Let's get this out of the way: The term "going native" at its origin is patronizing, Eurocentric, and... well, kind of offensive. But it's also the only term I can think of that represents the idea of adaptations to a lifestyle different than one's early indoctrination becoming ingrained to the point of feeling more natural than the lifestyle into which one was raised. So for lack of a better term (and feel free to suggest one for my future use)...
I've gone native.
Here's the thing. For me and the majority of vegans in the U.S., we're raised in a highly carnistic culture. The lifestyle ingrained in us from youth revolves around the unhealthy, unkind foods that we vegans give up. Think of any culture-specific activities in the U.S., and chances are they involve carnism. Independence Day? (Or Memorial Day, or Labor Day?) Hamburgers, hot dogs and apple pie with ice cream on top. Super Bowl party? Hot wings or chili con carne. Thanksgiving? Yeah.
Of course, it's not just meat and dairy. Sugar, fried food, high sodium foods, chemical-laden pre-packaged foods are all part of our daily lives, and we're indoctrinated to think of them as culturally necessary. We can't conceive of going to a movie without popcorn slathered in chemical-based "butter" flavor or a big box of sugary candy. When we need a bite in a hurry, we run through the closest fast food drive-thru. It's normal to toss in a bag of chips and a Twinkie with your child's sandwich when you pack them a lunch. And a day without soda? When does that get fun?
When you go vegan, that thinking doesn't magically disappear. I can't count the number of times in the first few years of being vegan that I was running late for work and just thought, "Well, I'll grab breakfast on the way to work," not even remembering that fast-food vegan breakfasts are not a thing that exists. Or the number of times my eyes ran down the snack foods lining the checkout in my local grocery store, thinking I'd find some little treat to impulse buy.
Even when I got over that, I still had the subtle "vegetables are a chore to eat, unless they're deep fried" mindset. Not that I didn't like veg, but if you gave me a choice between carrot sticks or salt-and-vinegar potato chips as a snack, I wouldn't think twice about grabbing the chips. Chips are "fun" food; vegetables are "health" food.
Here's what happened today: I went to the farmer's market and bought my fruit and veg for the week. I stopped at their little vegan cafe counter and bought some raw zucchini chips and a chocolate mint brownie. Not having had lunch, on the drive home I pulled out the chips and brownie. And ignored them.
Without thinking about it, I stuck my hand in the big bag of fresh spinach and chomped on a leaf. Then another. Then another, like it was a bag of potato chips in the 'old days.' By the time I got home, I'd eaten half the bag.
When I realized what I'd done, I was pretty shocked. Right at hand, I'd had seasoned 'chips' (even if they were healthy dehydrated ones instead of fried carbs). I'd had a sweet chocolate-y brownie (even if it was a raw, natural one). I'd had fruit, for cryin' out loud! And yet I subconsciously chose to eat a leafy green veggie in its utterly unadorned state - no salt, no oil, no tangy salad dressing.
At the point when your subconscious bucks that lifetime of indoctrination and chooses your new way of thinking, then you've officially gone native, right? As far as I'm concerned, today is a milestone - the official end of my transition from carnist to vegan.
Feel free to congratulate me!
Showing posts with label Kase history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kase history. Show all posts
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
UNA 2012 Advocacy Award acceptance speech
Last weekend, I was presented with the United Nations Association - Broward Chapter's 2012 UNA Advocacy Award for my work with multiple sclerosis, homelessness, and eco-vegan advocacy.
My aunt asked me to post a copy of my acceptance speech. To be honest, it was extemporaneous, but I remember roughly what I said. This is an approximation, minus the obligatory corny joke and the thank yous..
In nearly twenty years with the Multiple Sclerosis Foundation, I've learned something very important: You do not have to be wealthy to help others; you do not have to have high connections. The only thing you need to make a difference in someone's life is the desire to do so. All you need to be an advocate is your voice - a willingness to speak out when you see someone in need.
