I picked up my latest issue of Ode Magazine today – for “Intelligent Optomists,” which really has me craving my weekly pedophile update, dog attacks, celebrity gossip and other real news from The Week or SFGate.
I skipped to a piece about the brain, about how people with mental disorders of any spectrum suffer from societal judgment – harsh prejudice harkening back to racial, gender and sexual inequity. The piece reminded me that runaway slaves were considered mentally incompetent (why else would they want to run?), low scorers on intelligence tests in the 30’s were considered “morons” or “idiots,” and homosexuality was considered a mental disorder by the American Psychiatric Association until as recently as the 1970s.
So much has changed, we like to say. Women have the right to vote. Blacks and whites live in relative harmony (relative to the 50s). Lesbians and gay men can marry now, right? Oh.
Because I think about animals, the Ode Magazine piece reminded me that animal rights activists like to say, “some day we’ll look back on factory farming in the same way that we look back on other injustices of our time. And we’ll thank God it’s over.”
And because I’m a parent of vegan kids, the Ode Magazine piece sparked a complete shift in my thinking about raising vegan children.
A little background: Some of our friends think being a vegan family is like being religious. Eating a plant-based diet is equitable to dragging our kids to church on Sundays, praying at the table, talking about how God is our lord and king. You know, being vegan is pushing an agenda on our kids.
They think that when our kids get older they’ll jump at the chance to eat at McDonald’s. That first hamburger is going to taste so good, they say. They’re craving real food.
And as a parent of vegan children, I try to laugh about that. Who cares, I counter confidently. They might also join a biker gang. How can I possibly worry about trying to control that?
I’ll admit, though, that there’s a piece of my heart that aches about the possibility of Gianna and Colin racing to eat meat and dairy when they head out my door. My friends are right – being a vegan family *is* like having a religion, and I don’t want them to leave the Vegan Church.
A friend of mine grew up with vegan parents. He rolls his eyes and cringes talking about it, teasing them. He sounds ashamed of them. (I want to tell him that going back to veganism might help reverse the MS devastating his body, but that’s another story.)
So where’s the Ah Ha Moment I got from the Ode Magazine piece? It’s this:
I believe that when my children grow up they will be wise and thoughtful. I want to believe that they won’t tease me and Stefan about our food choices. They’ll say we were part of a movement, a proud one, that stood for something. WE STAND FOR SOMETHING.
Instead of teasing us or being embarrassed and calling us hippies with crazy ideas, they’ll actually be more sharp than that.
When Gianna and Colin talk about the early 21st century, they’ll ask, “why didn’t you do anything?” All those animals were being tortured and held in servitude; the Earth was being dumped on by massive holes full of animal poop; rain forests cut down to make room for cattle; global warming sped up; the oceans depleted; lists of diseases caused by eating animals…
and all we did was go vegan.
“Why weren’t you protesting in the streets, Mom?” Gianna might ask.
Maybe I’ll sheepishly reply, “we were so busy raising animal rights activists!”
I don’t have to worry about them becoming omnivores. What I look forward to now… my kids shaming me for not doing more.
