe these feelings to be, no one wants to be the recipient of someone else’s unprocessed feelings. With judgment, bitterness, and inflexibility, we take on another’s process. They are freed, and we become more inflexible. We often think the way to meet the intensity of someone else’s emotions is with an equal intensity of emotions, fighting back, and arguing; thus we become the issue.

There is an alternative. This is their issue, not ours. One cannot carry the burden of another’s consciousness for them. Try to create the space for them to fall through their own rabbit hole into consciousness for themselves. We do this by removing ourselves. Don’t step into the line of fire. Let the energy implode within the meat eater, rather than be an external agent of explosion. This explains Adams’s maxim: “Do not assume the role of superego; step out of the way if it is being projected upon you.”

This means: Do not cause or contribute to people’s anxieties about what they are eating while they are eating. Avoid statements such as: “Don’t you even care?” With such a statement, you tell them that you have the right to define exactly what caring involves. And, according to you, caring means doing what you are doing, not what they are doing. No one wants to hear these words, even if you are 100 percent correct. You have pointed out the unforgivable, causing a further separation between the two of you. You are making someone feel guilty.

Avoid, too, “Even a meat eater like you should know . . .” This sounds condescending, paternalistic, insulting. First, you are calling them ignorant. You are saying, in essence, “These facts are so well known, if you don’t know them, you must really be ignorant. Either a) you know these facts and you are guilty of acting despite this knowledge or b) you don’t know these facts and you are guilty of being ignorant.”

And don’t tell them that their guilt or anger is the symptom of being blocked: that will confirm that you are acting as a superego. Instead, you can say, “what matters for you is your choices, not mine. What choices are you going to make?” This reminds them that they are making choices.

People need to feel they can experiment and make mistakes without being shamed. They need a welcoming environment, not a constricted, combative one. Many meat eaters do not trust veg*ns to create that space for them. In addition, meat eaters see in us a representation of what seems impossible for them: “I can’t do that.” “I could never do that.” That makes them feel different from us. We must see in them a representation of our commonalities and do that by determining, “What in them can we connect to?”

The values that undergird our veg*nism—values concerning the health of the planet, choosing nonviolence and compassion for others—are not unique to veg*nism. These values may be expressed by our friends in other areas of their lives where they are unblocked.

People want to be validated. Engage people with a subject you can agree on. You may agree that neglected or injured dogs should be taken care of or that heart disease or cancer is a serious concern in their lives. Much to their own surprise, they find themselves agreeing with you.

It is up to us to help nonveg*ns recognize our commonalities, not our differences. If they feel hostile or defensive, they are not going to see you as an ally, a friend. They are not going to feel that they want to become like you in their food choices.

What we can do is help them see that the process of addressing what is blocking them is a process of release from guilt, anger, and judgment. How do we do this?

We do this simply by living our veg*n lives with ease and grace.

When we are at ease, what people sense is the absence of judgment. As a result, they are enabled to reflect for themselves, because they don’t have to defend themselves from your accusations or their fears that you will accuse them. They may experience that you are at peace with yourself, and desire it for themselves. They realize that not following energy creates a lot more unhappiness and frustration than following energy: shoulda, coulda . . . did.

Chapter 5
Sabotage and other meat-eating defenses

Meat eaters may feel miserable, but they are fairly confident that you are more miserable. They often try to sabotage your veg*nism to confirm this. They successfully deflect their misery unto you. Conveniently, too, they are able to confirm for themselves that you are miserable. They’ve made you so!

Frequently it seems as though meat eaters I know regard my choices as silly or unimportant. They seem to have this idea that I’ll eat meat if it’s presented in the right way such as inviting me to dinner and providing nothing else.

I don’t like the “joke” some meat eaters make of shoving bits of steak in my face when eating out, exclaiming, “You really don’t want any of this?” and then laughing at my obvious disgust.

One of the most disturbing interactions I’ve had with a meat eater was in a college classroom. As the room got warmer I took off my sweatshirt to reveal an animal rights T-shirt underneath. A male student behind me nastily and loudly snapped, “Hey, you aren’t one of those vegetarian animal rights nut, are you?” When I replied that I was a vegetarian and that I was pro-animal but not a so-called “nut,” he responded by angrily telling me that after class he was going to go and get a “nice big bloody hamburger and eat it” just for me. A few people in the class chuckled, making me feel I was being ganged up on. . . . I was so taken aback by this unprovoked assault, which was obviously intended to publicly embarrass me, that my first instinct was to tell him to enjoy his heart attack, too. However, instead I took a deep breath and asked him calmly why it was that people like him think that animal rights activists are crazed fanatics, yet it was he who shoved his beliefs, unprovoked, down my throat. Instead of reinforcing his stereotype, I called him on his own. Suddenly, he got a lot quieter and mumbled something under his breath about his not thinking animal testing for cosmetics was ethical and that he “didn’t agree” with killing animals for fur coats. . . . The “conversation” had certainly taken an interesting turn! Since then, I’ve tried to keep that episode in mind when my first instinct is to return the hostility of a meat eater in kind. As an aside, ever since that incident that man would say hello every time he saw me, and even asked me out for a drink!

When veg*ns experience sabotage, they feel hurt, confused, upset, betrayed. This chapter explores the dynamics of sabotage, what it reveals about the meat eater who engages in it, and how to protect against it. It takes the mystery out of meat eaters’ actions that are hostile, hurtful, and confusing.

Saboteurs may organize their world in a very simple manner: “Well, that person is a veg*n, they don’t share my beliefs, they’re bad.” They also believe “if you’re not for me you’re against me.” Such people may react strongly to you because you represent what they have failed at. They know or sense they should change, and yet they haven’t. You are their negation. Your action exposes their inaction. They are watching you, hoping that you fail. Your failure is their justification. What remains for them is to create problems for you to affirm their lack of action.

Saboteurs need to believe it is too difficult to live without meat. And they help to ensure that their belief is true. They are putting a lot of energy into your veg*nism. It is negative energy, but the very fact that they wish or are willing to put out so much energy says something. They have connected with you. Our challenge is to transform the negative into the positive.

What is sabotage?

In sabotage, you experience yourself as the target of the nonveg*n’s negative energy.

Sabotage is often the action of people who have awareness at some level that they are blocked veg*ns. They sense they “should” be veg*n but they are not. In interacting with us, their bondage to a meat-eating culture becomes apparent. We are triggering it, but what is there—the psychological material that must be worked with—is within them. Our veg*nism brings their bondage to their attention. The process of bringing bondage to consciousness can be very painful.

Why resort to sabotage? To block the painful process of bringing their bondage to consciousness. Acts of sabotage are the outward sign of an interior battle. Once again an interaction turns toward us to keep it from being about them. Saboteurs spend an enormous amount of energy trying to deny the integrity, legitimacy, or convenience of your choice. This is because saboteurs sense that you are right and they are wrong.

A saboteur is a boundary maintainer. Not only does the saboteur feel that with your veg*nism the boundary is crumbling, but it is their efforts alone that will maintain the boundary, and you must be punished for causing its collapse. They need to believe that you cannot successfully be a veg*n. They present obstacles to help them be convinced of this.

The classification of saboteurs

The sabotage dynamic arises from a drive for power and a need to eliminate/vanquish that which threatens. Saboteurs may be the group most truly threatened by your veg*nism. That’s the last thing they can admit to themselves or to you. Saboteurs may also get secret and not-so-secret pleasure from causing difficulty. By erecting barriers to your veg*nism, they forcefully prove to themselves that veg*nism is just too hard to accomplish.

Saboteurs lead with their insecurity about themselves and their diet. Whenever people lead with their insecurity, we should recognize that they are feeling threatened. They put it explicitly out on the table for us to examine. How helpful of them, really!

The “caring” saboteur

Caring saboteurs hide their actions. Outwardly they are charismatic, charming, attentive, caring . . . to a degree. Caring saboteurs would never see themselves as saboteurs. They care about you; they wouldn’t deliberately hurt you or frustrate you!

Caring saboteurs promise to give you food that you can eat. But they don’t deliver. You get chicken broth in the soup or egg in the dessert, and their pronouncement that something is veg*n when it isn’t. A caring saboteur knows precisely what you do and don’t eat; this is not an unaware host. They deliberately deviate from what you eat and rationalize it one way or another. They can’t change, but they don’t want to admit it. At least not in advance. They want to wait until the etiquette required of you as a guest at dinner prevents too much prying into their motivations. They don’t tell the veg*n in advance that they didn’t vary their cooking methods, though they had offered to prepare food the veg*n could eat. They act as though they understand and will respect your food boundaries, but in fact they don’t because they can’t. Their excuse might be: I know you said that you don’t eat eggs, but really it’s the only way this dessert could be made and I figured you wouldn’t mind this once. (They rarely have to articulate their excuse, however, because we are constrained by politeness not to criticize them.) What they are really saying is, “I can’t let your decision matter. I have to punish you for your decision. I don’t care enough about you to meet you here. But I don’t want to know I am really this uncaring.” Or, more aggressively, but still not explicitly: “I’ll show you the only way I can. You think you are going to get me to think about your dietary needs in advance? Well, I simply refuse to. If I think about your dietary needs in advance, that would mean I could think about mine in advance.” But, of course, they are thinking about it in advance, thinking about how to indicate that they are not thinking about it. They must block awareness—yours, by thwarting your veg*nism, and their own, by manifesting their refusal to engage with the issue.

I am not talking here about superficial acquaintances or dinner parties where you don’t know the host, or any other social event that brings us into a sphere of people we don’t know well. I am talking about friends, good friends, people we enjoy being with, people who we think care about us. This is the crunch. In practically every other way that they interact with us, they are caring. We feel embraced by them. Yet when it comes to our food differences, we experience something else entirely. We are invited to brunch and the margarine we left at their house so that we could have something on our bagels has disappeared. We are invited to dinner, and they confess, “Well, I did put some chicken broth in the ratatouille.”

What are we to do? The caring saboteur requires some special attention that other kinds of saboteurs might not. We are connected to the caring saboteur in ways that complicate our responses. Yet, really, all that is required of you is to make explicit what is being promised. That way you have a foundation for judging whatever happens next. For instance, the caring saboteur offers to make something. Say it is the dessert for the yearly holiday celebration that you share with them. Maybe it is a vegan cake. To confirm precisely what the cake will contain, you could pursue the issue in this gentle way:

You: “I’m looking forward to our yearly dinner. It will be very nice.”

Host: “Yes, I am, too.”

You: “What kind of cake are you making?”

Host: “A Meyer lemon cake.”

You: “That sounds great!”

Then, you follow that up immediately with a question such as “Where did you find a Meyer lemon cake recipe that doesn’t use eggs?” or “What egg substitute do you like best?” Or, even more explicitly, if they understand what the word vegan entails: “Oh great! Which vegan lemon cake recipe did you use?”

Through this conversation, you make explicit that the person is promising a vegan cake. Of course, the dish in question might be a meatless moussaka or a tofu quiche. It does not matter what is being offered; what matters is to clarify that they are offering to prepare something that respects your dietary commitments. This assures you of their awareness of what they are promising and gives them an out if this is not what they are really promising.

If, after clarifying what has been promised, you are still presented with a cake with eggs in it, a moussaka with meat in it, or a traditional quiche, you know that the failure was deliberate and not an oversight. This is information you need to know. It will probably prompt a reevaluation of the relationship. Because what they are saying to you is: “You are not as important to me as you thought.” Why is that? What is never acknowledged, but may be underlying the sabotage, is: “I cannot allow myself to care about your decision. There is something painful for me if I connect to your veganism without being a vegan. I can’t admit this to myself, much less to you.” But, as a result, they are also telling you that you need to say to yourself: “Here is someone I can’t trust. This person is not able to respect something central to my life. In the future, I need to be alert to this.” After that, no matter what they promise, do not expect that they are really able to feed you, no matter how much they may think they want to. Eat before you go or bring a second dessert just for the fun of it.

The parental caring saboteur is concerned that one cannot actually survive as a vegan, so they put nonveg*n items in your food while neglecting to tell you. The mother of one young vegetarian woman offered her eggs cooked in bacon. Only when her daughter became ill did the mother stop doing this. One father stuffed meat into his daughter’s food when she left the table for a minute.

A final subset of the caring saboteur is “false allies.” They exhibit some enthusiasm, but it’s fake, only to get you softened up for the insult that is coming. They have to first empower themselves by getting themselves trusted, only to hurt you the more. Not much can be done to defend yourself from these saboteurs, because by the time you realize what has happened, it is too late: you let your guard down and they have used your trust to hurt you. They are not only blocked veg*ns but untrustworthy ones as well.

The dominance and control saboteur

Upon learning that you are veg*n, people may change their own eating habits, but not necessarily in a positive direction. They may feel challenged to express their meat eating. Where they used to eat meat without much consciousness, they must now proclaim themselves eager and happy meat eaters. Sometimes they take on an air of belligerence, pronouncedly eating meat in front of you as an attempt to disgust or upset you. It is actually an attempt to establish control over the situation.

A friend may announce, “I want the cow brought right here, so I can butcher it myself!” or “We want the juicy flesh burgers!” Talking in this manner is the vehicle for them to reestablish some control over the situation, a situation in which they are profoundly defensive.

This saboteur often assumes that they are interacting with a “Bambi veg*n.” They declare in words and actions, “I know I am eating animals. I am proud of it! I’m strong enough to eat this once-living animal with no effect on my conscience!” This saboteur has a problem with feelings. “Bambi veg*ns” are seen as people who lead with their emotions. Of course, the motivations around responding to animal suffering are much more complex than this simplistic formula. But an individual who treats feelings with ridicule or irony will treat those people who represent feelings—veg*ns—with ridicule and irony. They declare to all and sundry: “This shows how much in control of myself I am, that I knowingly eat a dead animal.” They provide reassurance that they and their culture have chosen the right way.

What is underneath the bluff, the bravado? People who are afraid to care; people who are afraid to change. Which means they have the potential to care and the potential to change. Their reactions announce that they are blocking their energy. There is a part of them that wishes to change. You remind them of that part.

They simply need reassurance that feelings don’t destroy one, that feelings can be integrated within a healthy, functioning adult. Of course, you may not be what meat eaters reductively call a “Bambi veg*n.” You may have become a veg*n for another reason entirely. It does not matter to these saboteurs what your motivations are; what matters is what is unresolved within them.

Often a dominance and control saboteur requires an audience to ennoble their comments. Many of my correspondents reported that attacks were conducted among groups. Acting out with others present emboldens these saboteurs. They don’t have to argue about facts or issues; they can simply intimidate or ridicule and hope that others go along or don’t call them on it.

What should you do in the face of the dominance and control saboteur? The opposite of being annoyed is to ignore. Ignore their negative energy. Ignoring is an active process of responding to conflicting emotions and not letting them overwhelm you. Don’t get worked up. You can turn to them and say simply, “That was unkind.” You aren’t being defensive or argumentative, and by noting their behavior you give a reason for ignoring them. Or you can say, “That wasn’t a very nice thing to do.” Then, make a third-person observation that is not directly threatening to the audience: “Many people find veg*ns threatening because there is a part of them that wants to avoid animal flesh for a lot of good reasons, but another part doesn’t want to stop eating meat.”

You can demonstrate concern and caring, while refusing to accept the saboteur’s agenda, with an “I wonder” response. For example: “I wonder what animals in slaughterhouses feel. They certainly seem terrified.” Or, “I wonder what would happen if people consumed less meat. I wonder if it would free up grains to feed malnourished people.”

In this, you reveal that feelings do not destroy. You demonstrate a form of emotional strength, not through control but through awareness.

The hostile saboteur

These constitute a very nervous subset of the dominance and control saboteur. But they fill up the veg*n’s eating space so frequently and obnoxiously that we need to consider them as a separate species. Through several predictable tactics, hostile saboteurs hyperinflate meat’s importance at a meal.

The first tactic is to provide a narration of their meal. I call this “eating out loud.” The hostile saboteur acts out his fears of giving up meat by calling attention to meat eating. “Hmmmmm, I love meat so much! Watch as I bite into this burger and blood drips down the side of my mouth.”

One veg*n described a meal with someone who was eating out loud:

At my company’s last Christmas luncheon, one meat eater in particular chose to tell the table about every piece of seafood from the gumbo that he was eating—first, I told him that I didn’t want a play-by-play of his meal, and then as he continued I chimed in and did a play-by-play of my veggie stir-fry—look at this broccoli, wow, what a mushroom, etc. The table got a laugh and he finally shut up, so it worked out well.

Her co-worker is exhibiting fear. He is latching on to every bite he thinks she will take away from him, and taunting her with his intensified attachment. But what is he really saying? “You, sitting there eating your veggie stir-fry, make me so uneasy about meat eating that I must protect it, and accompany my actions with words.” Eating out loud happens because someone feels their attachment is being threatened. They are trying to provide security for themselves by providing a bite-by-bite narrative. How secure, actually, is their meat eating if one lone veg*n eating her veggie stir-fry can evoke such defensive behavior?

Another tactic is to bring meat into your personal space. I call these saboteurs “meat thrusters.” Waving, say, a pepperoni pizza or a hamburger in front of you—or whatever they are eating—they say, “Come on. You know you get the urge to have some meat. You know you want some of this.” Thrusters take a taunting approach, trying to “break you” of your veg*nism while also trying to have their meal validated by you.

I used to work with a guy who would always tease me with his meat sandwich. He would stick it in my face and say, “Come on, you know you want it. Dead flesh is so good, mmmm!” I never argued with him about it and usually I would just smile and continue to eat my lunch. Then one day he wanted to try something I had brought for lunch, and he liked it. From that day on he was always curious to know what I was eating, and I intentionally started bringing more food because I knew he would want some. After exciting his taste buds for several weeks, he confessed that he had cut back on eating meat, and he wondered if I had any info on vegetarianism that I could share with him. A well-armed vegetarian always has an arsenal of information at all times. I gave him Dr. Michael Klaper’s video A Diet for All Reasons. He came back to me the next day and said, “That’s it, I’m never eating meat again.” I was pretty shocked because he was a big meat eater. Today this friend is one of the most committed vegetarians I know.

This veg*n understood the necessity of ignoring a meat thruster. By ignoring that energy, the space was provided for the meat eater to begin to change. How do you cultivate the ability to ignore? Simply follow the rules of etiquette: Don’t respond to their offensive behavior and instead repeat the mantra of “No thanks. No thank you. . . . No thank you.”

The final subset of the dominance and control saboteur is the diluter. The diluter wants to dilute, minimize, and reduce consciousness about animals by applying the veg*n’s concern to everything under the sun. The diluter will pick up a flower, or take a branch, and say, “Aren’t you worried about the little plant?” or “Oh, I hear those vegetables crying.” Bugs will suddenly become objects of concern. The attempt is to restrict through dilution the power of the veg*n’s implicit message. Of course, many veg*ns are concerned about plants and bugs, but this is probably not the time to discuss a nonviolent eating ethic. One teenager described this form of joking that greeted her veg*nism. At some point, she realized, these people were making fun of her to make themselves look better. Again the rules of etiquette apply here: Always be respectful. Your critic is a conflicted, suffering, blocked veg*n.

Now the question might arise: When a saboteur makes you feel uncomfortable, awkward, or humiliated, why can’t you simply respond by telling them off or arguing with them? Because this feeds them. This is what they want. This allows them to become self-righteous, and that is their coping mechanism against their own fragmented consciousness.

A certain moral superiority is derived from lampooning, gossiping about, or criticizing someone who is doing something that makes you inwardly uneasy. For the dominance and control saboteur your choice has to be made unworthy, negative; it has to lose any of its attraction. They will exploit whatever they can—your uptightness, your tofu, your lack of a sense of humor—to maintain control. All of this criticism and cruelty show that some people are working mighty hard to maintain their sense of the acceptability of meat eating. This is actually a good sign! The greater their disturbance, the harder it is for them to reclaim that acceptability.

The boundary-keeping saboteur

Boundary-keeping saboteurs use accusations to make you insecure, hoping that feelings of insecurity and peer pressure will bring you into line. They are enforcers of the status quo. Conformity is the issue.

Often boundary-keeping saboteurs try to enforce conformity by using the gender issues of the culture. They will accuse men who are veg*n of being gay. They accept a rigid gender boundary, have a confused idea about homosexuality, and believe in the sexual politics of meat. To them, when a person who identifies as a man doesn’t eat meat it means that he is rejecting “maleness,” according to their conventional understanding. That’s enough, in their calculus, to prompt statements like “You’re a wimp, pansy, sissy, fruit, fairy.”

Boundary keepers are defensive about your veg*nism. In their actions, they are betting that you are defensive about your sexual identity. The way to respond is simply to ignore them or smile at them.

The “veg*n” saboteur

Many veg*ns have had the experience of discovering that some omnivores who do not eat four-legged animals have preceded them to a restaurant and, calling themselves “vegetarian,” ordered chicken or fish. Or vegans learn that people who referred to themselves as vegans made “exceptions” for desserts, or appetizers. Thus they teach everyone they interact with that what a vegetarian or vegan eats is different from the accepted definition of vegetarian and vegan. When an actual veg*n enters that same restaurant, or eats with the same friends who have been exposed to the faux veg*n, you are the one who will suffer. These faux “veg*ns” are ruining our ability to assume anything about anyone when the issue is veg*nism. So, first, don’t assume, ever, that anyone understands what you mean when you say that you are a veg*n. Be explicit. “I am a veg*n. I don’t eat anything with a face” (or, “anything with eyes except potatoes” or, “anything that had a mother”). Second, contain the faux veg*n’s damage, in this way—enclose “veg*n” in quotation marks. By doing so you problematize their definition without getting all worked up: “Oh, you must have entertained one of those quote unquote veg*ns who think chicken and fish grow on trees.” And if you meet anyone who calls themselves veg*n even though they don’t follow a veg*n diet, don’t get into an argument, just assume they are misinformed. Suggest a website or a book for them to look at. These actions are ways of restoring the appropriate definition and of restoring our equilibrium at the same time. In the meantime, don’t assume that calling yourself a veg*n will convey anything accurate to others about what you do or don’t eat.

Why do meat eaters sabotage veg*ns?

Because meat eaters live among meat eaters and have their world reflected back to them, their understanding of a veg*n life is impoverished. They relate to you from that impoverishment. The result is that they cause veg*ns to feel momentarily impoverished—by not preparing food that we could eat when they promised they would or creating a most unwelcome environment for our meals.

Until you join a group of meat eaters for a meal, they probably don’t think of themselves as meat eaters. They are diners. Your presence changes their self-definition, and they don’t like it. Because of us, they become “meat eaters.” Saboteurs take the defensiveness they feel about this and magnify it, manifest it, act it out against us. They have a lot of dynamic life energy. They have not learned how to channel it positively.

Saboteurs discount your reality and violate your needs. Something fairly urgent must be at work in them for them to act in such duplicitous, unkind, often cruel, or obnoxious ways. These people fear becoming veg*ns themselves. Sharon Salzberg observes, “Fear can often give rise to an intensified attachment, because if we fear that something might be taken away, we will crave for a means to secure it.”

The saboteur may also feel insecurity: “I’m being judged and found inadequate. Well, I’ll show them.” They want you to take on their unwanted feelings so they transfer their discomfort to you. Through sabotage their outer actions mirror their interior crisis—they are sabotaging their own best desires, for lack of something: lack of courage to change, lack of sense of safety to change. We may not be privy to the specifics, but we experience the behavior.

This much resistance announces that something is there. This means they have the potential to change. Not only that: because of that potential you are triggering something inside them which they must actively quieten by turning their inner torment on you.

The saboteur is internally conflicted. Through sabotage, they bring this conflict outward and let you carry it for them.

The results of responding with abundance

In Chapter 2, “Are You at Peace?” I suggested that nonveg*ns view veg*ns as choosing scarcity in the face of a meat-eating world’s abundance. At one level, sabotage is an attempt by a nonveg*n to inflict this distorted scarcity model upon you. They confirm their fears that living without meat is living without food choices by acting them out against you.

When you are unperturbed by sabotage, when you continue to enjoy your meal and refuse to engage with the saboteur’s negative energy, you demonstrate a sense of abundance in relationship to your own meal. By ignoring their rude and cruel behavior, you show that veg*nism is so positive that it neutralizes their negative energy. By continuing to respond positively, you demonstrate a sense of abundance.

They need to believe that living without meat can’t happily be done, even though they are the cause of the unhappiness. Of course, it is irrational, but that doesn’t keep them from trying to sabotage you. Because this need to inflict the distorted scarcity model they have for veg*nism upon you is irrational, you can’t simply reassure them by saying, “It’s okay. Being a veg*n is fine!” Rather than telling them anything, you have to let your actions speak on your behalf. They need to experience something that words cannot impart—that your veg*nism is so transformative, they and their negative energy can’t disrupt, diminish, or destroy it. They need to see before them someone who is not disturbed by their actions. Then they see from your behavior that being a veg*n is fine. You convey this in these often toughest of interactions simply by continuing to enjoy your choice of foods, no matter how restricted those choices are at that moment.

Saboteurs are making the best choices available in their model of the world. Their model says, “Meat, mammalian milk, and eggs are necessary for me to feel happy/full/healthy!” So, they choose accordingly. The thing is not to challenge the choices they make but to change the model. When you continue to express your sense of abundance, despite their actions, you undermine their fears of scarcity. “It is nothing,” you say. “No big deal.” You are happy with your choices.

We challenge this notion of veg*nism as impoverishment by living a life that expresses a sense of abundance. “Oh, you put eggs in that cake? I guess I’ll wait for dessert later.” No big deal. This sense of abundance is contagious.

The most obnoxious nonveg*ns spend so much time trying to thwart you that they end up studying you. Some of the grossest violators of manners, meat thrusters, often become the ones touched by the veg*n’s unperturbed responses and enjoyment of their food. They discover, “While I am miserable, veg*ns, contrary to my thoughts, are not more miserable. They are considerably less miserable.”

Sometimes those who badger or antagonize are actually the most interested in your choice; their defensive behavior is an attempt to protect them from their own leanings. Those who may be the biggest offenders—the ones who shove meat in your face and those who eat out loud—might be defending themselves the most strongly from what they have themselves come to sense about meat eating: it isn’t necessary. The greater the doubt and the greater the criticism, the greater the attraction and the greater the possibility.

How ironic! Saboteurs may be the most likely veg*n converts, and sabotage is their final barricade against change! How can we tell? The clue is the intensity of energy with which they respond to us.

The saboteur is the most likely to change because, at some level, the saboteur perceives the fluidity of change: that one can abandon habituated eating practices and become a veg*n. The saboteur recoils from such a fate. They do not want change, even fluid, natural, evolving change, to work its magic on them. Sabotage is the Berlin Wall of psychic defensiveness: it keeps the saboteur seemingly safe from change.

But Berlin Walls fall, and as the saboteur continues to hang around, what do you know . . . they become veg*ns! I’ve heard that story over and over again from veg*ns.

How did you become a veg*n?

The ex-saboteur’s answer: I watched a veg*n live their life.

Chapter 6
Talking with meat eaters

Two kinds of people exist in the world: those who want answers to their questions and those who don’t. More important than knowing the answers to questions is having the skill to tell the difference between these people.

Conversations may be one way that meat eaters learn about veg*nism, but they are also the most stubborn way that meat eaters hold on to their beliefs. Indeed, conversations themselves are functioning differently for meat eaters than for veg*ns. Frequently, meat eaters are trying to find ways to dull the impact of our words, while we are constantly finding ways to sharpen those words.

Numerous veg*n organizations, books, and websites provide helpful answers to every possible question a meat eater might throw at a veg*n. “Be prepared,” these answers suggest, as though your belief system is meeting their belief system on even ground for a conversational arm-wrestling match. They imply, “If you are prepared, your conversations will be easier, less stressful.” They instill the hope that you can prevail. The intentions of these answers to frequently asked questions are admirable, but they misunderstand a basic dynamic: You cannot argue with a people’s mythology.

One of our culture’s mythologies is the necessity of eating animals. Atlas will fling the world off his shoulders before we dislodge this mythology through argument alone. Moreover, the questions meat eaters ask may not be the questions meat eaters need answered. Often, the content of the conversation itself is the least important aspect of a conversation. You need to learn how to identify the question behind the question.

You should assume that for the meat eater, conversations with you function to distort and block your perspective as much as they function to convey information. This perspective accounts for my basic rules for talking with meat eaters.

Basic rules for talking with meat eaters

Don’t discuss veg*nism while people are eating meat, dairy, and/or eggs. At a nonverbal level, the contents of the meal disempower the veg*n while making nonveg*ns more defensive. One can simply state, “I’m glad to talk about veg*nism, because it’s very important to me. But I find that it can spoil my appetite to talk about eating animals over meals. Let’s discuss this later.”

Less is more. Or, “Here I am, come to me.” Rather than feeling that we have to show, to demonstrate, to vindicate ourselves or veg*nism, see all interactions as a process of coming to consciousness.

Don’t feel that you need to answer any or every question. Direct people to your favorite vegan website, Tik Tok artist, or book. Virginia Messina, R.D., and I wrote Protest Kitchen to help people place veganism within the context of other social justice issues, and we’ve found it is a helpful introduction for nonveg*ns. Offer to email them or “DM” them with information.

Speak to nonveg*ns the way you would speak to a wild animal: softly and without any sudden movements.

If you are going to have a conversation with a person, the first statement you make should indicate some sort of agreement with the person: “Yes, that’s an interesting point.” Then you might say, “Many people don’t know that . . .” This allows you to provide information in a way that is not confrontational or condescending. For example: “Many people don’t know that animals on farms suffer greatly from crowded, stressful conditions or that they are social beings who mourn when their companions or children are removed. I choose not to support that. I wonder what else people can do, short of becoming vegan.”

In a social context, it is wise never to try to encourage someone to change diets.

If you ignore rule no. 1, or are repeatedly pulled into a mealtime exchange, continually take the pulse of the conversation (see pp. 103–104) so that you can end it if you need to.

Watch for “whataboutisms”—“But what about [X]?” Whatever the subject of their question, think of it as them asking “What about me?”

What accounts for these rules and my pessimistic view of the function of conversations? My understanding of the veg*n-meat eater conversational divide.

The veg*n-meat eater conversational divide

Say you have just been asked, in mixed company, “So, tell me: Why are you a veg*n?”

You say, “I’d rather not talk about it while you are eating.”

They say, “No, really, why did you become a veg*n?”

After several attempts to postpone an answer, you give in. “The ribs I stared at on my plate looked just like the cadaver I faced the week before as a medical school student.”

Or, you might talk about how you realized that the milk we take for granted requires calves to be taken from their mother after they are born—sometimes when they are only 15 minutes old. You are being honest. But you are also being literal. You are talking about animals’ bodies.

Speaking literally

Veg*ns have a tendency to speak literally; our culture avoids the literal. We veg*ns say meat is muscle from a corpse or milk is the lactation product of a cow. While literal thinking is important in understanding the world, literal thinking can also trip us up, especially when the issue is animal exploitation. As I point out in The Sexual Politics of Meat, part of the battle of being heard as a veg*n is being heard about literal matters in a society that favors euphemistic expressions.

You are asked, “Why are you a veg*n?” And you say, “I just don’t want to eat dead animals.” Or, you refer to flesh taken from an animal’s corpse. Or, discuss how methane is released by cows through burping and flatulence, as well as by manure lagoons, but is broken down within 20 years, and how many climate change calculations use 100 years forecasts, but if you used 20 years instead, you would see that methane is far more heat trapping than carbon dioxide.

Suddenly the nonveg*ns—thinking that they were engaging in nothing more than a pleasant “get to know you” question—find that the conversation has changed in intensity. By answering honestly about what you have learned and offering factual information, you are prompting a connection in the nonveg*n with something they have usually blocked out of their consciousness. Suddenly, somewhere in themselves, a part of them says, “Whoa! What’s happening here? I don’t want to hear this information! This makes me feel uncomfortable. Who is that person to make me feel uncomfortable? Oh, those emotional veg*ns.”

Literal speech is experienced emotionally.

You stated a literal truth or fact. It is experienced as an emotional statement because its content prompts feelings within the nonveg*n, feelings the nonveg*n does not want to be aware of. You will very shortly thereafter be accused of being emotional.

Translating a foreign language

We have learned a lot more about how meat, dairy, and eggs are produced than nonveg*ns. This is probably one of the reasons we became veg*ns. We don’t have to resist this information. We aren’t blocked. The problem is that the person with the least amount of information sets the level of the conversation. If the person with the least amount of information sets the level of the conversation, control is automatically vested with the nonveg*n.

Here’s an example: when Ronald Reagan was president of the United States, he met with Francois Mitterrand, then president of France. Reagan spoke English; Mitterrand, French and English. Which language did they speak? English, of course.

Meat eaters speak one language. Veg*ns speak two. Among ourselves, we might exchange tofu and tempeh recipes, discuss how to veganize a recipe, make plans to go to a veg*n restaurant, or attend a protest at a slaughterhouse. We are speaking “French.” Among meat eaters—“English speakers”—we have to translate constantly from French into English. Ask any translator—this is hard work! This is not how we relax. What is inherent in our experience, what is integrated, has to be pried apart to explain to someone else.

You do not have to teach them the new language; websites, books, articles in many of the world’s major newspapers can do that for you.

Just the facts?

Remember, if you reel off statistics, the voice in their minds will be yours. If for no other reason, you should resist reciting facts, although it may be your first instinct. Veg*ns look as if they are trying to be experts when they use statistics. Many people distrust anyone who throws facts at them. It’s not conversational. They may feel lectured at. Most meat eaters don’t want veg*ns to be experts. Moreover, people distrust facts. They are suspicious. How have we manipulated the facts? Who compiled them? How do we know they are true? You are seen as someone with a point to get across, you are not seen as unbiased and fair.*

Another problem with facts is that the numbers we might cite about the implications of meat eating feel too big to be comprehended. Innumeracy—mathematical illiteracy—works in favor of the status quo. The Greek mathematician Archimedes pointed out that a bunch of small numbers when added together will exceed any large number, no matter how great it is. Of course, he said it more elegantly than this. This “additivity” of small numbers explains how 200 pounds of meat per person per year translates to over 9 billion land animals. Not grasping the additivity of small numbers, they won’t see how their individual decisions translate to contributing to climate change, deforestation, and the deaths of countless animals. (Not that the solution to this is individual change alone, but individual change is important as we work toward political and societal change.)

Remember that dispersing facts may also play into the nonveg*n’s need to keep this controlled and rational, because they are trying to appear controlled and rational despite behavior that contradicts this.

The right brain-left brain divide

Nonveg*ns may raise questions to avoid acknowledging their own feelings. Regardless of the content, talking becomes a defensive mechanism in and of itself. They are working so hard to keep the left brain in control. They have to prevent any sort of associations that might pull their right brain in. So they keep things linear and controlled. How? By following the basic format of question-and-answer. Many meat eaters are already thinking of their next argument while you answer the one they have just given you. It is not really a conversation; it is a stalling technique. And the questions will be ones that overintellectualize, such as, “What if you were stranded on a desert island and all you had to eat was a snake?” They want to know how you have anticipated every contingency. Are you going to make exceptions or not? What veg*n doesn’t hate these questions? One response is to say, “I’ll decide about that then, but it’s not relevant to my situation here, today.” Of course, honoring the question keeps the focus on you and postpones any self-examination for them. You might not want to do this.

Here is another overintellectualized question: “What is the veg*n vision for twenty years from now?” Should we answer that question? Most of us probably could, but the answer is not the point. On two separate levels the question distances the asker from the issue. First, by thinking they need to have everything mapped out, as though it is this vision that will make them more open to veg*nism. It is a way of postponing dealing with their own avoidance of making the veg*n decision. You can say, “Who knows? But I have been a veg*n for [X] years and I’m not going change today.” Recognize, however, that the question itself announces that the status quo is at work. Why do veg*ns have to have a plan, but nonveg*ns don’t?

How could you answer this question in such a way that the meat eater isn’t allowed to keep postponing? By asking a question back:

What is the your plan for twenty years from now?

Why, given the issues today, is that important to you?

What interests you about veg*nism today?

Drastic questions such as “If everyone became a veg*n overnight, what would happen to all the animals?” tell us that people feel that veg*nism is too drastic for them. They externalize this feeling in their questions. If they only thought about it for a minute, they would realize they are asking about an impossibility because, as they know, these changes aren’t going to happen overnight and the question is an irrational one.

Watch out for a conversation in which a nonveg*n announces, “My veg*n friends don’t have an answer for this!” before asking the question. Of course, they are creating a greater burden on the veg*n—and tempting you, too. But this alerts us that for them the entire conversation is premised on finding a “gotcha” moment when an inconsistency, irrationality, or misplaced commitment is exposed.

“Gotcha” interactions are a variation on my claim at the beginning of this chapter that in conversations there are those who want answers to their questions and those who don’t. Individuals intent on catching you out—“Gotcha!”—want wrong answers to their questions. And they are sure they can prompt you to prove them right in your answer, you are inconsistent, irrational, and have misplaced commitments. (You are wearing leather, you eat plants and don’t they suffer?, you don’t care about the homeless, etc.)

Imagine you are both climbing a rope ladder, and that you are just a little higher up. The “gotcha” person is at your heels, grabbing for your foot, not the ladder, to pull themselves up higher.

You might presume, “Oh, if I can answer this question, I will convince them.” But that’s not the way it works. They will just move on to the next question that “no one has satisfactorily answered.”

When I hear the exclamation that so far no veg*n has had an answer to this question, I know:

They have argued and pursued issues with other veg*ns. I am not the first; I won’t be the last.

They were happy the veg*ns couldn’t answer the question. Without an answer to the question, they don’t have to deal with veg*nism. They are putting the bar for veg*nism at a level that would be difficult for it to meet—which is the point of the interaction. Meanwhile, they see themselves as legitimate in not considering veg*nism.

They are avoiding emotional work. They want to control the questions and their own consciousness. The right brain-left brain problem is theirs, as they erect and patrol a barricade.

If you want to continue a discussion with someone who is this resistant, you might do it in this manner:

It seems to me that most opponents of veg*nism appear threatened by my decision to be a veg*n. It seems this might apply to you? Is this correct?

The likely response is “No.”

Then, “Why don’t you become a vegan?”

“Because I like what I eat now.”

Pause, with a pensive look, and say, “So . . . it sounds like you are worried that you will miss tastes you enjoy.” This is rather nonjudgmental—just an observation. Yet it identifies the problem as being with them, not with you, and suggests they have feelings that are influencing their behavior.

Strategies for conversations

Etiquette rules!

Be aware of the basic rules for etiquette and follow them. “Why are you a veg*n?” is a personal question and you have the right not to answer it. When someone is treating you rudely, you have the right not to answer them. You can say simply, “That’s personal. I’d prefer not to talk about this at the moment.”

Use a conversational thermometer: Is their question hot, neutral, or cold?

A hot question often reveals anger and/or suppressed hostility. They often reflect the motivations of the nonveg*n: to trap you with a “gotcha” moment. Examples include:

“Why are you wearing leather?”

“What about plants?”

“What about the fact that Hitler was a veg*n?”*

Hot questions challenge. They keep the focus on you and veg*nism. “Hot” questions want to put you in the hot seat. They may be posed in ways that are ostensibly neutral or academic. But they are not. They are confrontative.

You do not need to answer a hot question. In fact, you should avoid it. You can say, “I can see you have some interest in the topic. But I make it a practice not to discuss veg*nism when I am [eating/working/walking/making love/first getting to know someone/breathing . . .]. Let’s discuss another time.” Or tell them, “I found this [book or website] is helpful when people have these kinds of questions.” Your motivation here is to require them to put a little more effort into learning about veg*nism than simply by entertaining themselves with a veg*n. In this way, you refuse to be a victim of a blocked veg*n.

Or have a little fun: “Congratulations! You are the 100,000 nonveg*n I’ve met with that question!” and then change the subject.

What is blocking them? A “cold” question or comment tells you. It explains why they are frozen.

It’s too hard!

I could never do that!

Don’t you miss X [something they value as food]?

It’s okay to follow a “cold” statement. You do so by asking questions back instead of giving answers:

Why do you think it’s too hard?

Why do you think you couldn’t?

Are you afraid you would miss X [that dish they mentioned]?

If the question was something like, “Don’t you ever miss X?” you might respond: “No. But people ask me questions like that all the time. I wonder if they are really thinking that they would miss X if they chose to be veg*ns. I can tell you that when I realized that I had to become a veg*n, the question of what I was going to miss became irrelevant. I no longer had an appetite for foods taken from animals. I haven’t regretted my decision.”

Or to the question of “Don’t you ever miss X?” you can say, “Sometimes. But so what? I’ve found lots of great things to replace it with.”

A hot question highlights the differences between the nonveg*n and veg*n. The gap widens. A cold question allows the veg*n, if they wish to pursue it, to make a bridge between differences

Neutral questions are elusive to pinpoint. Much in a conversation is ostensibly neutral, but because of the complex psychological mechanism that keeps someone blocked, anything that begins neutrally may quickly heat up. After all, meat eaters don’t even recognize that the seemingly neutral question “Why are you a veg*n?” will quickly heat up a conversation if it is answered. What you might see as a neutral answer will be experienced as “hot” to the meat eater. It is hot because they feel judged.

