Why I Don’t Share Many Animal-Related Articles on Social Media

Hello, all! I apologize for the whole “no-post” thing last Monday; the social construct of time (wink) got the best of me. I hope y’all had great weeks, though!

First off, I’m thrilled to let ya’ll know that the second issue of the feminist, vegan, intersectional zine known as Project Intersect will be hot off the presses in early September, and I’ll have an edited version of my piece on veganism & consumerism published alongside a diverse array of critiques of structures of oppression. I’m honored and humbled to have my work included alongside so many other writer-activists. Check out this Facebook post to see the full list of contributors. Huge shout-out to Jacqueline Morr and Ashley Jo Maier for editing the issue. Be sure to follow Project Intersect to get your hands on their first two issues!

 Second, I wanted to talk a bit about why I don’t share very many animal/vegan-related articles on Chickpeas & Change’s various media outlets. If you follow the Chickpeas & Change Facebook and Twitter accounts, you’ll notice that not much stuff about animal agriculture, vivisection, wildlife, cute animal videos, etc. pops up in there. My reasoning for this is twofold:

1.) Most articles from the progressive news sources I follow tend to condemn large-scale animal agriculture for its detrimental impact on the environment, as well as its violent treatment of non-human animals. Great! However, I’m kind of sick of perpetuating the narrative that we need to include non-human animals in our realm of moral consideration only because the method in which we exploit them for food contributes hugely to environmental devastation, and/or because they’re suffering from unbelievable violence.

Implicit in these narratives is the belief that, if we can figure out an environmentally sustainable, “humane” method by which to violate the bodies of non-human animals for our own gustatory pleasure, then we humans have every right to use those bodies as we see fit. And that belief is inherently speciesist, as it depends upon the assumption that non-human animals exist purely for human use.

So, because there isn’t much media out there written from an anti-speciesist perspective, and because I’m continually striving in my activism to challenge the discrepancies between veganism and anti-speciesism, I don’t share much about animals and veganism. That stuff is written on my own blog, and from the pens of fellow radical anti-speciesist activists.

2.) As a proponent of veganism with racial, class, and ability privilege, I feel it necessary in my activism to emphasize my solidarity with those who do not live with such privileges. I aim to work against the mainstream, consumerist face of veganism that remains ignorant of systems of oppression beyond the exploitation of non-human animals. As such, the vast majority of the articles I share report on/discuss such issues as Black Lives Matter, Israel and Palestine, queer organizing, gender liberation, body acceptance, anti-capitalism, and the like. I do this in the hopes that my audience — many of whom are attracted to my blog for the vegan recipes and from my position as Media Coordinator for Our Hen House — will begin/continue to understand veganism as merely a logical extension of anti-speciesism, which in turn is a necessary aspect of collective liberation for all beings.

Soooo…yeah! I’m sorry if you’ve been confused as to the small amount of animal/vegan-related articles shared on my social media outlets, and I hope my reasoning makes sense. I would love for y’all to send me any articles that you think promote an anti-speciesist perspective, and I’d be happy to share them on the C&C pages.

In solidarity, Ali.

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Problems with Focusing on Convenience and Taste in Animal Justice Work

Hi, folks! Today I want to expand upon a point that I made fairly briefly in my “Veganism & Consumerism” post way back in December–a point critiquing animal activism that focuses on increasing the availability of vegan products:

“[Vegan consumerism re-centers] the human experience; in other words, vegan consumerism becomes a project to benefit humans who eat a vegan diet rather than other animals oppressed by speciesism, and thereby proves completely ineffective in manifesting a world in which humans no longer view other animals (including other human animals) as commodities for our use. Kelly Atlas of the fantastic anti-speciesist organization Direct Action Everywhere explains that actively advocating for humans to engage in vegan consumer behavior – i.e., to demand vegan products over animals products, and to encourage others to do the same – focuses attention on the comfort and convenience of humans, while upholding a framing of other animals as commodities (undesirable ones, but still…).”

To directly quote Atlas: “We can’t make not hurting innocent animals a matter of how convenient and pleasurable it is for the human to abstain from that violence […]. We have to demand liberation for the nonhuman victims, not plant-based options for the human oppressors.”