At the MSF, we often see people use unexpected skills or interests to raise funds or awareness. One couple who enjoys riding motorcycles organized a charity Harley ride. A woman who enjoys sewing and quilting organized a charity quilt show. Artists have donated their work for auction or arranged for exhibitions to raise awareness. People are taking whatever talents they have and putting them to positive use.
That was the philosophy I was operating under when I started The Humble Stitch Project, a project for knitters and crocheters to make cold weather items for the homeless here in South Florida. Unlike other areas of the country, we don't have coat donation programs - you all know that your coats sit in your closets for years and years, never used frequently enough to wear out. And if you're a knitter or have a knitter in your family, you know there are only so many scarves you can make your relatives. So I had a hobby, others had a need. And I also had a voice, to ask others for their help. Today, hundreds of people from around the country participate.
The same principle drives my vegan advocacy efforts. When I learned of the positive impact our food choices can make on the environment and world hunger, I used my love of cooking and baking - working with groups like Compassion Barn - to share delicious vegan meals with others. At the eco-vegan news site This Dish is Veg and through my blog, I used my skills as a writer to try to help others understand that what we choose to eat is a global issue that affects more than just our own health and well-being.
Each of you here today has the same opportunity to make a difference. Take stock; think about your skills, your talents, your hobbies, you interests... Maybe you like riding motorcycles, or quilting, or maybe you're a knitter like me. Or maybe for you it's volleyball or singing. Maybe you're good at organizing, or decorating, or just good at following directions. Whatever you're good at, whatever you love to do, there is a way to do it for the greater good.
Whether it's something material, or your skills or hobbies, or simply lending your own two hands, you do have something to give - to help others and make the world a better place.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Why I'm Caffeine-Free
Let me tell you about the worst, most abusive and dependent relationship I ever suffered through - my love affair with caffeine.
We met when I was very young, through our mutual friends Tab and Diet Coke. We had an on-again, off-again thing for a few years, but then it became serious. By the time I was fourteen, we were living together full-time.
I was drinking a 12-pack of Diet Coke a day, at least. Interestingly, around that time I was first diagnosed with migraines and cluster headaches. The doctor prescribed Cafergot (a medicine that includes a dose of caffeine) without ever asking how my caffeine relationship was. (I also started to show strong symptoms of what would later be diagnosed as fibromyalgia. Recent research has connected over-consumption of caffeine with an increase in fibromyalgia pain.)
For the next several years, I struggled through a cycle of getting headaches if I had too little caffeine, treating that with caffeine, then feeling crummy from having too much caffeine. It was a constant struggle to find a balance in our relationship. Finally, I decided I'd had enough. I decided it was time for us to break-up.
I won't kid you: that was the worst two weeks of my life. I have never been sicker (and this is from a woman with two autoimmune diseases). The headaches, fatigue, and all-over aching I felt were miserable. I thought I might die.
But I got through it. You can guess what happened next - the headaches disappeared. No more cluster headaches, fewer migraines. More energy, less fatigue and general malaise. So there's my happy ending, right? I moved on to healthier relationships and never messed around with caffeine again? Hardly.
Caffeine is as addictive as any other drug, but here's the dangerous thing about drugs: even breaking the physical addiction is not enough.You have to be convinced that it's poison for you. If you think there's anything redeeming about it, you'll go back. It only took one bad enough day with too little sleep the night before and I would run right back.
I've been off the stuff for several years now, because I finally realized that it is a drug and it is poison for me. Here are some things you may or may not know about caffeine:
We met when I was very young, through our mutual friends Tab and Diet Coke. We had an on-again, off-again thing for a few years, but then it became serious. By the time I was fourteen, we were living together full-time.