“How do you get your protein?” is a neutral question.

Answering a neutral question is fine, as long as it stays neutral. Giving information in a neutral tone allows the meat eater an opportunity to hear. Here is how one person goes about it:

I explain in a very even tone my reasons for my choices: ethics, health, and the environment. I tell them that I was a voracious meat eater for twenty-four years before I was exposed to life-changing information. I also tell them that I do not judge people based on their eating habits because I myself was on the other side, and if they would like to know more I would love to give them more information.

You need to maintain the neutrality of the question in your answer and deny people the opportunity to use your behavior to start an argument.

Look to their bodies

Of course, nonveg*ns are going to respond with their bodies. We eat with our bodies! We look, smell, taste. It is only common sense that the body will register reactions as well.

We have to develop the ability to heed what their bodies as well as their words are saying. Otherwise, we may answer the wrong questions. Body language may be telling you more than verbal content.

Do they furrow their brows, raise their eyebrows with a bemused, skeptical smile? Show distrust of your words by recoiling from you?

Are their arms across the chest, closing the person off, protecting them from (verbal) blows?

Are they smiling, or not?

Are you smiling? Is it a deferential, “I’ll-try-not-to-disturb-you” smile? Are you nervous, eager to please?

Are they breathing rapidly?

Is their chin jutted out? Or their shoulders scrunched?

What is happening with their eyes: are they narrowed or wide open?

Is the tempo of their speech rapid?

Is their tone shrill, loud, bitter?

Are they acting impatient while simultaneously peppering you with questions?

These are defensive postures.

Are you receiving conflicting messages? They say, “I am interested,” but their body is rigid, and they are grimacing. Or “Tell me more,” they say, yet their fists are clenched and their body stiffens as they lean away from you. They are communicating to you that they are not really interested. They are actually conflicted. They cannot bring all of themselves to the interaction.

Are they listening? Are they responding? Listen to their bodies before you answer that next question of theirs.

Use a lighthearted tone

Be aware of your tone. You need to convey through your speaking dynamics that you are at peace. Keep calm. Don’t raise your voice. Smile, listen calmly, and nod at what they have to say. Rephrase and repeat back to them what they said. This demonstrates that you have heard and understood them.

Being playful is important. Resist the temptation to preach. People want question marks, not exclamation points (“It’s better for you!” “Think about the animals!”). They want to be asked, “What do you think?”, not told, “This is how you should think!”.

We live in an ironic time. Nothing is to be taken too seriously. If you take something too seriously you are immediately suspect. Veg*ns are perceived as being too earnest. Your earnestness, in and of itself, may provide meat eaters with a target outside themselves upon which to focus their anger, frustration, or disappointment with themselves. You believe; you are sure. They are uncomfortable and unsure. Irony speaks to them in their discomfort. They wish to distance themselves from your earnestness, which they can experience as tediousness. You have to relate with lightheartedness, too.

Find ways to displace earnestness with a shrugging nonchalance. You can be ironically dismissive, as in, “I won’t tell you about the relationship between supporting animal agriculture and our climate catastrophe.” But in saying that you won’t tell them, you do tell them, and this way you do it with a wink.

Talk vegan to me

These conversations implicitly confirm an opinion meat eaters hold about veg*ns. They believe that vegetarians continue to think about meat (and vegans continue to think about meat, dairy, and eggs) even though they no longer eat them. The conversation provides the confirmation. The conversation they probably initiated, and that they want you to participate in, is a conversation that at every moment proves that we haven’t stopped thinking about meat eating. No matter what you say, this is the message being received.

That’s why I prefer the idea of “talk vegan to me” rather than “Ask me why I’m a vegetarian” or “Ask me why I’m a vegan.” The sweatshirt (and winter hat) I was given by some activists from Calgary that invite “talk vegan to me” dethrones the focus on defending a decision, and encourages describing the joys that followed. After all, our lives are not dominated by thoughts of meat eating. It is often meat eaters who make it so.

Talking vegan would thus disprove this belief. But in that space? It’s another reason a meat eater doesn’t want you to change the subject.

When a meat eater is hostile, pick a one-liner and stick to it

Decide what you wish to say about being a veg*n and simply repeat it. Refuse to answer any other question.

“Geez, it’s not like I gave up chocolate or anything!”*

“I want my foods to be animal free.”

“I don’t think animals should have to die to please my palate.”

“Anything that lived or breathed isn’t my idea of food.”

“Life is too precious to take unnecessarily.”

“My veg*nism is part of the process of being honest with myself.”

“This is how it is with me. I am happy. I feel better”

“I do what I have to to sleep at night.”

“I don’t eat food from an animal that had a face, a mother, or a bowel movement.”

“Look, I am not forcing this on you.”

“I can’t think of a reason not to.”

“My veg*nism reminds me why I care.”

They respond with a “whataboutism.”

“What about [X]?”

Ignore whatever they put forth. Stick to your one-liner. Repeat it. If you wish, add to it by saying, “I have nothing more to say.” Repeat your one-liner, again. Whatever the statement is, simply repeat it over and over again, being sure not to interrupt. Don’t sound haughty in repeating it; simply make it a statement of fact. Don’t put an extra stress on any of the words. The person may think that you can’t answer their arguments. It doesn’t matter what they think. They may taunt you: “Is that all you have to say?” Remember: They are trying to draw you into their drama as nonveg*ns. You don’t have to say, “I don’t have to explain myself.” Your answer says it. Remember, too, that you can direct them elsewhere for more information.

One-liner answers to typical meat-eaters’ questions or defenses

Okay, now, I am not really advising that you do this frequently. You will be seen as hostile and uncooperative, and will allow the meat eater to control the conversation and avoid dealing with their own role in meat eating. But everyone needs some variety, and so do we veg*ns. Sometimes, you might feel that you need to answer some of the defenses that are flung at you in the meat eater’s desperate move to stay blocked. Here are some one-liners to fling back:

They: “Yes, well, it’s a dog-eat-dog world.”

You: “No one is eating us.”

Or

You: “In fact, it isn’t. Only five percent of all animals are killed by other animals.”

They: “This is part of our animal nature.”

Several quick responses are available for this one:

You: “Is the eat-or-be-eaten model the one we want to adopt and encourage?”

You: “Do you know what percentage of animals are carnivorous?”

You: “Humans spend so much of their time denying their connections to animals, until they want to justify eating them.”

They: “Well, plants have life, too.”

You: “If you are really concerned about that, you should become a veg*n. Meat eaters are responsible for the deaths of all the plants that animals eat and then eat the animals, too.”

Or

You: “Strange, I’ve never seen a meat eater run into the road to save a carrot from being run over by a car.”

They: “But what will happen to all the animals?”

You: “Do you assume veg*nism will take over that quickly?”

Or

You: “They will line up and kiss you.”

They: “Do you eat fish or chicken?”

You: “Do fish or chicken grow from seeds?”

Or

You: “Do fish or chicken grow on trees?”

They: “I only eat meat from locally-owned farms; and I know the farmers there love their animals.”

You: “If killing what one loves is standard practice, I hope they don’t start loving me.”

They: “I thank the animal for its [sic] sacrifice.”

You: “How do you know the animal would have picked you?”

They: “If I didn’t eat animals, they never would be born.”

You: “One quality of nonexistence is not having awareness about existence.”

They: “Why are you wearing leather?”

You: “Let me see: does this question mean that if you are eating chicken and see a man beating a dog, you should not save the dog?” *

They: “Animals are not our equals.”

You: “One would think such inequality would require us to respond more, not less, sympathetically”

They: “You want to take away our meat.”

You: “Nope. I do not want to take anything away from you. That task is yours.”

They: “Being a veg*n must be hard.”

You: “It was harder for me to live with the awareness that I was a meat eater.”

They: “It’s not practical.”

You (shrugging your shoulders casually, in a light, dismissive manner to the concern): “It is.”

They: “Why are you still eating burgers and hot dogs? Why do you need that texture?”

My favorite answer is

You: “Why are you eating our peanut butter?”

(Peanut butter was developed in the late 19th century by John Harvey Kellogg as a protein source for vegetarians.)

Or,

You: “Well the word ‘meat’ used to mean all foods.”

When someone takes your veg*nism personally:

You: “Why do you feel this is about you?”

They: “It’s too much trouble.”

You: “Actually weather-related catastrophes from climate change cause much more.”

The nature of questions

Questions reveal a great deal, more than most of us realize. Listen to their questions, not to answer them, but as explanations. And ask yourself, “Do I really need to answer this question?”

Some questions reveal how the meat eater stays blocked

Many questions suggest the questioner holds to what I call “retrograde humanism.” You may hear an angry question like, “Why aren’t you doing something important like feeding the homeless?” Retrograde humanism is expressed when people accuse veg*ns of not caring about the homeless, or (take your pick): the hungry, battered women, abused children, the environment, and/or workers. Sometimes, I laughingly claim that my veganism has prompted more people to announce their concerns for human suffering than my activism on behalf of homeless individuals, battered women, the hungry, and the environment ever did.

If you hear the question as a “whataboutism”—“What about the homeless, the hungry, etc.”—you can respond, “That’s a complex issue, but I think you’d have to agree that being veg*n does help reduce [hunger/animal suffering/environmental degradation/etc.].” This method does not presume that every question must be answered. It does not accept the unspoken agenda of the meat eater (to keep you on the defensive).

Retrograde humanism is a kneejerk reaction, prompted by defensiveness. When people say we care more for animals than for human beings, I think they mean: “Why aren’t you caring for me? Why are you making me uncomfortable?”

Another response that reflects the process of blocking is the simple “Don’t tell me!” Which suggests they already know and are afraid of the feelings this knowledge provokes.

Some questions reveal how the meat eater got blocked

One of my children’s friends came to our house when he was four. He was very upset. During a meal at McDonald’s, he had announced to his parents that he wanted to be a vegetarian like my son. They told him he could not have his dessert unless he ate his Chicken McNuggets. He ate his meal and was rewarded with the dessert. Where did that vegetarian impulse go? It was buried in his psyche. He became a blocked vegetarian.

Three specific areas of concern often trace themselves backward to the questioner’s childhood. These comments from meat eaters often announce how they got blocked:

Declarations about suffering. “Animals don’t suffer.” Or “Animals don’t have consciousness about suffering.”

Assumptions about existence. “This is why animals exist.” “They would not exist if we didn’t eat them.” “At least they get to exist because they are going to be meat.”

Concern about needing meat to survive. And also simply to enjoy. “Why should I give up something I enjoy?”

Think about it: Where did your conversational partner develop this perspective? At a young age, those of us raised as meat eaters became conscious—at some point—that we were eating animals. What did we do with this information? In many cases we asked our parents or another authority figure. Unless they were extremely open meat eaters, they would explain that, yes, meat comes from dead animals, but one need not worry about that. Why not? They would most likely have answered us by saying:

We need meat to survive.

The animals would not exist unless we ate them or the animals exist so that we can eat them.

They do not suffer.

Your parents may not have understood this themselves, but each of those answers is a lie. We do not need meat to survive. Veg*ns are proof of that. Animals do suffer. And animals can exist without our requiring them to be of service to us.

Whatever their age when children ask their parents or guardians about the meat on their plate—“Wasn’t this an animal?”—from that point on, the concerns that motivated that question (concerns about why we have to eat animals) must go underground in the child’s psyche. (Unless the parents allow the child’s viewpoint to prevail and accept the child’s veg*nism.)

When, as an adult, a blocked veg*n encounters a veg*n, we stand there disproving what we all were told as children. We reveal to an adult that they were lied to at a very early age. This process of revelation might be happening below the surface of consciousness. When they throw their unfounded assumptions at us, and we respond, we aren’t really arguing with the meat eater, but with those beliefs that were enforced at a very young age. And in arguing with those beliefs, we are very, very threatening!

The primal nature of these beliefs explains why, no matter what the setting, these questions in one form or another are raised. When I have spoken in scholarly settings, I have been surprised to hear variations of these questions in defense of meat eating! The concerns of the academics were no more sophisticated than the concerns of the non-scholarly meat eater. They held to the same concerns because these are the beliefs they had to accept, at a young age, in order to be obedient. The result? They became blocked.

Another early childhood experience influences the viewpoint of meat eaters. As very young children we think that when our parents or other caretakers cannot be seen, they have disappeared. We have a magical view of the world. When we hear that animals exist for our use, it fits in to this magical and decidedly egocentric view—the world exists for us. Though the magical view and the egocentric view may be challenged in other areas of a person’s life, this particular belief is reinforced by the larger society. Veg*ns and animal rights activists immediately threaten this viewpoint by saying it is not true; animals do not exist for us. The way a child—albeit a now-grown child—made sense of their world has been threatened.

There are many ways to answer the question “Why are you a veg*n?”

Choose the most effective one.

First of all, remember that you do not have to answer this question, even though it may be the most tempting one to answer. But it creates as many problems as it solves. Of course, nonveg*ns don’t really know what they are asking. They do not anticipate that the answer is going to speak to their current eating habits. What will the meat eater read into the answer? And do we wish to make ourselves vulnerable? Telling our veg*n story can make us vulnerable because we are sharing something pivotal in our lives. Whom do we trust with this story? Here are several ways to answer the “why” question without accepting it as the agenda:

“I don’t think I will answer that, Let’s just leave it that I’m a veg*n. I am happy with the decision and happy to talk about it with you, but let’s discuss it later.”

“Just because. I’m not trying to be difficult or evasive, but it’s just because it felt right. I can’t be more precise than that.”

“I’ll tell you why I decided to become a veg*n, if you will tell me why you choose to not to be one.”

If you decide to answer the question by actually describing the process by which you became a veg*n, be prepared. Know yourself. Here is a simple self-assessment to complete. Take a moment and finish this sentence: “I am a veg*n because . . .” Write down your answer, being as complete as possible. The purpose of this exercise is to clarify your own position while identifying your “hot buttons.” The reasons you became a veg*n are your hot buttons. If you became a veg*n for health reasons, people will attribute every sniffle, cough, or flu to your veg*nism. If it was for ethical reasons, people will unknowingly and knowingly trample on your ethics simply by being a part of your life. Should your reason be the environment, can people connect to your view of veg*nism as an environmental issue? When you are done writing as expansively as possible, compress your answer into one clear sentence.

People are most comfortable if you had to do it for your health. “Doctor’s orders,” often silence the defensiveness. It’s when it’s your choice that things become uncomfortable. If you can change, why can’t they?

At times, a discussion can be open, engaging, supportive. A veg*n can feel affirmed through telling his or her story, and an unthreatened meat eater can feel enlightened. I know that this is possible; I just don’t assume it is frequent. But here’s an example of a successful telling of the story of one’s veg*nism:

Last summer, at the age of twenty-five, I contracted chicken pox. I was itchy and feverish during a heat wave in the high 90s. I was stuck in an apartment without air-conditioning, and was utterly miserable.

I went to the local clinic and was given a prescription for antihistamines to bring to the pharmacy. The pharmacist gave me a bottle of capsules, which I looked at glumly. “Do you have any pills?” I asked, knowing that there’s lactose in the pills as a filler, but trying to minimize the ickiness. After speaking a moment or two, I was able to exchange the cow-foot capsules for a large bottle of children’s liquid. Yech. Anyway, the pharmacist and I engaged in a long discussion about why I was vegan and under what circumstances I would use animal products. He was very interested and asked polite questions, which I answered in a nonpreachy way.

When it was time to go, he asked if he could get anything else for me. Jokingly, I said I’d like a straitjacket to keep myself from scratching. With a totally straight face, he said, “I’d love to help you, but all of our straitjackets are made of leather.” I just about died laughing.

This was his way of telling her, “I heard you.”

Conversations among equals

Two types of conversations among equals are my concern. The first is when you can help a nonveg*n to feel welcome and accepted, thus enabling them to explore what it is that keeps them blocked. This is very tricky and must be accomplished very carefully. Attack will quickly follow if you fail to keep the conversation on a nonjudgmental level. The other type of conversation is one between veg*n equals. To discuss specific aspects of veg*nism, there must be an even playing field. Your bottom line should be, “The meat eater shall not be allowed to be more familiar with me than circumstances allow.” We’ll turn to that one first.

Artificial familiarity

“What about plants?” In asking you about the suffering of plants, meat eaters imply that a basic commitment to reducing harm is shared. But in actuality it isn’t. With another veg*n, I might explore my feelings about this sense of a plant’s life. But not with a meat eater. I am giving them power over me. There is no equality of concern. In becoming a veg*n, I have already made steps to stop suffering. They do not share my commitment; they have not made those steps. Since meat eaters who bring up these issues are not at the same level of engagement with the issues of suffering as the veg*ns, we cannot engage with them as equally familiar with the issues as we are.

When a meat eater responds, “Well, what about plants?” you can say, “I’ve decided to do the least harm possible.” And turn the question back to them: “What’s your ethical bottom line?”

“What are you going through?”

Hearing the meat eater’s story

More important than conversation may be listening. Meat eaters are struggling with something you have resolved. They may be scared. Enact compassion for the nonveg*n. They might not even understand that they are struggling with the issue. To their conscious mind, everything is all right. But the behavior you are now able to discern tells you otherwise. They have a need to hear you as well as a need not to hear you, and these needs are in conflict. In hearing would come the knowledge that change is possible. They would then have to recognize that they have to act. But then they would realize that something internal is keeping them from acting. Until they understand why they resist acting, their interaction with you will be fraught with implicit and explicit attacks against you.

On the other hand, we have no need not to hear. If they argue on behalf of meat eating, we’ve certainly heard that before. It isn’t going to cause us to desert what we are doing. We cannot always help them learn how to hear us, but in listening to them we can show them how one listens. We can hear the meat eater’s story.

One veg*n reported to me, “People say things like, ‘Oh—I guess my eating this chicken leg must look really disgusting to you. I hope I’m not grossing you out.’” This statement reveals that the meat eater is growing in consciousness—they have realized that a chicken leg can look disgusting to someone. They haven’t internalized this feeling, but they intuit that it exists. The veg*n who told me of this interaction paused and said, “I never have the nerve to say, ‘Yes, you are [grossing me out].’ Should I?” In a sense, the dead chicken eater has already realized what they are doing. The veg*n could help this blocked individual more by responding, “Now that you are aware of what you are doing, how does it look to you?”

You can say to a meat eater, “The question is, When you look at meat what do you see? Not, What do I see?” Then you could ask, calmly, sincerely, “What do you do with the knowledge that you are eating dead animals?”

My feeling is that people who eat dead animals have deadened a part of themselves. They have been taught to deaden that part that cares about themselves, the animals, and the environment. Is this conclusion fair? I don’t know. I know this is how I survive. My question then becomes not “How do I answer their questions about meat eating and veg*nism?” but, in a very symbolic way, “How do we raise the dead?”

Our role is to get out of the way of the meat eater’s process, not to be the target for their feelings. You can listen to clues other people give you about themselves. If someone says, “I cannot handle anything else! I can’t handle any more changes!” we need to be able to hear them and ask, “What are you going through?”

You could continue with a question such as “Did you have a companion animal when you were a child?” Asking them to remember how they felt about that relationship allows them to touch that part of themselves that was alive to the lives of animals. Ask questions that signal empathy, not “message.” “How did that feel?” Questions that pursue the question, “What are you going through?” Our empathy teaches nonveg*ns how to ask and how to hear what another is going through.

The meat eater’s story may actually be more important than the veg*n’s story. They need to deal with the past—that is what is keeping them locked to this way of life.

When someone says, “I tried veg*nism for a while, but it was too hard” sometimes I respond by saying, “Tell me about it. What was hard exactly? Think back.” Whatever triggers the response “hard” is where the energy got blocked. Maybe the answer is “Eating out with others.” Well, then, they could strategize alternative ways of eating out. Or you can offer an empathetic, supportive statement like, “We all try to minimize harm to others. I’d be glad to help you try to reduce or eliminate meat from your diet. Perhaps this time it won’t feel hard.” People who have tried to be veg*ns and say they failed, don’t realize they just tried the wrong way. They haven’t found the right way yet. Perhaps in talking to us they might discover this. But don’t count on it. Be prepared to stop any conversation.

Notes

* When I wrote this paragraph in 2000 I could not anticipate a time, twenty years later, when facts would come under attack by conservative media like Fox “News,” nor the failure of social media sites like Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube, to remove dangerously false statements.

* This whataboutism may have been more prevalent twenty years ago, but it recurs whenever a generally agreed upon morally despicable person is cited as a veg*n. Contained within the question is a justification: “Just because you are a veg*n doesn’t make you a better person, because you can be a veg*n and be very bad. Just look at Hitler. So you aren’t better than I am.” The unspoken presumption in this question is “So who do you think you are, Mr. Holier-Than-Thou?” You could try to say, “Many people don’t know that Hitler was actually not a vegetarian and that this was just Nazi propaganda. In fact, vegetarian societies were proclaimed illegal when Hitler came to power. Hitler was against smoking, too, and implemented antismoking policies. Does this mean that antismoking activism today is tainted by Hitler’s position? Of course not. Is Hitler’s diet important today? It seems to me, the real question you are struggling with is whether we, today, should be veg*n.” You can also decide to say, “So what?” After the nonveg*n explains why this matters to them, it could be pursued further . . . so what? And so what? again.

* It’s important to note that the production of much of the world’s chocolate involves the exploitation of children. In West Africa, Cacao farmers earn less than $2 per day. Child labor is often used to keep their costs low. The children working on these farms may have been sold by their impoverished families or abducted by traffickers. In addition, labels like “fair trade” aren’t standardized for candy. Generally speaking, chocolate sourced from West Africa is very likely to involve child labor or slave labor. The Food Empowerment Project offers a list of chocolates that are both vegan and ethically sourced. They offer free apps for both iPhone and Android devices so that you can easily make an informed purchase the next time you head to the grocery store.

* Advocates for animals should probably adopt a consistent ethic, and it’s wise to avoid wearing animal products if you aren’t going to eat them for ethical reasons. If one “must” wear leather, then perhaps you could say, “I’m trying to reduce harm to animals, and perhaps I shouldn’t have leather shoes. But we must all make choices, and hopefully our choices reflect our core values. Let me share with you some good literature on veg*ism, and after you look at it perhaps we can talk about ways we might both reduce harming animals.”

Chapter 7
Stopping the conversation

What is often a first encounter for a nonveg*n—talking to a veg*n—is rarely a first encounter for that veg*n. In most cases, we have been talking to meat eaters all our lives. Sometimes we need to stop talking. And in order to stop talking, we need to know how to stop the conversation.

“Why does everyone want to know why I am vegan?” a young woman asked me plaintively. “I’d like to gather them all around and tell them all at once. Give them a lecture on veganism, and be done with it. Instead, every time I eat with them I have to explain it over and over again.” She lifted her hands in a gesture of helplessness. I told her, “The meat eater often sets the agenda. Curious or hostile, friendly or irritated, it doesn’t matter. They may simply be looking for entertainment. Are you going to oblige them?” I reminded her, “This is hard work, answering everyone’s questions. It keeps them occupied, and keeps you from enjoying your meal. They want to control the conversation—and you. You don’t have to accept their agenda.”

I learned this advice the hard way. I used to be like her.

When I lived in upstate New York, a friend visiting from Manhattan and I were invited to a dinner. Everyone there, except us, was associated with the local university; most were professors. One English professor in specific leaped into a defense of meat eating the minute he learned I was a vegetarian. I argued passionately, answering each of his arguments with a counterargument. As we left the dinner, my friend said, “Do you go through that every time you eat with meat eaters?” Only then did I realize that yes, I did go through that all the time. Once I recognized this pattern of defending vegetarianism, I also realized how draining it was to engage in debate that way. I recaptured that experience in The Sexual Politics of Meat, when I discuss what happens with conversations. I suggested that conversations where animal flesh is present will have to defeat the vegetarian:

As though a text of meat must be recapitulated on the level of discourse—the flesh made word—you become the rabbit, the other person the hunter who must vindicate the sport. You will be teased, you will be baited. . . . Though you are kept under control by this control of conversation, you appear to be the manipulator, the one who is redefining, delimiting, disempowering meat eating, and the other is the protector of the meaning of meat eating. . . . At a dinner where meat is eaten, the vegetarian must lose control of the conversation. . . . In this situation, the issue of vegetarianism is a form of meat to meat eaters: it is something to be trapped and dismembered.

As I wrote those words, that debate with the English professors was prominent in my mind. I could recall all of the arguments that I, taking the conversation literally, had tried to rebut. I was always alert and on my toes. I remembered being exhausted after the confrontation, and I could imagine the young woman in a similar situation. Indeed, I could imagine numerous veg*ns all over the world undergoing what the young woman and I endured.

I wish I had known then what I know now: You have the right to stop a conversation. It’s as simple as that. When you feel a conversation getting out of control, when you feel tired, if you just want to eat your meal, if you feel picked on, or when meat eaters have started to become defensive—stop the conversation. Stop the conversation, even if you started climbing up the ladder of intense questioning and answers. Can you feel them on the rungs below you, grabbing at your feet? Stop the conversation. You do not have to answer their questions, respond to their challenges, or fulfill their expectations of you. You can develop new instincts for conversations, a new threshold for what is acceptable, and a new independence in relating to nonveg*ns’ questions and concerns. You do not have to be trapped by a conversation.

Conversations get endowed with such freight that we think they are the most important interaction between nonveg*ns and veg*ns. They are merely the most frequent. Stop the conversation and discover that another level of interaction is possible.

Why we should stop conversations

We’ve all heard the saying “The map is not the territory.” The problem with conversations is that they keep meat eaters looking at their map. Even worse, conversations often keep us looking at their map! And their map doesn’t include our territory. This is why we need to stop the conversations.

As we have seen in the earlier chapters, talking may be a means of avoiding veg*nism rather than what it seems to be at first, a way of engaging it. Meat eaters are hoping you will help them short-circuit their own thinking. The more you talk or argue with them, the less they have to follow their own thought processes. The maxim “The best defense is a good offense” proves itself over and over in meat eater-veg*n conversations. We should stop the conversation when we realize that meat eaters have chosen this tactic.

Then there is the problem of stubbornness. Meat eaters may stick their feet into the ground, saying to themselves, “I am not going to budge from this position.” Stubbornly holding one’s ground is not engagement. It is avoidance.

Let us remind ourselves how these conversations actually unfold.

The meat eater says, “Yes, but what about. . . .”

We reply, earnestly, rebutting that whataboutism.

Then the meat eater persists, saying, “Yes, but what about . . .” and they either intensify the question they were asking (“Everything I’ve read says Hitler was a vegetarian”) or they change to another issue (“What about plants, proteins, etc.?”).

And we earnestly respond to this whataboutism.

What the persistent, argumentative meat eater is really saying is, “I will not let you get near me!”

The meat eater is hastily erecting a picket fence to keep veg*n consciousness out. When we answer each whataboutism they throw at us in situations like this, letting them dart from question to question, we tell them, “This method you have chosen of placing pickets in front of your consciousness is okay with me.” We help them hammer in rigidity, though we are not aware that this is what we are doing. We take their arguments literally. We should not.

The poet Yeats observed that the most important arguments are with yourself. This is true for meat eaters, too. We have to know how to get out of the way of meat eaters’ inner processes and allow them the opportunity for inner reflection. This is another reason to stop the conversation.

Conversations that occur over a meal usually leave as many people out of the conversation as they include. You stop a conversation at this point because other people are being left out and they are going to blame you, not the meat eater, for monopolizing the discussion. They are thinking, “Who do you think you are going on and on about this subject?” or “There you go again. So predictable.” People want to feel included. When a conversation has been reduced to a one-on-one debate, they will not feel included. And if everyone is included in this conversation, you need to stop it because you are being ganged up on. It is perfectly all right to stop the conversation because you need it to stop. You get tired. You become defensive. You want to relax. You want to enjoy your meal. So, you stop a conversation to defuse a situation; to make an uncomfortable situation less so; to take the pressure off you to answer any and all questions posed, and so you can enjoy your meal.

You stop a conversation, too, because our veg*nism has created their identity as meat eaters. This creates a sense of separateness. We have to find ways of helping them acknowledge our commonalities, not our differences, ways in which they can identify with us, rather than enact hostilities toward us.

You stop the conversation because the part of the brain that processes emotions works slower than the part that uses words. At times when we are feeling uncomfortable, we speed up in talking, and thus we don’t let our emotions interact with our words.

You stop the conversation because meat eaters do not respond to veg*nism solely on the conscious level. People need time to process information at a deeper level, one that does not require consciously interacting with it. This is a process of incubation. With incubation, the slower we move, the faster we learn. Veg*ns who allow for incubating time report that they frequently hear, “You know, I’ve been thinking about your reasons for no longer eating animals and animal products, and while I’m not going to become veg*n, I didn’t eat a hamburger yesterday. . . .” As one correspondent wrote, “From that step, I’ve had eight friends become veg*n.” They needed time to incubate the ideas. They needed to set their own pace.

The idea that meat eaters are incubating veg*nism at a level deeper than the conscious one explains why saboteurs over time become veg*ns.

You stop the conversation because both of you are getting short-winded. In a heated conversation, you are probably taking shorter and shorter breaths. Short breaths create a feeling of panic, of losing control.

Finally, you should stop a conversation if there is a predator—or if you are becoming one.

The predator in conversations

Sometimes a conversant is prowling around your emotional and intellectual arguments looking for the weak spot, biding their time, waiting for the moment when they can leap, throttle you, and defeat you. They are a predator.

A predator feels the need to vindicate their choice. To the predator, vindicating their decision requires defeating you. Not only your message but you, sitting there with your vegetables and rice, must be thrown upon the floor and bloodied. The predator believes conversations should be battles, that there are victors in conversations. And if there are victors, there are also the vanquished. The predator, at all costs, cannot allow themselves to be defeated. They will slay the enemy—metaphorically speaking, doing to the veg*n what the slaughterer did to the animal.

You become the prey by announcing that you are a veg*n. It is much safer, always, not to have an opinion and not to be identified as different. A veg*n who is “discovered” or self-proclaimed does not have that choice. They have been identified. Whereas other people might speak in generalities, and not commit themselves, our plates have already given us away. The predator will notice that. It is as though you are the weak or older or sick member of a group of zebras escaping a lion. You become the target.

Once there is a predator, either they win or you win. Neither sight is pretty. If you fight with a predator, a victory-at-all-cost meat eater already defensive in your presence may begin to think that you aren’t listening, and your responses may be proving them right. If your goal is to push the confrontation, then it really becomes about you: you become “strident” as we rush from one answer to another. Or you are relentless: “They just won’t give up” or, “They don’t allow other perspectives.” But even if your goal was not to push forward, the simple fact of having answers to the “whataboutisms” makes you seem strident to others. How do you dare?

It is very difficult for a veg*n to “win” a conversation when meat is being eaten. Too much is at stake at that moment for meat eaters to relent at the verbal level. Indeed, everyone else may be secretly cheering the predator on.

You must throw the lion off the scent. To do this, you have to stop being so easily targeted. You have to stop the conversation.

Taking the pulse of a conversation

To determine if a conversation should be stopped, you need to know how to take the pulse of a conversation. Here are several questions to ask yourself to determine whether a conversation should continue.

Are they eating nonveg*n food?

Are they hounding you? Trying to embarrass you? Can you tell by their behavior that they are busy marshaling their army of arguments rather than listening to your responses?

Are you feeling angry, upset, impatient, teased, baited? The question is not “What are you saying” but “Have you fallen into the old pattern in which your mind has simply galloped forward in its habitual way to explain, defend, educate?”

Are they speaking loudly?

Have all other conversations ended? Do people look annoyed or bored?

Is shame happening? Are you shaming them or are they shaming you? (Examples of shaming language: “Everyone knows that you . . .” “Even you . . .” “You always . . .”)

Have you become the topic of the conversation or have you made them the issue?

Are people interrupting each other? (If a meat eater is interrupted, everyone at the table will believe that you are not listening. They will feel more threatened because they will assume you have already judged them, and want to convert them, not hear them.)

Is body language hostile? Raised eyebrows? Knowing glances between meat eaters? Condescending smirks? Jabbing of fingers in the air or raising clenched fists?

Is your heart racing or do you feel short of breath?

If the answers to any of these questions are yes, stop the conversation.

Stopping the conversation

It is your responsibility to stop a conversation. As we have seen, most meat eaters want conversations to continue as long as they can control them.

If you begin to discuss the issue, have in your mind a cut-off point: “If I hear X question, I’ll know . . .” or “If the pulse becomes. . . . I’ll know . . .”; “When I hear a whataboutism . . .” Review in your mind the nonverbal signs that will act as cues.

And then what should you do? One person advises, “Tell them to shut up and eat their carcass.” I think there are gentler ways.

You may decide to be a broken record. If you are being confronted repeatedly by offers of meat it might be, “No thank you.” If you are being interrogated about your reasons, select a one-liner (see pp. 88–89) and simply repeat it.

Remember: show, don’t tell. Offer to follow up with them later. This lets them know that you hear their interest but do not accept their timeline. If they are truly interested, they will be thankful. If they are not truly interested, it will be obvious and then you can be thankful.

Leapfrog to another subject. “Of course, some people say that veg*nism is only a part of a larger change. Have you noticed the teen activists on the environment?” Or “Yes, I have seen that suggested. By the way, do you think [and ask some news-related question that changes the topic].” Pick a topic that you are sure almost everyone present has an opinion on.

Make a joke.

Flatter the host, the chef, the person you are sitting next to.

Stop a conversation. Sometimes that is exactly what is needed. You will be remembered, gratefully, by most of your fellow diners for being gracious under pressure.

Chapter 8
Love at work I: Living with meat eaters

The nature of relationships and kitchens

Living with a meat eater is no worse than living with a cat. My meat-eating husband is much more considerate than my cats: he does not expect me to buy his meat or prepare it and he NEVER, NEVER vomits on my place on the table as my cats regularly do.

—Maria

Living with meat eaters—roommates, parents, family, and lovers—is living with divided loyalties. It demands a balancing act. You have probably heard the adage “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” Tolstoy, a vegetarian, said that. This adage takes on a different edge when some of the unhappiness in a family or a relationship is caused by a conflict in food choices, or at times with what even qualifies as “food.” Each meat-eating family’s conflicts with a veg*n family member follows similar patterns. The problem is that most people think that such family or relationship dramas are uniquely theirs.

Your conflicts will be of two kinds: those that arise with them because they are blocked or those that arise with you because you aren’t. You are being asked to love them in their blockedness more than they love you in your unblockedness. Sometimes this is hard, very hard.

How they relate to you is determined by what is blocking them. Sometimes in our relationships with them, we cause their well-developed defenses to erode. On the other hand, especially with partners, our veg*nism may result in their becoming more strongly committed to not changing. The more veganism is “ours,” the less it can be “theirs.” Family members, especially, may feel their path cannot be mediated by you. . . . Who do you think you are?

Here is the problem: no matter how important your relationship with them is, most nonveg*ns are going to choose to continue consuming in their own way. They will change only when they are ready, not when you need for them to change. If you begin relationships with nonveg*ns, you have to understand this fact. If you are continuing relationships with meat eaters after becoming a veg*n, you also have to understand this fact. No matter how important veg*nism is to you, and no matter how important you are to a meat eater, these two compelling truths will not convert most meat eaters into veg*ns. Does this mean you are condemned to incompatibility? No. Incompatibility does not arise from differences. Incompatibility arises from whatever prompts these differences to stand out. The question is, How do you maintain a relationship with a nonveg*n who is going to continue to items you no longer see as food? And how do you share kitchen and dining space with conflicting diets?

CAREFULLY.

Be realistic. . . . But understand your limitations.

Clarify boundaries. Be able to negotiate for your interests. . . . But understand where you can compromise.

Relationship issues

We want our loved ones to be happy. We want them to enjoy special meals, both the anticipation of a meal and the eating of it. We know that there is a certain kind of happiness that occurs when one is eating a good meal. But for them special meals are usually nonveg*n. So we may experience a conflict between wanting a loved one or companion to be happy and eating with them when they choose to eat nonveg*n meals.

In interactions with meat eaters, you generally have to cultivate some form of distancing. If it is physical distancing, this means you make a decision not to associate with nonveg*ns. Then you rarely have relationship issues arising from conflicting commitments about what to eat or not to eat. Most veg*ns are not able to draw this line in the sand. They have associations with meat eaters because of family, work, friendships, volunteering, or housing situations. If your veg*nism is important to you, you may feel any of these three main feelings:

Denial. You say to yourself, “They are okay people [for, of course, they really are], and I can ignore their food choices.”

Anger. “Why, if they are okay people, are they making the food choices they are making?” This also leads, sometimes, to self-righteousness: “Why aren’t they listening to me, why aren’t they respecting my opinion?” Our egos are hard at work with this one.

Acceptance. “They are okay people and I can’t change them. And we love each other despite this difference.” Or, “They are okay people and they are also responsible for the deaths of animals and I can’t change them. I have to live with the sorrow and that paradox.”

Displaced conflict

Any unresolved aspects of the relationship—unequal power such as that between parent and child, gender roles, old wounds never healed—will attach themselves to veg*n-meat-eating dynamics. The tensions are caused by something else but they find expression in discussions and debates about food choices. Your veg*nism and their meat eating become burdened with representing basic relationship issues—issues of control, especially. The debate might appear to be about what was eaten at supper, but often it actually is about something else.

Because food differences may bear the burden of basic relationship conflicts, nonveg*ns may use their food choices to represent something else, including punishment, control, or insecurity. They may be declaring independence from the veg*n, who is seen as being the controlling one. If the meat eater views abstaining from meat at a meal as giving up a part of oneself, they may view eating a veg*n meal as “giving in” to the veg*n roommate/partner/family member. The power equilibrium will be thrown off and the meat eater will try to restore it through whatever means possible.

The art of disagreeing

Be clear about the issue. Repeat it.

Watch out for extraneous issues that complicate it, making it more difficult to respond. If the issue is the frying pan or cooking utensils or the cutting board, don’t use it as a way to criticize their food choices, or allow it to evolve into a criticism of yours.

Listen to the other. What is the other’s point of view? You may disagree with it, but do you know it?

Don’t raise your voice during an argument.

Don’t fight to win.

Don’t say, “Why are you doing this?” or, “You’re always . . .” accusingly, as though the partner/roommate/family members are deliberately doing something to “harm” you.

Remember that during times of disagreement, no one is a reliable historian. So don’t use the conflict to remind the other person of other “errors” of the past.

In negotiating and in disagreements, the person with the least at stake (or who cares the least about something) has the most power. In many negotiations involving relationship and household issues, you are going to care more about veg*nism than the people you live with do. This often creates unequal power dynamics. The less invested, the easier it is to walk away from any negotiation. The status quo favors the nonveg*ns.

Shared kitchens

A friend of a friend of mine was sharing student accommodation with a bunch of, in-your-face, obnoxious meat eaters. They used to go home to Mummy and Daddy on the weekend, leaving her alone in the flat. Incensed by their attitude, she started removing their meat from the freezer every weekend, defrosting it, and then putting it back before they returned. They all got food poisoning and she moved out.

—A vegetarian urban myth

Well, this is one way to handle the challenge of sharing a kitchen with meat eaters. The problem for veg*ns is that they are more likely to get food poisoning from the contact of raw meat with cutting boards and knives than meat eaters are. Of all the dynamics of living with a meat eater, kitchen issues are the most practical. They often feel the most pressing as well. They aren’t; they just feel that way.

The top kitchen concerns of veg*ns

Should I share cutting boards? Their salmonella-laden dead chicken may contaminate the cutting board, and anything of yours that comes in contact with it. Your problem: their food will probably be cooked; you are more likely to eat your veggies and fruits raw. You therefore are more susceptible to salmonella poisoning.

Should I share utensils and cookware with meat eaters or should I have dedicated cookware?

Do I have to cook for others foods I don’t eat?

Does the dishwasher really clean the plates and utensils, or will meat residues linger?

Does my veg*n food have to share refrigerator space with meat, dairy, and eggs?

Do I have to smell meat cooking?

Do I have to shop for food nonveg*ns eat that I don’t eat?

Prioritize your issues

What concerns you the most in sharing a kitchen? The smells? Reactions to the smell of meat cooking can be pretty intense. One correspondent told me:

I now feel physical sickness (mostly nausea and loss of appetite) when I smell cooked flesh. And seeing it makes me want to cry. It is hard for me in general to eat meals with meat eaters, but I am the only vegetarian in the family.

Another wrote:

Being around someone cooking steak was the most recent and disgusting. The smell was just rotten and all I could smell was dead animal and it just strengthened my resolve to continue being vegetarian. I left the room and wouldn’t return until the smell had gone.

Or are you concerned about the chores and having a fair distribution that does not require you to interact with meat dishes? Who will clean dishes used to store, prepare, or serve meat?

Examine the kitchen concerns identified above and determine which ones need to be addressed: cutting board, shared cookware, chores, smells, shared refrigerator space. Is there some flexibility in the kitchen that can accommodate your needs? Are there other areas of household management that can be incorporated into a new arrangement?

