Explaining the V-Word to Family, Friends, and Yourself
Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but . . . life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.
—Gabriel García Márquez
I magine this:
You’re a new vegan—excited, proud, awake. You skip over to a family member or friend and say, “I love you so much, and I know you love me, which is why I know you’ll be thrilled when I tell you I’m now . . . vegan.” Your parent (or spouse, sibling, or friend) grabs your hand, does a little jig, and says, “Fantastic! Then I’ll be vegan too!” You hug, prepare a kale salad, and make plans to volunteer at an animal sanctuary the next day.
That’s usually how it plays out, right? No? Okay, well then, how about this:
You casually announce to your friends and family you’re vegan; they roll their eyes and say, “Oh no! Please don’t be that kind of vegan.” You backpedal and tell them of course you’re not and you insist that you don’t expect anyone to accommodate you. You bring your own food wherever you go, downplay your new lifestyle, and dismiss any questions about your diet by saying it’s just a personal choice. Everyone feels relieved, and you never really speak of it again.
No? How about this:
You worry for months about how to “break the news” to your family. You avoid talking about it at work until you’re finally forced to admit it at a networking luncheon where there’s nothing for you to eat. You endure jokes about animals being tasty and quips about vegans being unhealthy; you feel attacked, start avoiding certain colleagues, and begin eating alone. When you finally tell your family and friends you’re vegan, you brace yourself for the worst, and your fears are realized when your mother asks how you could do this to her and what is she supposed to feed you now. Friends begin sending you articles about how soybeans cause cancer, and acquaintances point out your hypocrisy for still wearing leather shoes. You feel alone, dejected, and resentful; you feel like a pariah among your peers.
Of course, your exact experience may not be perfectly reflected in any of these scenarios, but perhaps there are elements you can relate to in each. Sometimes the reaction of the nonvegans you come out to is very supportive and affirming, or they sheepishly confess that they eat meat but love animals, opening the door for conversation and camaraderie. But reactions can also range from silence and dismissiveness to defensiveness and hostility to passive-aggressiveness and insensitivity. A vegan doesn’t even have to do anything but show up or simply say “I’m vegan” to garner negative responses. And at this stage, we’re still raw, vulnerable, and susceptible to attack, so those reactions can really hurt. We’ve let our guard down, but we haven’t yet developed a thick skin.
The point is that coming out vegan—telling your nonvegan friends and relatives you’re vegan—carries a little more weight than telling them you’re changing your hairstyle. Friends and family members don’t always respond the way we hope, and new vegans are often surprised by negative reactions they receive. Parents may take it personally and see your veganism as an act of selfishness or as a rejection of them. Friends, neighbors, and acquaintances may grill you with gotcha questions. Colleagues and coworkers may challenge you to defend veganism in the context of the history of the world and the evolution of our species, and complete strangers may argue with your reasoning and question your choices. Vegans get the sense pretty quickly that nonvegans wish they would just shut up, go away, and keep their veganism to themselves.
Just a small taste of such reactions may send you running and, indeed, they can shake up even the most stalwart and principled among us. Afraid to rock the boat or call attention to themselves, some people give up entirely and return to eating animal products; some retreat deep into the vegan closet, reluctant to emerge lest they be attacked, judged, or ridiculed, and some wish they had never said anything at all for all the trouble and turbulence it causes. Many who encounter hostility upon telling people they’re vegan eventually avoid using the V-word altogether, because they’re afraid of the reaction they’ll get—a coping mechanism that sociologist Erving Goffman called “defensive cowering.”1 In his seminal work on socially stigmatized individuals, Goffman found that one of the ways people protect their identities when they deviate from societal norms is by downplaying the identity that is considered deviant. Although Goffman never explicitly referred to vegans in his work, many parallels can be drawn between the social experiences of the subjects he studied (those considered “deviant” by society’s standards) and the typical reactions of vegans in social contexts. Feeling the need to hide such a significant aspect of ourselves can lead to further isolation, depression, social anxiety, and self-consciousness—increasing the likelihood of vegans becoming ex-vegans.
Now, coming out vegan doesn’t necessarily mean you have to go around wearing a neon sign that says VEGAN (unless you want to). If you never tell another soul you’re vegan (or vegetarian or plant-based or animal-product-free or however you choose to identify), that doesn’t make you any less vegan, but my hope is that you feel proud, stand tall, and speak truth in your vegan shoes without the fear of being judged or the pressure to be perfect. You don’t have to announce to the world that you’re vegan, but you also shouldn’t feel ashamed or apologetic about it or deny or downplay who you are and what you care about.
The process of coming out vegan also isn’t meant to imply that you were once closeted, oppressed, or stigmatized; it’s as much a celebration as it is a revelation of your identity and values. As we discussed in chapter two, new vegans especially tend to feel a sense of peace, a newfound energy, and an overall feeling of relief. Exhilarated by what feels like a rebirth or at least a life-altering awakening, they can hardly contain the joy that comes with living in alignment with their deepest values or experiencing renewed health, and they can’t imagine anyone seeing anything negative about their decision. Generally speaking, becoming vegan is a positive experience—mentally, emotionally, and physically—and new vegans are genuinely excited to share their enthusiasm with others, especially the people they’re closest to. Although some vegans do closet themselves because they’re uncomfortable calling attention to themselves, coming out vegan doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve been hiding. It means completely owning who you are—unabashedly and unapologetically. Originally from the world of debutante balls in which young women are presented to society, “coming out” is an apt term to use for our purposes to characterize the celebration of self-actualization.