I was drinking a 12-pack of Diet Coke a day, at least. Interestingly, around that time I was first diagnosed with migraines and cluster headaches. The doctor prescribed Cafergot (a medicine that includes a dose of caffeine) without ever asking how my caffeine relationship was. (I also started to show strong symptoms of what would later be diagnosed as fibromyalgia. Recent research has connected over-consumption of caffeine with an increase in fibromyalgia pain.)
For the next several years, I struggled through a cycle of getting headaches if I had too little caffeine, treating that with caffeine, then feeling crummy from having too much caffeine. It was a constant struggle to find a balance in our relationship. Finally, I decided I'd had enough. I decided it was time for us to break-up.
I won't kid you: that was the worst two weeks of my life. I have never been sicker (and this is from a woman with two autoimmune diseases). The headaches, fatigue, and all-over aching I felt were miserable. I thought I might die.
But I got through it. You can guess what happened next - the headaches disappeared. No more cluster headaches, fewer migraines. More energy, less fatigue and general malaise. So there's my happy ending, right? I moved on to healthier relationships and never messed around with caffeine again? Hardly.
Caffeine is as addictive as any other drug, but here's the dangerous thing about drugs: even breaking the physical addiction is not enough.You have to be convinced that it's poison for you. If you think there's anything redeeming about it, you'll go back. It only took one bad enough day with too little sleep the night before and I would run right back.
I've been off the stuff for several years now, because I finally realized that it is a drug and it is poison for me. Here are some things you may or may not know about caffeine:
- According to the Mayo Clinic, caffeine has interactions with certain common antibiotics (such as Cipro) and herbal supplements (echinacea). In the years of caffeine addiction, I certainly used both of those and was never told this by my doctor or pharmacist. Were you?
- Are you one of those people who says "caffeine doesn't affect my sleep" just because you don't have a problem falling asleep? Caffeine can also affect the quality of your sleep, or because of its diuretic properties, cause interrupted sleep.
- For women, caffeine has been linked to a higher risk of 1st trimester miscarriage. There is also some reason to believe it may have an effect on endometriosis and fibrocystic breast pain.
- Caffeine can compound the symptoms of many common health conditions, such as acid reflux, high blood pressure, irritable bowels, anxiety, and (surprise!) headaches and fibromyalgia.
- Important for vegans and those with anemia or bone density issues, caffeine can inhibit the absorption of iron and calcium from your food.
This isn't to say that caffeine doesn't have any positives. For example, it's been shown to have a positive effect on asthma. But of course, it makes sense that there would be genuine medical benefits... since it's a drug. Drugs do have uses in the treatment of disease. But what's the difference between a drug and a poison? Very often, the only difference is when you use it and how much. If you're using caffeine for something other than the treatment of a condition it's known to help, how is that different from prescription drug abuse?
I'm sure there are people out there with appropriate caffeine intake (generally defined by the medical community as 1-2 doses per day) who can experience the benefits without any significant consequences. Just like there are people who can have a glass of red wine every day for the health benefits and not become alcoholics. But just because some people can use these drugs responsibly doesn't mean there's not a risk for the rest of us. If you're a caffeine addict - a person who just can't manage to limit themselves to 1-2 doses a day - consider whether you need to go in for a lifetime of 'caffeine sobriety.'
I'm sure there are people out there with appropriate caffeine intake (generally defined by the medical community as 1-2 doses per day) who can experience the benefits without any significant consequences. Just like there are people who can have a glass of red wine every day for the health benefits and not become alcoholics. But just because some people can use these drugs responsibly doesn't mean there's not a risk for the rest of us. If you're a caffeine addict - a person who just can't manage to limit themselves to 1-2 doses a day - consider whether you need to go in for a lifetime of 'caffeine sobriety.'
Monday, October 8, 2012
It's Mandel Brate, MoFos!