Negotiating about kitchen concerns is like negotiating about other aspects of a relationship: know your bottom line and know where you can compromise. For instance, the issue of pots and pans. Solution: identify some pans and knives that will be used only to cook veg*n food. When proposing this, describe the practical needs for it and use a tone of voice that is even and nonjudgmental. It requires cooperation. Do you have it from your nonveg*n housemates?

This is what Maria worked out with her partner:

Although my avoidance of meat is based on ethical reasons, I do not want to be contaminated with it: his meat touching my food has become a symbol of unwilling participation in a massacre. For this reason, it is surprising to see how scrupulous (even more scrupulous than myself) he is. He uses his own pots and pans and utensils, he confines his meat to the enclosed area of the refrigerator.

Maria continues:

I do have one health concern: because my husband brings raw meat in the house, I, and not he, run the risk of food poisoning. This is because he always cooks everything, including all his vegetables, and I eat a lot of raw food. Washing the kitchen counter does not eliminate the risk. He does not pour boiling water or other disinfectant every time he cleans up, nor do I expect him to.

You need your household to understand this problem and you need their cooperation. Have your own dedicated cutting board that meat eaters promise they will not use.

If you don’t have cooperation in this cutting board problem, what does this tell you and what can you do about it? Is there something they need from you? Something else you can compromise on?

If you have “dedicated” knives, cutting boards, and pans and the meat eater(s) you are living with fail to respect their veg*n nature—you have a practical problem, but you also have an even more serious problem. You are living with people who aren’t respecting you. The relationship has changed in more ways than you thought.

If you are the primary cook in a household of meat eaters

You live with nonveg*ns, but you have become a veg*n. You also share or have sole meal preparation responsibilities. What do you do? Negotiate new arrangements.

Do you wish to continue cooking meat? That is a primary issue. If you are comfortable doing so, there is nothing to negotiate. But you might inquire whether gender expectations are influencing your decision to do so.

Many people who become veg*ns want to bring their partner, families, or household along with them. How can they do that?

Remember, incompatibility does not arise from differences; it arises from whatever prompts them to stand out. Your role is not so much to continue feeding them meat if you no longer wish to prepare it but to ease them through these new differences so that they don’t stand out.

How do you do this? Negotiate. Explain what you can and can’t do and offer alternatives. If you have children, you may want to explain to them, depending on their ages, why you have decided to become a veg*n. Be clear what your expectations for your children are. You can say, “This is what I can no longer do. I can’t fix hamburger, chicken, or turkey anymore.” But: “You can fix it.” Or:

“I will fix food to which your foods can be added, such as pasta, stir-fry, burritos, and you can fix what you want to accompany that dish.”

“There can be a meat eaters’ night when you order in and I’ll use that night to go out to eat at my favorite veg*n spot/go with friends to a veg*n potluck/attend a seminar on veg*nism/[etc.]”

“I will learn how to prepare foods that make you not miss the meat.” Plant-based meats, seitan, tempeh, and bean burgers could become prominent in your list.

Read the section in Chapter 14 on eating the menu, not the meal, and remind yourself not to discuss the nature of the food you prepared as they eat it. They do not need to be consciously reminded of what they may feel they are missing. Afterward, you can ask for evaluations, or, as the case might be, if a meal elicits negative reactions, you’ll know of their rejection pretty quickly. You can also have available as a backup a family standard (spaghetti, baked potato, etc.) and unhappy eaters can choose that option instead. Remind yourself that a family can handle change.

It is okay for roles to change as well as diets. As with any relationship issue, you need to know your bottom line. (Let’s say it is “I no longer wish to eat or prepare meat.”) Cook with a spirit of invitation: inviting them to you and negotiating about the needs they have that they fear your veg*n cooking can’t meet.

Reeducating their palate can take a while—some estimate it takes about four months. Resistance makes it take longer. Perhaps they never accept your decision completely. It doesn’t matter. Create alternative arrangements for sharing cooking responsibilities. Moving a family or roommates in a shared household toward including more veg*n items in their menus is a gift to them. Helping them accept change in their food choices or their roles teaches them how to become more open. Experiencing the art of negotiation around each one’s needs shows them how to compromise lovingly. Involving them in kitchen responsibilities gives them each the gift of independence and the ability to express love through food preparation.

Handle conflict with the awareness of change and the potential of change. Then veg*nism is a gift that keeps on giving.

Chapter 9
Love at work II

Living with meat eaters

The Family System

When one lives with another person or other people, a system evolves. It has to. Arrangements must be made for the mundane aspects of life such as cleaning the toilet and shopping, paying bills and fixing food. When we are children, the system serves us. It directs us toward maturity by having rules and boundaries, and, when it works, it ensures that we are fed and rested. At some point, we acquire tasks in the system, gradually assuming a more active role in making decisions about our own lives. When we are teenagers the balancing act of being taken care of and participating in decision making tilts toward the latter or is pushed there by our needs to separate from the system.

A system needs rules and roles. Through rules and roles, the system achieves stasis, balance—it runs smoothly. Any change in one part of the system will provoke a change in another part. Because of this, huge changes don’t have to occur to change the whole system. No matter its size, any real, substantive change, especially ones that arise from a sense of living a life of authenticity and integrity, can change the whole system.

There are in fact two kinds of change:

A first-order change shifts the playing pieces on the board, but the rules remain the same. For instance, one grows up. We are no longer “pawns” on a chessboard, but become the knight, or the bishop, or the rook. This is a first-order change.

A second-order change changes the rules of the game; chess is no longer played in the same way. You may see your becoming a veg*n as a simple change, say, from being a pawn to being a rook. Other members of your system experience your becoming a veg*n as a second-order change. You are changing the rules of the game. Specifically, you are rejecting a basic rule of the house. “This is what we eat.” “This is what a holiday meal is.” “This is how we honor our ancestors, our culture, our parents.” You can tell it is a second-order change because of the responses you receive, which often refer to fundamental ways of organizing the world.

In specific, four responses confirm that you are threatening a core aspect of the family system.

“Why shouldn’t I prepare food the way I want to?” The person who is the cook wishes their will to be respected. They see you as not respecting that will.

“This is how I do it.” Convenience and custom are compelling aspects of any system. “I do it this way because it works.”

“My way is right.” A refusal to be influenced by another, stubbornness, and conviction, especially if the cook is one of the people who shaped the system to begin with.

“This is how I know you love me. You eat the food I prepare.” Family systems are often organized around very peculiar ways of expressing and needing love.

You need to understand this very clearly: the system does not want to change. No matter how hard it was for us to change, the system itself has even greater resistance. We have to hold to our standards, understanding that it is the job of the system not to change, and that it will try to bring us back into its old patterns.

No matter how much you believe that being a veg*n in a nonveg*n family can work, most families, especially those in which you are a child (even an adult child), do not believe it can work. You think because your family loves you, they will be the most receptive. Rarely is this so.

The family system has probably handled this issue at least once before. When? When, as a child, you raised the issue “Where does hamburger/chicken/pork chops come from?” The system at that point had several effective methods for responding and preserving itself:

Authority: As we saw in Chapter 6, parents can say, “Eat your Chicken McNuggets or you can’t have dessert.”

A claim to greater knowledge: “This cow did not suffer.”

A sacrificial interpretation: “Cows exist to be eaten.”

A nutritional imperative: “You need to eat meat to survive.”

These methods worked once: they caused you to become a blocked veg*n. Why shouldn’t they work again? You are the only one who will demonstrate that they don’t work. But it isn’t easy.

The system will recognize that you are older now and will have to bring greater force to defeating you. Something will seem drastically urgent, demanding that you return to the person you were. Something will challenge the second-order change. This is resistance at work. It will be very powerful in its efforts to bring you back into the system. It doesn’t want the rules to change. Indeed, the system will intensify around this issue for a while. You will be told how important it is that you conform to the family system—someone’s feelings are at stake, or family tradition is being threatened, you are rejecting someone or something. If this attempt to bring you back into the system isn’t working, efforts will be made to destroy you. Not literally, but to remove all the support that could be brought to maintain the person you are and instead get you to return to the person you were. This pressure feels almost unbearable.

So, what are you to do?

You wait it out. It will pass. The system can adjust; it can evolve to accept your veg*nism. But before it does, you may feel a great deal of anguish. This is why you need to identify a bottom line regarding your veg*nism and know how to maintain it. That will protect you from the demands of the system.

Identifying your bottom line

In becoming a veg*n, you discover what is acceptable to you and what is not. This is your bottom line. Your bottom line is what differentiates you from the system that does not want to change. You recognize and act on your bottom line because you understand that your duties to your family and friends are not unconditional. You can set limits. You say to yourself, “This is what I will no longer do. I will no longer participate in the holiday dinner as we have known it. But this is what I will do: I will come (or I will arrive after the main course is over), I will bring a tofu turkey (or a shepherd’s pie or pumpkin pie). I will participate in the holiday in a new way.” And once you clarify for yourself what it is that you can and cannot do, you are able to tell your family, too.

Take a moment now and identify your bottom line.

Are you willing to watch others eat nonveg*n food? If no, arrange to eat separately.

Are you willing to bring or prepare several dishes or a dessert?

Are you willing to host the event and create a new tradition?

Your bottom line about veg*nism is the place where you differentiate yourself from your family.

In order to establish a bottom line, it will be critical to communicate a few things to your family. Such communication might consist of these points: (1) You very much appreciate efforts to prepare nutritious, tasty meals for you, but (2) You feel strongly about your decision and you expect your choices to be respected, however much others disagree with you. Of course, you will continue to respect their choices as well.

Do not confuse establishing and maintaining a bottom line with lecturing your family about it. The purpose of the bottom line is simply to protect your decision. Its purpose is not to interpret it or enforce it against others. Yes, you can talk about your decisions that led to this new and threatening bottom line but follow the rules for talking with meat eaters (see Chapter 6). Remember, the consequences for your family of being blocked don’t disappear simply because you are among them. In fact, as you understand by now, you make their being blocked more painful. They may want you to change and be the person you once were. This is resistance.

Identifying resistance at work

Remember, incompatibility does not arise from differences; it arises from whatever prompts these differences to stand out.

The system prompts the differences to stand out because veg*nism means change and consequently a challenge. Our families teach us how to respond to change. Granted, many of the responses we learned are self-defeating. From them we may have learned to respond defensively and with spite. We may have been fortunate and learned how to respond with openness and flexibility. Most of us, however, learned the well-developed self-defeating responses that keep the family system intact. It may be comforting, at some level, to understand that the family will continue to act in its traditional way. You can be prepared. You will have to lead the way in showing that differences do not mean incompatibility.

Intensification is the pressure, the emotional leverage, that will be brought against you for making your bottom line explicit to your family. And because you understand your bottom line, you can withstand this intensification. It might be experienced as imploring (“Just this one time”; “But it’s Aunt Edna’s family casserole!”), even begging (“Eat this for me!”) or as the enforcement of rules through anger (“How dare you not eat this!”). With your bottom line in place you are able to resist the intensification around the issue. You wait it out. It may be a long wait. As my friend James reported to me, “I have been a vegetarian for eighteen years and it was only recently that my mother stopped cooking meat for me when I came home to visit her.”

No matter. Like James, you say, “No thanks. I prefer to eat this instead.”

You hold to your bottom line despite the system not changing. You will probably feel a variety of emotions prompted by the way the family system handles your veg*nism. These feelings may include disappointment, isolation, rejection, depression from your family’s lack of care about your situation. You need to tell yourself that this is a part of the system bumping up against your change. During this time you need to be sure that you are taking care of yourself. Remember, self-care is part of being at peace with your veg*nism (see pp. 22–23).

Resistance tactics

You can predict that the resistance will happen. It may involve disguising nonveg*n food as veg*n in the hopes that you will eat it. Alarmed for you about your veg*nism, a family member may slip meat, dairy, or eggs into your meals without telling you. This is a desperate move on their part, but what it means is that they are choosing to violate your trust rather than let go of their beliefs in the traditional meals of the family and our culture.

I have told the story about the vegetarian whose mother fixed eggs in bacon grease and stopped pressing her to eat meat only when her daughter got sick. The mother had to learn how to expand her sense of what caring/mothering involved. For her it had been associated with feeding children meat. She had to renegotiate her own self-definition to let go of the need to feed a child/young adult meat. She had to learn to be flexible.

What should you do? The minute you suspect someone is feeding you meat, you need to get more involved in the family’s food preparation. Minimally, you could sit in the kitchen and keep the cook company or, more appropriately, begin to study recipe books and selecting foods that you are interested in preparing. If there is a way to do it without recycling blame and guilt, you could talk about how important it is to you to feel that you can trust your family members while also giving family members the benefit of the doubt. You can say, “You meant well,” but explain that their actions caused you to feel hurt, because it violated your trust in them. Make clear that trust is critical to a loving relationship and ask them to promise not to do this again.

Verbal tactics

Another tactic—more frequent and intense—than tricking veg*ns into eating nonveg*n ingredients exists. It consists of verbal tactics brought against the veg*n. The two favorite ones are the attempts to shame and to guilt. If you can strip them of their most potent weapons—surprise and accusation—resistance tactics are fairly unremarkable. If you aren’t prepared for accusations, however, they can do a lot of damage. The first one is:

“If you really loved . . .

me

your grandmother

your parents

you would . . .

eat meat.”

stop being a veg*n.”

raise your kids as meat eaters.”

eat what your grandmother fixed for you.”

fix meat for me.”

How strongly the word really is stressed will alert you to the strength of the resistance attempt. The presupposition here is that “you don’t really love me.” Your veg*nism is actually incidental to this assumption and thus the interaction. It is taken simply as the most recent confirmation of a “given” within the system. Whatever makes you different (or disobedient) reveals your lack of love. It thus makes you vulnerable to an attack. For veg*ns, the difference is their veg*nism.

What should you do? Don’t respond to what the clause focuses on, the “you would eat meat [or whatever].” Don’t get defensive as though you have been accused. To do so indicates you accept the system’s dysfunctionality. Don’t let them hook you to their blaming style. One way you communicate your nondefensiveness is by remaining detached. Avoid responding such as:

Loved one: “If you really loved me, you would eat meat.”

You: “Of course I love you. My being a vegetarian does not mean I don’t love you.”

The problem with this response is that there is no need to defend yourself, and when there is no need to defend yourself, you should avoid sentences with “I” or “me.” That keeps the focus on you and allows the loved one to win: their premise has been accepted. Love is expressed through eating the foods they prepare, and you don’t love them. The system survives.

Also avoid accepting their premise and volleying it back to them:

Loved one: “If you really loved me, you would stop eating meat.”

You: “Well, if you loved me, you would start cooking more vegetarian meals/become a vegan/watch this video on meat production with me/[etc.].”

The problem with this is that you accept the premise of the family system and simply reverse it. Blame is still going on. It’s just that this time you make them defensive. This keeps any real dialogue from happening.

A way exists to affirm your relationship, reassure the other member of the family system that you are not destroying it, and remove your veg*nism from the equation.

Loved one: “If you really loved me, you would eat meat.”

You: “When did you start thinking I don’t love you?”

This neutral response reassures them. Your loved one assumed something about your veg*nism because this is what the family system said about how family members show love—by following family customs, by eating what is prepared for them, by eating nonveg*n foods. Your response indicates they were wrong in a gentle, affirmative way. The important thing is not letting the focus become your behavior. It is their assumptions that must be changed, not your behavior.

Another way to respond is:

Loved one: “If you really loved me, you would eat meat.”

You: “You know, it’s interesting that loved ones have this feeling that they are not loved if people in their family become veg*ns. This is a normal reaction, yet even though it has happened in other families, it is still interesting. Does the fact that I don’t share your love of opera indicate that I don’t love you? Does the fact that you don’t share my love of baseball indicate that you don’t love me?”

This response does not blame them back. It acknowledges that you have heard them, but it also acknowledges that this is not an area where you feel defensive. You are not going to get dragged into an argument or the ongoing cycle of blame and shame.

If blame doesn’t work, how about guilt?

Loved one:

“Don’t you even care that . . .

. . . I did all the cooking?”

. . . I fixed your favorite food?”

. . . everyone will be here?”

. . . it’s Thanksgiving/my birthday?”

. . . it would mean so much to me?”

. . . [anything else that is important to the speaker].

Now, in analyzing this interaction, I am presuming that the speaker knew you were a veg*n, and had been told what you do and don’t eat. If they spent a lot of time cooking a meal for you without knowing that you did not eat the foods prepared, you have neglected a basic aspect of relationships: communication. You also reveal that you don’t care that they did all that cooking. You should feel guilty!

If you did remind someone that you were a veg*n, and they are pressuring you because of their cooking (or control) issues, you do not need to feel guilty, even though that is their goal. Remember, there is a lot of guilt floating around the issue of meat eating anyway. It is safer for nonveg*ns to have you feel guilty for changing than for them to feel guilty for not changing. Let’s look at the presumptions in these guilt-bestowing statements.

“Don’t you care that I did all the cooking?”

“You don’t care that I did all the cooking.”

“You should care that I did all the cooking.”

“You are rotten not to care that I did all the cooking.”

“Therefore you should feel guilty about this.”

Your need at this time is to keep the system from intensifying the issue. The system has chosen guilt (“shouldas”) in an attempt to make it unbearable for you to remain a veg*n. For those in the system, guilt is a very handy tool. It keeps them in line. Why shouldn’t it work the same on you? How do you respond? Ignore this defensive move. Don’t get hooked.

The biggest impediment to being able to ignore the system’s resistance is when you are a “scanner.” A scanner is attuned to the other’s emotional states, and believes it is their responsibility to take care of the other person’s emotions. They believe, “I need to eat what my family/partner is eating, otherwise I will hurt their feelings.” No, you don’t need to. You are not responsible for how they interpret your self-differentiation. You are not responsible for taking care of their emotions. You are not only keeping them blocked, you will ensure that you become blocked again.

Instead, you can respond like this:

Loved one: “Don’t you even care I cooked this for you?”

You: “When did you start thinking that I didn’t care?”

Loved one: “When you became a veg*n.”

You have two choices here:

You: “Do you know why I became a veg*n?”
If your loved one says, “To upset me,” you could say, “No. Not at all. I became a veg*n because [and then identify very succinctly what influenced you]. I would love to share some information with you to help you understand my decision. But the important thing to know is that I did it because it was important to me.”
Or:

You: “You are the one who taught me to care and I have extended this sense of caring to other animals and the environment. Thank you for teaching me this!”

Loved one: “Don’t you even care that it’s the holidays?”

You: “I love sharing holidays with the family.”

Loved one: “Well, why can’t you eat the turkey then?”

You: “Because I have changed.”

You can add, if you are speaking to a parent or grandparent, “You raised us to be compassionate and caring, and I have found an important focus for this.”

There might be tears. “I never get to fix you your favorite gravy anymore.” You listen. You, without getting defensive, say, “Thank you for letting me know about this. I am sorry it has been difficult for you. It means so much to me that you want to cook my favorite foods. My favorite foods now are [and tell the cook what they are].”

Loved one: “If you really loved me, you would eat what I prepared.” The message here, needless to say, is “You don’t love me. There is only one way you can show me that you indeed love me. That is to accept my standards for a meal.”

When you hear the above statement or its corollary, “Don’t you even care that I fixed this for you?” you are being told of the cook’s disappointed expectations. “You don’t love me, you don’t eat the food I prepared.” The cook equates rejection of food with rejection of themselves. The thing is not to feel guilty. This is not your responsibility, nor your fault. Any act that offers food and says more than “Let me share with you this good food” is an act of control. Cooking does not need to be about control, nor should it be.

You can say, “I love you, but I choose not to eat like you now. I prefer to eat something else. While I can’t eat what you prepared, I appreciate your effort.”

Or: “I’m very thankful for your efforts to prepare good meals for me. But you taught me to do what I believe is right, even if others disagree. How could I expect you to respect me if I did otherwise?”

One final volley of guilt remains:

Loved one: “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t want to be a veg*n.”

Here you are really trapped. What can you do? Even if you ate the meal, you are already guilty of not wanting to eat it. You might have changed your actions to comply with their expectations, though it is doubtful that you will do so if you are happily veg*n, but you cannot undo your already announced desires to eat differently. And you don’t have to. In a healthy, functioning family, such signs of love would not be required.

Your reply: “My being a veg*n is about me, not about you or how much I love you.”

In Chapter 3, I provided a chart that distinguished between flow and control (p. 35). The system wants control, not flow. That is what it teaches its members. The blood that runs in the veins of the system is anxiety. The challenge is to be self-differentiated (understanding and acting on your bottom line) and connected (a part of the family system without being controlled by it) at the same time. We do this simply by being at peace with our decision and refusing to be drawn into the dramas that anxiety causes as it snakes its way through the system: “No thank you. I don’t want that. I love you and appreciate the [whatever they have cooked that you can eat].” We teach our families that we can reject the traditional family food and yet still love them.

Then the system will change. It may take a while, but the system will have to incorporate your bottom line into itself. One veg*n told me, “My family says that I won’t eat anything that has ever had an address.” They are telling her, “We hear your concern. We accept your decision.”

Chapter 10
Love at work III

Living with meat eaters

Partners and Children

In the best relationships, love is a complicated emotion. In a mixed (nonveg*n-veg*n) relationship, our relationship gets even more entangled. This may be as easy to remedy as releasing a scarf caught in a door, but sometimes it causes the anxiety of a shoelace caught in the escalator treads.

Partner issues vary depending on when you became a veg*n. If it is before you entered a committed relationship, your partner issues may be meeting a veg*n. If you become a veg*n after entering a committed relationship, your partner issues are loving a nonveg*n and the question of how any children will be raised. Since this book addresses living among meat eaters, and since other avenues for addressing the issue of veg*n singles exist (from online discussion groups to veg*n singles groups in many urban areas to vegan dating apps), this section will concentrate on living with a meat eater.

Dating

“Carnivores are okay for one-night stands,
but for a relationship, give me a vegetarian.”

—Popular saying

Meeting other veg*ns

Check to see if your community has a veg*n singles group.

Join local veg*n groups. In a supportive group, you can feel the relief of being with other people who share some common assumptions about food. Start one, if one doesn’t exist in your community.

If you are willing to relocate, move to a veg*n-friendly community.

Identify yourself as veg*n on dating apps, or try the vegan dating app.

Volunteer for an animal-related group, whether it is taking shelter dogs for walks or runs, volunteering at an animal sanctuary, protesting at slaughterhouses, or working a vegan resource group.

Dating meat eaters

At the beginning of a relationship, we might minimize what differentiates us because love or sex makes it seem possible to do so. We think everything is possible. And we don’t want to imagine otherwise. At that moment, as one veg*n advises: “Think now about what life with your meat-eating boyfriend or girlfriend will be like in the future.” After all, dating can lead to living together. What is your bottom line for a partner?

Many veg*ns say, “If I had been a veg*n when I met my partner, the relationship would never have developed.” My friend Maria said this even more explicitly:

We are now both sure that if we were to meet each other for the first time with our present diverging beliefs, we would not be interested in having a relationship. Although we obviously have other things that keep us together, eating is a very important part of life, a big part of companionship and community, it is what we do to celebrate and what we do when we mourn and commemorate, so it must play a big role in any decision to live together. We no longer share the comfort of a common meal or the pleasure of a meal prepared together. When I am low, he cannot help by bringing me a tray of freshly prepared food, nor can I do this for him.

What is your bottom line? Some veg*ns have decided not even to be friends with meat eaters; some will be friends, but not sexually intimate, telling their dates that they won’t kiss or physically get close to someone unless they are also veg*n, “as their skin, mouth, bodily fluids, etc. totally gross me out.” The bumper sticker says it all: “Vegetarians taste better.” (Of course, if you are sexually active, be sure to protect yourself against unplanned pregnancies and sexually transmitted diseases.)

If dating is leading to something more long term, do:

Negotiate before you begin living together. Don’t assume that appropriate resolutions to differences will simply evolve. Will there be nonveg*n items in the house? How will the refrigerator be arranged? Will there be separate cookware? Is your partner careful about where meat is put, and does your partner clean up carefully? Will any potential children also be veg*n?
One woman gave a copy of The Sexual Politics of Meat to a man she had started dating. She told him, “If you want to understand me, you need to read this book.” He did, became a vegan, and moved across the country to live with her. Their wedding celebration featured delicious vegan food.

Know your bottom line. For instance, I knew that raising children according to my ethical commitments about animals was very important to me. One way to identify your bottom line is to recognize what you hold to in other friendships and relationships. Is this relationship with your partner asking you to suspend something that you would never do in other less intense and committed relationships?

Be alert to how the difference in food choices absorbs or displaces other disagreements. Or vice versa, how other disagreements absorb or displace these differences. Are you able to talk honestly about having different approaches to food choices?

Know what is worth trading. A change in household responsibilities in return for the prospective partner’s trying veg*nism? Perhaps the partner offers a deal: “I’ll do this, you do that.” “I’ll be veg*n, while you do x, y, or z.” Or you offer the deal to your partner. It has to be something that is equally important to the partner, and it has to be an exchange of activities that are parallel.

Loving a nonveg*n partner

Veg*ns are often seen as inflexible and controlling. We may see nonveg*ns in this same light. Intimate relationships, however, must be grounded on love not control, flexibility not inflexibility. As with much of life, we must learn the art of balancing.

I have met many people who stayed blocked veg*ns because they believed their partner needed to eat meat. They have not known how to envision any other arrangement. But there is one: change and tell your partner you changed. Relationships can handle change. Thwarted desires, secrets, self-sacrificial behavior with nothing in return, and fear of change—these can be enormous stressors in relationships. The poet Rainer Maria Rilke talks of a good marriage (and I’ll expand it to any long-term committed partnership) as one in which “each appoints the other the guardian of his solitude.” There is growth we need to do for ourselves, through solitude, not only for the relationship. We have to allow each other the grace to change, to grow inwardly. Sometimes this inward growth leads to veg*nism.

What is intimacy?

Intimacy requires that we be able to hear and empathize with one’s partner. Our veg*nism may mean that we do not want to hear them, and we cannot empathize with them in this one area of their lives. Is your veg*nism, or your partner’s nonveg*nism, influencing your ability to be intimate as a couple?

Does the relationship allow you to be who you are?

Does the relationship allow your partner to be who they are?

Can you talk openly about important matters?

Can you discuss your differences about eating in an even tone?

Do you know where you stand on emotional issues and can you say so to your partner?

Are you each able to identify what is acceptable and tolerable in the relationship and what is unacceptable and intolerable?

Are you able to stay emotionally connected to the other partner even though they think, feel, believe, and eat differently than you do?

Can you accept your partner without needing to change, convince, cajole, or fix them?

Pressure points in intimate relationships

The more that veg*nism is now or becomes an expression of the deepest part of you (beliefs about spirituality, the self, ethics), the more you may have to silence that self in relationship to a meat-eating partner. That may be fine for you. You simply need to be aware that this is happening. The relationship with your partner has such depth itself that it also speaks to this deepest part of you. But if you have made any compromises around meat eating by your partner (i.e., fixing it and/or eating it in front of you), you may come to feel that this deepest part is splitting in half. A part is betrayed by your partner’s meat eating; a part is supported and enlarged by your partner’s love. You have to balance what you feel you are sacrificing in yourself and what you need to sacrifice in the relationship. This is not easy.

But this is precisely where our problems arise.

A woman had become a veg*n after being married for many years. Now many issues existed in their relationship that had never been there before. After we talked about the frustrations, I asked her what her partner felt about it. What was he going through? She had never thought to ask. That was the next step for her. As Lillian Hellman said, “People change and forget to tell each other.” Intimate relationships require openness to change and to hearing about change. But there will be pressure points that occur because of change. Some of them may be:

You want your partner to change. The problem, of course, is that you cannot change your partner. This isn’t easy to accept. If you don’t accept that you cannot change your partner, you may be disappointed. Then you will blame the meat-eating partner not only for being a meat eater but for your feeling of disappointment.

Your partner may see you, at times, as controlling. If your partner says, “I feel oppressed by your veg*nism,” you need to be able to hear what the partner is feeling and why. If your partner is not sufficiently in touch with their emotions to be able to articulate this, but is acting in ways that communicate it (edginess, combativeness about choosing dinner or restaurants, inflexibility in some area), the actions communicate this same statement.

When your partner needs your love because they are sick, you give them a lecture on their diet. They think they have the flu, but you just “know” it is salmonella poisoning. Just as some people blame any illness we might have on our food choices, we, similarly, may blame any illness meat eaters have on their diet. Though we might be on firmer ground, judgment is still offered as a substitute for loving. This is most unpleasant to someone needing nurturance.

A time may come when you announce, “I don’t want to make love to you because of your meat eating,” Do you say it because it’s true, or are you using it as an excuse to cover some other issue? The partner will respond and, besides being hurt, knows full well that you yourself have habits that could come under scrutiny. Maybe it’s not meat eating, but to the partner it is as important to them as your veg*nism is to you.

Do you fill up the emotional space available for veg*nism? Veg*ns need to ask: Would my partner be a veg*n if it weren’t for me? We keep them from exploring it because we have filled the common space with our version of veg*nism and they can’t find theirs. The nonveg*n partner may have no space to discover their feeling or thoughts about veg*nism separate from their relationship with their partner. The partner may feel they are losing the ability to define themselves.

One friend told me:

I lived with my then boyfriend (now husband) when he was a meat eater for several years before he became nearly vegan, and I am certain that I delayed his transition. I simply could not tolerate his meat eating, even though he didn’t eat animals in our home or in front of me, and I was constantly interrogating him: “What did you have for lunch? Why did you eat that?” I was insufferable. I have since learned many other, more effective techniques that do not set people up to dig in their heels defensively. Eventually, I decided not to ask him anymore, and casually left literature in key spots around the house (the dining-room table and the bathroom specifically). Whether it was the literature, or my shift in attitude and behavior, six months later, he gave up meat. What I learned from this is that while it can be horribly upsetting and nearly intolerable to endure meat eating among people close to me, my response to those people largely determines whether or not they begin the transition to a more cruelty-free diet. It was as if I had been a really bad lawyer representing my client, the animals, while they needed a much more astute, clever, and detached attorney. Of course, to do this means that I must live in a “role” and not feel or express my own emotions.

Are you trying to punish your partner for the world’s cruelty to animals? Say you see a cattle truck on its way to the slaughterhouse—your feelings might include outrage, sadness, powerlessness. In that cattle truck you encounter the painful reminder of so many reasons to become a veg*n. You may also feel bitter, sensing how little has changed. Where does this feeling of powerlessness, of bitterness, this sense that the outer world got to you again, go? Unless you are careful, your partner may become the target, because they represent that world to you. The meat-eater partner then carries the weight of the meat-eating world’s sins on their back.

Can you make deals? (See discussion under “Know what is worth trading,” p. 127.) What trade can you live with or offer? What trade would you feel compromises you? Make a list of activities and behaviors that are in conflict for each of you or things you would prefer your partner did or didn’t do. Then negotiate from that list.

A mixed relationship may thrive if both individuals have no control issues and are extremely flexible. But most of us are not so wise in life, and we find that we are at times petty, judgmental, and needy. It is our partners who make us feel secure when we feel insecure, attended to when we feel neglected, loved when we feel unloved. But conflicts with partners are inevitable. It may be because of a disagreement with them that we are feeling insecure, neglected, and unloved. At those times when the relationship is most stressed, nonveg*n-veg*n issues may increase in strength. We need to be aware of this.

Conflicts

Do you each discover new ways to offend each other? The pattern preexists your veg*nism, but your veg*nism receives the negative energy that hasn’t been dealt with. One friend, Marta, told me, “The things I might forgive in a veg*n partner, I find unforgivable in a meat-eating partner.” Meat eating increased interpersonal tensions. She was less tolerant overall because she was so alert to his meat eating. Once she realized that she was judging him in other areas for his meat eating, Marta determined not to confuse her disappointment about her partner’s diet with her disappointment about something extraneous to it.

You may discover that something new in the relationship is bothering you. Your partner has started to behave in a certain way that concerns you. You don’t feel comfortable confronting your partner about this behavior. Yet you feel edgy, unhappy, disconcerted by it. You will respond by trying to find a place where the other partner is already vulnerable. Finally, you snap at your partner and complain about something safe, something already “on the table,” their meat eating.

Sexual relationships may become the focus of your nonveg*n-veg*n conflicts. “How can I make love to a person who has just eaten meat? You smell and taste different.” If you have that feeling, be aware of it. Don’t deny it. It will figure in your relationship if you aren’t honest with it.

You may take the other’s choices personally: “You are rejecting me in rejecting my food.” Suddenly an argument arises. Be careful! Remember, incompatibility does not arise from differences, it arises from whatever prompts them to stand out. What is causing the differences to be more serious at this point than earlier in the week? Are you or your partner tired? Is it the full moon? Are you recovering from a taxing visit of your boss/parents/noisy neighbors?

You balance relationship needs by knowing your bottom line and clarifying your expectations. But intimate relationships require that you identify and understand your partner’s basic needs and also what your partner can and cannot give up. Identify and understand what you can give up without violating your bottom line.

If you are feeling embattled all the time in the relationship, then conflict is exposing incompatibility. A serious stressor is affecting your relationship. It needs your attention. Recall a time when veg*nism wasn’t an issue. What was working then that doesn’t work now? The relationship at that point was giving you both something that it isn’t giving you now. What was it? Intimacy? Support? Honesty? Casualness about food? Respect? Sexual freedom? At some point you minimized differences that now are painful. Have you changed more than you thought? Can you tolerate a meat-eating partner? Or is veg*nism carrying the burden of a different—and perhaps to the relationship, a more dangerous—disagreement? The pressure is on you to determine this.

How will we raise our children?

You are a veg*n. Your partner is not. How will you raise your children? Clarify your feelings and make your decisions as much as possible before having children. Different options exist:

The children follow the partner’s diet.

The children follow your veg*nism.

The children eat veg*n at home but eat nonveg*n outside the house.

I often hear, “I plan on having children with my lover, who is a meat eater. Veg*nism is very important to me. Should I agree that they can eat meat?”

This is what I tell them: It may feel difficult to know what will be best for you and your children before you have any. That is because love believes all things are possible. Baby poop will teach you otherwise. Beware of promises that are made in the absence of actual knowledge about a situation. When that nonveg*n baby is your responsibility, you may find yourself begrudging the promise. Now you are experiencing the day-to-day demands that feeding a child involves. No matter how much you negotiate how this will occur, at some point feeding your children nonveg*n food or packing their lunches may fall within your responsibility. How will you feel about that?

You may find that this responsibility comes to represent every negative aspect that strains your relationship. Raising children provokes stress anyway—sleep deprivation, discovering old issues from your childhood, the conflict between child raising and work. Adding to that mix an act of parenting that may conflict with your own principles puts a great deal of pressure on you. You may discover that petty issues loom larger. A question that might have been innocent—“What are you preparing for supper?”—is suddenly burdened with conflicting expectations. You may begrudge a promise made when you were ignorant of its ramifications, now that you are not able to get out of it.

As your own experience might have shown you, it is easier to be someone than to become someone else. From your children’s perspective, it is easier for them to be veg*n than to become veg*n later on. They are not blocked or unblocked, simply free from thinking of nonveg*n foods as foods. And they don’t beg you to go to McDonald’s. This is a constant frustration for some veg*n parents I know.

It is better to negotiate veg*nism for any future children and to do so long before unprotected sex imposes a deadline for the negotiation. It is, after all, a gift to the kids. Besides, the baby poop of meat-eating babies is an overwhelming smell. Each diaper may assail you with your differences.

The negotiation involves acknowledging something that is equally as important for your partner as your veg*nism is to you. My partner and I decided that our children would have his last name and follow my food choices. Not only did this preserve equality, but it provides a one-liner to explain your family’s arrangements. In essence, it says, “We have worked this out. You do not need to be worried” to all of those individuals outside of your relationship who will assume they can have opinions on the matter.

The nonveg*n world—and your partner—can accommodate your child’s veg*nism. It may not always be easy, but in the long run it is easier than your accommodating a child’s meat eating. If your partner has some real concerns in this area, you may not be ready to have unprotected sex until those concerns are more closely examined. A conflict deeper than you realize may exist. Meat eating may represent something to your partner that is more central than you two may have acknowledged. Find this out now, before you have to change a diaper.

Raising veg*n children

If you and your partner agree to raise veg*n children, and unless you live in a veg*n commune, raising veg*n children involves a constant process of mediating your best interests for your child with a nonveg*n world, which seems poised to bulldoze them over in an instant if your attention lapses.

The resources for veg*n parents are extensive now, from books on vegan parenting to vegan parenting online groups, to children’s book on veganism. In sharing these books with you kids, they learn that they share their perspective on eating animals with others their age.

When your children are preschoolers, you may find that other parents challenge your decision:

Meat eater: “What about your children?”

You: “They’re veg*n, too.”

Meat eater: “But do you think it is fair that they didn’t have a choice?”

You: “Did your children have a choice?”

Once children are in the picture, the problem becomes trusting relatives to respect your decision. Suddenly your parents are complaining and criticizing because of what you are not feeding your children. What should you do?

Give them Virginia Messina and Mark Messina’s The Vegetarian Way, or other material on raising veg*n children and ask them to read the pertinent chapters. Tell them you will discuss the issue with them once they have read it. If they don’t read it, that will tell you that no matter what they say, they don’t really think the issue is nutritional. If it isn’t nutritional, then what they are enacting is an intense resistance. Reread the section on resistance tactics (pages 118–19) and anticipate that your parents may give you a hard time. This may include feeding your children foods that you have asked them not to feed them. They are trying to reestablish control.

Select pediatricians who will support your decision to raise your children as veg*n and reassure your relatives that your children are healthy, and regularly seen by the pediatrician.

I asked my son Ben, his thoughts on being a vegetarian in elementary school in the 1990s. He reminded me that “It was still such a novelty even in the 90s and early 00s.” Back then, he said, “I might’ve been one of 3 vegetarians,” at school. Now, he meets kids who “think it is cool that I’m vegan.”

When your child will be eating out with others or at someone else’s house, review with the adults involved what your child does and does not eat. I would send food along when my kids visiting or attending birthday parties. Once the child is five or so, they can understand what foods are veg*n. (Back in 1989 my other son Douglas tried to explain to his kindergarten teacher about marshmallows, but she scoffed at him, telling him he could eat them. I requested a different kindergarten teacher when Ben started school—not because she convinced Douglas those marshmallows they had used for counting could be eaten, but because I wanted a teacher who respected what kids said to her.) By the time they are nine or so, kids can negotiate even the esoteric issues of chicken stock in gravy, etc.

Give individuals a chance, but if they feed your child meat, they have revealed themselves as untrustworthy. If these individuals happen to be members of your family, you have a real problem. They have experienced you as deviating from the family system. This is threatening to them. They have never experienced you as deviating from the family system so completely. They want to bring you back in line and will use your children to do so. Know your bottom line. Betrayal by your parents is not acceptable. Remember that most grandparents want to be with their grandchildren. Let them understand very clearly: “I love you, Mom and Dad. But you must respect my decision on this. If you cannot respect my decision, you are telling me that I can’t trust you. What model do you provide my children if you are disrespectful of their parents? Let me show you all the wonderful food they can eat. Then show me that I can trust you. Otherwise, the kids will not stay with you unless I am with them.” This may feel very tough, but it often succeeds in communicating your bottom line and from there negotiating something acceptable to you and your parents.

Cooking with children

However you raise your children, be sure to involve them in kitchen activities. Teach your kids how to cook.

When my children were in preschool they loved to help with baking. (I read a suggestion to put the bowls on the floor so that the children didn’t have to stand on chairs.) By the time they are in school, if not before, they can help measure ingredients. Children 8 and 9 can be washing vegetables, mixing, chopping, baking, reading recipes. Children 10–12 can plan, prepare, and clean up a meal on their own. Teenagers can help plan the menu and shop for groceries as well as cook a meal.

From the time they were in preschool, my kids and I read vegan cookbooks together and identified recipes we’d like to prepare. Recently, I picked up my journal from Thanksgiving 2002. In it, I find my sons, 18 and 13, making ravioli, pressing the dough through the pasta maker, using the ravioli mold, adding the tofu ricotta, and sealing the raviolis. Now in their 30s, they share recipe books with me (The Korean Vegan is a favorite) or check to confirm the steps in making chocolate cream pie (see p. 253).

If they are veg*ns, your children need to know how to cook as a survival tactic in this nonveg*n world. If they are meat eaters, the more they learn how to cook their favorite foods, the less pressure exists on you.

Give your children the gift of cooking. And, if at all possible, give them the gift of veganism. But, in all this, cut yourself some slack. Parenting is hard at the best of times; parenting during a pandemic has been a wrenching, demanding, anxiety-ridden experience. None of us will ever be a perfect parent. We must accept, as psychologists recommend, that being a “good enough” parent is a worthy goal. In our day-to-day experiences as parents, let’s try to be less critical and more flexible; at any time we may fail even though we have the best of intentions. That’s okay. That’s the nature of parenting.