Before we can come out publicly, we need to take time to define as well as claim our new vegan identity privately.
That is to say, coming out is a process that is personal as well as social, and I think many vegans overlook the private work required to move from personal awakening to public revelation. What often gets neglected is the need for self-acceptance and self-compassion. Before we can come out publicly, we need to take time to define as well as claim our new vegan identity privately. There are vegans who say they don’t want to call themselves “vegan” because they don’t want to be typecast as that kind of vegan—militant, judgmental, angry, or fill-in-the-blank stereotype. There are people who call themselves “plant-based” in order to distance themselves from the moral implications wrapped up in the word “vegan.”* And there are vegans who are ashamed to say they’re vegan because they’re afraid they’re not a good representation of veganism—because they’re overweight or underweight, because they have an eating disorder or an acne condition, because they have a chronic illness or they get periodic colds. The amount of pressure society puts on vegans doesn’t compare with how hard we are on ourselves. So, let’s talk first about how self-acceptance, self-awareness, and self-compassion must be the foundation of our coming-out process. Before we define veganism for others, we need to define it for ourselves. When we do, we are better able to avoid getting caught up in our own misconceptions and other people’s projections.
WHY ARE YOU VEGAN?
I often jest that the most common question vegans hear is Where do you get your protein? but in truth, I don’t think it is. I think the most common question vegans hear is Why are you vegan? And yet very few vegans have an answer to this very basic question—or at least they haven’t crafted an answer that is both truthful for them and palatable for others. Taking the time to answer this question for yourself will not only give you clarity about your own values and intentions, it will also enable you to express yourself articulately and truthfully when you tell people you’re vegan. I’m vegan because I don’t want to contribute to violence against animals—either directly or by paying someone else. Why are you vegan?
The most common question vegans hear is Why are you vegan? And yet very few vegans can articulate an answer to this very basic question.
Take time to get your thoughts down on paper or on screen. Practice free-writing or journaling, or use these questions as a guide:
What was the catalyst for me to stop eating meat, dairy, and eggs?
Do I call myself vegan? Why or why not?
Do I call myself plant-based? What does the term mean to me?
When did I first hear the word vegan?
What did it mean to me when I first heard the word? What does it mean to me now?
Has my perception of veganism changed over the months or years?
What about being vegan has been the most challenging for me?
What has been the most rewarding?
The more time you take to work out the answers to these questions, the closer you’ll get to a succinct, authentic response to the question Why are you vegan? Your reasons may expand and change over time, which is why it’s a good idea to revisit your answer to that question every so often. It’s not about having the perfect sound bite, but rather about finding clarity and confidence.
In fact, knowing your reasons for being vegan and being able to articulate them is a key factor in remaining vegan—or in sustaining any significant change, according to researchers James Prochaska and Carlo DiClemente. In the 1970s, based on their work studying how people successfully quit smoking, Prochaska and DiClemente devised a model of behavior change called the “transtheoretical model of behavior change” or, more simply, “the stages of change.”2 This model posits that individuals move through six stages when changing their habits and behaviors—precontemplation, contemplation, preparation, action, maintenance, and termination—and just as with the ten stages in this book, movement through these stages of change is not necessarily linear, since people cycle and re-cycle through each one. According to this theory, successful behavior change (that is, sustaining a new habit for two years or more) includes periodically rewarding your progress, reviewing your motivations, and refreshing your commitment to your new behaviors.
If your reasons for being vegan change over time, welcome that, as well.
VEGANISM IS IMPERFECT
Coming out—celebrating our own vegan identity—means first defining what being vegan means to us. Being vegan isn’t about adhering to a set of rules or doctrines; there’s no instruction manual to memorize. As we’ve seen, because many people mistakenly believe that being vegan is about attaining some kind of goal, they often accuse vegans of being hypocrites when their behavior falls short of perfection. Remember: being vegan is a means to an end—not an end in itself—and if we get hung up on trying to be perfect, we’ll make ourselves and everyone around us miserable.
Being vegan isn’t about adhering to a set of rules or doctrines; there’s no instruction manual to memorize.
Living with integrity in a world that values convenience over ethics and momentary pleasure over wellness can be challenging, because we live in an imperfect world: the rubber in our car tires has the remnants of animals in them; most of those cars are powered by fossil fuels that are destroying wild habitats; we kill insects every time we walk on the ground or drive in a vehicle; many municipal water systems use animal bones as filtering agents; and most plant-based agriculture still condemns vast numbers of wildlife to displacement and death. Clearly, we have to find a line to draw when it comes to striving to live consciously in an imperfect world, or we’ll drive ourselves crazy. But just because we can’t be perfect doesn’t mean we have to be indifferent. We need to continually remind ourselves (and others) that we shouldn’t do nothing just because we can’t do everything. Doing something can be everything. In other words, define your own veganism in the context of the imperfect world we live in.
TELL YOUR STORY
It’s easy to become vegan and forget there was a time you weren’t.
As with all of the stages I’ve identified here, you will return to this one again and again over the years, because every time you tell someone you’re vegan, it’s another coming out moment. By the time you’ve done some work to articulate what being vegan means to you and how you came to it, you’ll be able to answer with confidence and truth when someone asks you why you’re vegan. Now, if you’re also an activist, you may feel this is the perfect opportunity to enumerate all the peer-reviewed studies, stats, and facts that support the benefits of being vegan (and there are plenty), but from a communications and relationship-building perspective, I’m not so sure that’s the best tactic. After all, the question isn’t Can you tell me the benefits of being vegan, making sure to provide footnotes and citations? I think the most effective thing you can do when someone asks Why are you vegan? is to simply tell them why you are vegan. They’re curious about your story, your narrative, your personal experience. So, tell them. You did the work getting clear about why you’re vegan; now take advantage of it!
