The one where I come out--as a vegetarian-in-process-of-becoming-vegan, and explain.

Yes, it’s true. I have, after much, much, much thought and deliberation and a year+ long journey, come to the realization that animals do not and should not belong to me to eat, wear, exploit or experiment on. I’m not joining PETA because I think they are a misogynist and virulent group that does more harm in the long run than good, but I have joined MFA. (As far as I see it, it’s kind of a Black Panthers vs. Dr. King philosophical difference.)

Here is what I believe, in case you’re interested. (If you’re not, skip the next three paragraphs.)

I’ve been convinced that farming animals to eat is a huge, and in fact almost singular, threat to our environment and public health. From pollution to antibiotic resistance to pandemic creating potential, farming animals is deadly and unnecessary.

And when it comes down to it; I don’t have the time or desire to properly farm or hunt my own meat. I won’t eat from even the very best family farms, partly because it’s economically elitist (unless, as my friend Mikey pointed out, you are willing to pay 10x more and eat 10x less). And at the core of my heart belief: even if someone could hand me the finest grass-fed, humanely slaughtered, heritage breed beef for free, I would say no, and I would say no because, having the cognitive ability to choose to create and end a sentient life for my own sustenance, when I don't need to eat that food for my survival, aware that I would be causing another creature to suffer (even in the best case scenario) at least some measure of terror if not terrible pain, and I don’t believe that that it is my right. I’ve been convinced that violence to one is violence to all.

Hypothetically; if aliens came down from space with a completely different intelligence and communication style, so different that translation and communication was virtually impossible, and the aliens decided they wanted to breed and eat us humans simply because they, like us, had evolved to be omnivores, on what philosophical grounds could I protest?

First, I don’t think I’m better than you if you disagree with my philosophy on eating animals. If you have read and watched and pondered and thought about the way food is made in this country (and, increasingly, the world) and still arrive at the conclusion that eating meat and animal products is something you will continue doing, that is a very personal choice and I respect it. I don’t have to agree with you to respect the thought you’ve put into it.

What I don’t respect is refusal to learn the truth about your food and the price of it; the price in terms of actual cash (property value and and healthcare dollars) impact on poor communities that surround farmed animal factories, the price in terms of ecological impact, and the price in terms of violence and suffering.

In the words of Frank Reese Jr. (called by some “The Last Poultry Farmer” for his singular stance on preserving true heritage turkeys), about his turkeys: “People tell me it’s just too much to pay for a turkey. I tell them, then don’t eat turkey.”

Reese could not be more right. Reported inflation rates seem to vary dramatically depending on your source and what is counted as part of the “average” cost of that item.  Yet for some unfathomable reason the price of meat has not followed the inflation patterns of virtually everything else we spend money on. Not even close. People, for whatever reason, have deemed the food we eat to be of the very lowest worth.

The food we eat to form our bodies and the bodies of our children, the food we pay to have grown on our behalf which covers a significant portion of our living space—our planet—and all we really care about is a good deal. You may protest, you may choose and eat differently. Obviously, I protest! But you and I are individuals. The collective “we” has given filthy, unfathomably cruel, unsustainable food production a hearty stamp of approval.

Frank Reese charges $187 for an 18 pound Christmas holiday turkey. That’s what it is. That’s what it costs for a real farmer, the kind we all swooned about in the much talked about Super Bowl Dodge Ram ad, to raise a real turkey. To hatch it, contain it, give it the space to engage in its natural behaviors, keep it safe and fed, and give it the proper amount of time to grow to slaughter weight without its genes being cruelly manipulated. That’s the cost to slow down the slaughter plant to half speed, to make sure each of Reese’s turkeys is held and properly killed at slaughter, minimizing suffering. Every time.

I’ve never tasted one of these turkeys. Though in more recent years I bought my Thanksgiving turkeys more conscientiously (or so I believed), when I was growing up, we often had Butterball turkeys for Thanksgiving, as I suspect many of you did.

Butterball charges about $18 for an 18 pound turkey. That’s what it is. That’s the reduced cost that reflects the genetic alterations, the antibiotic overdoses (that pose an extreme threat to antibiotic use for human health), the saline injection into the bird's corpse to moisten the flesh and increase weight, the filthy and cramped living conditions, the horrific slaughter process, the thousands of diseased, trampled, screaming birds that can barely support their own weight with their legs. That’s the cost of a turkey from a factory that is currently being prosecuted and, historically, actually convicted of criminal cruelty to animals.  Workers were filmed “kicking and stomping turkeys, dragging them by their wings and necks, and slamming them onto the ground, on top of other birds or on transport crates.” The birds suffered from “serious untreated illnesses and injuries, including open sores, infections, and broken bones.” Butterball is not the exception in America—they are the rule.

I could go on and on about the identical horrors of the beef, pork, dairy and poultry industries, but I won’t. If you haven't already, I think you should watch some of the many films made about this, or read some of the many books, and know exactly what is happening to make your food. I don’t think you should avoid knowing about the cruelty you may be endorsing because it would be hard to change. I did this for way too long, and it’s not something I’m proud of.

It’s a reasonable argument that humans are meat eaters by nature. It’s not a reasonable argument that animals should be treated in this way, ever, for any reason, including your budget. If you choose to eat meat, please, please, please be 100% sure that you know where it's coming from. Truly good farmers WANT you to know. Your checkbook will know. If there isn't 110% clarity on where a product comes from, the logic follows that there is something to hide.

(Coming up soon—a follow up blog: my distraught quandary over keeping domesticated cats—who, yes, are carnivores and must eat meat to survive, yet have been bred to be dependent on humans for survival. What is our responsibility? Because I always like a good challenge to my absolutes! And I recognize that in the end, despite our best efforts and actions, we are all hypocrites. There is no escaping it, and I believe that’s the way God/the Universe intends it to be, so that none of us can legitimately get too high up on our high horses.)