Chapter 11
Grace at work

Eating with meat eaters

Veg*ns cause chaos. Invited to eat with friends or returning to our family home, we refuse dishes with animal products and may disconcert our hosts. We are threatening two institutions. Obviously, one is our culture’s mythology about eating animals. The other is the meal itself as it is traditionally experienced. When we decline the traditional foods found at a meal, we throw the meal off by the degree to which everyone believes it requires meat.

Let’s face it; it can be uncomfortable eating with nonveg*ns. Either they are busy thinking about what we are doing or we are busy thinking about what they are doing. We either cause chaos at their meals or they prompt chaotic emotions within us. Threading our way through conversations and arguments on the one hand, and the ingredients list on the other, we not only feel isolated; we feel frustrated. We feel as though we are in a situation way beyond that of just being controlled. We feel frustrated with our job, our friend, our date, or our family—whoever contributed to our being at this table.

The ritual function of meals

Sharing food together confirms that we are a part of the fabric of a community. Weddings, funerals, festival dinners of one sort or another cement relationships, ease transitions, and confirm stability. The way we move forward and the way we remember is through food. When people are ill we take food to them. When we are ill we receive food.

At a meal, the pattern of what is eaten and in what order establishes boundaries. When we eat what is on the table, we are within the boundary. When we don’t, we aren’t.

In our culture, foods made from animals often provide an assurance of continuity and connectedness. The meal builds up to and then down from the dead animal–centered main course. Sometimes meals are associated specifically with the animal being consumed. The centerpiece of the meal reassures everyone that they are a group, whether a family, or co-workers, or college friends; it proclaims, “We are in this the same way—we eat the same foods.” From this, a circle is drawn and we are all inside it. We feel safe, affirmed, “not different.” The meal is a sign of stability: the world may be changing, there may be things out of our control, “but, by God! we can still enjoy a good steak dinner.” Or, “the holiday just wouldn’t be the holiday without a [particular dead animal].” The use of foods from animals confirms social stability. Enter a veg*n. You are the transgressor. What was stable becomes unstable, what was unquestioned is questioned. The relaxation and exhilaration of the event are strained. What is this individual going to take away from us?

Nobody wants to feel anxious when they eat. Anxiety denies people a feeling of abundance at a meal. When eating is no longer an experience of abundance it loses its deepest rewards.

Meat eaters don’t want to feel anxious when they are eating. And meat eaters often feel anxious around veg*ns. Anxiety and eating create tensions. No one benefits from this. People want to enjoy the present moment. People want to feel connected through a meal. The sense that everyone is enjoying the same experience is important. No matter what we do as individuals, our veg*nism will disrupt this sense of unity. How deep the fissure goes usually depends upon us. If people think, as they talk with us or survey our plate, “What is left for her to give up?” or we discover there is nothing we can eat at communal meals, then the fabric of community is torn.

Yes, we are excluded from meals that were very much a part of our past. But the thing is to start again, to recognize that the food itself is not what is really bringing us together—it is the ritual of eating together. And with this knowledge, we can start working to affirm the abundance of veg*n foods. The challenge for the veg*n is to transform chaos into the chaos effect.

From chaos to the chaos effect

Thanks to the movie Jurassic Park, chaos theory was introduced to the general public. Jeff Goldblum’s character explained the “butterfly effect,” the idea that a butterfly flapping her wings in Beijing can transform weather systems in New York the next month. Chaos theory provides a way to perceive an order in nature. Slight deviations are more important than we think. This is why, whenever possible, we should act with this understanding and bring a vegan dish to share.

Vegan food—one appetizing dish at the holiday meal, one magnificent salad, one towering sandwich, one dish that you are happily eating—sends many messages: There is food you can eat. You are not needy, worried, neglected. You have taken care of yourself and seem happy. And your food looks—and tastes—appetizing to others.

Bringing a vegan dish actually accomplishes two things: it ensures that we have something to eat (no small matter!) and it offers nonveg*ns the chance to try our food. The introduction of one different thing into the scripted meal can have an impact greater than we would think. One dish, for nonveg*ns, pulls their chaotic, unfocused energies and emotions about veg*nism into focus. It is about this dish. This tasty dish. The veg*n is then experienced as connected to the nonveg*n—both like tasty food. When we simply cause chaos at the table, we are experienced as different because we are seen only as rejecting foods.

How to connect at holiday meals

Indulge as many traditions as possible. It creates the feeling of continuity, affirms your connections, speaks to the trained appetite, makes you feel included. You won’t miss what is missing as much if you are enjoying everything possible.

Ask yourself: Given the circumstance of the day, what would make my meal special?

Make up a title to a recipe that can be specific to the event, like “Aunt Edna’s beans.” It inaugurates a tradition. Our mind is associative. It likes to put two and two together. Event-related titles for recipes speak to this associative desire. Then we simultaneously feed the person, feed the memory, and feed the mind. We prepare people for the following year when the same dish appears.

Research your cultural heritage and find out what veg*n foods have always been a part of it. That is exciting and surprising, since so many cultural traditions developed plant-based cuisines. Or veganize something from your cultural tradition. You remind your family what traditions keep alive.

If you are invited by a family member who already knows you are a veg*n, simply say, “I’ll bring along my famous hoisin tofu or my famous nutty salad.” With a host who is new to your veg*nism, you can say, “I’m a veg*n, but don’t worry about fixing something special. I would like to bring my famous sweet potato soup, tabouli, noodle salad, [etc.].” “Famous” helps establish its credibility as a dish.

Chaos theory explains the irregularities of life—the burst of static on a telephone line, the coastline, lightning bolts. Being trained to see the world as meat eaters, they cannot explain the attractions of our food choices. But create a little irregularity in the meal, bring that dish, and they now have a way to grasp it.

Linear dynamics (A causes B, which results in C) cannot explain chaos theory. Neither can it explain the effect of our own dish on those who eat it. That one dish has a greater effect than we can comprehend. It provides an opening to someone else to be receptive. People see wonderful food; they try it. In the process, something unfamiliar becomes familiar.

It takes two of you, even if you’re the only one

Question: How many vegans does it take to change a lightbulb?

Answer: Two—one to change it and one to check for animal ingredients.

It may seem like it takes two of you to eat with meat eaters. One of you must anticipate so that the other can enjoy. You anticipate so that there can be full abundance in your eating experience. Otherwise, you experience scarcity and teach others that their fears about your food choices (that there is nothing you can eat) are true. Recall the young woman whose Thanksgiving dinner at her grandmother’s consisted only of a toasted bagel. I urged her to see that such a situation was not healthy for her or her family.

But one dish could transform it. She could be having something fancy or something simple. It doesn’t matter. The goal is to be able to share and bring others into your world. Until we bring that dish, our world seems to be a world of not eating. With that dish, we demonstrate otherwise. We share our contentment.

Yes, there need to be two of you: the planner part of you, who thinks ahead, knowing that the meat-eating world may leave us only a toasted bagel. The planner anticipates in the face of scarcity, so that the eater part of you can know abundance. By the time you sit down to eat, the planner should have done their job so that the eater can eat happily, joyfully, knowing only abundance.

Your need to have food you can eat intersects with nonveg*ns’ need not to see you as a stranger and to experience your foods. Then they can think to themselves, “Maybe there is abundance in this choice, too.” There’s another reason not to show scarcity. If you aren’t eating much, people automatically assume you have an eating disorder—and denial doesn’t work. You must prove your ability to eat food and keep it down, if you want to keep the respect of your peers.

It is the planner’s responsibility to make sure the answer is yes to the question “Will there be something for me to eat?” There are many ways the planner part of you can assure this. You need to identify which way will meet your needs.

Ways to plan ahead: Engaging the planner part of you

Always have a backup plan when eating with nonveg*ns.

Eat ahead of time.

Talk with the host.

Bring food.

One major problem exists. Are you the type of person who takes your needs seriously enough that you will develop the skills of planning ahead? When you are going to be eating with others, do you say, “Don’t worry about me” because you are frightened of being rejected or causing someone an inconvenience? Some people’s tolerance for what they see as calling attention to themselves is so low that they cannot stand the social drama that arises from saying, “I am a veg*n.” They experience that statement as saying, “I have specific needs in this situation, can you assist me?” This feels unbearable. For instance, a friend of mine was chosen to receive an important award from an impressive group at a formal dinner. Although he was the awardee, he made no advance plans with the sponsors to indicate that he would not be eating the main course at the banquet. His uneasiness was unfortunate. Of course the sponsors would want their awardee to be fed. Of course the banquet chef could accommodate veg*nism. But his tolerance for having a special need, for needing others to respond to it, was so low he could not make the request. He was what communication specialist Virginia Satir calls a “placator”—someone who won’t call attention to himself, no matter what. Not being willing to negotiate and not making any other arrangements means that you are self-denying. It is important to feel comfortable giving others the opportunity to provide for your veg*nism. After all, even if it were not in your self-interest, you need to do it for them, to help avoid the awkwardness that occurs when they see you not eating. Moreover, some meat eaters honestly want to honor your decision but don’t know how. You could help them to know what to do. You need to give them the opportunity to honor you, knowing also that they might not.

The spirit of abundance

If the planner did everything possible, yet you sit down to eat with meat eaters, facing, once again, an iceberg-lettuce salad, focus not on the amount of veg*n food, or the kind of veg*n food, but the quality of eating veg*n food. Find abundance even in this.

You never eat the same meal twice. This means that even if you are eating the one hundredth iceberg-lettuce salad of the year in a restaurant, it is an entirely new iceberg-lettuce salad to you that day. Let the moment be that of living in the present and rejoicing in your veg*nism. At the moment when you are eating the salad, nothing in that restaurant would be better than it, because if it were, you would probably be eating it. So that lettuce salad deserves all your attention for that meal. This gives you a feeling of connection, and feeling connected you can feel abundance. Let us be conscious, even in moments of stress, alienation, or yet again that iceberg-lettuce salad, that we are connected to something unfolding in our lives and in our culture.

Be conscious of your expectations

You need to be aware of them so that you can be prepared. Do not let your expectations take the place of preparation. Perhaps you are living with an expectation about an upcoming event involving food (“Oh, that will be a great dinner because . . .”). If, for that expectation to be fulfilled, you are relying on the actions of another person, and that person does not share your commitments, you need to take action and make preparations yourself. Otherwise, you will be living with dashed expectations.

If someone is preparing food for you, be precise about what foods you do not eat—chicken stock, lard, etc. Clarify this with them, while also saying, “I do not expect you to have to prepare this food. Let me bring a dish to share.”

Lower your expectations

Expectations can keep us from being prepared. After I became a vegan, I stopped expecting that I could eat at most public functions that I was invited to that were not sponsored by vegan or animal liberation groups. It was so liberating to lower my expectations! Once I knew I could not expect to be fed, I could enter any place without needing to scan for available vegan food. The part of me that needs to eat with a feeling of abundance had already done so or was going to after the meal. This was a great gift—the gift of detachment from public meals.*

But even if you lower your expectations, you will still be surprised. You cannot anticipate everything.

Let your frustrations teach you

Whenever you find yourself saying, “I’ll never put myself through that again!” identify what dynamics need to be changed so that you indeed do not go through it again.

Where was the meal?

What necessity required you to be at the meal?

Friendship

Family obligations

Work requirements

Social obligations

What specifically occurred that caused the frustration?

Veg*n food was promised, but it wasn’t there.

They thought veg*ns ate chicken/fish/lard/chicken stock/anchovies.

You talked about your veg*nism.

Someone ordered on your behalf and you couldn’t eat what they ordered.

Nobody wanted to dine where you wanted to eat.

You were hungry.

They would not stop offering you meat.

You were eating at a restaurant.

They were eating meat.

Once you identify what has frustrated you, see if there is a pattern to your frustrations. Is it always when you go out to eat? Is it work related or family related? Ask yourself, “How can I avoid this next time?” This requires understanding what sort of power you have in your relationships. You cannot control the behavior of others, but you can keep them from making you a target and you can keep yourself from believing that certain obligatory meals can meet a gustatory need. You need to develop your own ground rules for eating with meat eaters. At a minimum they will probably address the following issues.

Ground rules for eating with meat eaters

Don’t talk about veg*nism at a nonveg*n meal, especially if you are outnumbered.

If offered nonveg*n foods, say “No thank you.”

When eating outside of your own house, assume nothing.

Be prepared not to be fed.

Therefore, BYOF (bring your own food): Create and share veg*n food as much as possible.

Be aware of your feelings when someone else is eating nonveg*n food.

Saying “No thank you”

If offered meat, you can say, “No thank you.” Deny people the opportunity to use your behavior to start an argument. One veg*n reported, “When in the company of others who have different menu habits from mine, I simply don’t eat what I don’t want to eat . . . much like a six-year-old. It is always possible to say, ‘I’m not hungry, I can grab something to eat later.’”

“Would you like some meat?”

“No thank you.”

“Why not?”

“I prefer not to.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. thank you.”

“This concerns me.”

“It doesn’t need to.”

“Are you sure you are okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“But I fixed it just for you.”

“Thank you, but no thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“But I worked all day!”

“Thank you. I’m sorry that you did with the expectation that I would share in the food.”

“Don’t you love me?”

“Let’s not confuse the issue.”

“Once won’t hurt, will it?”

“In fact, it will. No thanks.”

You wish to discourage people from questioning your practices and beliefs. Your desire is to redirect the conversation, to escape being the focus, to be courteous without accepting someone else’s agenda. The cook’s efforts do not mandate that what they prepared be consumed. Remember, good etiquette requires that you inform someone you are a veg*n if this is the first time you are invited for a meal.

Dining out

Restaurants beef up vegetarian menus

—Headline in the Wall Street Journal

You can say that again! They beef them up, chicken them up, pig them up. Well, beef stock, chicken stock, lard them up. We all know that problem.

We all have our own stories of our worst experiences at a restaurant. Having to spit out meat? That’s happened. Restaurant staff who don’t understand the words vegetarian or vegan? That too. Recall, in Chapter 1, a salad bar where everything was contaminated with some form of meat or dairy and a steak house where the vegetable was “chicken and biscuits.” Those ubiquitous Chinese buffets with . . . well, you know.

When we go out to eat, we want a sense of abundance: “There is something for me to eat that I will enjoy.” We want a sense of welcome: “The people I am with enjoy my company, and I enjoy theirs. And the wait staff make me welcome.” But who always gets what they want?

The changing vegan landscape of dining out

There are more vegan restaurants, and more nonveg*n restaurants are adding vegan items. Some friends and groups allow the veg*n among them to choose the restaurant to insure there is food for that person. Sometimes whomever makes the decision of where to dine does so with the veg*n in mind. Called the “veg*n vote,” it is helping to provide more veg*ns with something other than a lettuce salad. The app and website “Happy Cow” will tell you what restaurants nearby wherever you are offer veg*n options.

Yes, things have changed in many places. But I continue to hear from people living in areas where the great vegan advancement in available foods has not yet taken hold.

Living Among Meat Eaters’ rules for dining out

Don’t assume anything about your wait staff (i.e., that they know what vegetarian or vegan means, that they understand you don’t eat foods with chicken stock in it, that they know Parmesan means cheese, that they understand that gelatin, lard, and anchovies are animal products).

If you can, check the menus of the restaurant ahead of time. Do as much negotiating as you can with the restaurant on behalf of your needs before arriving there.

Know your threshold for others’ meat eating.

Eat before you go.

Yes, going out to eat, unless to an explicitly veg*n restaurant, may seem to have gotten more complicated. But break apart the various aspects of it: who, what, when, and where, and you are on the road to having some control in a situation where loss of control often afflicts us.

Do you want to go out to eat? Identify this first. Just because you are invited does not mean you have to go. If you are invited somewhere, instead of feeling that you have to answer immediately, simply say, “I have to check my calendar and get back to you.” You don’t have to say anything more. That gives you some time to decide if this is what you want to do. Check out the restaurant online if you can and if you don’t find what you need to know, call them. Give yourself some time to think about the value of the event and the demands it will make on you.

Do you have a role in selecting the restaurant? If you do, suggest restaurants that you know serve items you enjoy eating. One vegan would suggest Middle Eastern and Indian restaurants, “That way I can put up with them and they usually don’t even notice that their chickpea curry or falafel is decidedly lacking in meat.” You can assume that for the most part you will be able to get a good meal at a Chinese restaurant. Almost everyone has a version of Buddha’s Delight, which is vegan. Your fallback can be a pizzeria; many have added vegan cheeses, but cheeseless pizzas with vegetables, and a little olive oil drizzled on top, can in themselves be very tasty.

Assess your degree of power in negotiating the choice of restaurant. Don’t be naive. If you are relatively powerless, low on the work or family totem pole, you need to recognize this. The sooner the better. Be aware, as well, whether your companions are deliberately not choosing the restaurant that you want. This sort of power dynamic may be at work when they want to thwart your veganism rather than support you. So don’t leap into the discussion with your first choice. Simply by being your first choice, it may be the one least likely to be adopted.

What do you do when, for employment, family, or another reason, the group selecting the place to dine is either consciously or unconsciously ignoring your veg*nism?

If you have little individual power to sway a group choice, enlist a meat-eating ally, someone in the loop when decisions are being made, who will help steer the “gang” from some of the least inviting places. Ask this person to help represent your concerns, perhaps suggesting a restaurant where everyone can get meals. When the suggestion comes from someone like them, it isn’t seen as a special pleading by the interested party. Therefore, it isn’t tainted by anyone’s feelings about your veg*nism or you.

If this is a spontaneous event, and your friends or family are supportive, recommend a place you are familiar with.

Do some advance work. If someone else has chosen the restaurant or you have agreed to go to a nonveg*n restaurant, learn where you are going beforehand. Then do your advance work of checking out the menu online. If all else fails, call the restaurant at a time when they can answer your questions without being rushed.

You can say, “I looked at your menu online and could not tell if you are offering any veg*n dishes.” Be specific. “I do not eat land or sea animals.” Say whether or not you eat dairy products or eggs. Say, “I am hoping for a veg*n meal that does not have any meat, chicken, fishes, cheese, milk, or eggs in it. This includes no chicken or meat stock, no lard, no anchovies.”

You might say, “Is there something your chef can prepare?” This lets them know that at least one person assumes that they should be offering veg*n entrees. Then ask and be specific in your questions:

Do you put chicken stock in soups or sauces (such as tomato sauces or other sauces that go over pasta)?

Which of your pasta choices does not have eggs?

What do you cook your French fries in? Not, Do you cook your French fries in vegetable oil or animal fat? As one vegetarian observed to me, “Some restaurants will tell you whatever they think you want to hear. If you asked them, ‘Do you cook them in vampire’s blood?’ They’d say ‘yes.’”

Do you cook your tomato sauce with meat and then strain it out? Don’t ask, “Is there meat in the sauce?” They may say no, because there isn’t. But there was. Order the marinara sauce instead, but check.

Does the chef use a meat-based stock for flavoring or thinning?

If there are no veg*n entrees, you can try to determine if a meat meal can be prepared without the meat. A portobello-mushroom-and-meat sandwich could have the meat left out; a Reuben sandwich made with sauerkraut and avocado instead of meat can be pretty tasty. Pasta with steamed, roasted, or grilled vegetables in an olive oil-garlic sauce is good. Combine a set of side dishes and/or appetizers into your own specialized vegetable plate. And yes, if necessary, a baked potato with ingredients from the salad bar topping it.

See if you can create from their usual ingredients a meal that you can look forward to and that they can make. The more formal and expensive a restaurant, the more likely that they will be equipped to meet your requests. Reach an agreement with them about what can be ordered, and be sure to write down the names of the people with whom you talked. Then at dinner you can say, “I spoke with Theresa the chef this afternoon, and she indicated that she could prepare roasted vegetables with fennel seeds and balsamic vinegar and baked tofu.”

If circumstances have not allowed you to pick the restaurant or make advance plans, try to keep as much of the negotiation out of sight as possible. Excuse yourself from the table, go to the kitchen or the maître d’, and find out about vegan options. This spares embarrassment for people who aren’t used to asking the server questions about what is in their meal. If you ask questions in front of a mixed group, your questions about food choices will make the others feel uneasy, while providing them with another example of why they couldn’t be veg*ns. (They think, “Who would want to submit themselves to that just to go out to eat and relax? Where’s the relaxation in that?”) Indeed, this may be one of the reasons the meat eater is blocked. Meat eaters are often discomforted by what they consider the tedious ritual that veg*ns must run through when ordering at a restaurant. They may not like doing anything that calls attention to themselves, and from their perspective, this “inquisition” of the wait staff is embarrassing. The result is that they think, “I could never become a vegan because I could never go through that.” Of course, they may be the very same people who, when your meal arrives, exclaim, “Oh I wish I had ordered that.”

Do what you have to do to avoid having to send a dish back. There is something excruciating about sitting without food in front of you when everyone else is eating. Either they feel self-conscious about eating and wait for you while their food gets cold, or you encourage them to eat and they feel awkward about it. You are aware of them eating or not eating. You become more aware of what they are eating, too. Your apparent confrontation with the wait staff in sending the food back may make them uncomfortable. No matter what you say, you are calling attention to yourself.

But if you have to, send it back. If there is something suspicious about the food when it arrives, ask questions. This, of course, is the most difficult time for you to discover that communication was not what you thought it was. But, hey, better late than never.

And, if you think the place you are going to cannot in any way accommodate you and yet you must go: eat before you go.

Let restaurants know what you think. If you go to restaurants because they serve veg*n food, let them know. And if you get a great meal, let the chef know. As Ken Haedrich explains,

Chefs are not known for their small egos; the more you can express your gratitude for a job well done, the better the kitchen is going to take care of you. Tell them you appreciate their efforts. If you do, tell them you feel strongly about supporting places that cater to veg*ns; then tell your friends. Don’t be afraid to drop specific hints about the sort of foods you like and would love to try if the chef ever made anything like that. Most good chefs like a challenge and they’ll do everything they can to keep you happy.

Besides letting the establishment and the chef know you enjoyed your meal, think about coming back and spreading the word to your friends. Above all, be sure to tip fairly and appreciatively. You represent a class of people, “veg*ns,” and so your actions will reflect on everyone else who also call themselves veg*ns.

Getting your kind of food at their kind of place

Traveling? Stock a veg*n survival bag. Carry packets of instant ramen noodles; granola stocked with dried fruits; a plastic jar of peanut butter; small packages of soy, almond, or rice milk; nutritional yeast; instant hummus; canned veg*n sandwich spreads; instant-soup cups; and hot-cereal cups.

Airlines: This is such a changing situation, especially because of the cost savings airlines have adopted. Perhaps on your flight you can order a veg*n meal, but those options seem to have become very limited. Travel prepared. And even if ordered, your veg*n meal may not actually materialize.

School cafeterias. Just as colleges and universities have begun to include more vegan food, so too now are some high schools. But assume nothing.

Picnics, barbecues, and other outdoor communal eating events. These are often the most difficult because of the smells. Bring your own food. Stay as far away from the cooking action as possible.

Banquets and other catered events. It is surprising, but these events are often the most flexible. You need to decide on a case-per-case basis whether you need to request your special meal ahead of time. If you do, you need to work through the person who has invited you. If you arrive at the event without having found out about the menu, ask the server for a plate with lots of the (veg*n) vegetables.

Eating with meat eaters who are eating meat

We have restored the hole in the conscience, meat eaters haven’t. How do we respond to their eating dead animals?

Ask yourself, “What do I feel when I watch people eat meat?”

It doesn’t bother me. I think that that is their choice.

I still miss meat.

It upsets me greatly: I feel sad and withdraw or I feel angry and want to confront them.

If your answer was #1, you don’t have a problem. You can skip this section. You are like Annette:

If I make the decision to dine with meat eaters, then I accept the consequences. The alternative is not to dine with them—however, I have some very good friends who eat meat. I am not willing not to dine with them—so I practice acceptance, order my vegan meal and am living proof that the vegetarian/vegan lifestyle is a “happy” choice.

If your answer was #2, you may still be in transition. Many veg*ns advise not eating with meat eaters during this time. Others recommend making sure that you have your comfort foods available. Eat before you go. Remind yourself why you are a veg*n during the meal.

If you answer #3, you have a problem similar to the veg*ns quoted below.

The most problematic issue of dining with meat eaters is seeing raw meat being eaten or bones of animals; both just make me want to be physically sick.

It makes me upset to see my friends eating dead animals, but at the same time they are my friends, so I cannot get angry with them. I feel very conflicted. I don’t know if I am going to take it too far one day and cause my friends to not want to be around me if I argue with them every time they eat.

For many, it is simply untenable to sit by as someone else eats a nonveg*n meal. Too much shutting down of your system has to happen for this interaction. It is exhausting. Should we have to partition the fact of what they are doing from our mind? Can we? Why should we let people off the hook? The nonveg*n food itself assails you: The smells, the reminders of our culture’s commitment to eating animals, everyone’s insensitivity, the sight of it. You feel yourself being sacrificed to a communal experience that you don’t agree with. Finding yourself feeling disturbed, upset, angry, alienated, how do you respond?

Your choice is avoidance, confrontation, detachment, or meditation.

Avoidance

Whenever possible, avoid eating with meat eaters at nonveg*n restaurants or in other nonveg*n circumstances. To avoid feelings associated with watching people eating meat at holiday dinners or cook-outs, wait until the meal is over and then arrive. Call first to confirm that the meal is done.

Avoiding watching meat eaters eating meat is often the most difficult goal to achieve. We do not always have this degree of control in our lives. The next-best alternative is that if you are at a meal at someone’s house, you might try to sit as far away from the “main course” as possible.

Confrontation

Nothing we do will revive the dead animal on the table before us. Discussing the animal’s death may actually sacrifice the animal again. Blocked veg*ns may dig their heels in even deeper and become more rigid. The result is that more animals may be lost.

If you cannot live with yourself without speaking up on behalf of the animals, confront gently. Use a one-liner. It’s out there and then it’s gone. One person explains, “I apologize to what’s on their dinner plate. It usually makes them laugh.” It gives this individual a coping device, it is based on a sense of justice, and it is integrated, slightly, into the relationship. But remember this: If you get upset about the meat at the table, this reaction teaches meat eaters that even if they become a veg*n they will be aware of meat. They may think, Why bother?

Detachment

You are upset. First, become aware of what you are feeling. Let the feelings exist, don’t deny their legitimacy, but don’t let them influence your behavior. Observe them instead. Ask yourself, “What am I feeling?” “Am I feeling angry?” “Am I feeling upset?” Identify the feelings by naming them: “I am angry. I am upset. I am hurt.” Ask yourself, “Why am I feeling this feeling?” Your answer might be “Because my friends and family are ignoring what they are doing.” Or, conversely, it may be because your friends or family know what they are doing, and that they are teasing, disrespecting, or insulting you. Finding a way to distance yourself from this experience while in the midst of it is challenging, but possible. To begin, name to yourself what you are feeling. It might be anger, impatience, despair, powerlessness, violation, frustration. The people you are with either are unaware what this situation is costing you, or are aware and don’t care. What resources or responses are available to you? You can remind yourself why you are veg*n; that you will soon be free of this event; that caring can sometimes hurt, but it also offers the ongoing reward of engagement and awareness. For me, I sometimes would think, “Wow, this is a really great example of blocked veg*ns in action.”

The grace of the chaos effect

When you bring one veg*n food item, or more, to a potluck or a family celebration, or order a veg*n meal at a restaurant, you may be able to ignore what nonveg*ns are eating because you have created something nourishing and life-affirming. You are the butterfly flapping her wings. That veg*n dish, in and of itself, may start the reorienting process.

There is always a benefit we can’t see.

A friend described his Thanksgiving experience after many years of having been a vegan. Everyone arrived for Thanksgiving dinner at his mother’s and discovered a note on the blackboard: “This year’s meal is vegetarian because so many of the family are now vegetarian.” All those vegetarian butterflies in China had flapped their wings, and now, several years later, the meal was transformed. One uncle sat through the entire meal, pouting, refusing to eat anything because there was no turkey. Not even a toasted bagel would he eat! What a loss! That poor uncle! Even though vegetarian food included him, he could not tolerate the idea of eating it. Now he experienced scarcity in the midst of vegetarian abundance.

Small changes over time have a cumulative effect.

One vegan played on a baseball team. After ballgames the team always went for pizza. Without saying anything, he ordered a cheeseless veggie pizza. His teammates noticed how good it looked, and asked a few questions, but he deflected a discussion and simply enjoyed his pizza, as they enjoyed theirs. Some asked to taste his pizza and were pleasantly surprised. One of them had high cholesterol and began ordering a cheeseless pizza as well. Another team player had been ordered to cut down on fat because of his arteries. He, too, got a cheeseless pizza. Within a few years, without much focused discussion on veganism per se, the whole baseball team had practically adopted the vegan’s plant-based choices.

Create the chaos effect, one dish at a time. This allows grace to work.

Note

* Banquets and other formal events often have vegan food available. When you enter the dining room, after you have identified where you are sitting, talk to the lead waiter, or your own server and ask if the chef has prepared vegan plates.

Chapter 12
On the job

Working with, for, and (sometimes) against meat eaters

From Mike, a law student:

At my previous job, we had a central small “kitchen” or lunch area. On several occasions a number of us would be there preparing our lunches and as others bit happily into their hot dogs or luncheon meats that contained an interminable list of ingredients, many of which were unrecognizable or even unpronounceable, they would look at the veggie dog or TVP (etc.) that I was preparing and say, “EEEEEEEWWWW! What is that? How can you eat that?”

A work environment can be supportive or backstabbing, cooperative or competitive, nurturing or toxic. Add veg*nism to the mix and the lunchroom—a place of retreat from the workspace—becomes a combat zone. We threaten meat eaters, yes, but unfortunately for us, we also threaten company camaraderie. Bonding of employees often happens around meals . . . and then we come along. Sometimes everyone bonds against us.

It is worth remembering that the word capital comes from the root word for cattle. In declining the company’s foods, we throw off our relationship with our co-workers by the degree to which they or the event or the company itself is committed to meat eating. This can mean a difficult work environment for us. Will people trust us? Listen to us? Will it influence the ability of others to evaluate us? Can we succeed at a job if we are not seen as company players?

One woman wrote me about her work environment:

I have been a vegetarian for two years now. I feel that it has been one of the most rewarding decisions that I have made. I have a co-worker who has made the decision to become a vegetarian. There have been so many jokes about us. Because her last name is Brown, they call her “Brown and Serve.” I admit that it is sort of funny, but damaging. How do you suggest we defend our choices?

At this point, you are probably equipped to recognize that those co-workers are defensive and so they are releasing their feelings in this way. My advice to her is probably predictable at this point:

Just ignore them. Smile at them. Go on eating your sprouts, your sandwiches, your soups. Ignore them and attribute it to bad manners. The less they can make “you” and your vegetarianism the issue, the more likely it is that they will actually experience what it means to be a vegetarian. You don’t have to answer their questions, and you don’t have to get sucked into their agenda. Simply smile and change the subject.

Many veg*n workers discover to their dismay that meat eating is deeply embedded in many assumptions about work. Work environments normalize meat eating in many ways. Some veg*ns discover that their co-workers are saboteurs. One co-worker intentionally left his leather jacket on a vegan’s belongings so that she had to touch the leather jacket to get her things. It is okay to make our preferences clear. When she discovered a pattern to his actions, she could have said, “I find it very unpleasant to remove your leather jacket from my belongings.” If they persist you could say, even-toned and unemotionally, “I have said that I don’t like handling leather. That was rather insensitive.” If they persist, say, with the same even tone, “I have said that I don’t like handling leather. That was rather mean.” It may persist, but then you (if you insist on drawing a line here) should persist with the same observation: that it was mean.

Alternatively, you may ask them to promise not to do this in the future. If they persist, you may remind them, in an ever tone, of the promise. Don’t be hostile. But if the veg*n has too many requirements (e.g., no one is allowed to eat flesh in their presence) they will find themselves alienated and unhappy, and these feelings make poor vehicles for spreading veg*nism.

Many of the problems you encounter at work can be addressed by drawing on the analysis and responses discussed in the previous chapters. Teasing through food is usually a variation of the hostile saboteur. The leather jacket guy is a saboteur. Questions about what you eat or don’t eat can be responded to according to the guidelines for talking with meat eaters. Draw on the survival skills of the previous chapters and apply them to this situation. In addition, some unique situations in a work relationship require our attention.

The pandemic has changed many aspects of work arrangements; some changes may be temporary, and some permanent. Pundits and analysts aren’t all settled on the issue. While the COVID-19 pandemic may have changed some assumptions about where one will work, and while some work environments began shifting toward more veg*n foods in institutional settings, the normalized nature of nonveg*nism remains—especially in less urban areas—and seeps into interactions with co-workers.

Team building: Its irrational aspects

Are you a team player? Companies need team players. To determine that their employees are team players, they often use a “loyalty” test. This test, which is not explicitly called a test, and is not like any tests that you have taken in school, is often a humiliating experience. You have to pass this one test to be seen as a team player, and then, when it’s over, you are never subjected to a similar sort of humiliation again. Team building is about your powerlessness.

No matter how you behave in relationship to your work duties, your veg*nism may be saying, “I’m not a team player.”

The most painful experience I have heard is from a vegan who discovered that the meal she was expected to attend was at a “pick your own lobster house.” I’ll let her tell the story:

I sat through dinner eating only a portobello mushroom sliver and a side salad (all that was available) while everyone passed oysters, shrimp, caviar . . . and then excused themselves while they went to pick out their lobster (and when they were brought to the table, everyone proceeded to crack jokes like, “Wait a minute, you got Susie, she was the one I picked!”). Everyone ordered steak tartare, veal, etc., and they were all passing the flesh back and forth sharing. All through dinner, they made comments like, “This steak is so tender,” or “This is the best cut of meat I have ever had.” Everyone at that table knew how I felt about eating animals, yet they continued to make these comments. I sat there, silent, something I never do, which made me feel even worse. It was a horrible night and made me feel very defeated. I almost walked out of the place—what would you have done?

Many signs exist that this was a loyalty test—not just for her but for everyone. The first sign is that it is in an unusual setting: she and her co-workers had all been flown to Tampa. The second sign that this is a loyalty test is that none of them had input into the place they were going: the client had chosen a very famous “meat-and-seafood” place. As the vegetarian woman explained to me, “My boss told me where we were going to be eating, and I thought it was a joke. He is very sympathetic to my lifestyle and he, along with my co-workers, has told me how much they respect and admire the way I live my life—so that was why I was so surprised about where we were to eat. I thought it was very insensitive—my boss could have suggested we go somewhere with a little more variety, but did not.” Clearly, in this situation, not even the boss felt that he could challenge the client’s choice, despite his sympathies for her position. That was the client’s loyalty test for the boss.

During the dinner these usually respectful and admiring co-workers do not ask her how she is enjoying the meal; in fact, their behavior furthers the violation of the environment. Here is the third sign that it is a loyalty test—behavior that is out of character. The fourth sign reveals why: the comments about the food are directed to the most important person present—the client—and to the person who represents the client’s interests, the boss. The comments are flowing in a vertical system that moves upward. That is why the steak was “the best they had ever eaten.” (In this situation it had to be!) And this is why there were jokes about the poor lobsters.

With a loyalty test in a meat-eating environment, the vegan is the least powerful person there. And even she behaved out of character. She told me she wanted “to open my (usually big) mouth and ask that a little consideration be shown to me.” Yet she did not, another sign that the meal was fitting the pattern of a loyalty test. She also reported, “I refuse to be silent.” But in this case she did choose silence. She understood that something was different about this meal. What was the difference? She might not have had a conscious label for it (i.e., “This is a loyalty test”), but she understood that something was important enough to keep her there and keep her quiet. She bemoaned the lack of interaction and compassion for her: “I just wished someone would have asked me about my food choices that night, because I would have opened my mouth then.” But of course no one could ask her—the flow was toward the powerful, not the powerless. She admits that she was tempted to leave, but she didn’t. What held her there? Her loyalty to her boss.

Now some veg*ns suggested that she could have said something like:

Listen, folks, if I may get a word in edgewise. I have no intention of spoiling your fun or telling you what to eat. But I wonder if you could show just a little respect for me. It just so happens that I consider eating animals offensive. It offends my personal set of values I do understand that you don’t share my values, and that’s fine. But I’m sure, if I were Jewish, you would refrain from telling jokes about Jews, out of respect for me. And so, if you don’t mind, perhaps we could just cut down a little on joking about all these dead animals and talk about something else. I’d really appreciate that. What did you think of that art exhibit we saw this afternoon?

This response misses several points.

First, by calling attention to her position—that she believes eating animals is offensive—she would be ruining their fun, even if she claims she is not trying to do that. They know how easily a vegan changes the dynamics; that is why they can’t ask her how her meal is. They have to be blocked about her veganism—that is, their survival strategy at the moment.

Second, no, they can’t show a little respect for her. If they could have, they would have. That they haven’t says they can’t. It’s really that simple. Asking for respect in this situation would not achieve anything. The bonding that is happening is directed from top-down, not from bottom-up.

The third error in this approach is that it ignores the fact that many people are insensitive. They do tell anti-Semitic jokes in front of Jews, racist jokes in front of African Americans, sexist jokes in front of women. By using Jewishness as an example, she may offend someone in their company who is Jewish. They may not like the comparison. And it misses the point anyway. After all, the joking is part of their defense mechanism as blocked veg*ns.

Fourth, since she has so little to eat, she could quickly take control of the conversation by telling a long, involved joke or fascinating story. She would succeed in changing the subject, and would be remembered as the one with the interesting story. She doesn’t need to tell them what she is doing (“I am going to get your—and my—mind off these poor lobsters”), she just does it.

The fact is, this isn’t about her. It’s about the company. Is she a team player or not? This is a loyalty test. Remember, two important characteristics of a loyalty test are that people act out of character in a controlled environment and the tests happen infrequently. This is exactly what transpired in this situation.

Even if what you are experiencing is a loyalty test, it does not mean you need to allow your deepest principles to be violated. Instead, develop survival skills for these times of testing. Prepare for them: at the restaurant leave the table and make your food arrangements; detach, meditate, even get ill, if need be, and excuse yourself early from the evening.

The business lunch

Business lunches are different. They are repetitive in their problems. Often, the problem is that meat eaters are going out to eat at restaurants that cannot or appear not to be able to accommodate you. The less power you have in a relationship, the more vulnerable your eating practices will be. Job-related duties require eating with meat eaters at some pretty disturbing places.

One person, who is now able to control this, makes sure that no business meetings occur over meals. After years of working, under bosses who required her to attend business meetings where a lot of meat was eaten, this immensely relieves the stress on her. “It seems like the coward’s way out, but I got so tired of being made to feel like I was a ‘problem’ just for being different when really I was feeling guilty for not being more of a ‘problem’ and telling them my opinion!”

But this does not relieve the problem for those of you who are in a work environment in which there is little control. Draw upon all the precautions available as described in Chapter 11, “Grace at Work: Eating with Meat Eaters.”

Here is how one person handled a demanding situation. A woman who worked as a biodecontamination specialist was a liaison with an animal health company that specialized in the poultry industry. The vegetarian headed off to Arkansas to meet some of the key players and important customers. After meeting in a hotel room, the eight of them went out to eat.

We went to a prime-rib buffet. My heart sank as I previewed the choices to come: meat, meat, and more meat, mashed potatoes slathered in gravy, vegetables swimming in butter. There was virtually not a single dish on the buffet that was entirely plant based. Then I noticed the salad bar—a separate area, and I knew I would find sustenance!

I took a huge plate and loaded it up with lettuce and other vegetables until it could not possibly hold anything else. I selected what I thought would strategically be the best place to sit at the large rectangular table we would all share—the first chair from the end—hoping that my food selections would be more obscure there. We were perhaps five minutes into the meal when the poultry farmer sitting directly across the table from me looked over at my plate. Then he looked up at me. I watched him quickly glance around the table in turn at everyone’s plates before returning to look at me, then he said, “So what’s the deal . . . are you a vegetarian or WHAT?!” I sat there for a moment dumbfounded. I hadn’t anticipated such a direct confrontation based solely upon what my plate looked like. I knew that if I appeared to have any ethical basis for the selection of my food it would pretty much sabotage my new job. I looked around the table slowly at each of the men. All were significantly overweight with large protruding beer bellies. Then I looked at their plates—layer upon layer of dead flesh swimming in liquefied fats. A few overcooked vegetables peeked out from underneath yet even more fat. Then I spoke:

“Well, sort of . . . well, no, not really . . . but then I guess kind of. . . well, ever since my father’s scare with heart disease, the whole family eats this way.” Silence fell over the table. Most of the men looked down at their plates. Then one by one they spoke up.

“Yeah, my doctor says I’ve got to get my cholesterol down, too.”

“My blood pressure is way too high.”

“I’m supposed to be on a diet . . . I shouldn’t even be eating this stuff.”

After nearly everyone had made such a confession, the conversation moved on. I was never again hassled about my eating, and I learned an important lesson for survival in my new position. I never called myself a vegetarian, but I spoke endlessly about fat and cholesterol and conveyed that it was these things I was concerned about—as a result of my father’s experience.