When someone asks me why I’m vegan, I tell them my story, my truth, my authentic reason for being vegan, which is simply this: I grew up loving animals and never wanting to hurt them, and when I realized I was paying people to do just that, I stopped. I tell them, I don’t want to contribute to violence when I have the power and choice to avoid doing so, and when it came to my consumption of animal flesh and fluids and my support of the slaughter industry, I had agency, so I exercised it. I tell them that when it occurred to me how absurd and macabre it is that we bring animals into this world only to kill them, I stopped participating in this system. I tell them that, or some other variation of my truth.
Unlike with stats and facts, nobody can say “That’s not true” or “You’re wrong” or “That’s inaccurate.” Nobody can take away my truth, my story. There’s no way to argue with the fact that I don’t want to hurt anyone. No one can say to me, “Oh yes you do!” Nobody can take away your story, so tell it.
If you get nervous about having the perfect answer, memorizing statistics, or saying the right thing, focusing instead on telling your own story can banish those fears. When you speak from the heart, there is no right or wrong answer, and personal narratives connect with people in a way statistics don’t. What’s more, information about the benefits of not eating animals will naturally emerge as part of your story, but when offered in the context of a narrative rather than a lecture, people are more likely to hear it—especially if you frame the information in terms of what you’re doing rather than what they’re not.
Note the difference between these two responses:
“When I found out that baby male calves are taken from their mothers upon birth and killed because males are useless in the dairy industry, I was appalled. I just couldn’t be part of that anymore, so I stopped.”
“Did you know that the dairy products you eat cause the murder of hundreds of thousands of baby calves—800,000 to be exact? Ripped from their mother, they’re murdered so humans can steal her milk, which is harmful for us anyway and contains pus and blood.”*
We can still convey information; it’s just that by keeping it in our own story and not attacking someone who hasn’t yet experienced the awakening we have, we do so much more effectively. We’ll talk more about this when we get to the chapter on advocacy, but there are countless benefits of telling your story, including the fact that someone may see their own in yours. Don’t be so attached to having all the answers and being the perfect spokesperson for veganism. Just focus on being a perfect spokesperson for you.
YOU ARE WHAT VEGAN LOOKS LIKE
A few years ago, a woman named Tess wrote me an email that nearly broke my heart:
I am an overweight vegan and feel embarrassed that I’m not a good representative for the cause. I’m trying my best to get my weight down, but it’s a struggle. When people introduce me or when I tell people I’m vegan, I’m immediately embarrassed.
Fat-shaming is all too common in our culture today, and vegans are as guilty of it as nonvegans. I’ve received many letters over the years similar to the one Tess sent me, and my response is this: Being vegan is not a formula for perfection or immunity against being human. We still have vulnerabilities, frailties, and idiosyncrasies, and we still succumb to all the challenges and foibles that come with being human. You will not turn into a perfect, flawless superhuman when you become vegan. However, you will become a more fully realized version of yourself—if you allow it. You being who you are is the best representation of veganism. You being the most authentic, compassionate, kind, healthy, principled, imperfect, well-intentioned person you can be is the best ambassador for veganism, because that’s what vegan looks like.
You will not turn into a perfect, flawless superhuman when you become vegan. But you can become a more fully realized version of yourself.
Vegans are as diverse as the general population. We come from all backgrounds. We come in all shapes and sizes. We are as varied in style and form as we are in appearance and personality. We can’t try to fit ourselves into a mold because there is no mold. Some people assume all vegans are thin. Some assume they’re all fat. Some people assume all vegans are sickly. Some are envious of how healthy vegans look. Some people think vegans are all angry. Some think they’re pacifist peaceniks. Some people accuse vegans of being extreme. Some criticize them for not going far enough. We can’t try to represent for the person standing in front of us what they think “vegan” should look like. What about the person standing behind her and the one behind her? Everyone has a different notion of what “vegan” looks like, and if you try to fit one of them, you’ll quickly learn that you’re not fitting others. You will never please everyone, so you might as well please yourself. Accept yourself as the vegan you are.
Fear of not living up to expectations of what a vegan should look like doesn’t come only from stereotypes shaped by nonvegans. Vegans also find that they’re judged by other vegans once they come out. There’s an expectation—even among vegans—that we can’t be fat, we can’t get sick, we can’t be weak, and we can’t ever say we’re hungry. When a vegan doesn’t fit another vegan’s notion of what vegans should look, act, talk, or vote like, she’s accused of not being a “real vegan,” a figurative excommunication of sorts. I think this stems from the fear among some vegans that individual vegans who don’t fit their mold of what vegans should be like will make all vegans look bad, so by metaphorically revoking individuals’ membership to the vegan club (“They’re not really vegan anyway”), they will keep the pool pure and the image untainted.
Unfortunately, what really happens is that it keeps the pool rigid in ideology and small in size. When a group is dominated by criticism and condemnation rather than support and solidarity, people don’t tend to stick around—or join in the first place. And so a rhetorical banishment becomes an actual exodus, adding to the already high percentage of former vegetarians and vegans. Am I saying it’s the fault of judgmental vegans that people become ex-vegans? Let’s just say vegans deal with enough pressure living in a nonvegan world, so it certainly doesn’t help when members of their own community, in which there is a shared value and expectation of compassion, add even more strain. Nobody likes to feel judged.