We have one true family recipe in my house, one recipe that everyone knows and loves, handed down for generations - Great Aunt Roz's mandel brate. (Before anyone fusses, this is the way we spell it. I know it's not Wikipedia-approved.) Of course, everyone seems to have their own slightly different version: Mom's has walnuts, her brother Frank's has coconut. My sister Jenny's version is soft in the middle, where Mom likes hers cooked through. But no matter how they tinker with it, some essential part stays the same. Somehow, it always tastes like home. And for three years, I have not had a single bite of it. Until today!
Well, to be fair, I had an approximation of it yesterday. That's because my first attempt at veganizing it fell short. I took a piece to my mother - the final authority on the tradition, having received the recipe directly from the source - and she pronounced yesterday's batch "edible." Damned with faint praise.
But today's recipe? She took a bite and said, "You got it right." And a choir of angels sang! My joy knew no bounds.
Aunt Roz's Mandel Brate - Veganized!
6 tbsp ground flax
¾ cup warm water
3 ¼ cups unsifted flour
1 cup + 1 tbsp sugar
1 tsp baking powder
1 ¼ tsp vanilla
1 cup oil
6 oz choc chips
6 oz chopped walnuts (optional)
Preheat oven to 350. Mix ground flax and warm water. Set aside for 5 minutes. Combine dry ingredients (excluding chocolate and nuts). Add wet ingredients and flax mixture and stir until a soft dough forms. Fold in chocolate chips and nuts.
¾ cup warm water
3 ¼ cups unsifted flour
1 cup + 1 tbsp sugar
1 tsp baking powder
1 ¼ tsp vanilla
1 cup oil
6 oz choc chips
6 oz chopped walnuts (optional)
Preheat oven to 350. Mix ground flax and warm water. Set aside for 5 minutes. Combine dry ingredients (excluding chocolate and nuts). Add wet ingredients and flax mixture and stir until a soft dough forms. Fold in chocolate chips and nuts.
Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper, or spray lightly with cooking spray. Split dough in half and form into two loaves.
Bake at 350 for 38 - 45 min, or until edges turn golden brown. Let cool for 15 min. Slice into bars.
Alternate ingredients: In place of chocolate and walnuts, try 1/2 cup diced apricots, 1/2 cup slivered almonds, and replace 1/2 tsp of vanilla extract with 1/2 tsp of almond extract. That's my variation on the original.
Enjoy the taste of tradition!
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Go, Dad, Go! - A Timeline of Dad's Cure from Diabetes
I am super proud of my father, who joined me on this vegan journey a few months ago and yesterday accomplished a major health goal. Here's what happened:
March 14 - Dad and I attended a screening of Forks Over Knives. Impressed by the scientific health information, Dad gets off the fence and decides to give this crazy vegan thing a try.
March 24 - Dad's first visit to Whole Foods, finding ingredients for a recipe from the Happy Herbivore cookbooks.
March 26 - I get a call at work for assistance in locating the tahini in my kitchen. Dad's first experiment with making hummus, or as I like to call it, vegan manna. Welcome to the club, Dad!
March 27 - The doctor delivers the bad news: Dad's recent bloodwork shows he's progressed from pre-diabetes into full-blown Type 2 diabetes.
March 28 - I order Dad a copy of Dr. Neal Barnard's Program for Reversing Diabetes: The Scientifically Proven System for Reversing Diabetes without Drugs. Dad reads it the minute it arrives, as well as visiting a doctor-recommended dietitian.
April 2 - I hack Dad's Facebook account and force him to "Like" This Dish is Veg and the 21 Day Vegan Kickstart. Positive reinforcement!
April 7 - Dad's first journey into the wild world of quinoa. He's tried all the colors!
April 16 - Dad buys swim trunks, joins a gym, and starts water walking several days a week.
May 27 - Dad talks me into attempting to feed Mom my vegan lasagna. After he allays her fears of it possibly containing tofu, she kinda likes it. I credit Dad for moxie.
June 22 - Mom, who seemed dubious at first but has been supportive nonetheless, buys Dad an industrial size package of veggie burgers at BJ's. There is no surer sign that she approves of his new healthier lifestyle.