Sure, I love me some Chaos cheese and Vegenaise as much as the next vegan consumer, but if my animal justice work stops at making such products more widely available, I’m merely making the world more comfortable for myself, not less speciesist against non-human animals. I mean, certainly no one is going to stop eating animals for the long-term simply by seeing vegan convenience products in the grocery store. And even if they did, without an understanding of anti-speciesism, they would almost definitely continue to perpetuate oppressive ideologies against non-human animals.

Heck, I know plenty of people who eat only vegan food but — from what I can discern — still understand non-human animals to exist on this planet for the sole purpose of human use, or think of themselves as “saviors” of (and therefore superior to) non-human animals. They might refer to themselves as the “owners” of their companion animals, they might dress up those companion animals, they might support wildlife culls in the name of “biodiversity,” they might eat the eggs that come from chickens, geese, ducks, and turkeys who life on sanctuaries, etc.

And we all engage in similar behaviors to a certain extent, right? Because we don’t act in these harmful ways out of individual biases or shortcomings, but rather because virtually all of us have been indoctrinated into a speciesist system. That’s why vegan eating must exist as a manifestation of a radical anti-speciesist politics, rather than as an end goal in and of itself.

In my view, telling people that “eating vegan is so easy!,” or “vegan food is everywhere nowadays!” — focusing on the consumer aspect of why someone would adopt a vegan diet — as an argument for why we should stop eating animals upholds that speciesist system, not to mention dismisses people in circumstances where, shocker, eating vegan actually isn’t easy, convenient, or readily available/accessible.

Those arguments uphold a speciesist system by making someone’s consideration of animals conditional upon how comfortable they are eating vegan food, and how tasty that vegan food is. So what happens if vegan convenience products disappear? What happens if vegan cheese goes back to tasting like squishy cardboard? Do we stop advocating for a shift in humans’ moral consideration of non-human animals? Anti-speciesism must be our priority, while our ability to eat yummy food can come later.

Additionally, those arguments discount those who don’t live in a consumer paradise, or don’t have financial or cultural access to that consumer paradise. A position of more inclusive anti-oppression work is accessible to everyone, while a position of specialized consumption is not.

So let’s put vegan eating where it deserves to be in importance: behind radical anti-speciesism. Because I don’t care about soy ice cream nearly as much as I care about folks like Tyrion, Sansa, Amy, Gracie and the rest of the residents of Heartland Farm Sanctuary being able to enact their complex life-worlds free of exploitation by humans.

In solidarity, Ali.

Intersectional Vegan Activism Highlighted on Ep285 of the Our Hen House Podcast

Hi, folks! Thanks for all of the feedback on the (very inexpert) short story that I published last week. This week, instead of penning a full post, I want to point ya’ll toward the most recent episode of the Our Hen House podcast–which I hosted!

Photo via Our Hen House.

Photo via Our Hen House.

I’m thrilled to have been able to highlight radical, intersectional vegan activism and animal justice work on Episode 285 of the podcast, in large part by welcoming onto the show three incredible activists: queer activist and prison abolitionist Hana Low of the Colorado Anti-Violence Program; the Black Feminist Blogger herself Aph Ko; and Jacqueline Morr, founder and editor of the feminist vegan zineProject Intersect. Also  joining me to introduce our interviewees is my fellow vegan activist, classmate, and good friend Kaden Maguire, who works at both Catskill Animal Sanctuary and Treeline Cheese.

I hope that you listen, learn, and take to heart the episode.

In solidarity, Ali.

The Confused Robin: A Never-Ending Journey of De-Colonizing the Mind

Welcome to the week, everyone! Today I wanted to post something a tad different than my usual socio-political commentaries on veganism and animal justice. Lately I’ve really been trying to move through the world guided primarily by my heart, while letting my head take more of a backseat (since for most of my 20 years on this planet I’ve allowed the latter to make most of my decisions, to the detriment of my holistic well-being).

In the middle of this past spring semester, I came up against a metaphorical wall in my ability to work through tough issues and ideas–once a staunch enthusiast of the analytical essay, I realized that intellectualizing without  feeling the immense reality of those issues and ideas, I would only be able to get so far in terms of doing meaningful life work.  So I wrote my first poem. Then I wrote a short story. And those two small acts opened up a whole new way of feeling my way through the world, instead of just thinking my way through it.

In the short story I’m sharing below, I’m trying to (in a very small way) work though the (multifaceted, gargantuan, frustrating, confounding) task of decolonizing a Western mind indoctrinated by arrogance, capitalism, white supremacy, and The Enlightenment. I hope it brings some joy to your day.