So, as we contemplate our own process of coming out, we must recognize that acceptance—of ourselves and of others—is tantamount to staying vegan and manifesting compassion.
SEEING THE OTHER SIDE
When I first became vegetarian, my parents reacted the way many parents do; they took it personally and asked, “What’s wrong with the way we raised you? You never had a problem eating what we fed you. Why do you have a problem with it now?” Undeterred (but shocked they could even think my being vegetarian had anything to do with them), I carried on. By the time I became vegan, I was eight years older and three thousand miles away. Consequently, my being vegan didn’t really affect our day-to-day interactions, which may be why, this time, they were generally supportive. Moved by my concerns and persuaded by the same facts about the ill effects of animal agriculture, my husband was incredibly sympathetic and became vegan about six months after I did. So I was most surprised, when I became vegan, by the defensive reaction of some old friends, who had known me for years, supported my being vegetarian, and were keenly aware of my aversion to violence against animals. Their reactions ranged from confusion and defensiveness to silence, and some of these friendships deteriorated. I thought I had handled my announcements with tact and grace, but as I reflect back on that time, I wish I had known then what I know now: that when we become vegan, it can rock people’s worlds. Just knowing that much can make all the difference in how we interact with and come out to our loved ones, especially in the beginning.
When I came out vegan, not only was I oblivious to that fact, I was also embarrassingly naïve. It simply didn’t occur to me that anyone would be anything other than thrilled by my being vegan. I figured they’d at least be supportive—and certainly not surprised, given my sensitivity, compassion, and history of animal advocacy. To me, becoming vegan felt like a natural progression. To them, it felt like a slap in the face. And that’s what shocked me. If I had at least been aware that my becoming vegan would affect my friends and family so deeply, I would have been prepared. Instead, I was surprised and wounded by their reactions, but I quickly understood why coming out—when done without preparation or proper forethought—can put a bit of a strain on relationships.
I’m not suggesting that we anticipate negative reactions. Far from it—I think we should expect the best of people and give them the benefit of the doubt in all circumstances. But I am suggesting that we be sensitive, compassionate, and sympathetic to how changes we make inevitably affect those around us. After all, as we are right now, we are a known quantity—and likely have been for decades. We are familiar. We are predictable. Our friends and family members know who we are, what we believe, and how they relate to us. They’ve invested heavily in the person they know at this moment; they may have even helped shape who we are—especially in the case of parents or siblings. If we change, what would it mean for them? What would it mean for the relationship? Will they still know you? Will they still understand you? Will they have to change, too? What if they don’t change? What if they don’t become vegan? Will you still be compatible? Will you judge them? Will you still love them? These are some very real concerns with some very high stakes.
I liken this process to a dance. Imagine two people who have danced the waltz together for several years—maybe even decades. They predict each other’s steps, they read each other’s body movements, they speak each other’s rhythmic language. Other than a flourish here and there, there are no real surprises, and both dancers are completely in sync with one another. Now imagine that one of the partners decides to start dancing the steps of the tango. No warning. No sign this change was coming. No comprehension as to why this might upset her long-time dance partner, who is perfectly content with the waltz they’d been dancing all these years. Feeling misunderstood and disappointed that her old partner doesn’t want to learn the tango, the tango dancer starts dancing with other tango dancers. The waltzer feels confused, abandoned, and even resentful of the tango. He doesn’t stop caring about his old dance partner; he just wants her back. Alas, he doesn’t speak the language of tango, and they eventually drift apart.
Humans are creatures of habit and fans of familiarity, and our friends and family members resist change as much as we do, especially when they feel it’s foisted upon them when they were perfectly happy with the way things were—when they want to dance the waltz and you’re already dancing the tango. Add to that the feeling that not only is their way no longer relevant for you, you may actually see their actions as harmful, cruel, or unhealthy. Why wouldn’t they be defensive? I think one of the things we forget when we come out to our family and friends is that we’ve already processed our awakening. We’ve moved through Stage One, where we’ve read books or watched documentaries, so we have some pretty strong convictions by the time we actually come out to them. They haven’t consumed the information we have, but we act as if they have.
Because our loved ones have not been privy to the same information we’ve been immersing ourselves in, they’re looking at the world through a completely different lens and hearing your announcement from a completely different perspective—possibly even an opposite one. I said earlier that I thought I came out to friends and family with grace and tact, but thinking back on those early conversations now, I’m not so sure. I think I made a lot of presumptions about their beliefs and mind-set.
Like a child who lacks the ability to recognize where she ends and another person begins, I probably assumed that friends and family members would share my aversion to meat, dairy, and eggs as soon as I told them how awful eating them is for animals or how dangerous it is for their own health. It didn’t occur to me that they were perfectly happy eating meat, dairy, and eggs and didn’t at all share my disgust for animal flesh and fluids. In other words, I talked to them as if we were all on the same page. It didn’t occur to me that we were at different points on our journey or that our paths might not be crossing anytime soon.
If we expect our loved ones to respond to us with patience, understanding, and compassion, we have to show them the same. Give them time. Give them space. Answer their questions. Ask them questions. If their concerns are about your health, talk about it together. If they act defensive because they feel that you’re questioning the way they raised you or judging the way they eat, talk about that. But however they react, let them react. Give them time to process your veganism just as you’ve had time to process it. And be patient—with them and with yourself.