June 23 - Dad accompanies me on my typical Saturday circuit of farmer's market, Whole Foods, & Publix. Afterwards, he still finds the energy to go to the gym! (Later, find tired Dad eating peas for dinner. Introduce him to the glorious world of quick-cooking grains with some tomato lentil couscous.)
June 25 - Dad gets his test results from the doctor -- he is no longer diabetic!
CONGRATULATIONS, DADDY! I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!
Dear readers, as to what's next for my dad, he'll shortly be launching a new blog about public health and food safety issues related to bacteria, and hopes to start a nonprofit organization to fight for better answers to this issue. Stay tuned for news about that!
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Messing with the maternal instinct: a new dairy cruelty
This is one of my most painful memories: I woke up from general anesthesia after an emergency C-section and immediately pressed the call button for the nurse. "Where is my baby?" I demanded.
"He's fine," the nurse assured me. "He's in the nursery; they're giving him a bottle."
"But I'm going to breastfeed. I want my baby."
The nurse patiently explained that because I'd been out for so long, they'd had to feed my son formula and they would bring him to me as soon as I was moved to a room.
After that, I was in an out of consciousness for a while, but pervading every waking minute was a sense of desperation. Every time I saw a nurse, I asked what was taking so long. When my husband was allowed into the recovery, I begged him for information. He assured me he'd been to the nursery and our baby was fine, but it made no difference to me. The maternal instinct demanded that I see my child.
When I was moved to a room, I was so relieved. I waited eagerly for them to bring my baby. And waited. And waited. The desperation grew, not because I believed anything was wrong - I knew my son was healthy and in capable hands. No, because of the biological imperative, the primal instinct, of a mother to care for her child. I have honestly never known a stronger drive in my life - no mere emotional response compares. I was just about to try to get out of bed and drag myself to the nursery - giant incision, morphine drip, and all - when they finally brought him to me.
My son will have his 20th birthday in 2012, and the pain and rage over those hours he was withheld from me after his birth are still as real to me as they were in 1992. Maternal instinct is, quite literally, a force of nature.
My friend Peter from Ready for Plan B pointed out an article to me today. From the ironically named Progressive Dairy site, the relevant point was this:
What fresh horror is this?
We know that cows have a maternal instinct. Regardless of whether you believe they can think or feel, this much is known: a defining trait of mammals is that the females nurse their young; therefore, that they have a maternal instinct is self-evident. (If they didn't, they'd abandon their young and the species would die out.) Simply put, a cow's instinct demands she care for her baby, the same as my instinct demanded I care for mine. The dairy industry robs her of the ability to act on that instinct, which is cruel enough. But then to prolong the suffering indefinitely by piping in the sound of her baby's cries?
Imagine being a mother whose child is taken away from her, yet every day, someone plays you a recording of your child crying out for you. Setting aside the emotional aspect, how long do you think it would take for that maternal imperative to fade? How long until your child's cries no longer make you want to react? And you are able to process the child's absence intellectually and choose to tamp down your instinctual reaction. Though I do think they're intelligent creatures, I doubt cows are able to rationalize on that level. No, they're just in a perpetual state of biological drive, with no outlet for that instinct, and the only end in sight is when their milk dries up. After that they're forcibly impregnated and the whole cycle starts again.
To twist and misuse the maternal instinct this way is an affront to nature, and to all mothers everywhere.
"He's fine," the nurse assured me. "He's in the nursery; they're giving him a bottle."
"But I'm going to breastfeed. I want my baby."
The nurse patiently explained that because I'd been out for so long, they'd had to feed my son formula and they would bring him to me as soon as I was moved to a room.
After that, I was in an out of consciousness for a while, but pervading every waking minute was a sense of desperation. Every time I saw a nurse, I asked what was taking so long. When my husband was allowed into the recovery, I begged him for information. He assured me he'd been to the nursery and our baby was fine, but it made no difference to me. The maternal instinct demanded that I see my child.
