Even as a kid growing up in a small central Ohio town during the 1970’s and ’80’s, vegetarianism wasn’t a distant and foreign idea. My parents were Buddhist hippies who themselves were vegetarian from time to time. Once a year, Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche and his interpreter would stay with us while my parents were practicing the religion. My father briefly befriended a family from India, who dressed in traditional clothing (who were sadly bullied for their differences and weren’t in the neighborhood for long that I remember. Small midwestern town after all). I was regularly exposed to different lifestyles, philosophies, religions and the like. Food choices were no different. Some of my favorite foods were vegetarian: fried green tomatoes, macaroni and cheese (naturally), spanakopita, spinach lasagne to name a few. One of my favorites, lentils and rice, was even vegan.
Over the years as an adult, I’ve often gone back and forth between being a vegetarian and eating a standard American diet. This back and forth wasn’t so much because it was easier or I particularly loved the taste of meat as it was due to why I would become vegetarian in the first place. Often, it was to be rebellious after the end of a relationship, to be “different” or some other superficial reason. It was never about or for the animals.
Fast forward to the spring/summer of 2009. I was living in Cincinnati and commuting 45 miles up Interstate 75 to Dayton for work. One sunny morning, I headed north as I did every weekday. It was a gorgeous day; sunny, slight breeze and the perfect temperature for driving with the windows down. Halfway into my drive, an accident brought traffic to a standstill. I came to a stop next to a transport truck packed full with cows. As my windows were down, I could hear them crying and see them as they tried to stick their snouts through the slats. I could smell their fear and excrement. I began to cry, not stopping until I finally made it to work. I sat in my car in the parking lot for a good 10 minutes while I composed myself.
The most significant part? I didn’t go vegan right then and there. I didn’t even return to being vegetarian. But the seed was planted. I never stopped thinking about those cows. I’d see those transport trucks often. Sometimes, they were empty. Other times, they were carrying cows or pigs. Occasionally I’d see a truck stuffed to the hilt with chickens.
Sometimes while eating meat, I’d think back on those trucks. Those trucks filled to the brim with animals bound to become one of my next meals. Or the empty ones, which were (and still are) even worse in some ways. It started to hit me while eating chicken and seeing a feather still attached. I was eating a living being. It hit me again while eating a pork chop. I was eating a pig who didn’t want to die. Finally, I stopped eating meat and became vegetarian. Again. I still ate dairy products though. Because cheese.
By the following year, I came across an article reporting on Mercy For Animals‘ undercover video footage of abuse at an Ohio dairy farm. I began to seek out more information. Some of the first websites full of information I came across were FarmSanctuary, Compassion Over Killing, and Free From Harm. My paradigm shift happened and I became vegan for life. In September of 2010, I took part in Farm Sanctuary’s Walk for Farm Animals. It’s well worn, but I still wear the t-shirt I purchased for the event around the house quite often.
Do I wish now that I had become vegan sooner or at least stuck with vegetarianism instead of switching back and forth? Of course. Even so, my journey had to happen as it did in order to create a lasting change and commitment to live a compassionate, vegan lifestyle.