KNOW YOUR INTENTION
It can be such an emotional time when you first become vegan. You see animal products everywhere you look, and you just can’t get certain images out of your head. Though there was once a time when you could look at a burger and just see dinner, now all you see is suffering and sickness. The pain of awareness is so acute, and your sensitivity is unexpectedly heightened. As a result, you may take offense at everything that’s said to you, or you may unintentionally offend someone else. The first thing to remember when communicating about this sensitive subject is exactly that: it’s a sensitive subject to communicate about. It can make people defensive, emotional, irrational, fearful, angry, and dismissive. It can also make them feel guilty.
One of the most awkward coming out moments for me occurred just a couple of weeks after I became vegan—when I was a raw vegan, and I don’t mean I was eating only uncooked fruits and vegetables! I mean that I was emotionally fragile. We had made plans with some old New Jersey friends who had recently moved to California, and I had decided to tell them at the beginning of our date that I was now vegan—as was our home. (David hadn’t become vegan yet, but he was supportive in keeping a vegan home.) Our friends arrived at our apartment with milkshakes in their hands—milkshakes made with cow’s milk. I vividly remember them sitting on our loveseat, uncomfortably clutching their cups while I stood above them and told them how upsetting it was to have animal products in the house knowing what I had learned about the cruelty in the dairy industry. Not knowing anything about my transformation prior to this, they felt terrible and asked if they should leave since they had milkshakes. I told them of course not—that they didn’t know prior to coming over that I was going to make this announcement—but I just wanted to tell them for future reference.
Making my friends feel bad was not my intention, but I’m pretty sure that’s what I accomplished. If I could do it over again, I would do things differently. I would have told tell them under neutral circumstances (when they weren’t in the middle of consuming animal products) and on neutral terrain (when we weren’t in our home). I would have been more sensitive to the tension this subject creates between vegans and nonvegans, and I would have gotten clear about my intentions prior to our meeting. Being clear about our intentions means knowing what we’re setting out to do before we do it. Of course, how people react to what we say, what we do, or how we live is not ours to control, but there is a difference between someone feeling bad because of something we said and our setting out to make someone feel bad because of something they did (or are doing). These days when I tell someone I’m vegan, I make sure in my mind that I’m clear about my intention, and that my intention is to tell my story and to speak my truth. If my truth upsets someone, that’s not for me to worry about, but I never intentionally set out to upset someone. There is a difference, and if we’re honest with ourselves, we know when we’re doing one versus the other. Good relationships with others are grounded in self-awareness.
BE SENSITIVE TO TIME AND PLACE
When we come out also matters. Imagine again being that new vegan—excited, proud, and awake. As you’re about to sit down to dinner with your mother, father, husband, wife, brother, sister, or friend, you announce that you don’t eat meat, dairy, and eggs anymore and that you’re now vegan. Your parent (or spouse, sibling, or friend) gives you a confused look and replies with one of the following responses:
“Why are you disrupting dinner like this? How can you be so selfish?”
“You always loved my chicken à la king.”
“What am I going to make for you now?”
“What’s wrong with the way I raised you?”
“How would your poor grandmother feel knowing you’ll never eat her special macaroni and cheese with bacon bits again?”
“Don’t you know it’s not healthy?”
“How are you going to get protein?”
“You always take things too far.”
“That sounds awfully extreme.”
“Well, I’m sure you are vegan—whatever that means—and I’m also sure you’ll eat the meal I went to the trouble to prepare.”
“I’m not going to change just because you’ve changed. You can make your own meals from now on.”
And so on. Surprised by their reaction, you react in one of a number of ways:
“You never support me. I should have known this would be no different.”
“Animals are being tortured, and you don’t even care.”
“You don’t understand. Why can’t you just try to understand?”
“Why can’t you accept me?”
“How can you be so selfish?”
“Being vegan is better than contributing to animal cruelty. At least I’m doing something. At least I care.”
“You’re the one who’s responsible for all the misery animals endure. I’m not paying people to torture animals.”
And so on. Tensions mount, emotions rise, old unresolved issues emerge, dinner is ruined, and relationships are strained.
If someone is in the middle of eating animals or their secretions, they’re going to be less inclined to hear about how harmful these things are—whether from an ethical, environmental, or health perspective. It doesn’t mean they won’t react defensively even if they’re not eating animal products, but chances are they’ll be less guarded if they’re not in the middle of eating meat, dairy, or eggs. Food doesn’t have to be avoided entirely when you’re telling someone you’re vegan; enjoying a delicious vegan meal together is a great way to casually bring it up and disarm them at the same time. Happy bellies and dancing taste buds make for great conversation companions, and as your friend or family member realizes that the fabulous food they just ate was 100 percent plant-based, they also gain a new perspective about what vegan food is.
THEM: That was delicious! What was it?
YOU: Thank you. I’m so glad you liked it. It’s a new recipe I never tried before, and everything was vegan! Isn’t that amazing?
THEM: You’re kidding!? I had no idea vegan food could be that tasty. Are you vegan now?
YOU: Yeah, it’s been a couple months, and I feel really good—in every sense: mentally, physically, emotionally.
THEM: Wow. Is it hard? It must be hard.
YOU: The hardest part was getting the courage to watch a documentary about animal agriculture. I’m still learning and changing some new habits, but it just feels right.
And the dialogue begins. It’s light, it’s casual, it’s almost matter-offact. Food can disarm people, which helps in such a situation, but because of our attachment to and association with certain foods, such situations can also be loaded with emotion.