When I was moved to a room, I was so relieved. I waited eagerly for them to bring my baby. And waited. And waited. The desperation grew, not because I believed anything was wrong - I knew my son was healthy and in capable hands. No, because of the biological imperative, the primal instinct, of a mother to care for her child. I have honestly never known a stronger drive in my life - no mere emotional response compares. I was just about to try to get out of bed and drag myself to the nursery - giant incision, morphine drip, and all - when they finally brought him to me.
My son will have his 20th birthday in 2012, and the pain and rage over those hours he was withheld from me after his birth are still as real to me as they were in 1992. Maternal instinct is, quite literally, a force of nature.
My friend Peter from Ready for Plan B pointed out an article to me today. From the ironically named Progressive Dairy site, the relevant point was this:
Q: What is one unique thing you’ve tried?
A: Calf sounds.
"We are playing hungry baby cow sounds in the robot stall," said Jones. "It releases oxytocin in their brain and we had some research done by a high school student that it increased milk production by a pound at first and causes them to release their milk faster."
What fresh horror is this?
We know that cows have a maternal instinct. Regardless of whether you believe they can think or feel, this much is known: a defining trait of mammals is that the females nurse their young; therefore, that they have a maternal instinct is self-evident. (If they didn't, they'd abandon their young and the species would die out.) Simply put, a cow's instinct demands she care for her baby, the same as my instinct demanded I care for mine. The dairy industry robs her of the ability to act on that instinct, which is cruel enough. But then to prolong the suffering indefinitely by piping in the sound of her baby's cries?
Imagine being a mother whose child is taken away from her, yet every day, someone plays you a recording of your child crying out for you. Setting aside the emotional aspect, how long do you think it would take for that maternal imperative to fade? How long until your child's cries no longer make you want to react? And you are able to process the child's absence intellectually and choose to tamp down your instinctual reaction. Though I do think they're intelligent creatures, I doubt cows are able to rationalize on that level. No, they're just in a perpetual state of biological drive, with no outlet for that instinct, and the only end in sight is when their milk dries up. After that they're forcibly impregnated and the whole cycle starts again.
To twist and misuse the maternal instinct this way is an affront to nature, and to all mothers everywhere.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
About Me
Welcome to I Am Veggie-Mightee! I'm your host, Kasey, and this is a bit of information about me.
I grew up working in my father's wholesale produce business. One might think this would inspire a love of fresh fruit and vegetables - unless of course one has kids and knows how incredibly contrary they generally are. Until well into adulthood, you could not have paid me to eat a salad.
Despite a decided lack of interest in eating fruits and vegetables, I became a vegetarian at age eight upon realizing that chicken was actually a chicken. For over ten years, I existed as what Dad called "a Frito Lay vegetarian." Indeed, the corn in Fritos was probably the only veg I ate for long periods of time. I survived on buttered noodles, grilled cheese sandwiches, and Whoppers-hold-the-beef. Perhaps once or twice a year, I'd eat tofu - particularly if my vegetarian auntie made it for me.
At age 20, when I received the joyous news that my husband and I were expecting "an inheritance from God" (or as my Gran would say, "our first brat"), I also received the not-so-joyous news that I was severely anemic. In retrospect, this is hardly surprising. But at the time, I didn't know enough about vegetarian nutrition to combat my OB-GYN's firm belief that I had to start eating meat. Because I will not accept blood transfusion on religious principle, my trusted doctor told me he would refuse to treat me unless I adopted a carnistic diet.
Fast-forward six years. After the birth of my second son, I became debilitated with pain and stiffness. After several years of tests upon tests, specialists upon specialists, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and psoriatic arthritis. I was prescribed nearly 20 pills a day. I spent months in physical therapy to be able to walk without a cane - at age 26.