Once and forever there was a young robin who moved about the woodlands with two miniature snakes living on each of her shoulders.

The snakes whispered into her ears, “You are a perfect snowflake! You deserve all the world has to offer! You will rule the skies one day!”

The robin wasn’t entirely certain where these whisperings were coming from, for the snakes were invisible to her. Nonetheless, she enjoyed their words and thought about them especially when she interacted with the other animals in the woodlands.

Then one day, the robin left the woodlands for the forest. There, the snakes were devoured piece-by-piece by the owls who lived high up in the trees.

The robin didn’t like the silence that existed in her ears without the snakes. She decided to search through the forest for more niceties to fill her ears.

First the robin came upon a swarm of dragonflies. She asked, “I don’t know what to think of myself without the whisperings! Will you help me?” But the dragonflies only whizzed beyond and through one another, creating a mass of wings and thoraxes indiscernible to the robin. She moved on.

Next the robin met a colony of ants. She once again asked, “I need the whisperings to define my place in the forest! Will you help me?” But the ants merely continued working with one another to form an entrance to their underground home by collecting individual grains of sand. So the robin moved on.

The robin next encountered a web of spiders. She asked them, “I’m lost without the whisperings! Won’t you help me?” But the spiders went on visiting each other’s spots on the web, crawling contentedly toward the next spider after conversing with the previous one. So the robin continued her search.

Finally the robin came upon a group of otters. She asked one last time, “The whisperings gave meaning to my life! Please, please help me.” But the otters persisted in their playful swimming, laughing at themselves as they knocked sea urchins against their heads. So the robin left them.

The robin was in despair. She sat in a forest clearing and began to cry. “Why do I even exist in the forest at all?” she wailed.

Soon, an owl began to slowly descend from the forest canopy and landed next to the robin. The owl advised the robin: “Think of the animals you’ve met in your journeys. Then do something with it. The first something you can do involves yourself.” And the owl soared into the sky.

Though the robin was still thoroughly confused about her place in the forest, she felt called to create something from her confusion. Hesitantly, with only a few notes at first, the robin began to chirp a song. Another robin swooped down next to her and began to chirp along in a different key and to a different tune, yet together their chirps formed an even more beautiful song. The more they chirped, the more animals gathered around them, contributing to an inspired cacophony that rang through the forest.


In solidarity, Ali.

Veganism & Bodily Autonomy

Can we talk about bodily autonomy for a hot sec? Because it’s a big reason why I advocate veganism.

Diana (Image via Heartland Farm Sanctuary)

Diana (Image via Heartland Farm Sanctuary)

So you and I and everyone around us each live in a body, and we all have different levels of comfort, safety, and ability that determine what we can do — both in the sense of being physically able to do it, and being emotionally okay with doing it — based on our different life experiences. And, if we hope to embody radical humility, then we have to understand others’ life experiences as legitimate and deserving of respect. Put two-and-two together: we as humans who strive for radical humility must respect the comfort, safety, and ability levels of the bodies of the people whose life experiences are different from our own.

That’s respecting bodily autonomy: each person’s ability to determine what they do or don’t do with their own body, as long as it does not infringe upon the bodily autonomy of others. It’s a pretty major feminist tenet. And although I would argue that it’s damn near impossible to enjoy full bodily autonomy under capitalism and state governance, I think that we can work together to ensure that we as a community contribute as little as possible to the social controls that infringe upon our ability to feel safe and comfortable in our own bodies.

Mister (Image via Heartland Farm Sanctuary)

Mister (Image via Heartland Farm Sanctuary)

That’s why consent is great and necessary, that’s why asking people before you hug them is super important, that’s why commenting on people’s size and shape is unacceptable…and that’s why I don’t eat other animals or their secretions. The body of a pig, cow, chicken, duck, lizard, or what-have-you does not belong to me, nor do any of the things that come out of their bodies (eggs, milk, etc.).

In some situations with other animals, it’s pretty clear whether or not they want me to be doing something with their bodies. For example, if Diana moseys up to me in the goat pasture at the sanctuary where I’m working this summer and starts nuzzling her head against my hand, I’m fairly confident that she’s asking me to pet her. Or if I enter Mister’s duck enclosure and he starts nipping at my legs, I’m definitely not going to bother him any more than necessary (like to stick his bowl of salad in there at dinnertime).