PARENTS MAY TAKE IT THE HARDEST
Frankly, no matter what your age, parents need time to adjust to your lifestyle. They’ve seen you go through phases and fads, and they may think this is just another one, so they may not take it seriously. Know your story. The clearer you are about why you’re vegan, what it means to you, and what it entails, the more you’re able to help them support you. If you’re wishy-washy, unclear, or inconsistent, you’re just feeding their perception that this is a temporary fad that will pass.
Like all of us, our parents are creatures of habit. They have most likely been cooking the same meals for you day after day, year after year; they’ve gone through your picky phases, they’ve cut the crusts off your bread, and they’ve made special meals to accommodate your preferences. Even when we no longer live at home with them, our parents continue to make the same holiday meals for us or our favorite dishes when we visit. They’ve connected with us through food for years, and now you’re telling them that everything is different; it’s no wonder they react emotionally. For all these reasons, let them have their reaction, and remember that it has nothing to do with you. On one hand, they probably genuinely don’t know what to feed you, thinking “vegan food” is something different than what they’re familiar with. If they’ve been making your favorite meals for decades, they’re not exactly going to be enthusiastic about changing the repertoire.
On a much deeper level, though, I believe that one of the reasons parents take our veganism personally is because they’ve used food from the day we came into this world as a way to physically nourish and emotionally nurture us. When we reject the food they’ve chosen to feed us, it may feel like we’re rejecting them and their affections. They may defensively ask, “What’s wrong with how we raised you? You always loved the food I made for you! How can you do this to me?”—as if our being vegan is a judgment of their parenting skills. Tell them you understand how different this must be for them and thank them for teaching you to be an open, compassionate, thoughtful person—all of the qualities that led you to make these new choices. Tell them how much you appreciate all the years they’ve spent feeding you and buying your favorite foods. Tell them this is not just another temporary fad; tell them why this means so much to you. Show them that you’re serious. Be consistent. Tell them you need their support and that you’re willing to help make it easier. Then help make it easier by showing them what you’ve learned. Try to remember that there was a time when you didn’t know about all the ways to make delicious, familiar meals with vegetables, fruits, grains, beans, lentils, mushrooms, herbs, and spices. Explore together.
When we reject the food our parents have chosen to feed us, it may feel like we’re rejecting them.
Beyond food as sustenance, your parents might be genuinely concerned that you’re not going to get all the nutrients you need. Remember, they’ve been reared in the same pro-meat/dairy/egg culture you have. So, don’t just brush off their concerns, tell them they’re brainwashed, and say they know nothing about nutrition. They probably don’t, but neither did you before you did. Validate their concerns and help alleviate their fears. How you do this depends on your relationship with and the personality of your parents. Some parents feel like anything you tell them about what they don’t know or what they didn’t teach you is an assault on their intelligence or parenting skills: “I’m the parent here. I’m the one who raised you.” So, be sensitive to those concerns and try to have a dialogue rather than teach a lesson. Some parents are open from the get-go and happy to read or watch what you recommend, so give them some resources and invite them to talk to you if they’re interested. Either way, step back, let them process it all, and let them set the pace. Remember, you’re not giving them this information to “convert” them (unless they’re genuinely asking for that). You’re just giving them information to speak to their concerns.
IF IT WASN’T THIS, IT WOULD BE SOMETHING ELSE
Some parents and family members get upset when you come out vegan because they’re afraid you’ll turn your back on the traditions they instilled in you and the culture in which they raised you. I hear from a lot of people who say, “I really want to be vegan, but I come from a traditional [Italian, Mexican, Spanish, Thai, Vietnamese, Irish, African American, fill-in-the-blank] family. My grandmother would kill me if I didn’t eat her [fill-in-the-blank] dish.” I address the notion of embracing your various identities in Stage Six, but for the purposes of coming out, I want to speak to what it means to be independent, autonomous, self-governing human beings. That’s what growing up is all about—becoming separate from our parents, thinking critically, and questioning what we are taught. Rarely do we incorporate everything our parents teach us into our own lives. We reject some habits and traditions and embrace others. We take on some of their beliefs and leave others behind. In the end, we are amalgamations of our parents—not clones. In other words, if it isn’t veganism that puts you at odds with how you were raised, it will be something else. Perhaps you differ from your parents or grandparents in terms of politics or religion; perhaps they disapprove of the music you listen to, the major you chose, or the career path you’ve taken. Differentiating yourself from your family doesn’t mean you’re rejecting them; it means you’re forming your own identity. That’s what autonomy is.
In his eight stages of psychosocial development, Erik Erikson describes the stages through which a healthy developing human should pass from infancy to late adulthood. He identifies the second stage as autonomy, which takes place between two and four years old. I think it’s safe to assume you’ve already gone through this stage, but it’s worth emphasizing what autonomy means in the context of the process of coming out vegan. According to Erikson, the existential question at this stage is Is it okay to be me? This is when children seek to separate themselves from their parents and experiment with their own individuality; when they realize they’re separate people from their parents with their own desires and abilities; when they realize they have the capacity and ability to make their own independent choices—all of which become a source of emotional strength.
Though we may not be able to recall having gone through the autonomy stage as toddlers, it’s something we can revisit now as adults. We can consciously exercise autonomy and assert our individuality now as we continue to find those places where we end and our loved ones begin. We can tell our loved ones that we value them for giving us a foundation on which to stand and that from that foundation we will create our own. We can say to our parents, “You raised me to appreciate my family, and I do. You instilled in me the importance of appreciating our traditions and the history of our family, and I honor that. You taught me the value of caring about others, doing the right thing, and thinking critically, and because of that, here I am. My being vegan isn’t a rejection of what you taught me. It’s an extension of what you taught me.” They still may not accept your being vegan right away, but conveying your appreciation for the values they taught you even as you assert your autonomy is a kind and compassionate approach to what can sometimes be an emotionally fraught experience.
