Stage Ten

Integration and Adaptation

Identifying as a Joyful Vegan in a Nonvegan World

The art of life lies in a constant readjustment to our surroundings.

—Kakuzō Okakura, The Book of Tea

Whereas the previous chapter is all about how we can contribute to creating a vegan world, this chapter is all about how veganism now fits into our world. At this stage in our journey, being vegan is just part of who we are. What might have felt like an effort when we first transitioned is now a natural, normal aspect of our lives. What might have once felt like a struggle now feels like a joy. Our friends and family have acclimated to our changes—some may have even joined us—and meals are no longer laden with tension. We ask for what we need without fear or stress, and we find that people are happy to accommodate us without hassle or irritation. At this stage, we embrace the fact that in order to make a difference, we may have to do something different, but different doesn’t mean inferior—and neither does it mean superior. We know we’re no better than anyone else for being vegan; we’re just better than we were yesterday and the day before that.

We know we’re no better than anyone else for being vegan; we’re just better than we were yesterday and the day before that.

When veganism is fully integrated into our lives, we consider it a victory when we find one vegan item out of twenty on a restaurant menu—and a triumph when we see that ten of those twenty items could be easily veganized with just a small tweak. When veganism is fully integrated into our lives, we feel elated when our workmates ask us for vegan recipes and our neighbors include vegan dishes at the annual summer fête. Or when our special meal at a wedding inspires envy in all the other guests. We celebrate when we travel to meat-laden countries and see vegan options in the unlikeliest of places; we may not find a five-star gourmet vegan restaurant, but we’re thankful for and make the most of what we do find. It’s not that our expectations are low; it’s that we see abundance rather than limitation, plenty rather than scarcity. We feel grateful rather than entitled, and we embrace the lifestyle we have chosen: aspiring to live with integrity and compassion, knowing that every decision we make is done with the intention of not contributing to the suffering and exploitation of human and nonhuman animals and of not causing harm to ourselves. We accept that we will make mistakes, because we know our goal is not perfection. Our goal is to strive for unconditional compassion and optimal wellness, and we see veganism as a tool for achieving these goals. Embracing our vegan identity means embracing the journey and welcoming its imperfections—being adaptive, creative, flexible, humble, truthful, playful, patient, emotional, unapologetic, and fully human with all our flaws and foibles.

THE NEW NORMAL

The anecdotal and empirical accounts of improved emotional, mental, and physical health among vegetarians and vegans are vast and well documented. Aside from the measurable and observable physical changes that take place—improved cholesterol, increased energy, decreased weight, improved digestion and regularity, improved kidney function, decreased arthritic pain—when veganism is integrated into your life, there are a number of other things you become accustomed to and amused by, things that become the new normal.

The vegan jokes will persist. Most likely you will be subjected to the same comments twenty years from now as you are today. You can shrug, roll your eyes, politely ask that they stop, and even laugh—and know that the next one is just around the corner.

People will always suffer from whataboutism. As a matter of self-preservation, people will deflect the harm of their own actions by trying to discredit veganism and by pointing out the supposed hypocrisy of those who identify as vegan:

—   You’re vegan? Well, what about plants? They have feelings, too!

—   You’re vegan? Well, what about the fake leather you wear? That’s environmentally destructive!

—   You’re vegan? Well, what about the insects you kill when you drive your car? That’s not very compassionate!

Some of these questions are asked out of genuine curiosity and some are asked to try and catch you in some logical flaw that will justify meat, dairy, and egg consumption and undermine this compassionate and healthful way of living. I often joke that people expect vegans to have advanced degrees in nutrition, philosophy, history, anthropology, religion, animal husbandry, ecology, and the culinary arts—and it’s only funny because it’s true. Feel free to respond to such questions—applying the strategies discussed in Stage Seven on communication—but just don’t be surprised when you hear them again and again.

Everyone is an expert. While no one cared about your increased risk for heart disease while when you were shoving meat, cheese, and eggs in your mouth, suddenly everybody is a self-declared dietitian when they hear about your veganism. Get used to it.

Everyone wants to know what you eat. Everyone, from complete strangers to close family members, is curious about what you eat—because they really don’t know. You may know you don’t eat iceberg lettuce every day, but they may not. You may know how easy it is to bake without eggs, but they may not. I’m not suggesting you have to entertain every question you’re asked, but they are part of the territory, and they’re wonderful opportunities to debunk some myths about what it means to be vegan.

Some friends and family will fuss over your veganism—in a good way. Some of your loved ones—even just casual friends or coworkers—will be very protective of you, going out of their way to make sure you have something to eat at an event you’re attending together or calling a restaurant ahead of time to find out what’s vegan. You may feel like much ado is being made unnecessarily, but just appreciate the support.

You don’t know everything. And that’s okay. You know when I said there’s an expectation that vegans have advanced degrees in nutrition, philosophy, history, anthropology, religion, animal husbandry, ecology, and the culinary arts? Well, that expectation doesn’t come only from nonvegans; it may come from you as well. We put so much pressure on ourselves to have the perfect answer to every question we’re asked, but here’s something to get used to: you don’t know everything, and you don’t have to. You can say, “I don’t know,” and the world will still turn. As much as you’ve learned, there is always something you haven’t yet. Just remain humble and open to new thoughts, ideas, and perspectives.

WHAT MAY SURPRISE YOU

Your food awareness increases—not just in terms of ingredients and cuisines that become familiar to you but in terms of being more mindful about what and how you’re eating. Whether you become vegan for health reasons or not, as time goes on, you do tend to seek out more nutrient-dense foods.

