In April 2006, I found myself at my dream job. I had converted to vegetarianism right after graduation, and after two years of service at a Detroit charter school, I was about to put my college degree to use by pushing vegetarian ideals.
PETA hired me as their Urban Marketing Coordinator, and I packed my Motown bags to settle closer to the ocean. Norfolk, Virginia, was to be my new home. My job at PETA was clear: take PETAWorld, the urban campaign that had been all but swept aside, and bring it to life. I was hired as the sole writer, marketing guru, and human link between PETA and the urban community at large.
Initially, I embraced my position. I was shuffled to different events to educate people about animal-rights issues from the Black and hip-hop perspective. I pushed literature in Los Angeles and New York City, from Detroit to Atlanta, all the while dodging open hostility. However, those challenges also began to present themselves loud and strong in my inbox, and it became difficult—given my natural desire to want to educate—to ignore.
Almost daily, I was verbally reprimanded by members of my own community for holding my position. I'm Black, and with all the discrimination that my mothers and I have endured and continue to suffer, how dare I spend my days standing up for animals? Furthermore, how dare I campaign against the diets of our foremothers and forefathers? These were among the less subtle taunts. Others insisted that PETA is a terrorist organization or an extremist group out to obliterate all traditional practices. The emails that fit within the latter bunch were much less annoying.
When I decided to adopt a vegetarian diet, the idea struck quickly and effectively. I'd picked up a PETA leaflet in a restaurant after devouring a delicious fish sandwich, had looked at my sister, and confidently had told her that I wouldn't be eating any more poultry or seafood (I'd given up red meat two years prior). Admittedly, I indulged in a spoonful of my momma's turkey chili a few weeks later, but the hurtful images from the leaflet were replaying in my mind like a perpetual slideshow. That was my last taste.
I gave up meat for one clear reason: animals in factory farms are treated despicably. The conditions they have to live in resemble nothing that nature intended for them. Most chickens in factory farms will never touch a blade of grass, breathe fresh air, or enjoy fresh water. Spiritually, I couldn't support a system that treated any living being with such disregard. Taking the job at PETA was an opportunity for me to work a standard nine-to-five job, make decent money, experience life away from my hometown, and work toward a cause I believed in.
My decision to spend my days working toward animal liberation wasn't a calculated one. Furthermore, I never imagined that I would have to defend it. I couldn't fathom being attacked for my career choice or my sociopolitical beliefs because I had chosen to stand up for animals rather than being a human rights activist. The fact that very few people could actually grasp the concept of PETA being a place of employment and not a cultlike institution was ridiculous to me. Each workday, I rose at eight in the morning, got dressed, and then would lazily walk to my desk just like a very large portion of the American population. However, my mission was one that people are rarely introduced to and that is less frequently spoken about in public forums. Besides, my induction to the world of animal rights was guided by a simple leaflet left on the windowsill of a quaint diner.
The unsolicited scoffs from people who questioned my allegiance to my race begged the questions: Do people chastise veterinarians for choosing to cure and aid animals versus the numbers of sickly people? Does the Humane Society receive threats from people demanding that they shelter humans versus nonhuman animals? This is all very doubtful. But PETA's vibrant and boisterous bravado attracts those who would rather ignore or be ignorant of our treatment of animals. The fact remains that for every injustice, there will be an organization in strong opposition to that injustice.
Because I was attracted to a vegan lifestyle due to industry practices that I hope will soon end, it was also necessary for me to educate myself about the health benefits of abstaining from consuming animal products in order to ensure a solid commitment. The diets of my foremothers and forefathers kept bellies full in a time when opportunity to maintain a healthy lifestyle was extremely limited. In many low-income areas, they still do. Beyond lacking adequate healthcare, if you're not in the desired tax bracket, quality food is not easily accessible or affordable. This perpetual cycle keeps the community down, stricken with high cholesterol, obesity, and suffering from conditions that could easily be avoided. What better way to destroy a people than to keep them in lackluster physical condition?
With this knowledge, I was ready to take PETAWorld on with a passion. I was prepared and excited to teach my people about healthy eating and how to avoid the ailments that are prevalent among the Black community.
I updated the website with a bevy of health-related information and constantly brainstormed new ways to introduce the concepts of veganism and vegetarianism to people who were engulfed within a culture of Soul Food. In understanding that PETA's overall mission was to help animals, I made sure to reference how an improved diet could alleviate the pain and suffering of factory-farmed animals. My goal was to be sure that everyone came out on top and that people were aware that the choices they made concerning their diets were a huge benefit to themselves, as well as animals who needlessly suffer in the name of our tastebuds.
Unfortunately, after a few months, I found that PETA wasn't as concerned with helping Black folks overcome our health issues than they were about getting us to stop wearing mink coats or promoting dog-fighting. Apparently, Black folks wearing furs to the club was more of a problem than the health problems that plague us. In marketing meetings, there was a constant discussion about how to make fur “less hip,” which celebrities to approach, and how we could come across as more “urban.” After repeatedly being ignored when I mentioned tackling issues that were more pressing, I knew that my time with PETA was running out. This was not how I wanted to make a difference.
I am all too aware of the growing health disparities in the African-American community. While there is a disproportionate number of fast-food chains and liquor stores in neighborhoods where low- to middle-income families reside, the lack of health care and adequate insurance is even more alarming. Ongoing discussions about fur, among other albeit horrible animal atrocities, were taking away from relevant issues that would have made PETA more approachable to the Black community I'd been hired to represent. Even when PETA did take the initiative to address vegetarian issues and the benefits of adopting a vegetarian diet, they opted for shock tactics that didn't directly address the health issues of the community they were trying so badly to reach.
After a trip to Atlanta, during which I was reluctant to approach artists at a hip-hop film festival and reel off facts about animal mistreatment and disgusting them with some harsh realities in what I deemed an inappropriate venue, I was fired. It was November, seven months after my big move, and only six months after I'd settled into an apartment.
The truth is, PETA will exist as long as animal abuse exists. They have a knack for what they do: creating a media frenzy to bring attention to the animal injustice of the moment. Who's going to care if an animal is purposely drowned, hanged, or electrocuted while conscious unless someone makes a lot of noise about it? Although I harbor a little resentment toward PETA, the largest and most effective animal-rights organization in the world, I have to give kudos where kudos is due. In spite of the attention-whore tactics of their marketing and communications department, there are a host of people there, all nine-to-fivers, who help animals daily in a multitude of ways and make people happier and healthier in the process.