THINGS DO CHANGE
One of the friends I called after I became vegan had been a mentor to me back in New Jersey—a mother-figure who shared my love of animals (she volunteered for a greyhound rescue) and accommodated my pescatarianism and then my vegetarianism over the many years I knew her. Because I was so raw in those early days after reading Slaughterhouse and because I considered my friend to be a fellow animal-lover and compassionista, I couldn’t wait to share my news with her, and I’m sure I didn’t hold back in telling her how upset it was for me to learn about the atrocities in the dairy and egg industries. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I know I shared my sadness and outrage over how terrible it is for cows raised for dairy and hens raised for eggs, and I declared that as a result I became vegan. She responded with a very noticeable silence, then a staccato “hmm,” then an apathetic “wow,” and then . . . she changed the subject. It hit me in the gut. I didn’t expect her to do cartwheels, but I suppose I expected support and understanding and basic interest in what I shared. When we spoke again, I talked about the activism I was doing for animals, and she continued to show little interest. Perhaps it was the geographical distance that now separated us, perhaps it was because she projected that I had changed, perhaps it was her own guilt—I don’t know, but after that, our friendship started petering out and eventually withered away. It made me sad then and still does today, but indeed even the best of friendships don’t always stay the same.
The truth is, your coming out may very well end a relationship. Over time you may just stop relating to one another, you may become disenchanted with each other, or the friendship may just fade in intensity. You may experience a lull and return to one another at a later time. Relationships change. While this is a part of life, in the context of coming out vegan, there’s a little more to say.
In section one, I talked about all the reasons people want us to stay asleep: they don’t know how your being vegan is going to change you or your friendship or your perception of them, and that scares them. The unknown scares them. They want things to remain as they were. Perhaps food was a significant part of your relationship (it is for so many); perhaps you ate out together, cooked together, shared recipes, tried new restaurants. When you tell them you’re vegan, they may be afraid this will change. They may also be afraid that you’re going to judge them, try to convert them, or try to change them. And it could be this fear that makes them retreat. Here’s my suggestion for alleviating their concerns about your trying to convert them: don’t.
I made mistakes when I first came out vegan, and you will too, because we’re not perfect and because we’re passionate and earnest about not causing harm. Once you wake up to the violence being perpetrated against animals day in and day out, you can’t help reacting with what might seem like zealotry to others. Even when your motivation is wellness, when you become awakened to the healing power of foods, it’s hard not to point out the disease-causing foods all around us. I’m not in any way suggesting that we quell our enthusiasm, but I am suggesting that we express our enthusiasm with thoughtfulness and with no intention other than to share something important with those we love. In other words, be joyful, be excited, be sincere, be authentic, speak for animals, speak about whatever it is that motivates you, but do so without using it as a platform to convert someone else or deliberately make them feel bad.
Be joyful, be excited, be sincere, be authentic, speak for animals, speak about whatever it is that motivates you, but do so without using it as a platform to convert someone else or deliberately make them feel bad.
We’ll talk about this in subsequent chapters on communication (Stage Seven) and advocacy (Stage Nine)—about the importance of planting seeds and remaining unattached to the outcome—but for now, let me say honestly that even if you do this perfectly, I can’t promise that you will be able to alleviate all of the fears of your family and friends. Things may not stay the same. You may not stay the same—you’ve already changed, in becoming vegan—and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s just different, and of course, different can also be scary. Honesty and frankness are the best approach for addressing these concerns—and being as kind, compassionate, and open as possible. That doesn’t mean you should walk on eggshells, accept abuse, or stop being vegan to please others or to alleviate their fears, but just holding the perspective that they may be feeling vulnerable or insecure will perhaps enable you to feel less rejected and more sympathetic.
An email I received from a woman named Melissa beautifully expresses this paradigm.
I have to tell you that for many years I have struggled with “excuseitarianism.” Since I was a teen (and I am now thirty-eight years old!), I have struggled with staying vegan. My excuses have been couched in real challenges, but that is just what they were. Challenges. Not roadblocks. And, honestly, I have been using those real challenges to justify succumbing to underlying fears about what it might mean for me to really commit to being vegan. Last night, on my way home from work, I was listening to your podcast when it hit me. All of my excuses have masked an underlying insecurity in me. I can blame my inability to commit to being vegan on gluten intolerance, digestive issues, or whatever, but the reality is that I haven’t wanted to speak up! I haven’t wanted to “speak my truth,” as you so eloquently put it. I haven’t wanted to make waves by asking for what I need. I have been afraid of how others might perceive me—“needy, high-maintenance, difficult, crazy”—if I say, “I’m vegan,” I have to face the possibility that others might judge me in these ways. I have been afraid of being hurt. I have been afraid of being judged. I have been afraid of being an outcast, of being “the other.” What I realized last night is that I have been putting my fear above the love and compassion I have for other beings—human and nonhuman. This is not OK with me! Is it going to kill me if someone thinks I am a pain in the butt? No! But it will kill somebody if I don’t speak up and say no to the consumption of animals. . . . In order for me to really be vegan, permanently, I have to be willing to get vulnerable. I have to risk someone not liking me, or feeling “put out” by me. I have to find and use my vegan voice. But this is a small price to pay for living a life of authentic compassion.