Then my hormonal cycle went wild and I was diagnosed with perimenopause - at age 26. My mental health deteriorated from the strain and from constant hormonal fluctuation. Migraines and other health issues prevented me from being treated, and I again become severely anemic, despite continuing to eat a carnistic diet.
I never suspected a link between the way I was eating and the deterioration in my health. In retrospect, I realized I had experienced symptoms of fibromyalgia and psoriatic arthritis since childhood, but it never occurred to me to wonder what had kept them from becoming as severe as they later became. Now I know better.
In March of 2010, I once again committed to vegetarianism. I didn't have a thought of it affecting my health, or my waistline, or the environment. I just realized that I didn't want animals to die. I've never been comfortable with the idea that any other being should be sacrificed for my benefit. (And I think, in a way, that belief gives a greater significance to the Christian concept of Jesus' willing sacrifice, but that's another subject.) It was only by pushing the thought of what I was eating out of my mind, ignoring it, that I managed to eat meat for the better part of 17 years.
To me, it was simply about empathy. I, personally, empathize with that animal too much to want to eat it. As an adult, and initially for the safety of my child (which was paramount), I learned to push those feelings aside. But that is never a good thing. That sensitivity is a part of who I am and suppressing it makes me a less complete person on the whole. It affects my compassion, my reverence for life, and my sense of wonder at the living world around me. Once my child was safe, I was sacrificing conscience for convenience.
Just a few months after returning to vegetarianism, thanks to some wonderful vegan friends, I learned about the impact of meat and dairy on health, the environment, public safety, and animal welfare. I read Jonathan Safran Foer's Eating Animals, watched the documentary Earthlings, and made the commitment to a vegan diet. It took me a long time to transition, but I believe in progress, not perfection.
Today, I'm a contributing writer to This Dish is Veg, a frequent baketivist (although in my case, it's more like a cooktivist, because I'm less likely to bake vegan treats than I am to share a tasty vegan casserole), and an avid recipe veganizer.
Oh, and my health? Getting better every day! Going vegan resolved my anemia, completely eliminated the symptoms that were misdiagnosed as perimenopause, and made my fibromyalgia and psoriatic arthritis practically asymptomatic. My mental health stabilized. Migraines became more manageable. My energy levels soared (to the point that I actually joined a gym!) As an added bonus, it also improved my hearing impairment. (No joke. But read the comments on Alicia Silverstone's post about me for an audiologist's explanation of why and how your mileage may vary.)
Other important context for future posts:
I grew up working in my father's wholesale produce business. One might think this would inspire a love of fresh fruit and vegetables - unless of course one has kids and knows how incredibly contrary they generally are. Until well into adulthood, you could not have paid me to eat a salad.
Despite a decided lack of interest in eating fruits and vegetables, I became a vegetarian at age eight upon realizing that chicken was actually a chicken. For over ten years, I existed as what Dad called "a Frito Lay vegetarian." Indeed, the corn in Fritos was probably the only veg I ate for long periods of time. I survived on buttered noodles, grilled cheese sandwiches, and Whoppers-hold-the-beef. Perhaps once or twice a year, I'd eat tofu - particularly if my vegetarian auntie made it for me.
At age 20, when I received the joyous news that my husband and I were expecting "an inheritance from God" (or as my Gran would say, "our first brat"), I also received the not-so-joyous news that I was severely anemic. In retrospect, this is hardly surprising. But at the time, I didn't know enough about vegetarian nutrition to combat my OB-GYN's firm belief that I had to start eating meat. Because I will not accept blood transfusion on religious principle, my trusted doctor told me he would refuse to treat me unless I adopted a carnistic diet.
The problem was, once the habit of cooking and eating meat began, it was very hard to break. My husband had always been a burgers-and-fries guy. I had concerns about my ability to raise healthy vegetarian children. (Not other people's ability, mind you. Just mine. I wasn't much of a cook at the time.)