Her choice, and it was very wise, was to avoid becoming a target. She needed to be seen as like them, not different from them. She avoided the word vegetarian. She did not let their worlds collide. This is what the business meal is, after all, supposedly an opportunity to consolidate business relationships. She did not feel that she sacrificed her vegetarian identity; she simply repackaged it, making it accessible.

Do not use business lunches to try to accomplish what even ordinary mixed meals cannot usually do—teaching about veg*nism. Review the guidelines for talking with meat eaters and add this one: If my veg*nism becomes an explicit issue, how does thus further the purpose of this function? If there is no answer, then follow the advice for eating out and be prepared. If this feels as though you are being asked to violate an integral part of you, begin to identify other possible work environments that would not require this compromise.

Company perks

You can be fairly certain that some company functions are going to either exclude you or offend you. One woman negotiated that she did not have to participate in company functions at such places if clients were not involved. But “in a lot of ways my vegan view point made me an outsider in company affairs, and I missed out on many events that were arranged casually where I would not be invited because of my dietary choices.” This might be holiday parties or casual staff get-togethers. At those events, spontaneous ideas and programs may be hatched. You will be aware of having been excluded.

If some problems recur because of business relationships, identify the pattern and ask: What can I do about it? What can be changed here?

Another company issue is holiday gifts. One woman wrote:

At my job, the Christmas gift from the company is a ham, turkey, and some sausage. I told the executive secretary (she handles the gift ordering) that she could give mine to someone else, as I would just throw it away. . . . She looked at me as if I grew a third eye.

Yes, the gift is insensitive. But so was the vegetarian’s response.

Building a new team

One can build a new team by trying to change the system or sharing information one-on-one with co-workers. Perhaps they approach you tentatively for information, if they feel that you aren’t judging them. Your veg*nism may actually open up the possibility of making connections. It just takes a lot of time and patience. Janice wrote of her experience working at an insurance company:

When I started working, my boss Pete ate McDonald’s hamburgers with salt on them, doughnuts and coffee for breakfast; he smoked and had a nightly drink (one or two). One year later he was eating bran muffins with black coffee or water for breakfast, turkey sandwiches with water or juice for lunch, quit smoking, started jogging again, and cut most of his drinking. He didn’t turn vegetarian, but he turned his bad habits out.

One vegan keeps fail-proof recipes in a stack in her office, to give to people who are curious.

For one vegan, change did occur, because she was able to articulate her ethical stance:

We had a worldwide sales meeting that culminated in an awards dinner at a marine park. I told my boss that I would not be able to attend for ethical reasons. After questioning me closely, he reluctantly agreed that I could miss the dinner. He then came back to me a few days later and said that, after thinking carefully about the issue and talking to friends and family, he had determined that no company event in the future would be held in any place that had a likelihood of offending people in this way. Although he did not share my views, he believed them to be sincerely held and to be as strong a reason for consideration as those of any religious or ethnic group.

Clearly, the boss was able to hear her, and was not using the meeting as a loyalty test. Another woman tried to change a very alienating environment:

I used to work at a Humane Society (who served chicken at balls and galas). I was one of a handful of vegetarians. On Meat Out day [a national drive for vegetarianism on the first day of spring], I did a presentation about going vegetarian. I couldn’t understand how these people could take care of dogs and cats and then eat other animals. Many were receptive and gave up eating animals; however, I found a note on my desk (unsigned) asking me not to talk about vegetarian issues since some people ate meat and it made them uncomfortable.

Eventually she had to ask herself, “Is this the team I want to be playing on?” This is the other option for building a new team, or being part of one: changing jobs. You need to decide what your bottom line is. Does your job conflict with your belief system? If it does, you are going to be expending energy that is blocking your ethical position so that you can survive the atmosphere at work. At this point, we understand what happens to blocked energy. It leaks into other aspects of your life. It is also exhausting blocking it. Are you helping to arrange the financing for a chicken processing plant? Do you work in a health food store and have to stock the meat department? You might discover you have to change jobs. Clearly, if you become a veg*n, you might not want to continue in an occupation such as butcher, meat packer, being a waiter in a steakhouse, a lobbyist for the cattle industry. Your job might be involved in some peripheral way with the meat industry, like the woman who found herself in Arkansas with a plateful of salad among her clients in the poultry industry.

If you are exhausted by having to balance the demands of your job with a changed consciousness about food and animals, see this as an opportunity to change more than your food choices. This may be the opportunity you have been waiting for to try something new. You yourself might be blocked in developing a skill or have a secret dream. Perhaps you want to get more involved in the not-for-profit world. Turn to books such as What Color Is Your Parachute? to aid you in your decision making.

If you are happy in your job, and can negotiate the rapids of the meat-eating business world in which you find yourself, you might decide that volunteering with a health, environmental, veg*n, or animal advocacy group meets the needs of this evolving authentic self.

To be on the job does not mean having to be on display, under attack, ganged up on, burnt out, or constantly alienated. If this is your situation, then you are being seriously deprived of the conditions for living with a sense of abundance. Honestly appraise what is working against your best self and find ways to work for, with, and on behalf of it.

Chapter 13
Living among meat eaters online

Over the first two decades of the 21st century, our day-to-day lives migrated online to one degree or another. Even before the COVID-19 pandemic sent us into meetings (and attending weddings and funerals) on Zoom, Facetiming with loved ones, and ordering groceries and masks online, we announced our engagements, shared our selfies, used dating apps, watched movies, listened to music, and got our news online. You might have learned of this new edition online. But what does living our lives in the digital age—with its social media apps, YouTube, Google, streaming content, email instead of snail mail, smartphones that keep our heads down, and the presumption of availability 24 hours a day—mean specifically for living among meat eaters?

There have been obvious benefits galore. Of the negative aspects of being online, some are obvious, but some are hidden.

Online community

Near the top of the list of benefits would be finding a sense of community online and connecting to others who are on their own veg*n journeys. Most of us have known the experience, whether online or in real life (IRL), of how powerfully affirming it is when we recognize we are not alone. People new to veg*nism, veg*ns who live isolated from other veg*ns, and veg*ns of color have found support networks online. There, unlike IRL for some people, one can feel understood and not as isolated. Online, others can support your decision to be veg*n, and discuss veg*n ideas, food, and recipes. I learned how to make madeleines from aquafaba from Facebook’s “Aquafaba hits and misses” group. In 2022, you can find groups on Facebook like the Tofu Appreciation Society, Seitan Appreciation Society, The Vegan Pizza Appreciation Society, Vegan Ethics, Science and Society, and Friendly and Pragmatic Vegans and Vegetarians.* On Instagram the hashtag #vegansofig delivers you into connections galore. (Though initially when I saw cross posts on Facebook, I wondered what vegans and figs had to do with each other!)

Scholars have described something they call “the online disinhibition effect.” What they observed was that the kind of social expectations for (and inhibitions about) behavior that are present in face-to-face encounters are loosened or absent online. Positive aspects to this online disinhibition effect are notable: We may feel more comfortable sharing personal concerns we would not reveal in an IRL conversation. We may find ourselves more sympathetic and responsive, and less reserved as we might be in real life. This is called benign disinhibition, and I think this experience is one reason we are heartened by the veg*n community we experience online. We have revealed our feelings of isolation, and we have found kindness, support, understanding, and empathy. This experience blossoms into a variety of friendships and trusting relationships that are valuable to each of us. This experience buoys us online and offline. Sometimes community is built because of the function of this “benign disinhibition,” and it spills into real life in tangible ways.

At times, we might forget we live among meat eaters as we thrive from the connections and communities we discover online. On dating sites, you can identify as a veg*n, thus helping other veg*ns on that site to find you. At this time, one vegan dating site exists, and others might be in development.

Online, you can learn about events near you—local groups, veggie potlucks, or scheduled dinners—and in more metropolitan centers (like London), there are interest groups for meeting at a pub, getting vegan food and playing board games! In my community (Dallas), a monthly “Vegan Drinks” event was scheduled at various vegan and nonvegan restaurants and bars, introducing the restaurants to a set of consumers they might rely on if they expanded their menu, providing support to existing vegan establishments, and an opportunity to meet and talk with other vegans.

Veganuary (https://veganuary.com), an annual campaign that encourages people to try being vegan for January (and throughout the year), provides resources and support to both individuals and businesses through their website. The Afro-Vegan Society (https://www.afrovegansociety.org) with their tagline “making vegan living accessible to everyone” created Veguary, the month’s long campaign in February, offering “a vegan program highlighting the contributions, richness, and diversity of Black culture.”

A resource for recipes, restaurants, and products

If you don’t want to do meal preparation or you are traveling, mobile device applications and websites such as Happy Cow (https://www.happycow.net) identify veg*n and veg*n-friendly restaurants near to wherever you are at that moment.

The pandemic accelerated the ability to order meals online. You can check out many menus online and make reservations at your favorite restaurant.

One of the gifts of online community is the access we now have to creative veg*n recipes. (But if you can, please do continue to support those who create veg*n recipe books by purchasing the book or e-book.) Social media has enabled the circulation of excellent videos showing how to prepare recipes and launching the success of recipe developers like The Korean Vegan on TikTok. On Instagram, the hashtag #VeganRecipes delivers eye-popping, colorful, inviting images and information. The video content is often conveyed so creatively that it brilliantly illustrates the techniques while empowering the viewers.

We can find information about what is and is not vegan, where to find vegan products, and online vegan stores. Websites like veganessentials.com and abillion (https://www.abillion.com) offer help learning about, finding, and evaluating vegan products.

I will never have the time to prepare all the wonderful recipes I have learned about online, but they have nurtured my imagination and made me more creative in the kitchen. And I know how to find hard-to-get ingredients by searching online.

Food for thought

In the 21st century, a broader range of views on the subject of veganism and animal rights is at our fingertips. Veg*n ideas and theory are available online through lectures, podcasts, streaming content, book clubs, and digital conferences. Scholars have the opportunity to introduce and explore ideas online. For instance, Laura Wright’s blog “The Vegan Body Project” evolved into a book proposing vegan studies, The Vegan Studies Project. Aph and Syl Ko’s book Aphro-ism began as a blog. As we encounter fascinating and uplifting presentations by vegan thinkers from all over the world, we are all invited into this expanding conversation.

To prevent whiteness from occluding the important work and analysis of Black and Brown vegans, websites like BlackVegansRock (http://www.blackvegansrock.com) and Food Empowerment Project (https://foodispower.org) exist.

Nutritional information about living as a veg*n, discussions about supplements (to B12 or not to B12? Yes, please do), and questions about protein, calcium, omega 3s, etc. can be researched online. I strongly recommend the website The Vegan RD (https://www.theveganrd.com) from my co-author of several books, Virginia Messina, because she researches everything before she makes a statement about a topic and is careful not to overstate or hype the health claims made for veganism.*

This inspiring veg*n and animal rights content helps us all become active stake holders in an ever-growing community.

Activism

Veg*n and animal activisms thrive in this digital age. Online, we can organize for an event, come to know of an animal in danger and then help rescue and re-home the animal, list or learn about volunteering at a local sanctuary or for a local organization, and explore the websites of regional, national, and international organizations. We can share information when starting an organization or offering events with vegan food. We can organize to encourage more restaurants to include vegan meals, designate vegan days or “a month of vegan meals,” or sponsor a vegan contest among restaurants in our communities. With a move of our mouse or finger, we can donate to our chosen groups.

Social media is seen as an effective veg*n maker. Blocked veg*ns come across a video of Esther the Pig, or undercover footage, or a creative Instagram or TikTok post about veg*nism and experience their internal blocks crumbling. (We’ll return to undercover footage.)

It’s probable that the extensive amount of vegan content online catalyzed print media to start paying closer attention to issues having to do with the welfare of animals. Animal activist Sarah Lux suggests that “Social media put the animals’ stories in the hands of the people, and traditional media tried to keep pace with the interest people had in what was happening to farmed animals. It was groundbreaking and because the animals have benefitted so greatly, so have I as a vegan.”

A place for vegans of color/decentering whiteness

Certainly, an important result of the digital age has been the opportunity to find and build vegan communities of color. The aforementioned Black Vegans Rock describes their purpose as highlighting the work of “everyday Black vegans who are looking to get their work, art, music, restaurant, book or other projects in front of other vegans. We seek to specifically cater to Black vegans considering we are regularly excluded or erased from mainstream spaces that deal with animal rights, food justice, feminism, and anti-racism.”

In London, the drive to overcome the isolation of being a Black vegan began online for Esme Carr, who started posting vegan foods she prepared on Instagram, and then videos on her YouTube channel, and, in a very organic way, became a community builder and influencer. Her authenticity and the accompanying message erupted into community. She explains, “In 2017 after years experiencing firsthand for years how ‘uninviting’ the ‘Vegan community’ is/has been I started up a new Instagram page called UK Vegans of Colour (currently on hiatus) aimed at giving a face, space and voice no matter how small to Black vegans in the UK.” She also opened a restaurant, Deserted Cactus, in south London.

De-whitening of vegan recipes and decolonizing diets, as well as work resisting white supremacy (in and out of the veg*n community) has been enhanced by online activism. White people have the opportunity to decenter our own perspective by widening our exposure to multiple ways of thinking about veg*n ideas and practices from people of many different backgrounds.

As I mentioned in the preface, Black consumers have played an important role in driving cultural trends and mass communication. Christopher Sebastian (the_christopher_sebastian) describes the importance of Black Twitter and Black vegans in an Instagram post. He writes, “Black consumers set trends and dictate popular culture to an unprecedented degree, especially online.” Black people who use Twitter “are more likely to engage with content than any other demographic.”

Joanne Lee Molinaro, the “Korean vegan” online—whose luscious recipes quickly won her a huge following, a book contract, a bestseller book (The Korean Vegan—there’s a book worth spending hours with!)—is not only teaching fascinating and delicious ways to prepare food, but she also consistently addresses racism in her online posts. Her bio on Twitter (@koreanvegan) makes this clear: “I hate racism.” Christopher Sebastian suggests the power of experiencing vegans of color online is that with individuals like Esme Carr or Joanne Lee Molinaro, “They didn’t set out to be influencers. They were isolated in some capacity. Their veganism is not just one part of their identify that is dissected and compartmentalized. You see them as whole people and not as vegan alone. What draws them in is their authenticity.”

Yes, but . . .

Even as it has helped so many vegans, the digital world holds our best interests hostage to its monetary interests. All the benefits from the digital age that we individually and collectively derive as veg*ns may cause some amnesia about how the 21st-century “attention merchants” make money off our online presence. While we, the consumers, were often overwhelmed with possibilities—who to connect with, what to watch, what to read, etc.—these businesses were figuring out ways to capitalize on our presence by monetizing that which is uniquely ours, our attention. Once Facebook entered the field, keeping our attention directed at a specific social networking site became one of its goals. With nano targeting, advertising could appear to fold seamlessly into our newsfeed.

True, because of all that we have gained, we could grit our teeth and continue. But the ways that our online presence is monetized, and the manipulation of our attention that accompanies this monetization, are not our only concerns. There’s Clickbait, a piece of arresting need-to-know-immediately information whose purpose is to get you to click over to a different site. In an Instagram post, Christopher Sebastian explained that clickbait “damages our collective psyche by creating emotional consequences with sensationalized, misleading, or otherwise harmful posts.” Veg*n social media users are as guilty of using clickbait as other groups, especially a form that Sebastian called “outrage clickbait.” Don’t let yourself be played.

The same benefits that veg*n and animal rights organizations gained were also experienced by groups and individuals (including autocrats) who represent forces of repression and oppression. This is one reason that while vegans of colors benefited from the internet and being online, there is no guarantee that this space is safe for them.

The same “fake news” that goes uncurated by social media sites can also be present in veg*n meme activism when claims are made that are untrue or may damage our cause. Christopher Sebastian points out how PETA often circulates quotes from Martin Luther King, Jr. on his birthday while implying they apply to the situations of animals. Problematically, the rest of the year PETA may introduce memes or launch campaigns that presume and capitalize on white supremacy rather than challenging it. I’ve found women’s right activist Susan B. Anthony claimed for veg*nism online (and earlier in print publications). But she was not. She could hardly wait to get to Delmonico’s in New York for a steak dinner after spending a few days with sister activists and abolitionists Angelina and Sarah Grimké. When we post or repost misinformation or disinformation, no matter how convincing it may seem, we contribute to the evisceration of a common ground of understanding and knowledge. It must be acknowledged that a subset of veg*ns became anti-vaccinists, and this dangerous position—with all of its misinformation—proliferated online. Fact checking is important.

By this point, you know this book argues that, in most instances, we should not argue with meat eaters. Has life online changed that advice? If you think about the popular YouTube videos of a vegan white male influencer who shows us how to argue with nonveg*ns, the answer might be yes. A video of a white man confronting someone on the street and challenging them to a debate may appear to promote veg*nism, but what it promotes is the belief that being confrontational and in-your-face will change another person. I am not swayed to change my recommendation about avoiding arguments based on these “bro” shows. They may have a large online following; this does not mean that white male vegan influencers are the most effective. There is nothing that proves they are correct about their strategy, and lots that continue to show alternative approaches are more effective. To begin with, in the act of debating them, they have granted the opposition a certain legitimacy. Sebastian has shown that the size of one’s following is the not the most important metric of getting people to become vegan; it is how people engage and are engaged with. Not the number of followers, but whether the followers make comments, and whether those comments are responded to are more indicative of influence.

Not all veg*ns think alike, and some veg*n conversations can become as heated as ones with nonveg*ns. The online veg*n community that has sustained us, unfortunately, is not free of free-for-alls, whether it’s about honey or eating Beyond Chicken at Kentucky Fried Chicken or liking or despising a certain well-known veg*n online celebrity. Disagreements and infighting may discourage you about the veg*n community. You also see how social media provides more opportunity for veg*ns to reinforce whiteness and body-shaming norms in the images used to promote veganism. As you discover that other veg*ns can be unkind, hostile, and nasty to nonveg*ns and veg*ns, disillusionment grows.

Moreover, veg*ns don’t agree about the graphically violent videos and accompanying memes and photographs that have moved online. While some attest to having been moved to become veg*n because of these violent images (I think of them as “Bloody Jesus” films), their trauma-inducing effects are damaging. There has always been a very controlling message—evident at animal rights conferences when films like this were shown—that “if the animals can suffer this, we must see it.” But I don’t agree. This position assumes that seeing brings about change, like the belief that if slaughterhouse had glass walls everyone would be a veg*n. But seeing anesthetizes as well as awakens, dulling our ability to respond to violence. Now locavores tout their hands-on slaughtering.

The things that trip us up IRL will also trip us online . . . and other things specific to the online world, will make it worse.

Negativity is rewarded

We know from whistleblower testimony that Facebook relied on provoking negative responses, because negative interactions generated greater profit. Living among meat eaters, we regularly experience interactions that have the potential to turn negative. Do we need that kind of negative emotional entanglement online?

I discussed the positive aspects of disinhibition in its role of helping to create veg*n community online. Unfortunately, disinhibition functions in a negative way, too, and this may make living among meat eaters online painful. This is because of toxic disinhibition. Others may feel free, and we may too, to be more aggressive, more in your face, more insulting when online. You can be attacked for being a veg*n online, and it can be as painful, raw, and threatening—or even more so—than when you are talking to someone IRL. Feeling secure because we are cloaked by online anonymity, things get said which might not be said in an interaction that was in person because one does not have to “own” their behavior.

Besides the “you don’t know me” freedom bestowed by online anonymity, John Suler—the scholar who identified online disinhibition—also found invisibility (“You can’t see me”) to be a disinhibitor. We have no cues from tone or body language to help us identify what is happening with our interlocutor online. Absent all the physical cues we experience in real-life interactions—the ability to look at the tension someone holds in their body, whether they are slurring their words or showing other signs of being drunk, or high, or laughing at us—we have no idea what is going on. In arguing with us about meat eating, they may be having fun with us, wasting our time to upset us. Meanwhile, for platforms that thrive on negative engagements, trollers of veg*ns deliver high returns!

I have suggested that when we argue with meat eaters, with any statistics that we use—whether about land use of animal agriculture, or line speeds at slaughterhouses, or injuries of slaughterhouse workers, or the numbers of animals killed each hour—the voice that is heard in the other person’s head is our voice, not theirs. When we are online, an opposite phenomenon can occur, which is an aspect of toxic disinhibition. It’s called “Solipsistic Introjection,” meaning, “It’s all in your head.” We lack those bodily cues that help us “read” someone in a face-to-face encounter. As a result, the online messages we read may be experienced as voices in our own heads. One of the results is that we may become more open with another individual online, without actual signs that they are trustworthy. Our literalism may cause us to take the discussion or disagreement literally, and we fall into the same patterns of searching for the one right argument that will cause everything to click for your interlocutor. But there isn’t one because they don’t care and as they are playing you, the voice in your head is yours.

Meanwhile, we become keyboard warriors, freed to say hostile, argumentative, and in-your-face comments that make our online self unrecognizable to those who know us only in real life. We may act contrary to the compassionate self who became a veg*n. Suddenly, there we are celebrating the death of a hunter killed by another hunter, or otherwise injured as they stalk animals. We may be found callously expressing the opinion that the cancer or death of an avowed anti-veg*n is deserved. Unanchored to the kinds of social expectations that would rein us in, our compassion dies a thousand deaths.

Are you at peace?

With all these forces of disinhibition at work, we may feel miserable after an online interaction. Remember my argument is that behind most meat eaters’ questions is the unasked question, “Are you at peace?” Is this the unstated question in our online interactions as well? Are we at peace when we are online? All the trolling and arguing that can happen online pretty much insure two related things: we aren’t at peace, and in our interactions with each other we demonstrate this. What can we do about it?

Online survival strategies

When you can, follow the principle, “talk vegan to me.” Share wonderful photos of your meals. Describe new ingredients you are using. Endorse recipes, recipe developers, and recipe books. Support new and aspiring vegans.

Resist clickbait.

Turn off notifications (so that you don’t have to engage with negative comments).

Know when to walk away, go offline, switch to something else. Avoid upsetting content and toxic people.

Don’t feel you have to win the online argument. Liberate yourselves into being able to see that it’s not our role always to be vindicating veg*nism.

Krista Behymer sticks to private groups, where she can “find little islands of sanity amidst the toxic swill of cognitive dissonance, ignorance, and outright cruelty in social media as a whole.”

Speaking up against online hate speech may help break the bubble that protected that speech from criticism or scrutiny. Speaking up can support victims of that hate speech. Speak up, offer a link that provides more information, and then disengage.

If you decide to “feed the trolls” further—thinking perhaps of those who aren’t participating but watching—say something specific, clear, and without insults or negativity. Michael Sizer described how

I actually deliberately feed trolls often. It drives me insane that people say “stop wasting your time because you’ll never convince a person like that.” Of course I won’t. I am under no illusion that I am likely to change their minds. But I also know that they have friends and siblings silently watching the conversation like flies on a wall. Those people are my targets because I would never reach them otherwise. I don’t even know them.

He knows this approach would not work for everyone. Terri Mitchell, who promotes ethical sanctuaries for captive animals, described what she has learned to do: “Say what I want to say as fully, kindly and rationally as I can and then move on. If people respond with a laughing emoji or argument, they can do it by themselves. In other words, I may feed the trolls, but I don’t wait around and watch them eat.”

I like the advice of Marla Rose, a skilled vegan social media user,

I have also learned to not argue. If I disagree with someone and really feel it’s important to put it out there, I will present my case, perhaps include a relevant link, but I will not engage with long back-and-forth disagreements anymore. Too many people are energy vampires and they enter those in bad faith, are not trying to challenge their point of view. I regret how many times I fed the trolls in my early days on here. If someone wants to get the last word, they can have it. My peace of mind is more valuable to me. They don’t get that or my time.

As I said in the preface, for some, the only vegan community they have is online. But should we believe that online community is sufficient? If you can, develop other ways to overcome physical isolation including using the internet to build community. If your local community doesn’t have a veg*n website, see if you can create one. Help local restaurants explore vegan items. Call around to restaurants (or check them out online!) and ask them for information on their vegan offerings, explaining you would like to list them as a possible place for vegans to go. If you find their offerings are inadequate, suggest possibilities.

Send condolence cards to sanctuaries you follow online when you learn of the death of one of their residents.

No matter how much online community feeds us, we still must eat—a three-dimensional process that happens IRL. Identify a veg*n recipe and prepare it. This helps you overcome the culture of distraction that comes with being online. Enjoy the sensuous nature of cooking—the smells, the rhythms, the delightful combination of colors, the concentration on whether something has come to a boil, or how the dough is coming together, or thinly slicing an onion with a sharp knife. Place your attention there.

Remember, too, that nonveg*ns believe it is not possible to be a vegan: “You can’t survive on the food.” “The food isn’t tasty.” “The food isn’t filling.” How do you prove them wrong if your encounters are all online? Theirs isn’t a rational thought process. Let’s sit them down and share that delicious vegan food we have discovered or prepared. Hand them utensils or chopsticks. It’s a different, more positive way to be in-your-face.

Notes

* Groups are ephemeral, and Facebook is always changing, but the names of these groups suggest the vitality and variety of vegan discussions on that platform at a certain point in time.

* As the Vegan RD posted to her public Facebook page on December 3, 2021: “3 Honest Promises We Can Make About a Vegan Diet.” They were:

“Going vegan will shrink your carbon footprint.”

“It will remove your contribution to some of the worst animal cruelty on Earth.”

“It will end the cognitive dissonance you live with when your choices conflict with your commitment to kindness, compassion, and justice.”

Chapter 14
Magician at work

Cooking for meat eaters

“Vegan chef! Isn’t that an oxymoron?” my brother-in-law Bill asked when I had confessed that if I weren’t a writer, I would like to be a vegan chef. Many meat eaters hold this opinion. Oh sure, they’d give up meat . . . if the food we offered tasted good. The problem, they say, is that veg*n food is tasteless, textureless.

I knew he said those words ironically, as he sat there devouring my grilled sourdough biscuits and nutty cabbage salad. That evening, as I was preparing them, and some tofu “steaks,” my sister Nancy came up to me and declared, “I know what you are doing. You are going to convert us just by good taste alone.” We had not seen each other for a year, and this was our first meal together. She was right; why not cut through all the anxieties and defenses and simply let people eat good, tasty food lovingly prepared? What better gift from our lives to theirs can be given?

We are magicians. “Watch my left hand,” we say as we do the magic with our right hand. This is what we are doing with our cooking. What’s my right hand doing? Preparing this veg*n food so that my left hand can offer it to you. You don’t have to know what my right hand is doing. You don’t have to be reminded of the fact that this is veg*n food. Instead, we make magic happen.

And when it happens once, we want to make it happen again and again. Perhaps, if you are like me, you go from being an uninspired cook to a demon cook. The alchemical process of changing—not just changing ourselves but changing foods into delectable dishes—repeatedly draws us back again. That is why I found myself telling my sister of my deep physical need to cook. “I can’t explain it or understand it.” I shrug. “I want to be in the kitchen preparing food, handling vegetables and fruits, participating in the alchemy of mixing together ingredients and creating a delectable meal.”

And that is why, on the hottest day of a very hot summer, I am in my parents’ kitchen, standing before the sink, washing sweet potatoes; in front of the stove, toasting walnuts; at the chopping block, slicing tomatoes, chopping up fresh rosemary, mincing garlic; and at the food processor with my 14-year-old son creating a vegan pesto. My sister said, “Why don’t you prepare the meal for Saturday night?” Fifteen people will be there. I make Caribbean sweet potato salad, tofu steaks (marinated in red wine vinegar, olive oil, and tamari*), rosemary sourdough bread, salad with raspberry vinaigrette, a tomato tart, angel hair with pesto, and a gingered fruit crisp with peaches, nectarines, blueberries, and blackberries. We stop to pick up some corn on the cob and accompany the farmer into the field as she picks the corn. As she examines the corn, she explains to us that she feels for plumpness in the kernels and looks at the hair on the top of the corn to determine if it is ready to be picked.

It has been so hot that the insects are eating the blueberries for water. It is so hot that I think, “How could I have agreed to cook today of all days?” But then, over supper, the reason is clear. Magic is happening. I realize with a thrill, everyone is enjoying this food! No one has noticed that anything is missing. That is because nothing is missing! They feel comfortable. Everyone feels casual, relaxed. Even my father, a man who I thought still believed there should be meat at a meal, is instead conversing about the pesto, taking on the role of a woeful but secretly proud father: “If I don’t plant two different kinds of basil, she [gesturing in my direction] won’t come home in the summer!”

The foods came together to touch all the senses: the beauty of the tomatoes and basil sitting in a puff pastry shell, the smell of fresh pesto, the fruit crisp with ginger infusing the fruit.

And in this feast, when the meal is successful and they love the food, like any magician, I am pleased with my sleight of hand. No one needs to know the particulars of what has happened. We give something from our lives to enhance theirs, something that we have created out of love. Love of good food, well prepared, is contagious.

We have the greatest gift of all: we know the joy of food lovingly prepared that is humane. This is the key to living among meat eaters. Find in yourself a way to share it. Cooking is one way to negotiate difficult relationships, one way that says, “I love you. Let me share this with you.”

Meat eaters are free to enter a loving, nonjudgmental space. By presenting good food, we let them know that we are not judging them and we give them the space not to judge themselves. They can simply be. Then they can experience grace. And they may realize this might be a place to which they wish to return because they will associate it with positive emotions—of hunger satisfied and guilt released Here, eating our food, they are not blocked veg*ns. They are experiencing veg*nism directly.

Show, don’t tell

Show, don’t tell. Why? Good food assuages inchoate feelings and fears. Meat eaters know what they are giving up. They don’t yet know what they are getting in return. The unknown is scary. They may fear being a veg*n.

The central fears that nonveg*ns have concerning a vegan meal

That they’ll be hungry. They may truly feel anxiety because they think they will not be full without meat.

The demands of change: everything will be different, there will be nothing familiar and they think they need to stick with the familiar. (Remember, they may be neophobes!)

That you’re trying to change them.

Loss of variety. That vegan food is bland and boring.

That vegan food isn’t bland and boring. Then they won’t have an excuse.

That they won’t miss the meat.

That being a vegan is difficult.

That being a veg*n isn’t difficult.

A fear about friends/peers—what will I feed them?

That you are putting something over on them.

Your meal is doing more than serving them nutritious calories; it can also help to allay their fears about what a vegan meal involves. Or what your intentions are.

Nonveg*ns often think, “There’d be nothing left to eat!” This focuses energy on perpetuating the idea of its absence. We simply show them this is not a problem. Or, meat eaters think, “I’ll replace meat with tofu and I don’t want to do that!” The fear of tofu is a special problem.

Tofu-phobia

Some nonveg*ns have a deep, abiding, irrational fear of tofu. They are tofu-phobes. Tofu represents veg*nism to them. Their greatest fear is that they will have to eat tofu. When one tofu-phobe I know is attending veg*n functions, he says, “I hope there is something edible there, something that you don’t have to think about whether it’s something you use for home repair or apparel.”

Tofu-phobes are guilty of (false) syllogistic thinking:

Tofu is yucky.

Veg*ns eat tofu.

Veg*nism is yucky.

Advertisements for flesh foods often depict tofu eating as laughable, pathetic, or disgusting. “No one high fives after eating tofu,” one ad proclaimed. (Well, let’s start.) A local hamburger joint featured an ad in the college newspaper that said, “Fuck tofu.”

One vegan friend of mine believes that people need to feel their jaws moving or else they feel they haven’t eaten. This may be why tofu is disliked so intensely. Liberation from tofu-phobia can occur in one of two ways: They are exposed to tofu that is tasty and delicious, or they discover that veganism does not require tofu.

One friend, Sarah, told of preparing a meal for her family:

I cooked a meal for my family—portobello mushrooms with noodles and marinara. I didn’t think of it as making a vegetarian meal, I just thought of it as proving I could cook. But my dad said, “If vegetarians eat like this, I could do that. I thought it was all salad and tofu.”

We have more variety in our food choices after becoming veg*ns than before. Though we may tell them so, it can be hard for meat eaters to comprehend this. But we can show them. A vegan law student who cooked feasts every weekend, reported to me, “When people ask me what I eat, I tell them. I run off a list of things, then I invite them over to my next big dinner.”

All that is required for meat eaters to be open to veg*nism is for them to eat veg*n foods in a nonthreatening atmosphere. Meat eaters are filled with beliefs about meat, about eating, about veg*nism. When we act in such a way as to confirm their beliefs about veg*nism, we simply fill them further. The more they are filled with meat eating and their beliefs, the less space they have to experience veg*nism. That is why we show, don’t tell.

Nonveg*ns have to believe in their own possibility for being vegan rather than someone else’s possibility. Instead of having to answer the frequently posed question “Don’t you miss meat?” we let them experience that they had a vegan meal and they didn’t miss the meat. Until they have that experience, they are most likely eating the menu, not the meal.

Eating the menu, not the meal

Philosopher Alan Watts observed that people eat the menu rather than the meal. That is, people eat the idea of what they are eating, not the reality of it. How do we know this? They unintentionally reveal it. A friend’s husband was an adamant meat eater. Her sister was vegetarian. At a holiday dinner, the husband was happily eating a vegetarian lasagna and praising its taste. He did not know that what he was enjoying was a TVP lasagna. Suddenly he looked around the table. His vegetarian sister-in-law was eating the lasagna, too! He was shocked. “Hey, wait a minute, what’s in this?” he demanded. As long as he thought he was eating his traditional lasagna, he was happy. The food did not change—only his awareness did.

When a nonveg*n discovers they are eating the same food as a veg*n, their traditional viewpoint might have been, “How good can it be if a veg*n is eating it?” This time, however, they know otherwise. It is good. They were enjoying it. This is the magician at work—allowing a nonveg*n to experience life as a veg*n. What the meat eater discovers is that such a life does not involve constant self-consciousness nor the giving up of tasty food. With our food, we have to speak to the feeling, tasting, sensing, smelling, looking part of them rather than telling them anything. We can’t tell them the menu; we simply share the meal.

At our wedding reception, the main course was walnut balls in a béchamel sauce. Everyone was convinced it was meat and they thought I had capitulated. “Oh, Carol has given in. And aren’t these the most delicious meatballs!” They enjoyed those walnut balls so much! This was a profound experience for me. They were holding on to the menu. Their stomachs didn’t know the difference; but if their minds were so convinced, it didn’t matter what was going into their stomachs.

How to handle menu-eating guests

Miss Manners once got a long letter from some vegetarians about how to refuse meat being offered to them. Rightly, she advised, say “No thanks,” and leave it at that. The letter also raised another problem: guests who bring meat to eat when they are houseguests of a vegetarian. Curiously, Miss Manners did not respond to this section of the letter. What should Miss Manners have answered when she heard about a weekend guest who brought bacon to go with his eggs and cold cuts for lunch? She should have said:

Dear Gentle Veggie:

You do not have to accept this practice. This houseguest has either had too little or too much exposure to veg*nism—either not understanding it at all or misunderstanding it all too well. He sounds like a meat eater who thinks, “I must defend myself against their veg*nism. I don’t want to know what a weekend without meat is like. I don’t want to know it is possible. I want to continue believing that it is impossible.” He is trying to establish control in a situation where he feels loss of control. As one veg*n friend, Francine, observes: “If your guests comment on the fact that meat is missing, your problem is rude guests, not a bad menu.” That is your houseguest’s main problem—not meat eating but rudeness.

Treat his actions as rudeness. You can say, “Oh, David, I’m sorry you didn’t realize that cooking meat in our house just isn’t acceptable. We know you regret causing us consternation. We’ll freeze this for you so you can take it with you.” And then show him the alternatives to these foods.

If David says, “This dish would be perfect if it had some meat in it,” you can say: “When you make it you can put it in” End of discussion.

Who’s eating my food?

Another vegetarian had the opposite problem. He lived with meat eaters who were eating the meal, his meal, not the menu, their menu. And they weren’t being very honest about their choices. I’ll let him explain it:

I am a vegan who lives with a family of meat eaters. Since I live with meat eaters I often have to get my own foods. There have been occasions where the meat-eating family members have taken my foods and finished them without asking me. As a vegan, I encourage people to substitute vegan foods for nonveg*n ones in the hope that they will switch to using vegan products. But when foods that were meant for you, because there is nothing else that you will eat in a house with meat eaters, were consumed without your knowledge, I think it is inconsiderate on the part of your housemates or family members.

Should we just forget about it or tell them to be more considerate? But how do you do it without giving them the impression that you are some selfish vegan? If I were a rich vegan, I would simply buy more vegan foods for everyone in the family. But if you are a vegan like me, struggling to make ends meet, it will bother you if this will become a problem, and you will soon start worrying about your food experiences if you decide to keep quiet about it. Especially when they have confirmed that they have no intention of even considering trying veganism or vegetarianism.

I would advise him:

Dear Gentle Veggie:

Your problem is that you live with a dishonest family. Because they can’t be honest with themselves about their interest in and enjoyment of your food, they prefer to steal it from you. They do not want to bring to consciousness their own interest in your food. They want to be able to eat your food without dealing with its implications in their lives. They may also be lazy.

How do you avoid having them think “you are some selfish vegan”? You do it like this: know your bottom line and protect it. They are abusing you and presuming upon your niceness. They assume you will let them continue to be selfish. You did not move in with the idea of subsidizing their food budget. It is perfectly okay to say, “Look, I know you say you aren’t interested in my food, but you are doing something different. You are eating it. Let me fix a meal a week for the household, and those leftovers will be available to everyone. Or, before I go shopping for myself, I will announce what I plan to make. If you think you want some, let me know. I will prorate the cost of the food.” You could also offer to do the shopping for the household. Together create a list. Notice what vegan items they tend to take most frequently and after the list is made, add these to the list. The key here is to make these foods available without making it obvious.

Some vegans might confront their housemates. You clearly are not comfortable with this. The most effective choice, if it is at all possible, is moving. No matter what their food choices are, you are living with people who are not above lying and stealing. This is not a conducive environment for anyone—especially one who ends up undernourished because of them!

His housemates were eating his meal, not their menu. This is the power of delicious vegan food.

Talk vegan to me—and them

Nonveg*ns assume that vegans continue to think about meat, dairy, and eggs even after becoming vegans. (And then the nonveg*n through argumentative and taunting remarks makes it so. They keep making meat, dairy, and eggs the focal point.) By eating and sharing vegan food, we refuse to be trapped by their limited logic, and we prove them wrong. That’s another reason why I like “talk vegan to me.”

As we relearned how to cook and combine familiar and new foods, we realize what a wonderful world of combining colors, flavors, and ingredients has been opened to us. And then we try to open that world for others.

Learning to cook great vegan foods and sharing them is an important aspect of veg*n activism. Vegan scholar Richard Twine suggests that lack of vegan competence may explain some of the reactions of nonveg*ns. They lack information on what a vegan meal might be, or how to prepare vegan meals, or information on where to get vegan products. This is one reason why you should show, not tell. Help them gain vegan competence.

Stages of cooking for nonveg*ns

Everyone is a potential veg*n. In preparing veg*n meals for meat eaters, we help them experience their own relationship with veg*nism.

Stage 1: Nonchalance and familiarity

My friend Karen Davis, founder of United Poultry Concerns, says that what people love to eat is food that is “crispy, crunchy, chewy, oily, spicy.” Another friend says that people are used to salty, sweet, rich, and buttery things. We need to appeal to their palate by making food colorful and textured. Maybe wait to try your favorite tofu recipe; instead take familiar foods and cook with them in a different way. This shows them that veg*nism isn’t all “tofu.” You need to allay their fear of scarcity.

One vegan cook, Annette, explains why staying with the familiar is her first choice:

It certainly made my transition easier. I choose something simple. In our fast-paced society, it seems doomed to failure to prepare a complicated vegetarian meal for a meat eater in hopes that after they say, “I didn’t miss the meat,” they’ll want to cook it themselves. I make sure I send via the mail, though, recipes and handy tips for those who are trying vegetarianism/veganism. Plus, this keeps the communication lines open. And that I care about them and their success and if they become frustrated or whatever, they can call.

“Know thy guest.” As Virginia and Mark Messina explain in their book The Vegetarian Way, They elaborate: “Know when to be exotic and when to be basic in your meal planning . . . Be elegant rather than earthy.”

Tips for this stage of cooking

Use more fat—“That’s one of the addictive ingredients in animal foods,” says Billy Ray Boyd, author of For the Vegetarian in You. Learn when to use vegan butter, coconut oil, or a tasty olive oil.

Avoid that which could be seen as strange. Now probably isn’t the time to pull out that wonderful banana blossom recipe.

Don’t discuss the contents of the meal—even if you are asked to discuss it*—until your guests are done eating. Don’t let the “menu” interfere with experiencing the “meal.”

Prepare familiar foods with new flavors. You might roast cashews and toss them into a salad. Roast veggies instead of steaming or boiling. The roast vegetables recipe (p. 241) uses balsamic vinegar and fennel seeds to highlight the vegetables.

Everyone loves soup and stews, and familiar ones are usually easy to veganize. Add some dumplings to a tasty soup and take it up a level.