As I contemplate this new responsibility, I am also aware of the potential for freedom and empowerment in the work of finding and using my voice. It has been my experience that while getting vulnerable and taking responsibility can be scary and hard, it ultimately leads to a more expansive state. It leads to better relationships, not worse. It leads to more depth, more authenticity, and more love and compassion. The world needs this. The animals need this. I need this. I am ready for the next chapter in my life. I am no longer an excuse-itarian. I am a vegan.
Keep living your life, speaking your truth, and demonstrating the kind of compassion you would want in return.
Keep living your life, speaking your truth, and demonstrating the kind of compassion you would want in return, and trust that nothing remains the same and that’s okay. Change is in the nature of things. Birds molt their winter feathers, stars explode, trees drop their leaves, winds change their course, people change their minds—and their behavior. The way your existing community members react to you when you first take on this new identity is not how they will always respond. As they recognize that your being vegan is just one of the many facets of who you are—if not the manifestation of the best of who you are—they will adapt. When they discover that you still accept and love them for who they are, they will become less threatened and more relaxed. Things get better. We grow, we mature, we expand—as long as we’re open to it.
Keeping a Vegan Home
According to the aforementioned Faunalytics survey on recidivism, about one-third of ex-vegetarians and ex-vegans said they were living with a nonvegetarian/nonvegan significant other when they started eating meat again. Of course, just because we live with people who eat meat, dairy, and eggs doesn’t mean we can’t stay vegan, but if we don’t feel supported in our own homes, if we aren’t comfortable asking for what we need, if we don’t feel a sense of belonging, it can make a huge difference in our ability to remain vegan—not to mention joyful. Here are some suggestions for navigating the social and emotional aspects of extending your personal values into your home when you’re not the only one in it.
I want to keep a vegan home, but my partner/loved one does not. What do I do?
As with any issue in a relationship that causes tension, communication is key. Express yourself clearly, compassionately, openly, and honestly about why you don’t want animal products in the house. Speak from the heart, then listen with compassion and openness. Be flexible and willing to compromise and find a solution you can both live with.
Here are some options for meeting each other halfway:
No animal flesh is allowed in the house, but dairy-based cheese and eggs are permitted.
Meat, dairy, and eggs are kept in a separate refrigerator.
Meat, dairy, and eggs are permitted in the house (perhaps still in a separate refrigerator), but meat isn’t cooked inside the house. It’s cooked either outside, such as on a grill, or it doesn’t require cooking at all (such as lunch meats).
None of these are perfect solutions—each requires someone to bend—but relationships are all about compromise. The idea is to find a solution that works for everyone.
How do we tell friends, family, and neighbors we don’t want animal products brought into our home without sounding rude?
This is why coming out vegan to people in your life is so important—and doing it with grace and sensitivity. Telling people you keep a vegan home doesn’t necessarily have to be a big announcement; it will most likely come up in casual conversations and when you extend invitations to others. Over time, people will just know. However, to avoid any misunderstandings once they arrive, direct communication is always best.
Whenever we host dinners, parties, or potlucks (and we host a lot), we include on the invitation that if our guests want to bring something, we ask that it be free of meat, dairy, fish, or eggs. (Not everyone knows what “vegan” means, so be specific.) I usually add a postscript telling them I’m happy to offer suggestions or vegan recipes if they need any. People appreciate knowing what’s expected of them. These days, people tend to be mindful of allergies and dietary preferences, so making such a request is really not that unusual.
Have there been situations when people have brought animal products over—either by mistake, or because they didn’t realize our home is vegan? Yes, absolutely. Did we freak out? No. As clear as we try to be, there will always be situations in which animal products make their way into our home, and we handle each situation as best we can—with grace, tact, and kindness.
Are there people who resent that we ask them to bring only plant foods into our home? Are there people who think we’re rude? Are there neighbors who don’t come to our house because of it? I have no idea. I’ve experienced only positive reactions from people. Many are even excited to bring vegan dishes they’ve never made before—and many bring dishes made from recipes in my cookbooks! Of course, I’m not aware of what people say about us when we’re not around, but neither do I have any control over their opinions. Some people keep a kosher home; some keep a peanut-free home; some keep a shoe-free home (we do!). Drawing boundaries based on religion, health, or cleanliness is no more or less valid than drawing boundaries based on ethics.
Our home is our refuge, our sanctuary, our haven. There’s a lot we can’t control in this nonvegan world, but if we can’t draw that line at our own front door, then where can we draw it?
*If you do eschew animal products for health reasons and call yourself “plant-based” instead of “vegan,” in the spirit of promoting a positive perception of your vegan brethren, try to be cautious of not celebrating your identity at the expense of someone else’s. In other words, be mindful of not saying, “I’m plant-based for my health. I’m not one of those crazy vegans.”
*This is not to say that facts don’t matter or shouldn’t be part of what we convey; we should all have a commitment to the truth. The trick is to have an interpretation: a “story” ready to translate the statistics or numbers into a more powerful meaning. This doesn’t mean you should drop all numbers and references to research, but rather that you should use them sparingly and always link them to meaning. For instance, instead of “Go vegan for the animals, the planet, and your health!” try “Research suggests that a cold mentality toward animal life, necessitated by slaughterhouse killings, in turn cheapens regard for human life, which leads to more violence in our world,” or “Billions of animals are brought into this world only to be killed—that’s not who we are.”