Sweet Pea (Image via Heartland Farm Sanctuary)

Sweet Pea (Image via Heartland Farm Sanctuary)

So unless Sweet Pea lays her egg, picks it up with her beak, and sets it in my hand, I’m not going to claim it as my own. Unless Beatrice rips off a piece of her own flesh, trots up to me and sets it at my feet, I’m sure as hell not going to take it. Otherwise, the lines of communication between me and other animals are not clear enough to ensure informed consent among all parties involved, so I’ll air on the side of caution and assume that they do not want me doing something with their bodies…including consuming it or what comes from it.

Moral of the story: please don’t do things to other people’s bodies unless they explicitly ask you to. That includes other animals. By taking this request to heart, we can work to support each other in feeling comfortable and safe in our own bodies, even when we cannot in the rest of the world.

Beatrice (Image via Heartland Farm Sanctuary)

Beatrice (Image via Heartland Farm Sanctuary)

In solidarity, Ali.


References

“I’ve been thinking about….” No, That’s not how Abortion is. 13 March 2014. Web. 6 June 2015.

Kate. “Bodily autonomy….” Vegan-Vulcan. 23 May 2014. Web. 6 June 2015.

Low, Hana. “Pro-choice is not anti-vegan.” Hana Low: Opening the Cages for Collective Liberation. 15 January 2015. Web. 6 June 2015.

Miss Pixie and Stuntiverse. “Consent culture (Vegan BDSM pt 2).” Ethical Kink. 23 March 2014. 6 June 2015.

—. “Power and privilege (Vegan BDSM pt 3).” Ethical Kink. 28 March 2014. 6 June 2015.

—. “Vegan BDSM.” Ethical Kink. 18 March 2014. Web. 6 June 2015.

A Response to “Veganism is a Form of Disordered Eating”: Why the Vegan Community Needs to Take Accountability

Recently, I was interviewed for an academic publication that sought to debunk the myth that veganism constitutes a form of disordered eating. Having lived in a state of ongoing ED recovery for the past five years now — and having experienced veganism as a profound mechanism of healing — I emphatically support the work my interviewer was attempting to do. Indeed, as a proponent of veganism, I no longer understand animal flesh and secretions as food, so likening my veganism to an eating disorder would parallel someone being concerned about my eating habits because I wasn’t chowing down on my carpet.

During the interview, my interviewer asked whether or not I felt anger toward folks who mask eating disorders with vegan consumption habits, only to subsequently speak out against veganism for the struggles it caused them. The question stopped me. Of course I wasn’t angry at such folks — I was one of them, after all, and I couldn’t possibly feel animosity toward someone solely for their destructive internalization of Western false ideals of beauty and body. But I understood where the question was coming from: there has been much backlash in the vegan community against ED-provoked former vegans — a backlash that I believe targets the wrong entities.

Instead of blaming people who hide eating disorders behind vegan consumption habits for giving veganism a bad name, perhaps we should engage in a critical analysis of how we who support vegan consumption habits tend to construct veganism in discourse and practice in such a way as to prompt folks to use vegan eating as a mask for deeper destructive dynamics.

While as I mentioned above I completely support efforts to de-link veganism from eating disorders, I can totally grasp the tendency to connect the two, since for many — including myself while in the depths of my ED — vegan consumption habits can serve as a method of justification for refusing certain calorie-dense foods (even though there’s an animal-free version of basically any dish these days) or loading up one’s plate with veggies. This linkage, however, depends at least in part upon constructions of vegan consumption as “the healthiest diet,” which serves as one of the main arguments for adopting vegan eating habits among vegan activists.

In vegan health arguments, I can identify a number of problems that serve to lend vegan consumption to a masking of eating disorders.

For starters, vegan health arguments construe veganism as primarily a matter of food choice. They thus equate eating with morality–an equation that has played a large role in my own struggles with disordered eating. For example, if I ate something I perceived as unhealthy, failed to include a leafy green vegetable in one of my meals, or ate more than my body needed at any given moment, I would feel a profound sense of guilt and disgust with myself. I based my self-worth primarily on how, when, and what I ate, so eating became a major marker of how I perceived my morality.