You will have to decide if plant-based meats—if they are available—would work in a meal. While familiar, they may also arouse suspicion. Prepare lasagna or chili with plant-based meats in advance not only to enhance the taste, but to forestall a discussion about “what are you putting into that dish”?

Cut the vegetables in large pieces, so they don’t get all mashed into a stew (unless a stew is your goal!). This way the eye has something to focus on. Some people fear foods that are all mixed up together.

Flavor and balance can come from vinegars (from mild rice vinegar to very acidic sherry vinegar to flavored balsamic vinegar). If a soup tastes as though it needs salt, it might actually need acid (vinegar, a squeeze of lemon or lime juice, or some wine).

Reorder the plate to allay the anxiety about what will replace meat, dairy, and egg. Create main courses that announce themselves and have an attention-grabbing appearance.

Stuff favorite vegetables or vegetable mixtures such as ratatouille into phyllo or puff pastry or make them into tarts. (Some commercial brands of puff pastry are vegan, like Peppedrige Farm’s.) These convey a sense of abundance.

Serve foods with umami. The word umami comes from the Japanese term for “deliciousness.” Because of the high levels of the amino acid glutamate, umami is several things at once: a taste, and an experience, and an essence. Vegan foods offer many options for umami at meals: fermented foods like wine, tamari, and miso add umami. (I like adding red miso to soups and pestos.) Ripe tomatoes as well as ketchup, tomato paste, and sun-dried tomatoes also offer umami. Umami-rich foods include marmite, nutritional yeast, mushrooms, olives, balsamic vinegar, dried mushrooms, sea vegetables, and sauerkraut. Roasting, caramelizing, browning, and grilling are cooking techniques that impart umami flavors.

Stage 2: Kitchen magic

In this stage of cooking, bring nonveg*n into the kitchen so that they can see how easy veg*n food is to prepare. Be sure to have tried-and-true recipes. Now you can introduce tofu and other alternatives. I offer some appetizers and invite my guests to sit at the kitchen table while I finish preparing the meal. One time I created a make-your-own calzone dinner—we were getting to know a new friend of one of our son’s—and this would provide a focus as we talked. On the kitchen table one found options for the calzones—mushroom, spinach, roasted red peppers, vegan cheeses, pesto, etc.—and each person was handed the prepared dough and assembled what they wanted.

Learn from fancy restaurants: name all the vegetable dishes you serve. Perhaps it is a hangover from commands to “eat your vegetables” or from cooks trained in the old way—“Place vegetables in boiling water, remove twenty minutes later and serve”—but many nonveg*ns have little faith in vegetables. You aren’t serving just vegetables but “roasted vegetables with fennel seeds and garlic with a balsamic vinegar bath.” This may capture someone’s attention and their taste buds, too. You are trying to expand their menu and their meal.

* Expand the grains you use to include kamut, freekeh, black rice.

* Use legumes and/or grains as the base for salads

* If you don’t already use kim chi, start! Experiment with kim chi soup recipes or kim chi pancakes.

* Make hummus with edamame, or white beans, or sweet potatoes.

* Experiment until you have a great pie recipe, and use it for pot pies, gallettes (free form pies), and dessert pies. (Substitute vodka for water and coconut oil, olive oil, or vegan butter for nonveg*n butter or lard).

Stage 3: Even the unfamiliar can be familiar

When thought about it, and worried about it, change can be scary. But in a kitchen where someone is preparing vegan food, change is given its proper place—it tastes like this, it smells like this. My go-to creamy tofu ricotta/feta recipe (p. 204) has never failed to impress nonveg*ns, who enthusiastically enjoy it as an appetizer with bread or crackers. When they learn it’s from tofu, they are amazed. A neighbor loves it so much it’s my annual Christmas present to her.

Everyday cooking for nonveg*ns

You may live in a household with nonveg*ns. How do you handle your cooking responsibilities?

Identify your household’s ten basic meals. Which ones are already veg*n or easily adapted?

Develop new recipes using their favorite veg*n food as a base.

Identify what your household has traditionally rejected. Now is not the time to start working with it. If they have always hated squash, don’t offer them a stuffed squash for their main course.

Create mix-and-match meals like make-your-own-tacos or dragon bowls.

Make enough food to freeze some for a night when someone else is cooking a meal that excludes you. This way you have something to eat and can stay out of the kitchen.

Make a commitment to add a new vegetable or cooking technique every week/two weeks/month. Serve the new food with ones that are already accepted.

Give the household the choice to prepare something for themselves to go with the main dish that you are preparing.

Don’t call attention to the meal’s veg*nism

I have recommended not talking about veg*nism in the presence of meat. This recommendation also applies to a complete vegan meal: keep out of the way of the food. You can’t talk a vegan meal. It has to be experienced. This recommendation arises from one final Adams maxim: “Nonvegans are perfectly happy eating a vegan meal, as long as they are not aware this is what they are doing.” Don’t take attention away from the meal by discussing the menu. Let the food speak. What matters is the joy of the time together and the creative meal being offered. In talking, less is more; in cooking, more is more. Less talking, more time and space to experience a meal. You are saying: Here I am. Here is my delicious food. Let me share it.

I am not advising that you do this in a deliberately sneaky way, a sort of “I’ll show them!” approach. Just as you do not want people to surprise you with ingredients you don’t wish to eat, so, too, you do not want to act this way toward others. But preparing and serving food in a relaxed way, in which the contents of the meal unfold in the serving, neither hiding nor proclaiming, is an approach that can put people at ease.

People’s relationship to food when they are eating has to be casual, relaxed, without tension. I don’t want to lecture. And they don’t want to hear a lecture. That would change the focus from food to ideas. To lecture about veg*nism requires pulling from a different part of the brain to explain it. You want to relax, and so do they.

When you don’t talk about it, their guard isn’t up. They may feel suspicious of veg*ns: “What are you trying to put over on me?” And feeling suspicious, they wish to establish that they are the ones who will decide: “I will not be controlled or manipulated by someone else!”

People think, “It can’t be done. You can’t have pesto without Parmesan cheese. It won’t taste right.” Don’t tell them before you serve them that in fact you have left the Parmesan cheese out.* Wait. Then there is no need to convince with words because they themselves have experienced it.

Everyone enjoys pleasant surprises. However, in most cases, people don’t want to know in advance that they are being surprised. They don’t like knowing that you know something they don’t or that you are experimenting on them or forcing them to eat something. Let the meal speak for itself. Don’t talk about it because they will be suspicious of your motives for serving them—they fear that you want to convert them. You need to make clear that you want to share with them, not convert them. If they are suspicious of your intentions, this self-consciousness will interfere with the joy the food should and can impart. They may feel that they have been “forced” to eat a vegan meal.

Let the vegan food work at a nonverbal level. Let it be comforting, filling. If you talk about it, people may feel, “Isn’t it enough I’m eating it? Do I also have to think about it?”

Veg*ns who stop showing and start sharing, who stop talking about meat eating and simply cook for meat eaters from their place of contentment, report a change in people around them. When they have emptied themselves of expectations and frustrations with the nonveg*ns in their lives, they feel freedom and acceptance and offer a welcoming spirit; they embrace people where they are. And suddenly, all around them, people are becoming veg*ns. When they let go of expectations and reactions, they give people the space to find their own relationship. Our freedom from expectations brings about their freedom to decide their own relationship to food. They can be more open because we have given them that space.

After all, they need to experience their own feeling of abundance that can come from eating veg*n food, not our experience of the feeling of abundance. The minute they are conscious that they aren’t eating meat, they may not feel abundance, because that feeling has always accompanied the sense that “I can choose whatever food I want and no one is going to tell me otherwise.” They may lose that feeling if they see you as choosing their food, not themselves.

Most important, when the meal is unlabeled and yet all can eat, the meat eater-veg*n dualism that the nonveg*n blames you for creating has been banished. Awareness isn’t about choices we have made in the past, but about simply experiencing this good meal. We say to them very calmly, through the food we prepare, “My veg*nism can incorporate you in many ways that are unthreatening.”

People think, “I can’t be fooled. I know how they are doing this magic trick.” But they can be fooled, and they may not understand the magic trick. “Fooling them” was never your intention; it is your only way to get around their tendency to eat the menu instead of the meal. And when you have succeeded, don’t rub it in that you have “fooled” them. Let them experience the surprise and process this information themselves. This is part of the incubation process that each person needs to become unblocked.

The alchemy of a meal

Alchemy is the seemingly magical power of changing one substance into another. The veg*n meal’s alchemy occurs not in the cooking but in the serving of what has been prepared. Almost magically, the enjoyment of this great veg*n food by nonveg*ns creates a feeling of joy within us, the veg*ns, and, to their surprise, within them. People enjoy this food. That is the biggest aspect of veg*nism that is constantly denied. When people sit down to eat a veg*n meal, delights can abound.

A few years ago, my then-25-year-old son, Ben, and two of his college friends visited for the weekend. As they left for a Friday night of socializing with others, I offered to make waffles for breakfast the next day. While they were out, one of Ben’s local friends invited them all to a Saturday brunch “with lots of meat” and Ben could see that his houseguests looked at each other wistfully; they had already committed to waffles at our house, vegan waffles at our house. They thought they were giving up abundance and out of duty embracing scarcity.

I was unaware that they did not look forward to remaining at our home for a vegan brunch. In the morning, I made buckwheat Belgium waffles, frittatas (baked omelettes made from tofu with asparagus, vegan Canadian bacon, fresh basil, spinach, roasted red pepper and artichokes), and a hash brown-kale-and-“cheese” bake. Hot maple syrup, fresh orange juice, lemonade, coffee, or chai greeted them. Ben’s guests were both surprised and pleased at the festive brunch. When they finished, satiated and happy, there appeared to be no regrets that they had passed on the omnivorous brunch.

Perhaps nonveg*ns’ greatest fear is they they won’t miss the meat, dairy, or eggs.

Back in 2000, one of my correspondents told me of a similar experience.

My roommate absolutely refused to eat anything that I made once I became a vegetarian. Maybe some vegetables but definitely no tofu or TVP. I made TVP chili one night. I left some on the table and my roommate told me how good it smelled. I offered him some. “Is there TVP in it?” Yes, I answered. Then, “Uhhhh, no.” Anyway, I had to do some computer work and left the dish on the table. Then my roommate came up to me by the computer and asked if I had wanted any of the rest of the chili. Why? He had finished the whole thing, which was at least two or three servings. He said it was so good.

If the nonveg*ns’ greatest fear is that they won’t miss the foods they love, the only way to dispel this is by giving them the opportunity to discover it is true. We substitute our meals for their menus. This results in a new question for them, Given that they can enjoy vegan food, now how do they handle their blockedness? But that is not our concern; it is theirs. Our concern is to create good foods that suspicious, doubting nonveg*n eaters devour. This is hospitality. Host and guest both experience freedom in relationship with each other. The food unites us; it doesn’t separate us.

Alchemy eliminates the awareness that there is a gestalt shift. What appeared to be divisive is transcended by bringing nonveg*ns into our meals. They discover that a veg*n does not necessarily provoke defensiveness. Here, in this space, we have all returned to being simply eaters. There are no “meat eaters.” There are no “vegetarians” or “vegans.” There are people sitting around a table sharing food and conversation. Here taste, touch, and smell relax us.

People want food to unite them. Veg*ns appear to threaten this unity. We have to help people experience that unity. Creating a vegan meal without labeling it as such allows a nonveg*n to be pulled into the flow, to experience a connection with us without it being labeled. In Chapter 2, I discussed the way veg*nism automatically creates a dualism, especially from the meat eater’s perspective. But in a good meal enjoyed by everyone, without labels, there is communion, coming together, not being broken apart. The process grounds the mind within the body, allowing the discovery that this food is enjoyable.

Later, at a time when the minds of nonveg*ns wander back to the meal, their thoughts may evolve in this way:

Carol created that meal.

That was a tasty meal.

Carol doesn’t eat meat, eggs, or dairy products . . .

That meal didn’t have any meat, eggs, or dairy products . . .

I ate a delicious meal that didn’t have any meat, eggs, or dairy products . . .

I enjoyed a meal that didn’t have meat or dairy products.

In this moment of discovery, that evening or later, in reverie, the nonveg*n realizes that they experienced veganism without any defensiveness. This grants them the freedom of discovery and reflection. This is their own alchemical process—the discovery that a vegan chef is not an oxymoron. And the next day, they ask this magician for the leftovers.

Notes

* Tamari is fermented soy sauce made from soybeans, salt, water, and a starter called koji; it is richer and deeper in taste than soy sauce.

* This tip assumes you know whether your guests have any food allergies and have taken this into account in preparing the meal.

* You can do this by using vegan parmesan cheese, making your own (a combination of equal parts of ground walnuts and nutritional yeast with a little salt), or substituting red miso.

Chapter 15
Being the mover, not the moved

Talking to Charles Stahler of the Vegetarian Resource Group, I said to him, “I’m trying to finish my book Living Among Meat Eaters.” He laughed and said, “You can either write your book or live among meat eaters, but you can’t do both.” It was funny because in some ways it is true. The meat-eating world can take a lot of your energy!

But when you see yourself as living among blocked veg*ns, you can transform any interaction. Once you realize they are blocked, you are aware of what prompts their interactions with you. They sense a connection they can’t make; we are enabled to continue to make connections we desire to make. You become the mover instead of the moved.

It is true that for nearly ten years I had been trying to write this book. It took me longer than I thought it would to write it because I had to become the person who could write this book. That may sound strange, but to me, now, it is self-evident. When I began this book, I was angry with nonveg*ns. That anger was short-circuiting my own thought processes. In my relationships, I was being the moved rather than the mover.

Because of the growth of veg*nism, nonveg*ns interact with veg*ns more frequently than before. This brings their blockedness to consciousness more frequently. It creates a state of rawness in which the status quo is battling more furiously to maintain itself. This may explain why there are more tensions being experienced right now. Will we be the movers or the moved?

Three things happened that helped me become the “mover” rather than the “moved.” I began keeping a more detailed journal. In doing this, I put myself and my interactions under a microscope. Veg*n-meat eater issues appeared in it. But so would my own personal needs and quirks. Surprise! As any journal keeper knows, issues reappear. And when they reappear and reappear, one suddenly thinks, “What is this issue? Why is it still recurring?” Then, if growth is to happen, you inquire of yourself, “What’s the next step?” As a writer, I thought, “There is a pattern to these interactions!” The pattern is the systemic issues this book addresses. My own experience was augmented by more than two hundred surveys that were returned to me from new vegans about their experiences living among meat eaters. The patterns I found in my own life appeared in these surveys, too.

In my own path toward a systemic understanding, another important ingredient was making a commitment to meditate. As a theorist, I spend a lot of time with my mind and its thoughts. But this can be a trap. The mind has a way of limiting our experience of our own selves and our reality. Meditation helps me recognize that neither my thoughts nor my feelings constitute “me.” I can observe these thoughts or feelings rather than be trapped by them. Achieving this distance from my own experience was extremely helpful. I stopped being moved.

Finally, I decided to take my life as a vegan more seriously. This involved several things. First, I had to recognize that no one could meet my needs but myself. Once I understood that, I began researching vegan cooking techniques and accumulating wonderful recipes, some of which I share in these pages. I realized that one of my responsibilities is to share this wonderful life with others.

In the twenty years since the first edition appeared, I have tried to find new ways to share veganism with others. Patti Breitman and I wrote a book called How to Eat Like a Vegetarian Even If You Never Want to Be One. What a lot of fun that was! With Virginia Messina joining us, we wrote Never Too Late to Go Vegan: The Over-50 Guide to Adopting and Thriving on a Plant-Based Diet. Ginny and I continued the work with Protest Kitchen: Fight Injustice, Save the Planet, and Fuel Your Resistance One Meal at a Time. What united these projects was an abiding belief that people can change.

I remember a conversation reported to me by a guard at the National Gallery in London in December 2021. I was wearing my “tofu never caused a pandemic” face mask, and the guard asked me if I was a vegan. He talked about how little people understood about veganism. He lived in a vegan friendly area of outer London. Just recently, a neighbor said to him, “You’re a vegan. What do you eat?” The guard looked at me wide-eyed. “That person was a vegetarian!”

So far, almost everything I have discussed has applied to both vegetarians and vegans, What would I say to vegetarians about becoming vegans? I’d like to encourage you who have already figured out how to change to bring that process to your life again. What I have learned from friends who became vegans after being vegetarian, as well as my own turning toward veganism, is how we used our imagination. We held in our imagination a vegan vision that helped us interrogate the presence of eggs and mammalian milk as food choices. And as we came to understand that by buying these products we contributed to some of the most unremitting suffering in the animal industry, we gave it up. Climate change now adds another motivation for vegetarians to adopt veganism. (Protest Kitchen contains lots of suggestions for making the transition to veganism, and reasons for doing so.)

One of the most valuable ways to be the mover, not the moved, is to learn to cook delicious vegan food. Not only are you fed—and fed well—but others can learn from you how easy and enjoyable it is. All you need are a few signature dishes that you prepare with confidence. Or, explore all the different ways your favorite vegetable could be prepared. For instance, “cauliflower”: you could roast it whole with a nice vegan curried yogurt sauce covering it, or small bite size pieces tossed with some flavorful spices like cumin; you could slice it as steaks, flavor it, and roast it; you could “rice” it in a food processer and serve instead of rice; you could mash it and serve it instead of mashed potatoes, or use it raw in a salad, or bake those bite-sized pieces with a buffalo sauce covering them and serve atop waffles. Learning how to cook is a gift that keeps on giving.

Confidence in the kitchen comes from practice.

Veg*nism is, at its heart, an act of the imagination. Veg*n cooking invites blocked veg*ns to experience both veg*n foods and the imaginative possibilities of veg*nism.

What is gained by viewing nonveg*ns as blocked veg*ns? We gain an approach for difficult situations. We are able to restore to meat eaters the humanity their own actions sometimes deny. We can view them in a more positive, empathetic light because even their rudest and most frustrating actions are signs of their potential.

When we view meat eaters as blocked veg*ns, we learn from every interaction, especially the negative ones.

Meat eaters may be surprised that their responses are so transparent or so predictable. They may think their reactions are uniquely theirs, their arguments signs of their creativity, their humor revealing a quick wit. But we know better. They represent the responses of a class of people.

Viewing meat eaters as blocked veg*ns also gives us a place to stand, and a fulcrum. We truly are the mover rather than the moved. We are inviting them to us, not trying to conform to their agenda. In addition, we are optimistic: we believe in the possibility of change. We did it. Craven we may once have been, but we overcame our fears and cowardice. That is why we can believe in change for others: we were once there.

So, is every meat eater a blocked veg*n? Is every meat-eater-related action a defense against veg*nism?

Well, yes and no.

Yes, because as the aphorism goes, “If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it is a duck.” So, too, with meat eaters. I hear a lot of quacking; I see a lot of waddling.

But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe meat eaters aren’t blocked veg*ns. Still, any interaction can be transformed by approaching them as though they are blocked veg*ns. It enables us to interact with them without in any way trying to defend our veg*nism. What is there to defend? Absolutely nothing. By becoming the mover instead of the moved, we find peace and speak from this place. The world becomes a place that is a sign not of meat eating’s strength, but of its weaknesses. Just look at the disturbances we relatively few veg*ns cause a nonveg*n majority!

You can make it into a game. You can ask of anything “What does this tell me about veg*nism?” Consider Jurassic Park. What does that incredible blockbuster of a movie tell us about veg*nism? That meat eaters harbor a fear that someone will do to them exactly what they are doing to the animals they eat: kill them and devour them. In Jaws, the fear of being treated like meat is prominent. And Jurassic Park adds a neat little twist to remind us of this theme: everyone is saved by the only vegetarian in the group—the adolescent girl.

What about another blockbuster of the 1990s? The movie Titanic hangs its story on an elderly woman who recaptures for an audience eighty years later the life and blood of the experience of the sinking of that great ship. For her age, Rose is quick-witted and agile. A woman about 17 when the Titanic sank, she is a spry 101 when she narrates the story. Without her the movie would lose its narrative frame. Was the director, James Cameron, stretching reality in creating the fictional Rose? Actually Cameron based Rose on a neighbor of his, Beatrice Wood, a potter and a vegetarian. The story could be told by an elderly woman because Cameron had the model of a healthy and happy vegetarian centenarian before him.

Once you become the mover rather than the moved, you can make a great game of looking for the hidden veg*n dynamic that propels a story (or an individual) from within. Indeed, one could do a vegetarian and vegan history of culture. Anyone with a little time on their hands could do a fascinating study of the meat-eating anxieties expressed by cartoonists in the New Yorker. Lobsters eating lobstermen, cows who don’t trust either presidential candidate because they are both carnivores, a fortune teller crying in a November issue, as she tells a turkey of her future. One cartoon was called “The Birth of a Vegetarian.” In it, a man in a restaurant is about to take a bite of his steak when the steak says, “Moo.” In that New Yorker cartoon the gestalt shift itself is captured: the moo from the steak reveals the life (and death) of an animal.

In The Sexual Politics of Meat, I quoted Joseph Campbell, who observed that in cultures dependent on animal flesh,

the paramount object of experience is the beast. Killed and slaughtered it yields to people its flesh to become our substance, teeth to become our ornaments, hides for clothing and tents, sinews for ropes, bones for tools. The animal life is translated into human life entirely, through the medium of death, slaughter, and the arts of cooking, tanning, sewing.

What else is Campbell saying but that a meat-eating world organizes itself around death? In fact, a meat-eating world does organize itself around death.

Campbell says that a plant-based world organizes itself around life. The plant world supplies “the food, clothing and shelter of people since time out of mind, but also our model of the wonder of life—in its cycle of growth and decay, blossom and seed, wherein death and life appear as transformations of a single, superordinated, indestructible force.” Through the process of change, the veg*n does see the wonder of life. The ability to step back from the culture of death and its manifestation at meals has nurtured something inside. What keeps the nonveg*n blocked—the fears we discussed earlier—leaves unawakened and untouched that part of the nonveg*n that could learn to deal with those fears. Because the veg*n has dealt with death, at least this aspect of death, something has become alive in the veg*n.

Living among meat eaters, we cannot lose this sense of life.

And we can look for signs of it in the culture at large—when veg*nism leaks into cultural territory, so too does life. Rose, after all, is remarkable because she is still so vitally alive to tell the story. The 12-year-old computer whiz in Jurassic Park, the vegetarian anchor in a carnivorous world, figures out how to use the computer to keep the carnivores out and so controls the mechanics of protecting human life.

Of all the correspondence I received over the years about living among meat eaters, one comment seemed especially poignant. One letter writer said, “Sometimes I feel like living without meat eaters around.” Yes, interactions with them can be frustrating, depressing, or simply just tedious. They often kill off the possibility of relationships with them. Someday, though, maybe, just maybe, they will become unblocked veg*ns. Then we will all be able to live without meat eaters around. They will have joined us on the other side of the gestalt shift. Seeing them now as potential veg*ns we give this possibility—and so much more—life.

Chapter 16
Recipes for Yourself and Others

When I was in my early 20s, I did not know how to handle a pepper. Now the words “roasted red pepper” trip effortlessly off my tongue. Not only do I handle, I roast! My transformation was due first to my vegetarianism and then my veganism. I had to learn how to cook. Then I wanted to know more, so much more that I now have hundreds of vegetarian and vegan cookbooks that delight my eyes with photographs, stimulate my creativity, and introduce me to new foods to prepare or new ways to prepare foods I love. Now I enjoy the process of learning and cooking. They are acts of renewal.

Cooking with supportive friends and family, discussions about food preparation, and of course, accessing favorite websites with vegan recipes all help expand your skills.

While raising kids, the agreement in our house was for me to follow the recipe the first time and after that, I could creatively alter it. We all commented on the recipe after eating the meal, and whether it worked or not. Then I wrote notes on the pages of the recipe: the date, and the consensus of those who have eaten it. “Needs more [x],” I would write. Or “Omit [y].” Some recipes are clearly “rejects” (“yuck” was recorded or “not worth it”), and I keep a folder of rejects to remind me of what failed. The highest achievement of a recipe is simply to have “tasty” written by its title. That means we all enjoyed this recipe and would be happy eating it again.

“Tasty” recipes are not the only result of this process. Now my 30-something sons call my attention to a delicious recipe they or their friends prepared, send photos of vegan foods they enjoyed, and check in with me about certain recipes.

Recipes included here are recipes that, to me, express abundance. In cooking for yourself and others, think of your goal as creating meals that express abundance. Notice what excites you as you prepare food and what pleases you when you sit down to eat. Foods inside of other foods (turnovers, cobblers, and pies, for instance) often convey this feeling. Some people need to feel bulk; they need a different sort of abundance than I do. For them, the answer may be pasta, ravioli, lasagna.

Rather than trying to replace the fat or texture of meat, I ask myself, “What will convey abundance and joy?” For me, besides fruit, it’s mushrooms. Something about mushrooms generates a deep sense of peace; they also deliver umami. (The feeling that one cannot give up eating cheese using mill’s from animals is because aged cheeses are high in umami. See discussion of umami on page 186.)

Notice your desires for certain foods, and how you respond to restaurant menus that list gourmet vegan items. Re-create the foods that interest you at home. Allow ingredients to invite you to create a dish; for instance, if seeing cucumbers in summertime instills an urge to make gazpacho, why not?

Know your comfort foods. When your life is saying “scarcity” in one way or another, comfort foods reassure abundance.

Approach vegan cooking as an opportunity to experience freedom and joy, rather than as a burden. Whether a beginning or experienced cook, acquire a few recipe books and write in them. Date when you prepared the recipe, and write if it worked or you changed anything. Write what you or others thought about them. Writing about the recipe invites you back to it. It reminds you where you’ve been on your veg*n journey.

Create a “keepers” notebook. Put all your favorite and successful recipes here. This reduces the planning time when you are cooking for meat eaters: just consult your “keepers” notebook.

Plan your meals when you’re relaxed and refreshed. If you know your evening energy is rushed, unthinking, and tired, don’t leave it until the evening to decide what supper will be. Instead, select the recipe earlier in the day, or before you go to bed the night before. Then, when the time comes, you can step into the process you began earlier. If you have a slow-cooker or Instapot, enlist them.

Believe me, if I can progress from learning how to handle a pepper to having my meat-eating relatives enjoy my vegan meals, anyone can master these vegan recipes!

The following recipes are drawn from my experiences as a vegetarian and then vegan cook for more than four decades. The goal is not just veganizing a recipe but personalizing it. Recipes are opportunities for exploration. Welcome them as an invitation to explore the connections among foods. Most recipes have a degree of flexibility.

Allow the process of vegan cooking to transform you. The abundance of veganism can unfold in your own kitchen: abundance of materials in the fresh herbs that you may use in a pasta recipe, abundance in taste in a simple recipe that offers flavors that you relish, abundance in spirit in welcoming others to your veg*n eating style. The vegetables, fruits, herbs, grains, beans, sea vegetables—all the possible foods and the endless kaleidoscopic possibilities of combinations—will welcome you with abundant possibilities. My hope is that the following recipes will serve as inspiration for you in the kitchen.

Enjoy the process!

How to Veganize (Almost) Anything

Many of your favorite recipes can be easily veganized. Veganizing a recipe is an opportunity to discover and expand your own skills and, wonderfully, your own creativity.

Instead of . . .

Try a commercial substitute

Or make your own!

Cow’s milk

Any kind of plant milk

Butter

Vegan butter, oil, or coconut oil

Cheese

Commercial cream cheese, cheddar, mozzarella, and more

Soaked cashews or macadamia nuts blended with oil, miso, salt, and herbs.

Cream

Vegan whipped cream or dessert topping, sour cream, coffee creamer

Skim the top portion from a can of culinary full-fat coconut milk and whip it with a beater until thick.

Blend soft silken tofu in a blender or food processor.

Soak raw cashews for two hours and then blend with a little bit of water until creamy.

¾ cup + 1 tablespoon soy milk and 3 tablespoons melted vegan butter or coconut oil replaces a cup of cream.

Eggs for baking

Egg replacer powder

Soy flour

Aquafaba.

1 tablespoon ground flaxseeds mixed with 3 tablespoons water; let sit until thick.

Ham or bacon in soups and beans

Liquid smoke

Smoked paprika

Imitation bacon bits

Commercial tempeh bacon

Chicken broth

Bouillon cubes or powder

Homemade vegetable stock.

Buttermilk

2 teaspoons vinegar stirred into 1 cup soy milk. Let stand until separated.

Any meat

Look for vegan chicken strips, chicken nuggets, sausages, beef cubes and ground beef, crab cakes, breaded fish fillets, bacon and more.

Freeze tofu in its container (not silken tofu, but tofu in water). Defrost, squeeze out the liquid it absorbed, but don’t squeeze so energetically that it loses all its liquid! With your fingers, shred it, sauté it for a few minutes, and then substitute it for beef in sloppy joes or tomato sauce.

US/UK Conversion Chart

Liquids:

Flour:

Spoons/Cups ml

¼ tsp = 1.25 ml

¼ cup = 32 g

½ tsp = 2.5 ml

⅓ cup = 41.67 g

1 tsp = 5 ml

½ cup = 64 g

1 tbsp = 15 ml

⅔ cup = 85 g

⅛ cup = 30 ml

¾ cup = 96 g

¼ cup = 60 ml

1 cup = 125 g

⅓ cup = 80 ml

2 cups = 250 g

½ cup = 125 ml

1 cup = 250 ml

Sugar

Confectioners’ (Icing) Sugar

¼ cup = 50 g

¼ cup = 32 g

½ cup = 100 g

½ cup = 64 g

1 cup = 200 g

1 cup = 125 g

2 cups = 400 g

2 cups = 250 g

Vegan Butter

¼ cup = 55 g

½ cup = 112 g

1 cup = 225 g

2 cups = 450 g

APPETIZERS

Quick Dips

Makes 6 servings as a snack

Mix salsa, chopped cilantro, and vegan sour cream. Serve with tortilla chips.

Mix vegan pesto with vegan cream cheese.

To store-bought hummus add:

Chopped kalamata olives

Chopped artichokes stored in oil

Chopped roasted red peppers

Smashed roasted garlic

Sliced sun-dried tomatoes

Tofu Feta/Ricotta

This is my variation on a recipe from the late Shirley Wilkes-Johnson that you can find in Never Too Late to Go Vegan. It is my go-to comfort food, eaten on toast or crackers and makes a wonderful appetizer. A substitute for ricotta cheese, use it in recipes for lasagna or ravioli, or any other calling for ricotta. For a delicious meal, bake kabocha squash, sliced into eighths, and serve with the tofu ricotta and a large salad.

To use as feta, add up to a teaspoon more of salt, then use it in Greek salad or spanakopita.

1 pound extra-firm tofu

4 ounces (half a container) of vegan cream cheese

¼ cup olive oil

¼ cup fresh lemon juice

1 teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon garlic powder

Rinse and dry tofu. Crumble into a bowl. Add tablespoonfuls of vegan cream cheese and mix rest of the ingredients in with a fork. It should be slightly crumbly.

For variation try adding some or all of these fresh herbs: parsley, dill, chives or green onions.

Pita Crisps

Makes 4 servings

These can be used to dip into appetizers or to accompany soups or salads.

Preheat oven to 350°F, 170°C, Gas Mark 4.

2 pita breads (6 inches in diameter)

2 teaspoons vegan butter

2 teaspoons olive oil

2 teaspoons dried oregano

4–6 tablespoons nutritional yeast flakes

6 cloves garlic, minced

Olive oil

Split the pita breads horizontally into two rounds. Place each half, rough side up, onto an ungreased baking sheet. Spread lightly with vegan butter.

Toss together the oregano, nutritional yeast flakes, and garlic. Sprinkle this mixture over the butter. Then dribble a little olive oil over it.

Bake until crispy. Check every 3 minutes or so.

Remove from the oven. Use a pizza cutter to cut them into quarters or sixths. And serve.

Rae Sikora’s Crock Cheese

Makes 6–8 servings

Rae, an advocate, activist, and educator concerning animals, human rights, and the environment, prepared this appetizer when Carol was visiting her, and it has become a staple for Carol to serve to guests. Its quick to prepare, and it’s addictive!

1 cup raw, organic cashews

4 ounces red pimientos (comes in 4-ounce jars)

½ cup fresh lemon juice

6 tablespoons nutritional yeast

1 teaspoon salt, or to taste

1 teaspoon onion powder

½ teaspoon garlic powder

Process the cashews in a food processor or a blender, until powdery. Add the remaining ingredients and process together until very smooth. Chill. Serve with crackers.

If you want a spreadable cheese, double the amount of cashews.

Baked Cheese in Phyllo

Phyllo is amazingly easy to use, and this recipe is delicious and quick! This is a variation on a popular 20th-century appetizer, brie en croute. Select a flavored cheese you like, preferably one that comes shaped in a circle. You are going to surround it with phyllo after pairing it with a jam or jelly. Miyoko (of Miyoko’s Creamery) suggests her truffle cheese with cranberry sauce; I used garlic-chive with jalapeno pepper jam.

You’ll need about 10 sheets of phyllo pastry, which you need to defrost overnight.

Phyllo is actually an easy dough to work with and this comes together very quickly. Yes, you can cover it with a damp towel each time you take a sheet of phyllo dough to work with; you can also work quickly so that the phyllo doesn’t dry out.

1 flavored cheese wheel from Miyoko’s creamery or similar vegan cheese fromager (truffle cheese, or a brie, if available)

10 sheets of thawed phyllo pastry

Olive oil

Apricot or fig preserves or hot pepper jelly

Thaw the phyllo pastry overnight in the refrigerator.

Preheat oven to 400°F, 204°C, Gas Mark 6.

Place one sheet of phyllo on the pan you will be using to bake the cheese wheel, and lightly coat with olive oil using a pastry brush. Place a second sheet over the first sheet and coat this layer with olive oil. Continue in this way for a few more sheets of phyllo dough.

Add a final sheet of phyllo, but you don’t need to coat this one.

Remove the cheese from its wrapping and place it into the middle of the phyllo.

Coat the top of the cheese with the preserves or jelly.

Like wrapping paper, lift the phyllo dough and fold it on top of the cheese, so that it is wrapped completely around the cheese. Coat the top with olive oil.

Bake in a preheated oven 15–20 minutes or until golden brown.

Allow to sit for 3–5 minutes.

Serve hot with sliced baguette or crackers.

Obtazada

Silke Feltz shared this recipe with me, writing, “This veganized Obatzda will feed four people and goes well with fresh bread. Obatzda is dialect for stuff that sticks together. It is a popular dish in beer gardens. Guten Appetit!”

1 vegan mozzarella (e.g., Miyoko’s). Cut it into small pieces so it will mix well with the other ingredients.

1 vegan cream cheese (e.g., Miyokos cream cheese with scallions)

2/3rd of an onion, diced into small pieces

8 radishes, diced into small pieces

Add salt, pepper, paprika, and garlic to taste

Add caraway seeds (about 1 tablespoon)

Now the fun part:

Mix everything with your hands or with a large spoon

If the mixture is too dry, feel free to add a bit of oat milk (e.g., Oatly)

Form a ball, put it into a bowl, and then refrigerate it for about a few hours. You will see that the ball hardens after a bit.

Charcuterie

During the COVID-19 pandemic, I helped with a drive-by baby shower. (Dallas does such interesting things!) I created a vegan charcuterie and used small pizza boxes to hand out to each car that came to the shower. In a drive-by shower, people never get out of their car, they move from greeting the grandparents-to-be, the parents-to-be, and finally receive a “party favor.”

In this case, we handed them:

Artichoke hummus (for which I took a large container of hummus and blended in some finely chopped artichokes. You can do the same thing with olives or roasted red peppers)

Rae’s crock cheese

Silke’s Obatzda

(or use the tofu ricotta on p. 204)

Bread sticks and crackers

Vegan stuffed grape leaves (purchased, and then baked with some lemon juice and olive oil)

Roasted mini peppers and celery sticks

A few pieces of tasty vegan cheese cut into small blocks, such as a sharp or smoked cheddar

Cherry tomatoes

Strawberries

Grapes

Pecan halves scattered on top (or walnuts, almonds, or macadamias)

A special cookie (pick your favorite) .

If you are serving something like this, choose a large platter or cutting board. Work to make the arrangement aesthetically pleasing. (For the drive-by shower, the hummus, Rae’s crock cheese, and Silke’s Obatzada were each in their own small containers, and labeled.)

Besides the ingredients I used you could have:

Bread baguettes, or packaged breads from the grocery store that you bake at home

An olive mixture

Slices of zucchini, peppers, cucumbers, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower (let their colors complement each other)

Vegan pepperoni

Sliced apples

Dried fruit

Shot glasses with your favorite soup

This makes a great appetizer. An elaborate charcuterie board can also function as a casual dinner.

BREAKFASTS

Still the Best Scone Recipe in the World

Makes 16 large scones

This scone recipe is hands down the most popular food that emerges from our kitchen. It can be used as an after-school snack, a morning breakfast treat, or a dessert. Because it uses so much less sugar and fat than chocolate chip cookies, it is a healthier way to treat anyone to chocolate desserts. And its biggest attraction is that, if you have the ingredients in hand, it can be whipped up in minutes. Mixing baking soda and vinegar causes a volcano-like explosion in elementary school science demonstrations; they perform the same function here, giving the scones a light and airy texture.

I have adapted this recipe from a Lorna Sass recipe that I found in her book Short-Cut Vegetarian.

Serve the scones warm, or soon thereafter.

1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar

Approximately 1 cup soy milk

1½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour

1½ cups spelt flour or whole wheat pastry flour

⅜ cup Sucanat (a sugarcane sweetener) or other sweetener

3 teaspoons baking powder

¾ teaspoon baking soda

¾ teaspoon salt

½ cup vegan butter

3 teaspoons vanilla extract

½ cup chocolate chips

½ cup toasted walnuts, coarsely chopped

½ cup dried cherries

Place the rack in the middle of the oven.

Preheat the oven to 425°F, 220°C, Gas Mark 7. Lightly mist a nonstick cookie sheet with vegetable oil cooking spray or line with parchment paper.

Put apple cider vinegar into a 1-cup measuring cup and add enough soy milk to bring its level to 1 cup. Set aside. The mixture becomer clabbered, like buttermilk.

In a large mixing bowl, mix together the dry ingredients. Add the vegan butter to the dry ingredients, and cut it in using a pastry blender or two knives or your fingers. The mixture will be crumbly now.

Add the chocolate chips, walnuts-cherry mixture to the bowl and mix them in.

Add the vanilla to the vinegar and soy milk mixture and pour almost all of this mixture into the dry ingredients.

Stir quickly with a spatula only until the mixture forms a soft dough. You don’t want a gooey mess, so add more soy milk only if the dough still seems crumbly rather than doughy.

Turn the dough onto the cookie sheet in 4 equal parts. Shape each part into a thick circle about 5–7 inches in diameter. Using a sharp knife, score the top of each circle, dividing it into quarters. (For smaller scones, divide the dough into 6 wedges.)

Bake for 12 minutes. A toothpick stuck into the middle of each scone should come out clean, and the bottoms will be lightly browned. Don’t let them bake too long, but they may need a few more minutes. Transfer them to a wire rack and enjoy.

Cheddar Spinach Scones—A Very Close Contender for Best Scone Recipe

While visiting Grand Rapids, Michigan, a Vegan Pop-Up Baked Goods sale was going on. Stopping in, I picked up a few tasty donuts and was given some awesome scones. Jon Dunn kindly shared his recipe with me. Because these are so popular, I make several iterations of the dry ingredients and store each in a container so that when I want to make these scones, they can be quickly assembled.

1 tablespoon Apple Cider Vinegar

1 cup + 2 tablespoons plant-based unsweetened milk

2½ cups all-purpose flour

⅓ cup nutritional yeast

1 teaspoon dried basil

¼ teaspoon sage

½ teaspoon dried oregano

1 tablespoon sugar

½ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon black pepper

4 teaspoons baking powder

½ cup refined coconut oil

2 tablespoons non-dairy butter, cold

1 cup vegan shredded cheddar cheese

½ cup chopped fresh spinach leaves (chop pretty finely).

Heat oven to 425°F, 220°C, Gas Mark 7. Lightly grease a baking sheet (or cover it with parchment paper).

In a small bowl, combine soy milk and vinegar. Set aside for about 10 minutes, or until curdled.

In a large bowl, combine the flour, nutritional yeast, basil, sage, oregano, salt, pepper, and baking powder.

Cut in the shortening and butter with a pastry cutter, fork, or even your hands until the dough is slightly crumbly. Don’t mix the shortening/butter all the way in—you want some small pieces (think corn- or pea-sized) to remain.

Add in spinach and stir to combine.

Add the soy milk mixture and cheese and mix together just until no dry ingredients remain, being careful not to over mix.

On a lightly floured surface, flatten the dough until it is about ½–¾ inches high. Cut the dough into triangles, or your choice of shape, and transfer to the prepared baking sheet.

Bake for about 14–16 minutes, or until the scones are lightly golden on top.

