Elizabeth Who's "Eating out of the Mainstream: A Vegetarian's Journey"

When it comes to suppertime, most people in this country share a hunger for succulent, protein-laden meat. From coast to coast, mainstream America salivates over steak, craves hamburgers, and enjoys eating hot dogs before digging into the apple pie. The term main dish really means meat dish. This leaves us vegetarians out foraging in the side streams. Until doing research for this paper, I hadn’t realized the truly marginal status of my group. Only 2.5% of Americans never eat meat, fish, or poultry, and 4.5% exclude just meat (beef and pork).[i] Technically, I’m an ovo-lactovegetarian. This diet includes plant foods (vegetarian) plus cheese and other dairy products (lacto) and includes eggs (ovo). As individuals, vegetarians have diverse eating patterns and varied reasons for joining the group, but we share the vegetarian label and the experience of being different. Because the consumption of food is so often a social event, we regularly stand out.

My own journey to vegetarianism didn’t begin until I left home. Growing up in Missouri, a stronghold of tradition and conformity, I was served meat as the basis of every cooked meal. Nobody I knew shunned it. The only special dietary choices I noticed were made by my Catholic and Jewish friends on religious grounds, and for some reason my Aunt Jean’s meat had to be plain and could not touch other food on her plate. Once, when I was about nine, my siblings and I had to watch my grandpa butcher a pig. It was supposed to be one of those life lessons, seeing exactly where the sausage came from. Trying to appear tough, I watched the whole process with outward calm while my insides squeamishly churned. Although I was thoroughly disgusted, it didn’t occur to me to question our practice of eating meat. It was what was for dinner.

Then I went off to university in California and discovered a whole new range of non-mainstream menu options I’d never encountered before: quesadillas, nori rolls, baba-ganouj, and veggie burgers. I found that I really liked them. Every dorm meal had a vegetarian option that made it easy to avoid meat, but I was busy with school and didn’t think too much about it. It wasn’t yet possible to google “vegetarian” and I needed more information and time before taking a public stand. When I went home for the holidays, I ate what was served. I felt like I’d hurt my mother’s feelings by moving so far away, and I didn’t want to add to my sense of guilt by totally rejecting my home culture.

Senior year, I met Tom. A die-hard vegetarian, he berated meat eaters and offered lengthy descriptions detailing the feelings of the sentient beings being consumed by our housemates. We encouraged him to change his annoying tactics, and eventually he even became pleasant to live with. When I finally got to know him and acknowledged his peculiar sense of humor (he was a big wall climber and a physics major), I found that I agreed with many of his ideas and was able to ask him questions about actually being a vegetarian. Tom was responsible for an important part of my education.

After graduation, I finally took the time to examine my beliefs about eating animals. During a three-day solo on an Outward Bound experience, I found myself with plenty of time to contemplate. Although I had caught and killed plenty of fish, I had never killed a bird or mammal. The explicit visualization made me queasy. When I was 13, my dad offered to take me on his annual hunting trip to Wyoming, but I realized then that I couldn’t and wouldn’t kill anything as elegant and innocent as a deer. Now as an adult, I reasoned that if I wasn’t willing to kill an animal myself, then it was hypocritical to let someone else do the dirty work for me, like politicians sending poor kids to fight their wars. It became clear to me that I couldn’t support the killing of animals for ethical reasons, and I became, officially, a vegetarian.

Choosing to be part of a minority group has its challenges. Being vegetarian can complicate social gatherings and make bonding more difficult. We can’t help but make judgments when we sit down to eat together and notice the choices others make. Some people feel personally offended when you won’t share their cooking. Midwesterners, especially, tend be disdainful and somewhat incredulous. They see us as picky eaters, too snobbish to eat what’s perfectly good for everyone else, or just plain weird. It’s as if they want me to admit that really I’m just trying to be a pain in the ass, like my brother-in-law who doesn’t eat onions. But vegetarians aren’t trying to be annoying; we don’t even want to draw attention to ourselves. Over-concerned people worry that I’m not getting enough protein and bend over backwards to ensure that I’ll get plenty to eat. Although I appreciate their kindness, I’m really just fine with whatever vegetables and grains are available.

Restaurants present difficulties for people on meat-free diets. While packaged food in the store at least lists ingredients, cooks are much more elusive about what they use in the kitchen. Animal products are pervasive; chicken stock seasons vegetable soups, and McDonald’s admits that their french fries derive part of their flavor from an animal source.[ii] Being vegetarian in California, the land of fruits and nuts, is fairly easy. Not so in the heartland. At a restaurant in Minneapolis, I had to special order lunch. Every one of the main dishes, appetizers and even salads on the menu included meat!

I’ve learned a couple things from my years as a vegetarian. One is that to have a social life or eat out, I have to make exceptions and not freak out about little things. The other is that the topic of food choice does not make good table conversation. It is difficult to succinctly answer the question, “Why don’t you eat meat?” In an article titled, “Why I’m a Vegetarian,” The Whole Earth Vegetarian Catalogue lists 49 reasons categorized by environment, personal health, personal finances, and ethics – all 49 of which appeal to me.[iii] I find the longer my journey takes, the more reasons I have to support my position and the more particular my choices become. Now, my food choices are more about environmental effects and the conditions of workers and animals than whether or not it’s vegetarian. As you can imagine, conversation about dietary decisions can be unappetizing It’s easier to enjoy the gustatory experience without the question coming up at all. I do appreciate it when hosts or other potluck guests inform me that their offering is or isn’t vegetarian. It’s hard to tell just by looking, and I don’t want to risk offending people by inquiring about their ingredients. Eating with others should be more about accepting differences than trying to change minds.

However, I would like to invite you to think about the issue of eating meat. Susan B. Anthony, Albert Einstein, Vincent Van Gogh, Mr. Rogers, and Hank Aaron were all vegetarians. I wonder why. To paraphrase Socrates, the unexamined meal is not worth eating. Consider the food choices you make: Do you eat horse, dog, cat, or crickets? We all draw the line somewhere, for reasons of taste, religion, ethics, or cultural standards. And it’s not just an issue for liberals anymore. Recently conservative columnist George F. Will, considering the animal abuses occurring as part of industrial livestock farming, argued that as reasonable and moral beings we have the obligation to refrain from cruelty. Would you be willing to discuss the Humane Farming Act that he supports? [iv] Dialogue is crucial in a democracy, and it can help inform our decisions. Maybe now’s the time to talk to that vegetarian that you know, find out about their story, and tell them yours. Just don’t bring it up when you sit down to eat. Bon Appétit.