As a young girl,
I remember constantly finding myself internally conflicted over our earth and
all it’s inhabitants. I remember thinking that there was always such a divide,
not just between people themselves, but more or so between different sources of
life – animals, nature. Earth marginalized and bridged as a whole. I felt this
divide and disconnect, but I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t make sense of
these thoughts because I was in no position to. “That’s just the way the world
works.” I imagine thinking.
I remember
intently having these thoughts specifically over the animals we generally
regard as food. The first time I ever
saw a pig, or some version of it, was on a frigid night before Christmas. My
stepfather would begin to delicately unfold the foils of our catered homemade
food prepared for Noche Buena; seafood paella, perfectly boiled yucca, tender
rice and beans. And what lay under the one propped over a large oven rack was a
guttered corpse of what was seemingly a pig, or what was left of it at least; perhaps
only the bits favorable enough for consumption (or safe enough that is).
The giveaway was
in the face. I couldn’t recognize it’s expression, as it was much more
nonchalant and lifeless than those of my pop-up animal books. But I knew with some
degree of certainty that its pudgy, distinguishable, now pale-pinkish nose was
that of a pig.
About two weeks
later, my second grade class was taken to a farm on a school field trip. Next
to the chicken coop was a pig, as big as the one I witnessed roasting over the
coal, laying on a bed of honey-brown haystack. Pinker in color and grunting
loudly this time.
Through my
juvenile eyes, I garnered that the farm animals were breathing specimens, just
like me, but were somehow still inferior to my life by virtue of what is taught
through every multi-colored food pyramid --and even more understandably, my
parents and elders; my homage and culture.
Within my
juvenile heart, without any imposition to convince me otherwise, this idea of
my life or human life, valuing more than those who were deemed divergent was
never digested adequately. In fact, if I may be embarrassingly more explicit,
the inner-workings of my digestive system seemed to also *literally* be in disfavor. Without completely expelling my tract
(or yours) ~pun-unintended~, I suffered for most of my youth from gastritis to
ulcers and whatever stomach-churning side-effects you can imagine that result
in between.
Cue in medication
after medication to aid in my discomforts. Only succeeding in relieving my
condition, which soon became a lifestyle–ranging from days to months–until it
would eventually wear off during my next ~limited to non-acidic~ meal.
I believed I was
just fragile and that this would just be the challenge I would grow to feel as
my normal. The growling pains and burning debilitations became my normal.
During my first
semester of college, I enrolled in a nutritional course on a whim in hopes to better
understand my body and to perhaps discover any nuances to better facilitate its
impaired functions. To my surprise, the gawky yet insanely knowledgeable professor
was a vegetarian and though a bit bias in her approach, she would begin to
uncover unfathomable facts that both enraged and enlightened me. She
established her stance with the showing of the documentary Food, Inc.
Gripping the edge
of my seat, I thought: "This can't be. These barbarian acts committed by
leaders of animal agriculture operations, in which is then rendered as food, our food, cannot be taking place in
esteemed America." In what I hoped would be doubtful, I would then
relentlessly begin discovering what I feared would be true and it became
impossible for me to ignore.
The charging
river of information syncing with vigorous currents of research flooding my
mind was impacting me so profoundly that it led me back to my roots. The
unsaturated ideals I had rooted as a little girl were increasingly growing into
full ~fruit~ion. And my tummy seemed to pleasantly agree.
Though my own
validations of plant-based eating were founded on ethics and health, there was another
and perhaps more important layer that I hadn’t yet scoped out. When becoming
plant-based, it's like your mind renders 20/20 resolution and your perception
of the world around you becomes crystalized. It is the strangest and most
overwhelming vampire-like effect, which actually takes some time adjusting to
because it feels like your sensibilities are on full-throttle all the time.
Now, this may be about
the time where some of you pitifully laugh (if you haven’t already) or think
how grossly farfetched it may be to believe that a mundane human habit
that we've committed for centuries and centuries, such as eating a piece of
meat, is in direct correspondence to the environmental catastrophes happening
all over the world. If you did, just know I don't blame you. In fact, I got a
few chuckles out of it myself -- It sounds otherworldly and just bonkers.
It is fair to say,
though, that we as humans have developed pretty nasty habits over time; from littering
our garbage all over our beaches and thus endangering ocean life, letting the
sink or bath water run while California reaps a drought, and even a habit that
has become as necessary as driving which has been proven to continuously
pollute our air. Not to mention a great degree of social and political habits
we've become desensitized to over time due to their constant reoccurrence.
So, I believe at
this point, it’s safe to say that just because something has been committed
time after time, doesn’t automatically deem it right or grant it any validity.
As time continues to progress and our population grows tenfold, our habits, but
particularly our habits of eating – have become so climactically influential that
it can no longer be overlooked.
We are currently growing
enough food to feed 10 billion people
2,500 gallons of water are
needed to produce 1 pound of beef
Animal agriculture is the
leading cause of species extinction, ocean dead zones, water pollution, and
habitat destruction.
130 times more animal waste
than human waste is produced in the US – 1.4 billion tons from the meat
industry annually. 5 tons of animal waste is produced per person in the US.
3/4 of the world’s fisheries
are exploited or depleted.
We could see fishless oceans
by 2048.
Each day, a person who eats a
vegan diet saves 1,100 gallons of water, 45 pounds of grain, 30 sq ft of
forested land, 20 lbs CO2 equivalent, and one animal’s life.
I’m not good with
numbers, but I don’t believe it takes a mathematician of any sort to understand
the heavy burden these facts carry.
I know it can be difficult
to make the correlation between diet and the environment because then it would
mean we would have to take a look at our own lives and enlist changes. And
changes of embedded habits and ideals are the most daunting kind. It’s a damn
scary thing. But, for earth’s sake, if the consequences of lifeless seas, water
depletion and animal extinctions don’t frighten you even more, then let me ask
you this: What comes next?
The bare
resemblances and truth of every story lies in the details. It unfolds between
every line, guiding us through pieces of information that are essential before reaching
the conclusion. As we continue to endure these abnormal natural climaxes,
our planet is trying to tell us something. Something bigger than each and every
one of us.
A revolution. A world where animal-protein is no longer humanity's only method of thriving, thus allowing our egos and archaic beliefs to be set aside. To become wholehearted again, the way we used to feel as kids. For your sake. For your kids and their kids sake. For earth’s sake.
Featured on The Huffington Post.