I can also see this dynamic play out in health-oriented vegan circles, which tend to lean toward no-oil/soy-free/grain-free/low-fat/etc. diets and equate such supposedly “healthy” eating styles with morality. Indeed, a number of my colleagues have experienced backlash from such circles for publishing recipes perceived as “unhealthy,” receiving such ludicrous comments as “you’re not really vegan if you cook in such-and-such a way” (which is totally false unless that way in which you cook involves animal products). Veganism thus becomes a path by which to achieve the “purest” form of eating, which many forms of disordered eating also seek to do.

However, if we understand veganism as one among many attempts to question the default ideologies – in this case, speciesism – that infringe upon our ability to coexist with others, practicing vegan consumption habits becomes but one action taken in accordance with a larger political orientation. Emphasizing vegan eating as one of many means rather than the end can help to cultivate an understanding of veganism as much more than just one’s eating habits, which can in turn promote a de-linking of veganism and eating disorders.

Additionally, vegan health arguments work to uphold capitalist, statist ideologies that delineate what count as “normal” (and thus acceptable) bodies–exactly the ideologies that help to foster a proliferation of eating disorders in the first place. I think that our conceptions of what counts as a “healthy body” are largely constructed by the capitalist economic system in which we live, which seeks to constantly accumulate more and more wealth. In order to achieve that constant accumulation, capitalism needs to employ as many people as possible in the service of profit-making. Since profit-making depends upon maximized productivity, the capitalist state can only thrive if it creates maximally productive (i.e., “healthy”) bodies — i.e., “healthy” bodies. Virtually all of us internalized a capitalist ideology that conditions us to see productive/”healthy” bodies as normal and superior to all others, so I understand what we tend to perceive as self-betterment as actually in service of the capitalist state. 

This construction of “healthy” bodies is also profoundly ableist — if we understand ableism as a set of practices and beliefs that assign inferior value to people who live with developmental, emotional, physical or psychiatric disabilities — since they imply that thin, fully mobile, muscular bodies are the “best bodies.” 

I’m not saying here that we shouldn’t strive to feel good in our bodies, but I am saying that we should strive to dissociate what feeling good means to ourselves from what constructions of a capitalist, statist society tell us our body should look and feel like. For example, currently and for a long time now, I’ve only been able to “feel good” in my body if I can perceive it as thin, thanks to Western societal ideals of body size. So, for me, dissociating feeling good from societal constructions would mean assessing my body on how well it can support me in everything I need and love to do, rather than on its size.

So yes, it’s very disappointing to see veganism employed as a front for eating disorders. But I think that instead of getting angry with individual former vegans for having internalized Western societal conceptions of “the ideal body” and grasping onto what is presented as a food-centric, “health”-related philosophy, we as proponents of veganism should work to challenge these capitalist/statist conceptions of “healthy” bodies by emphasizing eating as but one of many political actions in the service of anti-speciesism.

In solidarity, Ali.

Summer Plans

Hi, folks! Just a short post today, as I have to prepare loads and loads of animal-free bacon-y goodies for today’s (well, last Friday’s by the time you read this) Vegan Bacon Tasting, hosted by the Vassar Animal Rights Coalition (VARC). As such, I thought I’d let ya’ll know about my summer plans, since they involve lots of cool (well, I think, at least) animal justice-related endeavors, including a sanctuary internship and a field work project for my Geography major.

First, I’ll be spending five days a week working full-time at Heartland Farm Sanctuary, a five-year-old sanctuary just outside of my hometown’s city limits. In addition to feeding the residents, cleaning out their barns, accompanying them on medical visits (including to a licensed Reiki practitioner!), and giving them lots of love, I’ll also be helping out the leaders of Heartland’s summer camp for schoolchildren and assisting in some event-planning.

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As I’ve mentioned on the blog before, I’ve become increasingly committed to learning how to more adequately communicate with other animals, to really listen to the folks with whom I seek to work in solidarity. I’m eager to further pursue this practice at Heartland this summer, both by working there and through my aforementioned Geography field work project. Through this project, I intend to highlight the marginalized voices within animal justice work, including women of color, slaughterhouse workers, and the animals themselves. In doing so, I hope to challenge the animal justice movement’s privileging and exclusionary visibilizing of white, wealthy men in order to advance a more radical agenda of animal justice, as laid out by the movement’s oft silenced voices. I would greatly appreciate any reading/resource suggestions from ya’ll, as I’ve only just begun constructing the syllabus for this project.

Anywho, I’ve got to go get up to my elbows in vegan bacon grease, so I wish you a lovely week and look forward to hearing any resource recommendations you might have.

In solidarity, Ali.