You have more impact on people than you realize. While I encourage you to keep your expectations in check, you will discover that you’ve inspired some people to make changes in the way they eat just because they see your changes. They may not have become vegan, but they may have swapped some nonvegan products for vegan ones and they cook more vegan dishes than they did before you become vegan. That’s something to celebrate.

You become more tolerant. The passion that fueled you in your early days continues to burn but with a little less heat. You accept that some of your family and friends may never become vegan, but you love them all the same.

You wear vegan messagewear. Although you never thought you’d wear your veganism on your sleeve, you do so now—literally—on shirts, baseball caps, tote bags, and even tattoos.

You decide to keep a vegan home—but you compromise when necessary. In the beginning you thought you could handle having animal products cooked or brought into your home, but now you just want one little corner of the world where the sights and smells of animal products don’t penetrate. Of course, if you live with roommates or loved ones who do eat animal products, it’s important to find a way to meet everyone’s needs. Compromise is key. See the sidebar on page 131 for suggestions.

You date nonvegans. You realize that if you set out to find a match only among vegans, your pool would be very small, so you broaden your criteria by searching not specifically for “someone who is vegan” but for “someone who is loving, kind, intelligent, compassionate, and thoughtful.”

You know that being vegan is not a panacea, but it’s still the best road you’ve found to living as compassionately and healthfully as possible. You let your actions and values speak for themselves and don’t feel you have to be a perfect poster child for veganism. You may get sick, make mistakes, and gain/lose weight—whether you’re vegan or not. You may have love handles, drink too much, get overly emotional, and succumb to your worst character defects. By being the best vegan you can be, you will remain human—flawed, imperfect, vulnerable to illness, and destined for death.

When veganism is fully integrated into our lives, the conscious choices we make feel liberating rather than limiting, and we accept that reading labels, constantly being asked about veganism, and having fewer menu options in restaurants are small prices to pay for the potential to manifest our deepest values in our everyday behavior. Where others may see lack, we see possibility; where others may see inconvenience, we see opportunity. There are many reasons people think being vegan is about restriction rather than expansion, and I think it has to do with the perception that being vegan is about saying no—about refusing things that are offered to us. It appears that being vegan is about denial and sacrifice, and that’s the problem—the perception of what it means to live vegan. If you’re on the outside looking in, you tend to see only what vegans don’t choose. You don’t see what we are choosing. In public settings in a world dominated by the animal-eating culture, people see vegans rejecting things far more than they see them embracing things. And that’s the gift. That’s the surprise. Though being vegan does involve saying no to some things—namely unhealthy foods, destructive environmental practices, animal cruelty, and egregious violence—at its core, being vegan is about saying yes.

By choosing to eat life-giving rather than life-taking foods, we’re saying yes to our values of wellness and health, of peace and nonviolence, of kindness and compassion. By choosing to look at what we do to other animals for our convenience and pleasure, we’re saying yes to our values of accountability, responsibility, and commitment to truth and knowledge. By standing up for our beliefs and speaking up on behalf of those who have no voice, we’re saying yes to our values of justice, courage, and service to others. Being vegan is about saying yes to the bounty of plant-based options that are available to all of us. Being vegan is about saying yes to our values. What’s the use in having values if we don’t manifest them in our behavior? Being vegan, which extends to every area of our lives, is an opportunity to do just that: to put our abstract values into concrete action.

By choosing to eat life-giving rather than life-taking foods, we’re saying “yes” to our values of wellness and health, of peace and nonviolence, of kindness and compassion.

It’s ironic, of course, that being vegan is perceived as restrictive, since the majority of people, including all of us before we were vegan, choose to live in willful blindness, closing our eyes and cuffing our ears, saying, Don’t tell me what happens to animals. I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me how unhealthy this hot dog is. I don’t want to hear. We quite explicitly hinder our awareness because we’re afraid to look, afraid to know, afraid to change. To me, that’s limiting. That’s restrictive. On the contrary, being vegan is about being willing to know, willing to explore, willing to look, willing to experience what is painful but true.

To me that’s expansive. That’s abundance. That’s vegan.

WHEN ONE JOURNEY ENDS, ANOTHER BEGINS

In the fairy tales of our childhood, once the princess is awakened and she has her prince, the story ends. We’re never told what happens next, but we imagine a utopian future of everlasting bliss and perpetual joy—although we know that’s not what living looks like. In the late 1980s, a musical by Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine reimagined these stories for us and fashioned a more realistic and recognizable future. Into the Woods follows the familiar storylines from several Grimm fairy tales, including Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, but extends their plots to reveal that there is no “happily after ever.” There’s happiness and peace and contentment and relief, but there’s also anxiety, anger, nostalgia, suspicion, remorse, denial, and dread. And so the journey continues, and so it will never end. But the characters are stronger for it and wiser and in the company of fellow seekers.

Into the woods—you have to grope,

But that’s the way you learn to cope.

Into the woods to find there’s hope

Of getting through the journey.

Ours, too, is a story with no ending, a journey with no destination. Savor the highlights, take note of the landmarks, and go up, through, or around the obstacles you will inevitably encounter. Travel above and beyond what’s familiar, whether you go around the block or around the globe. If you’ve lived your whole life seeing the world from your front door, it might feel overwhelming, but it’s worth it, and you’re not alone. Many before you have traversed the same ground, and many will follow behind. Take this book with you, and may it be a map to guide you.