Scrambled Tofu

Makes 4 servings

Scrambled tofu variations are endless depending on your choice of veggies to add. But I’ve found myself returning to this basic recipe, and using other veggies as sides. The carrots sweeten it a little; the turmeric gives it the “eggy” color.

1 tablespoon olive oil

3 garlic cloves, minced

8–10 medium mushrooms

½ cup grated carrots

½ cup chopped scallion

¼ teaspoon turmeric

3 tablespoons nutritional yeast

1 pound regular firm tofu, crumbled

1 tablespoon tamari

1 cup or more spinach or baby kale leaves

Heat the oil over medium-high heat, then sauté the mushrooms and garlic until they are golden on one side.

When you flip the mushrooms and garlic over, add the carrots and scallion. Sauté them together for about 2 minutes.

Add the tofu, nutritional yeast flakes, turmeric, and tamari. Stir them together and continue cooking for about 5 minutes.

Add spinach, cover, and let it cook for about 1 minute. It should become slightly wilted but still hold its shape.

Serve and enjoy.

Buttermilk Biscuits

Yields 10–12 biscuits

Easy, quick, and tasty. Great with soups or jam, or served with Jon Dunn’s Southern Style Gravy.

Scant 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar

¾ cup soy milk

1 cup white flour

1¼ cups spelt or pastry flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

¼ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

⅓ cup safflower oil

Preheat the oven to 450°F, 230°C, Gas Mark 8.

Measure the vinegar and place into a measuring cup. Pour the soy milk in until it measures ¾ cup. Leave to curdle while combining the dry ingredients.

Sift the flours, baking powder, baking soda, and salt together into a mixing bowl. Make a well in the center, and pour in the oil and soy “buttermilk.” Use a fork to combine, but do not overmix. Mix quickly and conservatively.

Lightly flour a surface, and turn the dough onto it. Knead it gently a few times. Pat the dough until it is about ½ inch thick. Using a biscuit cutter or a glass, cut the dough into 10–12 biscuits. Place them so that they touch each other on an ungreased baking sheet.

Bake for 10–12 minutes, until golden brown. Serve immediately.

Jon Dunn’s Southern Style Gravy

Makes roughly 12 servings

Jon Dunn developed this recipe, writing, “I’m from England but grew up in the South and biscuits and gravy was always my go-to and I really missed it so I came up with this.”

Roughly one half jumbo sweet onion*

⅓ cup canola oil

½ cup AP flour

2 cups non-dairy milk**

1 teaspoon sage

½ teaspoon rosemary

Salt/pepper to taste

Roughly chop onion.

Add to saucepan with oil and sauté on low heat until onions are translucent. This will take a little time, but you want them to be very soft so the onion flavor cooks out a bit. Be careful not to let them brown as that will add an undesired flavor to the gravy!

Add flour and stir to create roux. Cook for a minute or so.

Add in milk and stir—bring back up to boiling and let thicken.

Add the contents and the herbs to a high-speed blender and process until smooth.

Return to pan, add more milk to create the desired consistency. Season with salt/pepper. Best served with freshly made biscuits.

NOTES:

*Spanish onions or any other variety won’t work here as the flavor will be too “oniony.”

**You can use any milk you prefer but the key is to use something that is very neutral and doesn’t have added sweetener. So Delicious Unsweetened coconut milk is what I have found to be the best (the green one). Make sure you check labels because even “plain unsweetened” non-dairy milk often has sweeteners added.

Choose your favorite commercial vegan sausage as a side. As Jon says, “If you want to go all out, a tofu scramble and some greens on the side and it’s a pretty damn good breakfast!”

SOUPS

Sweet Potato Soup with Peanut Butter

Serves 6–8

Many variations on this popular recipe exist, from the New York Times’ slow-cooker version to hand-me-downs from friend to friend that get nudged and altered like a game of “telephone.” This recipe draws on Jennifer Raymond’s version that appeared in the first edition, with some added flavor from a “Roasted Cauliflower and Potato Curry Soup” recipe I found at eatingwell.com. In many West African cuisines, a sweet potato—also known as groundnut—stew is a staple. (Peanuts are also known as groundnuts.) Bryant Terry uses dumplings instead of rice in his version of of this stew

For my variation, I add roasted, spiced cauliflower, which adds to the aromas. The soup has a wonderful depth of flavor, and offers a hearty, tasty, and wholesome centerpiece to a meal: pour it over rice or quinoa, topped with golden tofu triangles. When I reheat this dish, I place some spinach or baby kale underneath the rice.

I shared this recipe with a friend after she ate the stew at my house. She immediately started preparing it and sharing it with others. It’s a wonderfully successful dish for “mixed” company. While she, and a skilled nutritionist, tried to find some short cuts for this recipe (for instance trying frozen vegetables), nothing matched the recipe as you find it here. Their advice was to prepare the spice mixture in advance and in bulk, to have available for future times cooking this recipe.

For this recipe, I find it’s best to have prepared all the veggies before starting.

Spice mixture ingredients

2 teaspoons ground coriander

2 teaspoons ground cumin

1 ½ teaspoons ground cinnamon

1 ½ teaspoons ground turmeric

1 ¼ teaspoons salt

¾ teaspoon ground pepper

⅛–¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper

Vegetables

6 cups/1 small head cauliflower, cut into small florets

1 large onion, chopped

4 cups sweet potatoes (two extremely large), peeled and diced

1 large carrot, thinly sliced

1 celery stalk, thinly sliced

1 red or green bell pepper, diced

3 large cloves garlic, minced

1 tablespoon finely chopped peeled fresh ginger

For the stock

One 15-ounce can crushed tomatoes

4 ½ cups water (mixed used)

1 tablespoon Better Than Bouillon™ Seasoned Vegetable Base

2 teaspoons lime zest

2 tablespoons lime juice

1 15-ounce can garbanzo beans

⅓–½ cup peanut butter (I use ½ cup)

1–2 teaspoons curry powder

1 (14 ounce) can coconut milk

½ cup or one bunch of chopped fresh cilantro

2 tablespoons tamari, mixed use

Preheat oven to 450°F, 230°C, Gas Mark 8.

Create the spice mixture by combining the coriander, cumin, cinnamon, turmeric, salt, pepper and cayenne.

In a large bowl, toss the cauliflower florets with 1 tablespoon oil. Add 1 tablespoon of the spice mixture and toss again. Using a rimmed oiled baking sheet, spread the cauliflower in a single layer. Roast the cauliflower until the edges are browned, 15 to 20 minutes, checking while it roasts. Set aside.

Heat ½ cup water and 1 tablespoon tamari in a large pot. Add onion and sweet potatoes. Cook over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes.

Stir in carrot, celery, and bell pepper. Check the water. If the pan is almost dry, add a little more water. Cover and continue cooking another 3 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Add garlic, ginger, and the remaining spice mixture. Cook, stirring, for 1 minute.

Stir in the tomatoes, using them to scrape up any browned veggies sticking to the bottom.

Add 4 cups water, the Better than Bouillon™, garbanzo beans, lime zest, and juice. Cover and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce heat and gently simmer, covered, until the vegetables are tender, about 15- 20 minutes or so.

Blend the peanut butter with the coconut milk, and 1 teaspoon of curry. (I use a blender.) Add to the soup. Stir to mix. Bring to a simmer, then cover and gently cook for five minutes or so. Stir in cilantro, the roasted cauliflower, and a little more tamari.

Serve over Golden Fried Tofu (p. 000) and brown rice.

My Father’s Leek-Potato soup

My father grew leeks. You could say he was leek-proud. He loved going out behind the barn and digging up leeks for his daughters to take home. All three of his daughters make his rich and creamy leek-potato soup because it is so simple and delicious. The key is to sauté those leeks for 20 minutes.

4 large leeks, sliced (omit the fully green parts)

1 onion, chopped

4 chopped potatoes

4 cloves of garlic

5 tablespoons vegan butter

1 tablespoon Better than Bouillon™

Sauté the leeks and onion in the butter for 20 minutes. Start at medium-high heat and after 3 to 4 minutes, lower the heat, cover and still periodically during the 20 minutes.

Add garlic and potatoes, and let sauté for a few minutes.

Add 4 cups of water with 1 tablespoon Better than Bouillon™ seasoned vegetable base (or your favorite).

Flavor to taste with white pepper and salt

For a creamy squash soup, substitute acorn or butternut squash for the potatoes

Fast Gazpacho

Serves 6

In the summer, I love to make my own version of gazpacho, by starting with a quarter of a bunch of kale and about a cup of basil leaves. I blend them together with a 32-ounce can of roasted tomatoes, 3 to 4 cloves of garlic, 1⁄2 cup of vegetable stock, and 1⁄4 cup of red wine vinegar. Then I pulse briefly a seeded cucumber, one sliced green or red pepper, and one quartered sweet onion to chop them into bite size pieces. I adjust the seasonings and add a little hot pepper sauce, such as Tabasco, and refrigerate for several hours. I think of this as “salad in a soup bowl.”

Serve with sliced scallions and cherry tomatoes.

Kale Soup

4 servings

A fast, delicious way to prepare kale. A cooked, diced potato or squares of toasted bread and minced cilantro leaves are wonderful additions when you serve the soup.

About 3 cups roughly chopped kale leaves

2 tablespoons olive or peanut oil

1 cup minced onion

2 tablespoons minced garlic

4 cups vegetable broth

1 tablespoon tamari

Salt

Strip the leaves from the kale stalk, rinse, and then chop.

Place the oil in a large, deep saucepan or soup pot and turn the heat to medium-high. Add the onion and cook until it begins to brown, about 5 to 8 minutes. Stir occasionally.

When the onion is golden and tender, add the garlic. Cook 1 minute, then add the broth. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and add the tamari.

Add the kale to the simmering broth and cook until it is tender, about 10 minutes. Taste, add salt or tamari to adjust seasonings, and serve.

Comforting Spinach Soup

Serves 3

There is nothing like this soup to say “I care about you” to a visiting friend, and to care for yourself on a day when you need a sense of abundant love. This is adapted from Laurel Robertson’s Laurel’s Kitchen Caring.

3 cups unsweeted plant milk

1 bunch spinach (When cooked, drained, and chopped, it will be about ½ cup.)

2 tablespoons vegan margarine

2 tablespoons whole wheat pastry flour

1 small onion

6–10 whole cloves, depending on your taste

½–¼ teaspoon salt

Dash nutmeg

Warm soy milk in a saucepan.

Wash spinach, and leave on the water that clings to it after washing. Put the spinach in a large saucepan over medium-high heat, cook spinach until it wilts, no more than 5 minutes. Drain. (I leave the spinach in the colander to cool as I proceed with making the creamy soup base.)

In a separate, heavy pan, melt soy margarine and add flour; heat, stirring a minute or two to cook the flour. Don’t let it brown.

Add the warm soy milk and stir with attention until the mixture comes almost to a boil and begins to thicken. Don’t let it boil.

Peel and trim the onion. Stick the cloves into the onion and put the onion into the soy milk sauce. Add salt and nutmeg. Simmer over the lowest possible heat for about a half an hour. Stir every once in a while to make sure the soup does not stick to the bottom of the pan. Then remove and discard the onion and its cloves.

When the spinach has cooled, squeeze out excess liquid and chop the spinach.

Blend the spinach in a blender with about 1 cup of the soup. Then add this to the rest of the soup. Correct the seasonings; it may need more nutmeg or salt.

Serve with “buttermilk” biscuits (see page 214) and enjoy.

Cheddary Cheeze Soup

Yield: 5 cups

Meat eaters and vegetarians can’t believe this is vegan. It is delicious as a soup, or it can be used as a fondue dip for breads and vegetables. Adapted from Joanne Stepaniak’s Vegan Vittles.

1 medium potato, peeled and quartered

1 large carrot, peeled and coarsely chopped

1 medium onion, peeled and quartered

1 cup water

1 12-ounce package firm silken tofu, crumbled

½ cup nutritional yeast flakes

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

2 tablespoons “chicken flavor” vegetarian stock powder

1 cup plain non-dairy milk

Place the chunks of potato, carrot, and onion in the water in a 2-quart saucepan. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium, cover with a lid, and simmer the vegetables, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes. They should be tender.

Puree the soup. The easiest way to do this is with an immersion (hand) blender. Or, transfer the cooked vegetables, the cooking water, and the remaining ingredients except the milk to a food processor. Process until the mixture is completely smooth.

Return the blended soup to the saucepan and stir in the milk. Turn the heat to low and warm the soup, stirring often.

No Bean Chili

Yield: 4 servings

4 plant-based burgers (or 2 pounds plant-based “beef”)

1 green or bell pepper, chopped

1 large yellow onion, chopped

1 28-ounce can diced tomatoes (fire-roased if available)

6 ounce tomato paste

2 cups veggie stock or 2 cups water with 2 teaspoons “Better than bouillion”

1 ½ tablespoon chili powder

1 ½ teaspoon paprika

1 ½ teaspoon onion powder

1 teaspoon garlic powder

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 ½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon black pepper

4 tablespoon garlic, minced

Add your plant-based burgers or “meat” to a large pot. Crumble the “meat” with a spatula as it begins to cook.

Add in your chopped pepper and onion. Cook on medium-heat, stirring occasionally, until the “meat” has browned. About 5-6 minutes.

Add the other ingredients to the pot. Stir. Cover and let simmer for 20–25 minutes.

Taste and adjust seasonings.

Add 2 cans of kidney beans if you want a “yes bean chili.” (Check to see if it needs more liquid.)

Serve with any or all toppings: sliced avocado, chopped green onions, diced red onions vegan sour cream, shredded vegan cheddar.

We serve this over chunks of baked sweet potatoes.

SAUCES

Saeng’s Tomato Sauce

My nephew’s partner, Saeng Singsongkham, taught me that fresh Makrut lime leaves used in sautés adds a depth of flavor to the dish. She joined me in making a tomato sauce at my sister’s house, and its overwhelmingly enthusiastic reception by vegans and nonveg*ns alike has made this a go-to recipe.

1 tablespoon of fresh Makrut lime leaves, minced

1 cup diced onions

1 head of garlic, minced

2 cups fresh tomatoes, diced

1 cup bell pepper, diced

1 cup mushroom, chopped

2 ½ cups canned tomatoes

1 ½ tablespoon of vegan hoisin sauce

Salt and pepper to taste

Heat oil in pan and add onions and limes leaves. Cook until onions are translucent.

Lower the heat and add the garlic. Cover the pot for a minute or so to allow the aromatics of the lime leaves, garlic, and onions to acquaint themselves with one another.

Add peppers and tomatoes, along with the hoisin sauce—which will add a little sweetness.

Cover the pot to allow the new guests to introduce themselves until they burst with excitement and bubble up and dance.

Add the mushrooms. You know the drill . . . put the lid back on and simmer until mushrooms are cooked. The sauce is ready to be served with your favorite pasta.

Note: Hoisin sauce is vegan; there is also a “vegetarian” hoisin sauce. The difference between regular and vegetarian labeled hoisin is that the vegetarian one does not have garlic or onion which is restricted for some strict Buddhists.

Queso Sauce

Serves many, with tortilla chips

One 15-ounce can Great Northern beans (about 1½ cups), rinsed well and drained

½ cup pimento pieces, drained

6 tablespoons nutritional yeast flakes

3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

2–3 tablespoons tahini

½ teaspoon onion granules

½ teaspoon prepared yellow mustard

½ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon garlic powder

One or two 10-ounce cans diced tomatoes and chilies (use Ro-Tel brand, if available in your area), drained

Place all the ingredients except canned tomatoes in a blender, and process until completely smooth.

Stir in a can or more of the tomatoes, depending on taste.

Heat slowly till bubbling.

Miso Mayonnaise

Makes about ⅔ cup

Miso mayonnaise is a tasty alternative to regular mayonnaise. It makes a great dip for vegetables, or a spread for bread. Who needs an expensive store-bought version when this one is so easy and quick?

½ of a large shallot

1½ tablespoons apple cider vinegar

1½ tablespoons tamari

3 tablespoons chickpea miso

½ cup canola oil

Blend together in a blender until smooth. Refrigerate when not using.

Pesto

Makes approximately 1½ cups

Serve with your favorite pasta, on toasted Italian bread as an appetizer, as a layer in lasagna, or on pizza.

2 cups lightly packed fresh basil, or spinach, kale, or a mixture

3 medium-large garlic cloves

1 cup toasted walnuts, pine nuts, or pecans

1–1½ tablespoons red miso

⅓ cup olive oil

Pinch salt

Put all ingredients except salt in food processor. Process until creamy, but not completely smooth. Salt to taste.

Just before serving with pasta, add a little hot pasta water to awaken the flavors.

Barbecue Sauce

Makes 4 servings

A tasty sauce. Serve with Golden Fried Tofu (page 235).

1 onion, chopped

1 large clove garlic, chopped

¼ cup apple butter

1 slight teaspoon chili paste

¼ cup fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon corn oil

1 tablespoon vegetarian Worcestershire sauce

½ cup tomato sauce

2 teaspoons dry mustard

1 tablespoon Sucanat or other sweetener

½ teaspoon salt

1 recipe Golden Fried Tofu (page 235)

Place onion and garlic in a food processor or blender, and pulse until finely chopped.

Add apple butter, chili paste, and lemon juice. Process again, so that the mixture is well blended.

Add the oil, Worcestershire sauce, tomato sauce, mustard, sweetener, and salt, and process until mixed. Transfer sauce to a saucepan and simmer for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Prepare Golden Fried Tofu. When it is ready, add the barbecue sauce to the saucepan to coat the tofu well, and simmer the tofu in the sauce for about 15 minutes.

Place the remaining sauce into a serving bowl. Serve with rice and pass the sauce.

Rich Shiitake Mushroom Sauce

Yields 2 cups

Serve this mushroomy sauce over pasta, tofu, or vegetables.

12 dried shiitake mushrooms, mixed sizes

4 tablespoons tamari

1 tablespoon sherry

1 teaspoon Sucanat or other sweetener

¼ teaspoon salt

2–3 tablespoons oil

1 tablespoon cornstarch

Soak dried mushrooms in at least 2 cups hot water for 15 minutes. Reserve the soaking liquid.

Slice the large mushrooms; leave small mushrooms whole.

Combine tamari, sherry, sweetener, and salt.

Heat oil. Add mushrooms and stir-fry 2 minutes. Stir in tamari-sherry mixture to blend.

Add mushroom liquid and heat quickly. Then cook, covered, about 10 minutes over medium heat.

Blend cornstarch and 1 tablespoon cold water to make a paste. Then stir into the sauce to thicken. Keep warm till serving.

Peanut Sauce two ways

Everyone should have a peanut sauce in their repertory.

Even if it isn’t a peanut sauce. Substitute tahini or almond butter and it is also great.

Serve it over roasted broccoli.

Add to tofu baking in the oven for the last 10–15 minutes.

Serve over noodles.

Use in a dragon bowl (with layers of a grain, root veggies, greens, tofu or tempeh, and sauce).

Peanut Sauce #1

6 cloves garlic

1 bunch cilantro: leaves and upper stems

1 inch fresh ginger, peeled

1 tablespoon peanut oil

1 tablespoon sesame oil

1 tablespoon hot chili oil

½ cup peanut butter

½ cup tamari

3 tablespoons Sucanat or other sweetener

3 tablespoons rice wine vinegar

Put the garlic, cilantro, and ginger in food processor with metal blade and process until finely chopped. Add the oils, peanut butter, tamari, and sweetener. Process to combine all the ingredients, stopping and scraping down the sides a couple of times. Add the vinegar to taste. Adjust seasonings if necessary. You can thin the sauce with hot water if it is too thick.

Substitute almond butter or tahini

Peanut Sauce #2

Yields 5–6 servings

You can pour this sauce over tofu, steamed or stir-fried veggies, noodles, or rice.

3 tablespoons peanut butter

2 tablespoons roasted sesame oil

2 tablespoons tamari

2 tablespoons sherry

2 tablespoons Sucanat or other sweetener

3 tablespoons vegetable broth

1 tablespoon hoisin sauce

2 tablespoons tomato sauce

1 teaspoon chili sauce or ½ teaspoon chili oil

Mix all ingredients together in a saucepan.

Over low heat, warm the sauce for 3–5 minutes, stirring frequently. Pour over the food of your choice.

Béchamel Sauce

3 tablespoons canola or other light unflavored oil

½ cup minced onion

3 tablespoons whole wheat pastry flour

3 cups hot (but not boiling) plain soy milk

1 teaspoon peppercorns

½ teaspoon thyme

1 small bay leaf

Pinch nutmeg (freshly grated if possible)

Salt to taste

Dash cayenne

Heat the oil over medium heat until hot. Turn the heat to medium-low, add the onion, and sauté for 3–4 minutes. Add the flour and stir it in. It will immediately clump up. Allow the mixture to cook for a few minutes while stirring it.

Add the soy milk slowly into the flour mixture, stirring with a whisk as you do. At first it will thicken as soon as the liquid is added; watch for lumps and beat them out with your whisk. Slowly, as more liquid is added, it will thin out, but it will thicken again over the next few minutes.

When all of the liquid has been stirred in, add peppercorns, thyme, bay leaf, nutmeg, and salt. Let the sauce cook slowly for 10–15 minutes, stirring once in a while. Pour it into its serving bowl using a sieve, to eliminate the surprise of peppercorns and bay leaf. If you don’t want to be bothered with a sieve, retrieve those elusive peppercorns and the bay leaf with a spoon. The sauce should be thickened, creamy, and tasty. Add a dash of cayenne at the end.

Mary’s Mushroom Sauce

Serves 4–6

My good friend Mary Hunt directed me to this recipe found in Anna Thomas’s classic, The Vegetarian Epicure. I have revised it, reducing the amount of fat she recommended and the sugar as well. I served this over toast to some very firmly committed meat eaters. They enjoyed it immensely, but felt that at ⅓ cup sugar, it was still too sweet. Others might like it that way. You should experiment with it and see what you prefer.

1½ pound fresh mushrooms

¼ cup light oil/vegan butter (I use a combination)

1 onion, peeled and chopped

2 tablespoons Dijon mustard

¼ – ⅓ cup brown sugar or Sucanat

2 tablespoons vegetarian Worcestershire sauce

¼ cup mellow red wine

Freshly ground black pepper

Seasoned salt

Dash of Tabasco

Clean the mushrooms and cut each one in half, unless they are very small. In a large saucepan, warm the oil/butter and sauté the onion until transparent.

Mix together the mustard, sweetener, and Worcestershire sauce into a smooth paste. Add the wine, and season with black pepper and a little seasoned salt. Stir well.

When the onion is transparent, add the mushrooms to the pan. Sauté a few minutes. Stir often. When the mushrooms begin to brown and reduce in size, add the sauce.

Simmer the mixture for 45 minutes over medium-low to medium heat. The mushrooms will darken, and the sauce will thicken and reduce.

Squash Sauce

Serves 5–6, unless they are teenagers

A vegan in Cincinnati discovered that squash is a great thickener for pasta sauces and a delightful way to create a comfort food close to macaroni and cheese. She pressed a recipe into my hand when I spoke there. I encountered a recipe in Ken Haedrich’s Feeding the Healthy Vegetarian Family that works with this insight as well. It is incredibly like macaroni and cheese, yet it is dairyless. This sauce is an adaptation of Haedrich’s recipe.

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 large onion, chopped

1 or 2 cloves garlic, minced

1½ cups canned or frozen squash

1½ cups plain unsweetened plant milk

3 tablespoons nutritional yeast flakes

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard (My family doesn’t like mustard in this; some would probably be happy with 2 teaspoons.)

1 teaspoon salt

Freshly ground pepper

2 – 3 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

If using frozen squash, defrost it.

In a large nonstick skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Stir in the onion and sauté over medium heat for 8–10 minutes. Add the garlic, stir for half a minute, then remove from the heat.

Put the squash, soy milk, nutritional yeast flakes, mustard, remaining tablespoon of olive oil, onions, and salt in a blender or use an immersion blender. Puree until the mixture is smooth. Pour it into the skillet that cooked the onions. Heat the sauce, stirring, until it bubbles. Add pepper. Garnish with parsley and serve over cooked macaroni.

TEMPEH AND TOFU

Tempeh Salad Sandwich

Makes 4 sandwiches

I like preparing the tempeh salad in advance the night before. This is one of my favorite comfort foods. I usually make a double recipe to save time.

8 ounces tempeh

¼ cup Follow Your Heart Vegenaise ® (Vegenaise ® is the best vegan mayonnaise!)

2 tablespoons nutritional yeast flakes

3 tablespoons chopped dill pickle

2 tablespoons minced parsley

1 teaspoon mustard

1 teaspoon tamari

1 stalk celery

¼ cup of a medium onion, chopped, or ¼ cup diced scallions

Break the tempeh in half and steam in a vegetable steamer for 20 minutes. Let it cool. Crumble it into a bowl.

Combine remaining ingredients and mix them into the crumbled tempeh. Cover and chill. Serve in pita bread with butter lettuce and tomatoes.

Tofu Steaks

Yields 8 slices. Or, once cooked, cut into cubes and add to pasta.

1 pound firm regular tofu

2 tablespoons tamari

2 tablespoons wine vinegar

1½ tablespoons oil

Slice tofu into 8 slices.

Marinate the tofu slices in the tamari, vinegar, and 1 tablespoon of oil for several hours.

Heat a nonstick skillet, and add ½ tablespoon oil. Cook 4 slices in the oil and half of the marinade. When both sides are browned, remove from the skillet and cook the other 4 slices in the remaining marinade. If all of the marinade is absorbed during cooking, add a little more vinegar and olive oil to the pan.

Golden Fried Tofu

Serves 3–4

1 pound firm regular tofu

2 tablespoons avocado oil

Drain the tofu and wrap it in a clean kitchen towel. Let it sit for 10–30 minutes.

Remove tofu from the towel and cut into six slices. Cut each slice diagonally in half. You will now have twelve triangles. If you have a skillet that can hold all the triangles, heat the oil and then add the tofu. Otherwise, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add the tofu triangles and fry them for several minutes, until they are golden in color. They should not get dried out or hardened. Turn the triangles over and fry the other side. Remove to a plate covered with two paper towels. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon oil and cook the remaining tofu triangles.

Crisped Creamy Tofu

Makes 4 servings

Adapted by my friend Amie Hamlin, director and founder of Club Veg, a vegetarian education and travel group. The original recipe appeared in Veggie Life magazine, March 1994, featuring recipes from It’s Only Natural Restaurant in Lititz, Pennsylvania. A meat-eating friend of mine could not get enough of this easy-to-prepare dish!

¼ cup light miso (Mellow White or chickpea)

2 tablespoons frozen orange juice concentrate

1 tablespoon sesame seeds

1 pound firm or extra-firm regular tofu, drained

Preheat the oven to 475°F, 245°C, Gas Mark 9.

As the piece of tofu sits on your cutting board, quarter it in slices parallel to the counter, so that you have 4 pieces that are the size of the largest surface of the tofu. Slice the tofu diagonally to make 8 triangles.

In a small bowl, combine miso and orange juice concentrate.

Lightly roast sesame seeds in a dry skillet until nutty smelling and golden brown, about 3 minutes.

Place tofu on a lightly oiled baking sheet and spread with the miso topping. Sprinkle each piece with sesame seeds.

Bake for 8–10 minutes, until golden brown.

Tofu Cubes

Serves 2–3

Mmm! Delicious! Add to salads or pastas or tortillas or eat right from the frying pan.

1 pound firm regular tofu

3 tablespoons nutritional yeast flakes

2 tablespoons flour

1 teaspoon garlic powder

1 teaspoon pepper

½ teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon powdered vegetarian stock

1–2 tablespoons oil

Cut tofu into cubes about ¼ inch. Do not pat them dry.

Combine all the other ingredients except the oil in a container with a lid. Add the tofu, put the lid on, and shake well to coat the tofu.

Heat oil in a nonstick skillet. Add the tofu and cook over medium heat, turning the tofu every few minutes until it is golden brown and crispy.

Tasty Tofu

Yields 12 slices

A versatile way to prepare tofu—use it with roasted vegetables, Sauté it with veggies; stick into stews.

2 pounds firm regular tofu

⅓ cup tamari

2 tablespoons maple syrup

Preheat the oven to 400°F, 200°C, Gas Mark 6. Use parchment paper to line a baking pan.

Drain the tofu. Wrap it in a towel for about 15 minutes to absorb excess moisture.

Cut the tofu in half, and then in thirds along the width. You will have 12 slices about ½ inch thick.

In a pie plate, combine the maple syrup and the tamari. Dip the tofu in this mixture and place on the parchment paper. Bake for 20–25 minutes, until it is lightly browned.

Turn the tofu over with a spatula. It may stick slightly to the parchment paper, but loosen it slowly so that you will not lose the “skin” it develops. Brush the tofu with any of the remaining maple syrup–tamari mixture, and bake for 20 minutes or until it is a luscious brown. Let cool. Use within 3 days; keep stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator.

MAIN DISHES

Pasta with Peanut Sauce

Makes 8 servings

This is a perennial favorite and variations of it can be found in countless vegetarian and vegan cookbooks. You can use somen noodles or your choice of spaghetti. You can have it as a cold salad or hot.

Noodles

1 pound noodles

2 tablespoons sesame oil

½ cup chopped cilantro (coriander) leaves

6 scallions (spring onions)

1 recipe Golden Fried Tofu (p. 235)

Cook your noodles until al dente. If you are having cold noodles, pour them into a colander once they are done and rinse them with cold water. Shake the excess water off and place in a large bowl.

Toss with sesame oil, cilantro, and scallions. Just before serving, add peanut sauce and tofu.

Use peanut sauce #1 (p. 229)

Neat Loaf

Serves 8–10

From the ingenious Jennifer Raymond’s The Peaceful Palate. This is a continual hands-down meat eaters’ favorite. Sliced leftovers make great sandwiches. Jennifer recommends using a food processor for this recipe. She is right. It quickly makes each ingredient the right size for mixing together.

1 cup cooked brown rice

1 cup wheat germ

1 cup quick rolled oats or oat bran (Whiz oats in a dry food processor for your own oat bran)

1 cup finely chopped walnuts or sunflower seeds

1 cup chopped mushrooms

1 onion, finely chopped

½ of a medium bell pepper, finely chopped

1 medium-sized carrot, shredded or finely chopped

½ teaspoon each: thyme, marjoram, and sage

2 tablespoons tamari

2 tablespoons stone-ground or Dijon-style mustard

1 tablespoon peanut butter

Note: Some adapt this recipe by adding a little tomato paste to the mix. Jennifer puts ketchup on the top for the last twenty minutes, but this variation was soundly rejected by my tasters.

Preheat the oven to 350°F, 177°C, Gas Mark 4.

Combine all ingredients and mix for 2 minutes with a large spoon to help to bind together.

Pat into a greased 5 × 9-inch loaf pan, and bake for an hour or until lightly browned. Let stand for 10 minutes before serving.

Baked Walnut Balls Béchamel

Yields about 20–25 walnut balls

The caterer hired in 1978 to cater our wedding reception borrowed some of my vegetarian cookbooks in his search for mouth-watering main courses for the event. He discovered Baked Walnut and Cheddar Balls Béchamel in Anna Thomas’s The Vegetarian Epicure. The day of the wedding he told me that it was this recipe that convinced him to get a food processor. (It was 1978, after all!) The walnut balls looked gorgeous swimming in the sauce in a chafing dish. At the reception, one of the die-hard I’m-a-meat-eater-and-proud-of-it guests dished some walnut balls onto his plate and shouted to me, “I’m glad you are serving meat here!” Little did he know!

When I became a vegan, I dropped these favorites from my recipe file. But Mary Hunt shared a well-used copy of Reggi Norton and Martha Wagner’s The Soy of Cooking, and the Walnut Balls with Tofu Lemon Cream Sauce reminded me of Anna Thomas’s detectable treats.

The following variation combines the best from each of these books: Thomas uses onions; Norton and Wagner, scallions. Silken tofu easily replaces the eggs of the original. But I think a béchamel sauce is smoother and I have veganized Thomas’s original rather than follow the example of a tofu cream sauce.

For the walnut balls

1½ cups toasted ground walnuts

¼ cup bread crumbs

½ cup wheat germ

3 tablespoons chopped parsley

½ cup minced onion

6 ounces silken tofu

¼ cup plus 1 tablespoon soy milk

¼ cup whole wheat flour

3 cloves garlic

¼ cup toasted nutritional yeast flakes

½ teaspoon prepared mustard

½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon lemon juice

Freshly ground pepper to taste

In a large bowl, combine the ground walnuts, bread crumbs, wheat germ, parsley, and minced onion.

Combine the remaining ingredients in a food processor until smooth. Mix into the walnut mixture.

The mixture should be moist but able to hold its shape. Roll the mixture into walnut-size balls, and place on an oiled baking sheet.

Bake at 350°F, 177°C, Gas Mark 4 for about 30–40 minutes. The bottoms of the balls should be lightly browned.

Make the béchamel sauce (pp. 230-31) while the walnut balls bake.

Remove the walnut balls from the oven, place in a serving dish, and pour the béchamel sauce over them. Serve piping hot!

Roasted Vegetables with Garlic and Fennel Seeds

Serves 8–10

Adapted from Ken Bergeron’s Professional Vegetarian Cooking. At the 2000 World Vegetarian Congress, Ken Bergeron and I were both waiting for an elevator. There was just enough time for me to exude about this recipe and how I use it with tofu for an evening meal. He was gracious and generous in encouraging me to include it in this book. This recipe—and its originator—both reveal abundance. You will enjoy variations of this recipe throughout the cold winter months.

¼ cup olive oil

1 tablespoon crushed garlic

1 tablespoon fennel seeds

½ teaspoon salt

A pinch ground black pepper

1½ pounds butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks

1½ pounds carrots, cut into 1-inch chunks

1 pound small red onions, quartered

1½ pounds parsnips

3 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

1 pound Tasty Tofu, cubed (see p. 237).

Preheat oven to 425°F, 220°C, Gas Mark 7.

Mix 1 tablespoon of the olive oil with the garlic and fennel seeds and set aside.

Toss vegetables with the remaining olive oil and salt and pepper. Place vegetables on a large baking sheet, with the harder vegetables around the outside, surrounding the softer vegetables. Bake for 15 minutes.

Stir and loosen vegetables if they have begun to stick to the pan. Roast 15 minutes longer or until they are tender when a fork pierces them.

Toss vegetables with the olive oil, garlic, and fennel seeds. Roast for 8 minutes. Toss vegetables with the chopped parsley and balsamic vinegar. Bake for 2 more minutes. Remove from the oven.

Toss with the Tasty Tofu and serve.

Shepherd’s Pie

Makes 8 servings

This pie is heartily recommended for those who cook for meat eaters. A comfort food that can also be your go-to recipe for holidays and potlucks.

1 cup dried lentils (green or brown), or 2 cups cooked lentils

2 cups water

1 large yellow onion, chopped

2 carrots, chopped

½ cup celery, sliced

2 cloves garlic, chopped

Olive oil for Sautéing

1 teaspoon mixed dried herbs (marjoram, thyme, basil, sage—your choice)

1 8-ounce can tomato sauce, or one 15-ounce can tomatoes, chopped

2 tablespoons tamari

2–3 tablespoons chopped parsley

Salt and black pepper

4 medium potatoes, cooked and mashed

Paprika

2 tablespoons nutritional yeast flakes

If the lentils are uncooked, bring them to boil in the 2 cups of water, over medium-high heat. Once boiling, reduce heat to low and cover. Let simmer for 20–25 minutes. Drain.

Preheat oven to 350°F, 177°C, Gas Mark 4. Sauté onion, carrots, celery, and garlic in a little olive oil until softened.

Add herbs, tomatoes, tamari, lentils, parsley, and salt and pepper to taste. Stir.

Spoon mixture into a lightly oiled baking dish. Spread mashed potatoes evenly over the top, drawing a fork over the surface to make ridges. Sprinkle paprika and nutritional yeast flakes on top of potatoes.

Bake 45 minutes, until golden brown.

Variations: Add 8 ounces of mushrooms to the sauté mixture in Step 2.

SIDE DISHES AND SALADS

Comforting Mashed Potatoes

Makes 4 servings

2 pounds Russet or Idaho potatoes, scrubbed and quartered (If organic, leave the skins on.)

1 32-ounce box of Imagine No-Chicken Broth

8 cloves garlic, peeled

1 cup unsweetened plant milk

1 cup unsweetened plant-based cream

4 tablespoons vegan butter

Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

½ cup minced Italian parsley (not curly, but flat-leafed) (optional)

Boil the quartered potatoes uncovered in a large pot with broth until tender, about 20 minutes. Remove the potatoes from the broth, but do not discard the broth.

While the potatoes are cooking, put garlic cloves, soy milk, and soy cream into a medium saucepan. Simmer uncovered over low heat until garlic is tender, about 15 minutes. Remove garlic cloves.

Combine the potatoes and the simmered milk-cream mixture in a large bowl with margarine and mash with a potato masher. If it needs thinning, add some of the broth. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Add minced parsley if you wish, and serve.

Nutty Cabbage Salad

Serves 8

The salad I made for my family that kept them coming back for more. (See page 177.) I have reduced the amount of oil that the original recipe called for, but I have also seen versions of this recipe that use only sesame oil and not canola. Experiment with the quantity according to your taste buds.

5 cups shredded cabbage

1 leaf red cabbage, shredded

2 carrots, shredded

8 scallions, sliced

½ cup slivered almonds

¼ cup sesame seeds

1 tablespoon vegan butter

1 teaspoon pepper

2 packets Ramen noodles. Use the noodles, uncooked, and discard the flavor packet.

Dressing

6 tablespoons rice vinegar

3 tablespoons Sucanat or other sweetener

⅓–½ cup canola oil

1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil

2 teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon pepper

¼ cup fresh cilantro (optional)

Brown the almonds and sesame seeds in margarine. Set aside.

Shred cabbage and carrots.

Make the dressing.

Crumble the noodles, or put them in a plastic bag and smash them with a hammer.

Just before serving, pour dressing over the vegetables until they are moistened. Reserve the rest of the dressing. Add the crumbled noodles. Toss the salad, then sprinkle with cooled almonds and sesame seeds, and, if desired, cilantro.

Potsticker Salad

Serves 4

Vegetarian potstickers (Chinese dumplings) are available in Asian food stores and in some natural food stores as well. My children, Doug and Ben, love these dumplings dipped in the dressing.

1 pound frozen vegetarian potstickers

1 tablespoon vegetable oil (optional)

Arrange frozen potstickers in a single layer in a 10–12-inch nonstick frying pan, and add 2/3rd cup of water. Cover and bring to a boil over high heat.

Once the water has begun to boil, reduce the heat and simmer until the liquid cooks away and potstickers begin to brown, (about 12–15 minutes). Keep covered, but check the bottom of the potstickers. When the water has cooked away, if you like more crispness to the dumplings, add 1 tablespoon oil to the pan, and gently lift each dumpling up so that the oil dodges underneath them.

Dressing for Potstickers

¼ cup hoisin sauce

2 tablespoons lemon juice

1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil

1 teaspoon Sucanat or other sweetener

1 teaspoon minced fresh ginger

1 clove garlic, minced

Potsticker Salad

I prefer the dumplings in a salad.

Nine ounces salad mix or 8 cups fresh greens

One 7¼-ounce jar peeled roasted red or yellow peppers, drained, or 2 roasted peppers, sliced into thin strips

As the dumplings cook, prepare the salad and make the dressing. Toss the greens with the dressing; spoon salad onto 4 plates and top with equal portions of red peppers and hot potstickers.

Ben’s Favorite Salad Dressing

Yields ½ cup

2 tablespoons white miso, thinned with a little warm water

⅓ cup olive oil

¼ cup balsamic vinegar

2 cloves garlic, minced

½ teaspoon oregano

2 teaspoons raspberry jam

Mix together and serve over your favorite salad mix.

Papaya Seed Dressing

Yields about 2 cups/8 servings

This dressing is adapted from Bonnie Mandoe’s Vegetarian Nights. It gets a zip from the papaya seeds. Extremely tasty, it also provides the gratification of being able to use a part of the papaya that is so often discarded. Besides putting it on salads, I have sprinkled it over vegetable pizzas for pizzazz.

¼ cup chopped onion

1 large clove garlic, minced

2 tablespoons Dijon mustard

3 tablespoons agave or other sweetener

1½ teaspoons salt

¼ cup olive oil

¼ cup canola or sunflower oil

¼ cup rice vinegar

1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

½ teaspoon dried basil leaves

½ teaspoon dried oregano leaves

¼ cup water

2 tablespoons papaya seeds

Put all the ingredients into a blender and blend for about a minute to a minute and a half. The papaya seeds should be fragmented by the blades. This is a creamy dressing with speckles of papaya seeds.

Chill the dressing and serve.

DESSERTS

Three Easy Desserts

Lavender syrup on vegan ice cream topped with raspberries and blackberries

Add a 15-ounce can of pumpkin to a brownie mix (without milk or eggs in the contents), and stir till mixed. Bake according to the direction on the brownie box.