Fast-forward six years. After the birth of my second son, I became debilitated with pain and stiffness. After several years of tests upon tests, specialists upon specialists, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and psoriatic arthritis. I was prescribed nearly 20 pills a day. I spent months in physical therapy to be able to walk without a cane - at age 26.
Then my hormonal cycle went wild and I was diagnosed with perimenopause - at age 26. My mental health deteriorated from the strain and from constant hormonal fluctuation. Migraines and other health issues prevented me from being treated, and I again become severely anemic, despite continuing to eat a carnistic diet.
I never suspected a link between the way I was eating and the deterioration in my health. In retrospect, I realized I had experienced symptoms of fibromyalgia and psoriatic arthritis since childhood, but it never occurred to me to wonder what had kept them from becoming as severe as they later became. Now I know better.
In March of 2010, I once again committed to vegetarianism. I didn't have a thought of it affecting my health, or my waistline, or the environment. I just realized that I didn't want animals to die. I've never been comfortable with the idea that any other being should be sacrificed for my benefit. (And I think, in a way, that belief gives a greater significance to the Christian concept of Jesus' willing sacrifice, but that's another subject.) It was only by pushing the thought of what I was eating out of my mind, ignoring it, that I managed to eat meat for the better part of 17 years.
To me, it was simply about empathy. I, personally, empathize with that animal too much to want to eat it. As an adult, and initially for the safety of my child (which was paramount), I learned to push those feelings aside. But that is never a good thing. That sensitivity is a part of who I am and suppressing it makes me a less complete person on the whole. It affects my compassion, my reverence for life, and my sense of wonder at the living world around me. Once my child was safe, I was sacrificing conscience for convenience.
Just a few months after returning to vegetarianism, thanks to some wonderful vegan friends, I learned about the impact of meat and dairy on health, the environment, public safety, and animal welfare. I read Jonathan Safran Foer's Eating Animals, watched the documentary Earthlings, and made the commitment to a vegan diet. It took me a long time to transition, but I believe in progress, not perfection.
Today, I'm a contributing writer to This Dish is Veg, a frequent baketivist (although in my case, it's more like a cooktivist, because I'm less likely to bake vegan treats than I am to share a tasty vegan casserole), and an avid recipe veganizer.
Oh, and my health? Getting better every day! Going vegan resolved my anemia, completely eliminated the symptoms that were misdiagnosed as perimenopause, and made my fibromyalgia and psoriatic arthritis practically asymptomatic. My mental health stabilized. Migraines became more manageable. My energy levels soared (to the point that I actually joined a gym!) As an added bonus, it also improved my hearing impairment. (No joke. But read the comments on Alicia Silverstone's post about me for an audiologist's explanation of why and how your mileage may vary.)
Other important context for future posts:
- My husband of 20+ years and our two wonderful sons are still eating carnistically, though they are supportive of my vegan diet and frequently cook and/or eat vegan meals as a family.
- I work as the Director of Operations & Communications for the Multiple Sclerosis Foundation, and it's one of several charities I'm passionate about. Others include the South Florida Wildlife Center and Equality Now.
- I'm an avid knitter and crocheter. I founded The Humble Stitch Project to provide warmth and compassion for South Florida's homeless.
- I'm a Christian - specifically a Jehovah's Witness - who believes strongly in tolerance and civil discussion. I come from a religiously diverse family and won't tolerate anti-Christian, anti-Semitic, anti-Islamic, anti-nontheist, or any other kind of intolerant comments in my blog. Our family has a policy of agreeing to disagree.
- I'm a native Floridian, born at a time when Fort Lauderdale was still a sleepy little town (outside of Spring Break) with a Tropical/Southern blend of culture. I consider myself a Southerner and get a little prickly when people suggest otherwise.
- I absolutely love feedback. Please feel free to constructively criticize, offer comments or suggestions, or just let me know that you read something!
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