Stuffed dates with blackberries

I learned this stuffed dates recipe from Kaleta Doolin, and when I was serving it one night, at the last minute, I realized I had some beautiful blackberries to include on the plate. The combination of the blackberries with the stuffed dates was luscious! This is an easy recipe—an eye-pleasing as well as a palate-pleasing one.

Dates, split, with seeds removed

½ container of vegan cream cheese (at room temperature)

¼ cup vegan butter

1 cup powdered sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

½ teaspoon lemon juice

Freshly washed blackberries

Split the dates in half. Remove the seeds.

Make the vegan cream cheese frosting by combining the cream cheese and butter. Slowly add the powdered sugar, and then the vanilla and lemon juice. Beat with a hand-held beater until soft and fluffy and everything is combined. It should be wondrously creamy!

Use a decorating bag with a tip with a serrated design to lay a thick line inside the dates.

Serve with the blackberries.

Texas Chocolate Sheet Cake

Go no further for a great, easy-to-prepare dessert. A friend of mine who stayed the night after a vegan barbecue dinner, got up in the middle of the night to search for the remaining cake, and to his delight, found it, and like the poet William Carlos Williams after he discovered plums in the refrigerator, ate it. Unlike Williams, my friend did not make a poem out of the adventure.

Shirley Wilkes-Johnson called this “a rather decadent, old-fashioned recipe.” Use a jelly-roll pan to achieve just the right thickness in the cake. A jelly-roll pan is about 15 × 10 inches with 1-inch sides. It’s similar to a large cookie sheet. You can use a 13 × 9-inch baking pan, but the cake will be thicker. One summer, I made three of these cakes for a family celebration. Everyone loved the cake—even those who didn’t think they would.

It’s essential to have the frosting ready when the cake comes out of the oven—frosting a hot cake is part of what makes this cake so tasty.

Serves 20–25, unless everyone wants seconds, which they usually do!

1 cup soy milk

1 tablespoon cider vinegar

2 cups all-purpose flour

2 cups organic sugar

1 teaspoon baking soda

½ pound (2 sticks) vegan butter, at room temperature

⅓ cup unsweetened cocoa powder

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

Chocolate Pecan icing

8 tablespoons (1 stick) vegan butter, at room temperature

¼ cup unsweetened cocoa powder, sifted

1 pound confectioners’ sugar (about 4½ cups)

⅓ cup soy milk

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1 cup chopped pecans

Preheat the oven to 375°F, 190°C, Gas Mark 5. Grease a 15 × 10-inch jelly-roll pan. Combine the soy milk and cider vinegar in a mixing cup, and set aside.

Combine the flour, sugar, and baking soda in a medium bowl. Mix well and set aside.

Mix together the margarine, cocoa powder, and 1 cup of water in a medium saucepan. Heat to boiling over medium heat, while stirring often. Pour over the flour and sugar mixture. Add the vanilla to the soy milk and vinegar mixture, and then whisk into the other ingredients. Turn the batter into the prepared pan.

Bake for 20–25 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

While the cake bakes, prepare the icing: Combine the margarine, cocoa powder, and soy milk in a medium bowl and beat with an electric mixer on medium speed for about 2 minutes, until light and fluffy. Add the confectioners’ sugar and vanilla and beat on high speed until well mixed. Stir in the pecans.

Immediately after removing the cake from the oven frost the top of the hot cake with the Chocolate Pecan Icing. (Don’t let the cake cool before frosting.) Allow the cake to cool, and then cut it into squares.

Gingerbread

Makes one 9 × 9-inch cake

Of this recipe from Jennifer Raymond’s The Peaceful Palate, she writes: “This gingerbread contains no animal ingredients and no added fat, yet it is moist and delicious. Try serving it with hot applesauce for a real treat.” It is a great recipe, and will confirm your magician-like skills to your meat-eating friends and family.

½ cup raisins

½ cup pitted dates, chopped

1¾ cups water

¾ cup raw sugar or other sweetener

½ teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons cinnamon

1 teaspoon ginger

¾ teaspoon nutmeg

¼ teaspoon cloves

2 cups flour (Jennifer uses whole wheat pastry flour.)

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

Preheat oven to 350°F, 177°C, Gas Mark 4.

Combine dried fruits, water, sugar, and spices in a large saucepan and bring to a boil. Continue boiling for 2 minutes, then remove from heat and cool completely.

When fruit mixture is cool, mix in dry ingredients. Spread into a greased 9 × 9-inch pan and bake for 30 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

Quick “Do Not Stir” Blackberry Cobbler

Serves 4–6

This is a fun and quick dessert that is splendidly rich and delicious. I like using spelt flour for this recipe instead of whole wheat pastry flour, because it is light. But pastry flour can be substituted. Remember: don’t stir it!

You can substitute other fresh fruits, but somehow blackberries are perfect for this. Frozen fruits work as well. Though southern tradition suggests that canned fruits might also be used, I have found them the least successful.

¼ cup vegan butter

¾ cup Sucanat (plus extra for sprinkling over berries) or other sweetener

1 cup spelt flour

3 teaspoons baking powder

1 cup vanilla soy milk (For a real treat use a soy cream.)

4 cups fresh blackberries, drained

½ teaspoon cinnamon

½ teaspoon nutmeg

Preheat oven to 350°F, 177°C, Gas Mark 4.

Melt vegan butter over low heat in an oblong rectangular baking dish.

In a separate bowl, combine Sucanat, flour, and baking powder. Whisk in the soy milk or soy cream to make a batter.

Pour the batter over the melted margarine. Do not stir.

Top with the blackberries. Do not stir them into the batter. Sprinkle a little Sucanat over the fruit and then sprinkle the cinnamon and nutmeg on. Again, do not stir.

Bake for 40–50 minutes, until the top is golden brown. The batter will rise through the blackberries and form a delicate and delicious crust. You can also use a toothpick test (it should come out clean) to make sure the batter is cooked. This is supposed to make 4–6 servings, but one night three of us unabashedly devoured the entire cobbler.

Chocolate Cream Pie

Serves 6–8

We take this to church socials, feed it to hungry teens, and use it for birthday celebrations. No one can believe it has tofu in it.

1½–2 cups vegan chocolate chips

2 boxes firm silken tofu

1 tablespoon vanilla

1 large graham cracker crust

Fruit (optional)

Melt the chocolate chips over low heat, stirring constantly.

Put the silken tofu in a food processor and puree. (A Vitamix will not work well for this recipe.)

Add the melted chocolate chips and process until smooth.

Add the vanilla and process.

Pour into the crust and refrigerate for a couple of hours.

Add strawberries, kiwi, or other fruits to the top if you wish, but no fruits are necessary for this delicious dessert.

You can nudge it to be even creamier by replacing some of the tofu with vegan cream cheese.

Acknowledgments

Acknowledgments to the First Edition

I am thankful that I am part of a humane movement: one bite at a time, one meal at a time—we know all about the importance of seemingly small changes that are revolutionary in impact.

This book followed a visible and an invisible path.

Along the visible path, I benefited from those who reached out to embrace this project:

Pat Davis, who proposed the original idea out of which this book has grown, and who insisted that I not lose sight of the need for this book when I despaired of ever finishing it.

Patti Breitman, for saying yes to veganism and to me as a writer, for embracing this project early and waiting as I sorted it out.

The Kentucky Foundation for Women and Sallie Bingham for a week’s residency at a women writer’s retreat, where the book was begun.

Martin Rowe, for interviewing me about living among meat eaters for Satya, and printing my initial questionnaire. Martin’s astute questions in that interview helped me sort out several of the most important themes in this book. Robin Armstrong, who posted my questionnaire at the newveg website and provided a form that could be answered through the Internet. Holly Lewis of vegetus.org, for permission to use the vegan lightbulb joke I found at her website.

Kim Stallwood for his support and The Animals’ Agenda for letting me explore this issue in the column “Living Among Meat Eaters.”

Vegans and vegetarians from around the world who e-mailed me and wrote to me about their experiences living among meat eaters in response to the Satya questionnaire or my online questionnaire. Thank you all so much, for taking the time to become a part of this book by answering my questions, sharing your despair, your frustrations, your commitments, your thoughts, and your joys. You have been living lives of abundance!

Stanley and Rhoda Sapon, for their hospitality and insights.

My readers: Pat Davis, who plowed through several versions of some chapters, insisting on clarity. Steve Kaufman, for his careful reading of the manuscript, and for his many practical, insightful recommendations for improving it. Marie Fortune, for her wisdom on relationships. Mary Lou Randour, for suggestions, especially for her reflection on the role of guilt. Sarah Howery, whose vegetarianism prompted her mom to suggest the need for this book and who, coming full circle, was my final reader, for her thoughtful responses.

Again, I am in the debt of the Richardson Public Library and its wonderful staff, especially the reference and Interlibrary Loan librarians, for finding books and information, and for their patience with my book-writing projects.

I am grateful for the attention to my ideas and the support of this book and me personally from the team of wonderful people at Three Rivers Press: Becky Cabaza, a jewel of an editor; Carrie Thornton, conscientious and caring; Anne Cherry, for prodding and pulling the correct words and syntax from me; Deborah Kerner for the beautiful design; and Brian Belfiglio, director of publicity, who has entered into the spirit of this book.

Vegetarian-cookbook authors give us all a great gift—the gift not only of creating great recipes, but taking the time to write them down, work with them, and experience the demands of publishing so that these recipes are shared with others. I am grateful for their generosity and creativity. I especially acknowledge Joanne Stepaniak, Jennifer Raymond, Ken Bergeron, and the women of the Bloodroot Collective, who run a feminist-vegetarian restaurant in Bridgeport, Connecticut, for permission to use their recipes. Authors of vegetarian cookbooks help each of us discover the abundance in the vegetarian choices we have made. Take the time to write a thank-you note to your favorite vegetarian-cookbook author.

Meat eaters who taught me so much about their fears, anxieties, and concerns about scarcity.

My invisible path, not conscious to me as I moved through it, was the path from scarcity to abundance. So many people and experiences touched me on this path. The Inner Art of Vegetarianism describes this path, which erupted from the pages of this book. Those who have nurtured me—friends and family—have nurtured within me this feeling of abundance. For friendship and love I thank: Pat Davis, Marie Fortune, Mary Hunt, Pamela Nelson, Christina Nakhoda, Carol Mai, Mary Lou Randour; my sisters, Nancy Adams and Jane Adams; and my parents, Muriel and Lee Towne Adams. The students around the country who brought me to their campuses and introduced me to their ideas, their commitments, their recipes, have offered feelings of abundance as well. Martha Murphy Hall and Fred Dowd, who patiently teach coming home to this writer’s body, reveal inner abundance to me.

And, as always, Bruce Buchanan, for living with, and loving so abundantly, this sometimes difficult, sometimes unrelenting, sometimes fragile, sometimes impulsive vegan. He has made this book and so much else possible.

Acknowledgments to the Bloomsbury Revelations Edition

Thank you to Mark Dudgeon, my Bloomsbury Revelations editor, for recognizing the ongoing relevance of this book, and for the luscious vegan Indian lunch he hosted as he, his Bloomsbury colleagues Ella Wilson and Megan Jones, and I discussed what content needed to be updated. Thanks to Ella for her support and quick answers to my questions, and Megan for her role with the production of the book (and an amazing list of vegan films). Thank you to Elizabeth Kellingley of Bloomsbury and the people at Deanta Global Publishing Services, especially Mohammed Raffi for their work transforming the updated manuscript into this book.

For keeping Living Among Meat Eaters alive in various iterations I thank Evander Lomke of Continuum, and Martin Rowe and the late Gene Gollogly of Lantern Books.

Conversations over the years with my co-authors Patti Breitman and Ginny Messina have deepened my appreciation of what it means to live among vegans. In addition, I benefited from conversations about material for the new edition with Matt Halteman, Helen McGregor, Christopher Sebastian, and Martin Urschel. I always enjoyed talking about living among meat eaters with Paul Stellar and Andy Tabar for their podcast “The Bearded Vegans.”

I remember all the invaluable support provided by the late Pat Davis, and the insights she offered about interpersonal issues over many years.

Chapter 13 is indebted to conversations with Christopher Sebastian, an educator about digital media literacy, and Martin Urschel, a scholar of vegan films, as well as comments offered in response to a Facebook post in which I asked about vegan’s experience of using social media and whether to “feed the trolls” or not. Thanks to Krista Behymer, Carla Roxy Charlie, Tracey Chapman, Cindy Chrisafoudis, Maria Comninou, Nella Giatrakou, Max Gordon, Jenny Green, Roz Holland, Steven Jenkins, Deborah Pope Kehoe, Mary Lawrence, Chelsea Lincoln, Leigh Ann Bishop Long, Sarah Lux, Anya M. McCann, Kristi McClintock, Mychael McNeeley, Terri Mitchell, Sherry Morgado, Kerri Norman, Michele Olender, Julia Orr, Nigel Osborne, Nancy Poznak, Marla Rosę, Richard Sanders, Michael Sizer, Jon Spear, Gay Camille Grace Sprague, Chris St. Prince, Shelby Walchuk, and Kevin Watkinson, for discussing the strengths and problems of social media, in response to a question I posed about social media on social media.

Thanks to Red Wheel for permission to reprint “Vegan with a Few Tweaks—How to Veganize (Almost) Anything” from Protest Kitchen copyright © by Carol J. Adams and Virginia Messina.

Thanks to The Experiment for permission to reprint “Rae Sikora’s Crock Cheese” and “Texas Sheet Cake” from Never Too Late to Go Vegan by Carol J. Adams, Patti Breitman, and Virginia Messina.

My description of the vegan brunch on pp. 190–91 borrows from my preface to Laura Wright’s The Vegan Studies Project. I have greatly benefited from my friendship with Laura and learning her views on veganism.

I have added recipes from talented recipe developers, including Jon Dunn, Silke Feltz, Kaleta Doolin, Rae Sikora, and the late Shirley Wilkes-Johnson, and am in their debt for the sense of abundance I felt from foods I have enjoyed with them.

As always, my family has been source of inspiration and support, and I thank Douglas, Benjamin, Kelly, Marianne; my sisters Nancy and Jane; and Bruce for the joy of being on this path with them.

Notes

here. The epigraph to the book is from Mary Midgley, Animals and Why They Matter (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1983), p. 27.

here. Bryant Terry, Afro-Vegan: Farm-Fresh African, Caribbean, and Southern Flavors Remixed (A Cookbook) (Berkeley, CA: Ten Speed Press, 2014), p. 4.

here. A 2016 Pew Research Report found that 3 percent of Americans identified as vegans or vegetarians, while 8 percent of African Americans did. This statistic and others that confirm this report were summarized in 2020 by Laura Reiley’s “The fastest-growing vegan demographic is African Americans. Wu-Tang Clan and other hip-hop acts paved the way.” https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2020/01/24/fastest-growing-vegan-demographic-is-african-americans-wu-tang-clan-other-hip-hop-acts-paved-way/.

here. It was Waitrose editor William Sitwell who joked about killing vegans. See Jim Waterson, “Waitrose Magazine Editor Quits after Joke about Killing Vegans,” The Guardian, October 31, 2018, https://www.theguardian.com/business/2018/oct/31/waitrose-magazine-editor-william-sitwell-steps-down-over-email-mocking-vegans.

here. About the anti-vegan dead-squirrel-eating protest, see for instance, “Squirrel-Eating Men at Soho Vegan Food Stall Fined,” https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-london-49084466.

here. Matthew Cole and Karen Morgan, “Vegaphobia: Derogatory Discourses of Veganism and the Reproduction of Speciesism in UK National Newspapers,” The British Journal of Sociology 62, no. 1 (2011): 134–53.

here. Cara C. MacInnis and Gordon Hodson, “It Ain’t Easy Eating Greens: Evidence of Bias toward Vegetarians and Vegans from Both Source and Target,” Group Processes & Intergroup Relations 20, no. 6 (November 2017): 721–44. https://doi.org/10.1177/1368430215618253.

here. Richard Twine, “Negotiating Social Relationships in the Transition to Vegan Eating Practices,” in Meat Culture, ed. Annie Potts (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2016), 243–63.

here. Elizabeth Costello is introduced to us in 1999 in J. M Coetzee’s The Lives of Animals (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press).

here–here. David Foster Wallace, “Consider the Lobster,” Gourmet Magazine, 2004 and reprinted in Consider the Lobster and Other Essays (New York: Little Brown, 2005), p. 253.

here. Erik H. Erikson, Gandhi’s Truth: On the Origins of Militant Nonviolence (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1969), p. 142. (Language has been made inclusive.)

here. The discussion of accusations on pp. 46–48 and “How very kind of them. I am deeply touched” draws upon Suzette Haden Elgin’s The Gentle Art of Verbal Self Defense (New York: Barnes and Noble, Inc., 1980, 1993), and specifically, p. 112.

here. Sharon Salzberg, Loving-Kindness: The Revolutionary Art of Happiness (Boston and London: Shambhala, 1997), p. 52.

here. Only 5 percent of all animals are killed by other animals. Ninety-five percent of all animals die from old age, sickness, exhaustion, hunger, thirst, changing climates, and so on, and not by bloodshed. See Stephen Lackner, Peaceable Nature: An Optimistic View of the Life on Earth (New York: Harper & Row, 1984).

here. The quotation from The Sexual Politics of Meat: A Feminist-Vegetarian Critical Theory (London and New York: Bloomsbury, 2015) is found on pp. 74–75.

here–here. This is my variation of Suzette Elgin’s analysis in The Gentle Art of Verbal Self-Defense, p. 66:

   “You don’t care about ‘X.’”

   “You should care about ‘X.’”

   “You are rotten not to care about ‘X.’”

Elgin’s work is the base from which I have constructed my understanding of what is happening in verbal resistance tactics.

here. “Chefs are not known for their small egos.” Ken Haedrich, Feeding the Healthy Vegetarian Family (New York: Bantam, 1998), p. 152.

here. A description of John Suler’s work on online disinhibition can be found at https://www.learning-theories.com/online-disinhibition-effect-suler.html.

here. Laura Wright, The Vegan Studies Project (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2015).

here. Aph and Syl Ko, Aphro-ism: Essays on Pop Culture, Feminism, and Black Veganism from Two Sisters (New York: Lantern Publishing, 2017).

here. Esme Carr’s quote can be found at https://esmecarr.com/about/.

here. Christoper Sebastian on the role of Black consumers can be found at https://www.instagram.com/p/CE4MkflpefA/?utm_medium=copy_link.

here. Christoper Sebastian on the power of experiencing vegans of color online, interview November 2021.

here. Tim Wu discusses the rise of the attention merchants in a book by that title, The Attention Merchants: The Epic Scramble to Get Inside Our Heads (New York: Knopf, 2016).

here. Christopher Sebastian on clickbait can be found in his Instagram presentation, “All About Clickbait,” https://www.instagram.com/p/CGSgP7tpum1/?utm_medium=copy_link. Additonal comments were made during a discussion with me in November 2021.

here. Christopher Sebastian, “Vegan Media Studies: Black Twitter Edition,” https://www.instagram.com/p/CE4MkflpefA/?utm_medium=copy_link.

here. On engagement rate, I am drawing from Christopher Sebastian on Instagram, “Instagram for Activism.”

here. Richard Twine, “Negotiating Social Relationships in the Transition to Vegan Eating Practices,” in Meat Culture, ed. Annie Potts (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2017), 243–63.

here. “Know thy guest.” Virginia and Mark Messina, The Vegetarian Way, New York: Crown Trade Paperbacks, 1996.

here. Information on James Cameron’s “Rose” draws from the obituary of Beatrice Wood by Roberta Smith in the New York Times, March 14, 1998.

here. For the discussion of Joseph Campbell in The Sexual Politics of Meat, see p. 180.

Index

Absent referent here, here

Abundance here, here–here, here–here, here, here

and eating with meat eaters here, here–here, here, here, here

and recipes here, here

and sabotage here–here

spirit of here–here

tips for ensuring here–here

Action here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here

Afro-diasporic food here

Afro-Vegan Society here

Airlines here, here

Alchemy of meals here, here–here

Anger

and being at peace here–here

and blocked vegetarians here, here, here

and eating with meat eaters here, here

and hole in conscience here, here

overview about here–here

and relationship between vegetarians and meat eaters here–here

responses to here–here, here, here

role of here–here

and shoulda here–here

and vegetarian as issue here–here

Animal agriculture here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here

Animal rights here, here, here, here–here, here–here

Animal suffering/death. See Death/suffering

Apocalyptical thinking here

Appetizers here, here–here, here–here, here

Apps here, here, here

Aquafaba here, here

Archer Daniels Midland Company here

Artificial familiarity here

Ascetic Vegetarian here, here, here

Attention here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here

Avoidance here, here, here, here, here, here

Awareness

attention following here–here, here

and control here, here, here

and cooking for meat here, here–here

eaters here

and eating with meat eaters here–here

and flow here–here

and guidelines for living with meat eaters here–here

and hole in conscience here, here–here

and judgment, guilt, and anger here, here

and sabotage here

Baked goods here–here

Bambi vegetarians here–here

Barbecue sauce (recipe) here, here–here

Béchamel Sauce (recipe) here, here, here, here

Behymer, Krista here

Being at peace here, here, here, here

and being prepared here–here

and blocked vegetarians here, here

and control here, here, here, here

and culture here, here, here, here, here, here

and fear here–here

and journey of vegetarians here–here, here, here, here

and living with meat eaters here, here

and martyrdom here–here

overview about here–here

and power here, here, here

and scarcity here–here

and self-care here–here

and strangers here, here–here

and survival tips here–here

and vegetarians as threats here–here

Being mover, not moved here–here

Being prepared here, here, here

and being at peace here, here, here, here

and blocked vegetarians here, here

and eating with meat eaters here–here

and talking with meat eaters here, here, here

Ben’s Favorite Salad Dressing (recipe) here

Bergeron, Ken here, here

The Best Scone Recipe in the World (recipe) here–here

Biscuits (recipe) here–here, here

Blackberry Cobbler (recipe) here–here

Black Vegans Rock (website) here

Blame here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here

Blocked vegetarians here–here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here

and being at peace here, here

and being mover, not moved here–here, here

and being prepared here

and blocking force here, here–here

and collisions between vegetarians and meat eaters here

and cooking for meat eaters here

and culture here

encountering here–here

and guilt here–here

and hole in conscience here, here, here–here

and how meat eaters get blocked here–here

and judgment, guilt, and anger here–here, here–here, here, here

and living with meat eaters here, here

and meat eaters’ explanation of vegetarian diet here, here

reasons for staying here

and relationship between vegetarian and meat eater here, here, here

and sabotage here, here

signs of here–here

systemic approach to here–here

and talking with meat eaters here, here, here

vegetarians as threats to here–here

Bloodroot Collective here

Body language here, here, here

Bottom line here, here, here, here–here, here, here, here

and dating meat eaters here–here

and living with meat eaters here–here

Boundary-Keeping Saboteur here–here

Boyd, Billy Ray here

Breakfast here, here, here–here, here

Breitman, Patti here, here, here, here

Bring your own food (BYOF) here, here, here

Burgers (recipe) here

Business lunches here–here

Cakes, recipe for here

Cameron, James here

Campbell, Joseph here

caring here, here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here

“Caring saboteurs” here–here

Change

and being mover, not moved here–here

and cooking for meat eaters here, here, here, here, here

and family system here–here

and hole in conscience here, here–here

and judgment, guilt, and anger here–here, here–here

and living with meat eaters here, here, here, here

and sabotage here

saboteurs as most likely to here, here

types of here

Chaos/chaos effect here–here, here–here

Charcuterie (recipe) here–here

Cheddar Spinach Scones (recipe) here–here

Cheddary Cheese Soup (recipe) here–here

Cheese here–here, here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here, here

Cheese baked in phyllo (recipe) here–here

Child, Julia here

children here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here, here, here–here, here

Chili (recipe) here–here

Chinese dumplings (recipe) here

Chocolate chip scones (recipe) here–here

Chocolate cream pie (recipe) here, here–here

Clickbait here, here

Climate change here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here

Cobbler here, here–here

Colonization here–here

Comfort foods here, here, here, here, here, here, here

Comforting Mashed Potatoes (recipe) here

Comforting Spinach Soup (recipe) here–here

Communication here, here, here, here, here, here, here

nonverbal here

See also Conversations

Company perks here

Compromise here, here, here, here, here, here, here

Conflict

displaced here

and living with meat eaters here, here, here, here

meat eaters’ internal here

types of here, here

See also Anger; Confrontation; Disagreeing

Confrontation here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here

See also Conflict

“Consider the Lobster” here

Control

and awareness here–here, here, here

and being at peace here, here

and blocked vegetarians here, here, here, here

of conversations here, here, here

and cooking for meat eaters here, here, here

and eating with meat eaters here, here, here, here, here, here–here

and hole in conscience here, here, here, here, here

and living with meat eaters here, here, here, here, here, here

and sabotage here–here, here

and talking with meat eaters here, here, here, here

and workplace interactions here–here

Conversations

among equals here–here

and artificial familiarity here

being prepared in here, here

and body language here–here

control of here, here, here, here

facts in here–here

and hearing meat eater’s story here–here

one-liners in here–here

predator in here–here

pulse of here, here–here

questions in here–here

and right brain–left brain divide here–here

and rules for talking with meat eaters here–here, here

and speaking literally here–here

stopping here–here

strategies for here

talk vegan to me here

thermometer for here–here

tone of here

and translating foreign language here

vegetarian–meat eater divide in here–here

and vegetarians as threats here

“whataboutisms” here

“winning” here

Conversions here, here, here, here, here, here

Cooking and alchemy of meals here–here

and being mover, not moved here

children’s help with here–here

and eating the menu, not the meal here–here

everyday here–here

and fears here–here

and food as uniting element here, here

and kitchens here–here

and living with meat eaters here, here, here–here

meditative qualities of here

and not calling attention to vegetarianism here–here

overview about here–here

and problem between vegetarians and meat eaters here

recipes for here–here

as renewal here

and show, don’t tell here–here

stages of here–here

as survival tactic here

tips for here–here

and vegetarians as threats here

Coulda here, here, here

Covid-19 pandemic here, here, here

Crisped Creamy Tofii (recipe) here–here

Crock Cheese, Rae Sikora’s here, here, here

Culture

and being at peace here

and being mover, not moved here, here

and blocked vegetarians here, here

and eating with meat eaters here, here

and hole in conscience here, here, here, here

and prevalence of meat eaters here

and sabotage here, here

and talking with meat eaters here, here

Dairy industry here

Dating here–here

Davis, Karen here

Deadening/dead-ending here

Death/suffering

and being mover, not moved here

and blocked vegetarians here

and hole in conscience here, here, here, here–here

and judgment, guilt, and anger here, here

martyrdom as mini-, here

and sabotage here, here, here

and talking with meat eaters here, here, here–here, here

Decolonize here

Defensiveness

and blocking force here–here

and cooking for meat eaters here, here, here

and Hitler questions here–here

and hole in conscience here, here, here

and judgment, guilt, and anger here, here, here, here, here

and living with meat eaters here, here, here, here

one-liners to here–here

and pet peeves of vegetarians here–here

and relationship between vegetarian and meat eater here

and sabotage here–here

and stopping conversations here–here

and talking with meat eaters here, here, here, here, here, here

Denial here, here, here, here

Deprivation factor here

See also Scarcity

Desserts here–here

Detachment here, here, here

Didn’t here–here

Digital age here, here–here

Diluter, as saboteur here

Dining out here, here–here

Disagreeing, art of here–here

Disinhibtion

benign here

toxic here

Divide

right brain-left brain here–here

vegetarian-meat eater here–here

Dominance and Control Saboteur here–here, here

Doolin, Kaleta here, here

Dressing, for potstickers (recipe) here

Dressing, salad, recipes for here–here

Dunn, Jon here, here–here, here

EarthSave here

“Eating out loud” here–here

Eating the menu, not the meal here, here–here

Eating with meat eaters

and abundance here, here–here, here, here

and being prepared here, here

and chaos/chaos effect here–here, here–here

and dining out here, here–here, here–here

and getting your kind of food here–here

and planning ahead here–here

and ritual function of meals here–here

rules for here, here

stories about here

who are eating meat here–here

and workplace interactions here–here

Egocentric views here

Ener-G Egg Replacer here

Energy here, here, here, here

and hole in conscience here–here, here

and judgment, guilt, and anger here, here, here, here

and living with meat eaters here

and sabotage here, here, here, here

See also Negativity

Erikson, Erik here, here

Eurocentric views here

“Everybody Knows” here–here

Everyday cooking here–here

Expectations here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here

Facts, in talking with meat eaters here–here

“False allies” here

Family system here–here, here

Fear

and being at peace here–here, here, here

and being mover, not moved here–here

and cooking for meat eaters here–here, here, here

and hole in conscience here, here, here

and sabotage here, here, here

Feltz, Silke here, here

Feta-Ricotta here–here

Flow here, here, here, here, here, here, here

Flow and Control Chart here

Food Empowerment Project here, here

Food groups here

Food poisoning here, here

“Freak” Vegetarian here, here

Frosting, recipe for here

Frustrations here–here, here, here–here, here, here

Gandhi, M., here

Gazpacho (recipe) here, here

Gender issues here

Gestalt shift here, here, here, here, here, here

Gingerbread (recipe) here–here

Gravy, Southern Style (recipe) here–here

Guidelines. See Rules/guidelines

Guilt

of blocked vegetarians here, here–here

and hole in conscience here, here

and living with meat eaters here, here, here, here, here–here

manipulative here

overview about here–here

and relationship between vegetarian and meat eater here

role of here–here

and shoulda here–here

and vegetarian as issue here–here

Gunda (film) here

Haedrich, Ken here, here

Hamlin, Amie here

Happy Cow here, here

Headley, Brooks here

Health issues here, here

Hitler, Adolf here

Hole in conscience here, here

and awareness here–here, here, here

and blocked vegetarians here, here, here–here, here, here, here

and change here, here, here–here, here, here

and classification of vegetarians here–here

collective here

and culture here–here, here, here

and “Everybody Knows” here–here

and judgment, guilt, and anger here, here, here, here, here, here

and meat eaters’ explanation of vegetarian diet here–here

overview about here–here

and vegetarians as threats here–here

Holidays here–here, here, here

See also Thanksgiving

Holier-Than-Thou Vegetarian here–here

Hostile Saboteur here–here, here

Hot buttons here

Hot Peanut Sauce (recipe) here–here

Hunt, Mary here, here, here

Ignoring comments here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here

Incompatibility issues here, here, here, here

Incubation time here

Information, giving of here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here

Internet here, here

Intimacy here, here

Jackfruit here

Jaws (film) here

Jobs/workplace here–here

Journals here, here, here

Journey of vegetarians here

Judgment here, here, here, here

and blocked vegetarians here, here, here, here, here

and hole in conscience here, here, here, here

and living with meat eaters here, here

overview about here–here

and relationship between vegetarian and meat eater here

and vegetarian as issue here–here

Jurassic Park (film) here, here, here

Kale Soup (recipe) here

Kitchens here–here

Ko, Aph here

Ko, Syl here

Korean Vegan here, here, here, here

Labeling here, here

Life, and being mover, not moved here–here

Listening here, here, here, here, here

Living with meat eaters

and being at peace here, here

and blocked vegetarians here, here, here, here, here

and bottom line here–here, here, here, here, here

and change here, here–here, here, here

and children here–here

and communication here, here, here

and compromise here, here, here, here, here, here

and conflict here–here

and cooking for meat eaters here–here, here

and defensiveness here, here, here, here

and family system here–here

and guilt here, here, here, here, here–here

and judgment here, here

and kitchens here–here

and love here, here–here

and partners here–here

pressure points in here–here

and prioritizing issues here–here

and rejection here, here, here

and resistance here–here, here

rules/guidelines for here–here

and sabotage here, here

stories about here

and vegetarians as threats here–here, here

and verbal tactics here–here

See also Relationships

Locavores here

Love here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here

“Loyalty test” here–here, here

Lunches

business here–here

Main dishes here–here

Mandoe, Bonnie here

Martyrdom here–here

Mary’s Mushroom Sauce (recipe) here–here

Meals, ritual function of here–here

Meat eaters

classification of vegetarians by here–here

collisions between vegetarians and here–here

connection between vegetarians and here, here, here

and explanations for eating meat here–here

incubation time for here

internal arguments of here, here, here, here

and nonawareness of what they are eating here–here, here

pet peeves about here–here

as potential vegetarians here–here

prevalence of here

problem between vegetarians and here–here

See also specific topic

“Meat thrusters” here, here

Meditation here, here

Messina, Mark here, here, here

Messina, Virgina here, here, here, here, here

Midgley, Mary here, here

Miso here

Miso Mayonnaise (recipe) here

Mitchell, Terri here, here

Miyoko’s here–here

Molinaro, Joanne Lee here

Mushroom Cobbler (recipe) here–here

Mushroom Sauce (recipe) here–here, here–here

Neat Loaf (recipe) here–here

needs here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here, here, here

negativity here, here–here

negotiation here, here, here, here

neophobes here

noodles (recipe) here

noodles, as ingredient here, here, here, here

Norton, Reggi here

“No thank you” here, here, here, here–here

nutritional yeast flakes here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here

Nutty Cabbage Salad (recipe) here, here–here

Obtazada (recipe) here–here

Okja (film) here

olive oil here–here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here–here, here

one-liners here–here, here, here, here

Online community here–here, here–here

Papaya Seed Dressing (recipe) here–here

Parents here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here–here, here, here–here, here

Pasta here, here, here, here, here, here, here

pasta with peanut sauce (recipe) here–here

peanut sauce (recipe) here–here, here

Peppedrige Farm here

Pesto (recipe) here, here

PETA, here, here

pet peeves here–here, here

Phobic Vegetarian here–here

Pie, chocolate cream (recipe) here–here

Pita Crisps (recipe) here

Pizza here–here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here

planning ahead here, here, here

plants, suffering of here

Potstickers (recipe) here–here

Power

and being at peace here, here

and eating with meat eaters here, here

and living with meat eaters here–here, here

in workplace here

Predator in conversations here–here

Price, Simon here

Priorities here, here–here

Psychological issue

food-related concerns as here

puff pastry here, here

Puritan vegetarian here–here, here

Questions here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here, here

Quick Dip (recipe) here–here

Quick “Do Not Stir” Blackberry Cobbler (recipe) here–here

Randour, Mary Lou here

Raymond, Jennifer here, here, here, here

Recipes here–here, here, here, here, here

and being at peace here, here

interacting with here

overview about here–here

veganizing here

See also specific recipe or type of recipe

Reflection here, here–here, here, here, here

Rejection here, here, here, here, here

Relationships

and being at peace here, here

and being mover, not moved here, here

and cooking for meat eaters here, here–here

and living with meat eaters here–here

Resistance here, here, here, here–here, here, here, here

Respect here, here, here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here

Retrograde humanism here

Rich Shiitake Mushroom Sauce (recipe) here–here

Rilke, Rainer Maria here

Roasted Vegetables with Garlic and Fennel Seeds (recipe) here–here

Robertson, Laurel here

Rose, Marla here, here

Rules/guidelines

for eating with meat eaters here

for living with meat eaters here–here

for talking with meat eaters here–here

Sabotage

and abundance/scarcity here–here

and blocked vegetarians here

and classification of saboteurs here–here

and defensiveness here, here, here

and fear here–here

and living with meat eaters here, here

and negativity here, here, here, here

overview about here–here

and personal space here–here

reasons for here–here

and saboteurs as possible converts here

and vegetarians as threats here, here, here

what is here–here

in workplace here

Salad here–here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here

Salzberg, Sharon here

Sass, Lorna here

Satir, Virginia here

Sauce

and cooking for meat eaters here, here

recipes for here–here, here, here

“Scanner” here

Scarcity here, here

and being at peace here–here

and eating with meat eaters here, here–here

fear of here–here

and martyrdom here–here

and sabotage here–here

School cafeterias here

Scones, recipe for here–here

Scrambled here

Sebastian, Christopher here, here–here, here

Seitan here–here, here, here

Self-assessment here

Self-care here–here, here

Self-deception here, here

Sending dishes back here

Sexuality here–here

Shame here, here, here, here, here

Shepherd’s Pie (recipe) here, here–here

Shopping for meat eaters here, here

Shoulda here–here, here

See also Guilt

Show, don’t tell here, here, here–here

Side dishes here–here

Singsongkham, Saeng here

Sizer, Michael here, here

Slaughterhouse protests here

Social media here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here, here, here

Solipsistic Introjection here

Soups

and cooking for meat eaters here, here, here

recipes for here, here–here

Soy “Buttermilk” Biscuits (recipe) here

Space, personal here–here, here, here, here

Spaniel, Annette here, here

Speaking literally here–here

Spectrum Spread here

Spinach soup here–here, here–here, here

Squash Sauce (recipe) here–here

Stahler, Charles here

Stealing food here–here

Stepaniak, Joanne here, here

Strangers, and being at peace here, here–here, here

Strawberry Shortcake (recipe) here, here

Sucanat here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here

Suler, John here, here

Superego here–here, here, here

Survival here, here, here

and being at peace here–here, here–here

and pet peeves of vegetarians here–here

and self-care here–here

and strangers here–here

in workplace here–here

Survival bag here

Survival strategies

conversations here

meals here, here, here

online here–here

Sweet Potato Soup with Peanut Butter (recipe) here–here

Tahini Sauce (recipe) here, here–here

Talking with meat eaters

and problem between vegetarians and meat eaters here–here

rules/guidelines for here–here

See also Conversations; specific topic

Tamari here, here, here, here–here, here, here–here, here, here, here

Tasty Tofu (recipe) here, here, here

Team building here–here

Teenagers, and sabotage here

Tempeh here, here, here, here, here

Tempeh Salad Sandwich (recipe) here–here

Terry, Bryant here, here, here

Texturized vegetable protein (TVP) here, here, here, here

Thanksgiving here, here, here, here, here, here, here

Thermometer, conversational here–here

Thomas, Anna here, here, here

Threats, vegetarians as here, here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here, here

to blocked vegetarians here–here, here

and hole in conscience here–here

and living with meat eaters here, here, here

and sabotage here–here, here, here

and talking with meat eaters here

Titanic (film) here

Tofu here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here

Tofu Cubes (recipe) here–here, here

Tofu Recipes

Crisped, Creamy Tofu here, here–here

Cubes here–here

Feta/Ricotta here

Golden Fried here

Scrambled here

Steaks here–here

Tasty here

Tokarczuk, Olga here

Tortillas here

Traveling here, here, here, here, here

Trust here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here–here, here–here, here, here, here

TVP (texturized vegetable protein) here, here, here, here

Twine, Richard here here

Umami here, here

Urschel, Martin here, here, here

Vegan

cheese here, here–here, here, here, here, here

dating apps here

groups here, here, here, here, here

Veganism, reasons for here, here, here

Vegan margarine here, here, here, here

“Vegan police” here

Vegans of color here, here–here

Veganuary here

Vegetables

and cooking for meat eaters here–here

See also specific vegetable or recipe

“Vegetarian” Saboteur here

Vegetarians/vegetarianism

collisions between meat eaters and here–here

connection between meat eaters and here, here

dating other here–here

as gift here, here, here

images of here

journey of here–here, here, here

maturity of here

meat eaters’ classification of here–here

meeting other here

pet peeves of here–here

power of here, here, here, here, here

problem between meat eaters and here–here, here, here, here, here, here

reasons for being here, here, here, here, here–here, here, here, here, here

survival tips for here, here

values undergirding here

vegetarian vote here

Veguary here

Verbal tactics here–here

VivaVeggie Society here

Wagner, Martha here

Wallace, David Foster here

Walnut Balls Béchamel (recipe) here, here–here

Watts, Alan here

Willful young people-elderly man story here–here

Wood, Beatrice here

Worcestershire sauce here–here, here

Wright, Laura here, here, here

BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC

Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK

1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA

29 Earlsfort Terrace, Dublin 2, Ireland

BLOOMSBURY, BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

First published by Three Rivers Press in 2001

This edition published 2023

Copyright © Carol J. Adams, 2001, 2009, 2023

Carol J. Adams has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work.

For legal purposes the Acknowledgements on p. 255 constitute an extension of this copyright page.

The recipes “Rae Sikora’s Crock Cheese” on page 206 and “Texas Chocolate Sheet Cake” on page 250 were reproduced from Never Too Late to Go Vegan by Carol J. Adams, Patti Breitman, and Virginia Messina. Copyright © 2014. Reprinted by permission of the publisher, The Experiment, LLC.

“Vegan with a Few Tweaks—How to Veganize (Almost) Anything” from Protest Kitchen © Carol J. Adams and Virginia Messina, used with permission from Red Wheel/Weiser, LLC Newburyport, MA.www.redwheelweiser.com

Cover design: Ben Anslow

Cover image: 3d Tyrannosaurus rex render on white background stock photo (© digitalgenetics / Getty Images)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers.

Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

ISBN: PB: 978-1-3502-9029-7

ePDF: 978-1-3502-9031-0

eBook: 978-1-3502-9030-3

Series: Bloomsbury Revelations

Typeset by Deanta Global Publishing Services, Chennai, India

To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters.