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Children
I do not have any children and - since I'm not in a
serious relationship with anyone - I haven't really
given the idea of children much thought. However, I
thought I'd share the story of my transition from a
nightmarishly selfish vegan child to a compassionate
vegan adult.
I suppose all children and teenagers cause their parents
some grief at times, but I feel fairly certain that
I took the cake! I announced to my heavily meat-eating,
hunting-as-a-family-togetherness-activity family when
I was thirteen that I would no longer be eating meat.
Looking back, I'm fairly certain that I did it more
out of a desire to avoid the taste of game meat and
possibly just to annoy my parents than out of any sense
of compassion for the animals. But, as happens to people
who start learning about vegetarianism, I became more
and more aware of the disgusting level of cruelty inflicted
on animals by humans. By the time I was fifteen, I knew
that I could no longer continue eating or using any
animal products whatsoever and still look at myself
in the mirror.
My family took my announcement of my change to veganism
less well than they did my announcement of my change
to vegetarianism. From my mother, I got the obligatory,
"But where will you get your protein?" concerns. My
father and brothers were an entirely different story.
They were furious, cruel, and belittling of the importance
of my decision to me. I was routinely called an idiot
and a fanatic. My father absolutely forbid me (too late)
to get rid of my leather, wool, and silk clothing, and
insisted (to no avail) that I replace it. My brothers
would return from their hunting trips, pull me out into
the garage, and literally physically force me to look
at their latest kills. Meals, and any other family times,
became torture. I couldn't spend more than twenty minutes
with any member of my family without the situation devolving
into a screaming, crying, name-calling match.
This is where I usually end the story, waiting for
all of the sympathy to come rolling in concerning my
cruel, unenlightened family. But there is more to it
than that. I was largely responsible for the nightmare
that was my last two years at home. I became militant
and accusatory about animal cruelty issues, confronting
every member of my family several times a week about
their food and clothing choices. I routinely told my
family that they were all murderers and that I hated
them. I refused to go on family vacations, family outings,
or even just have a night at home with them. I did nothing
at all to decrease the stress of the situation - I did
everything within my power to make it worse, in fact.
I thought that college was the only thing that could
save me. I applied to colleges as far away from my family
as I could find, and happily chose one in a state my
parents had never even driven through. I wasn't the
only one who was happy that I was getting out, though.
On the (rather long) drive to the airport, early in
the morning, my mother finally broke the long silence,
sighed, and said, "I don't want you to think that we
don't love you. We do. But I can't hide the fact that
we're all glad you're leaving. The last couple of years
have been hard. Maybe things will be better with you
living so far away." I, being my childish self, said
I was glad to be going - and that I wasn't sure I ever
wanted to come back.
Living vegan in the dorms is a whole essay unto itself,
but the rest of my experiences at college my first semester
were excellent. I made many friends, none of them vegan,
but all of them wonderful. I enjoyed my classes and
did well.
One day, shortly before Christmas, a favorite professor
of mine mentioned to the class how jealous he was of
this very moment in our lives and our relationships
with our families. "This Christmas is a great opportunity
for each of you. Many of you are going to be returning
home after the first long-term absence from your family.
Things will have changed at home, and things have changed
for you, as well. Most of you are more intelligent,
more mature, more accepting of faults in adults than
you were four months ago. Let me give you some advice:
don't waste it. Don't slip back into what you were when
you left home. It's going to be hard, because you'll
find it easiest to slip back into your accustomed place
in the family, but don't do it. Stand out. Be better
than you were. This chance will not come again. At future
Christmases, they won't be as ready to see that college
has changed you. Take the opportunity and use it - be
who you've always wanted to be for your family."
I and a couple of my friends who were in that class
with me discussed over dinner that night what our professor's
comments meant. My two friends talked about wanting
to impress their fathers with their ability to not blow
their school budgets, please their mothers with talk
of boyfriends and dances, and be more patient with their
little brothers and sisters. All I could think was,
"Just please help me get through Christmas dinner without
WWIII breaking out!"
Over the next couple of days, I thought a lot about
it, though. What kind of person did I want to be for
my family? Certainly not what I was in their eyes: a
fanatic, an idiot, a constant source of stress and bad
feelings. I wanted to be seen as an adult. Someone they
respected. Someone they trusted. Someone who encouraged
them to be more compassionate. Someone they loved.
I shared these thoughts with my friends and pointed
out that it was impossible. My parents could never accept
me, and we could never get along on an even simply polite
level, because my parents were cruel murderers. My friends
rolled their eyes at each other and started to ask me
questions - about my family, about my goals, about my
reasons for being vegan. In the end, my friend said
to me, "I just don't understand how you can be so compassionate
to animals, so kind and forgiving of your friends, but
so cruel to your family."
That really made me think. I wasn't being cruel to
my family, they were being cruel to me..... weren't
they? They were the problem, not me..... right? Maybe
not.
A plan started to form in my head. What if I treated
my family like I treated my best friends? What if I
always smiled when I saw them, asked them questions
to let them know I was interested in their opinions,
complimented them on what I liked about them, tried
to see past their failings, did everything in my power
to make their lives better? I decided to give it a shot
- it certainly couldn't make anything worse.
When I stepped out of the gate at the airport and saw
my mom and dad waiting for me with wary looks in their
eyes, I forced a huge, happy smile onto my face. I gave
them both big hugs, told them how much I had missed
them and how happy I was to see them again. On the drive
home, I chatted happily about how much I enjoyed college,
but I also made a point to ask questions about their
lives. For the first time in my life, my father talked
to me about his work. My mother just kept turning in
her seat to grin at me.
At home, I did the same with my brothers. I pulled
out the little gifts I had picked up for them and asked
them about high school and junior high and sports. At
dinner, everyone was too busy telling stories and laughing
to notice or care that I was eating a salad instead
of the meatloaf.
The days continued to get better and better. I told
my mom that I wanted to learn to cook, and she bought
a couple of vegan cookbooks for me. We spent many wonderful
hours together experimenting in the kitchen and getting
to know each other again after three years of no communication.
I played sports and video games with my brothers and
went on long walks alone with each of them. They told
me their dreams and their goals and their problems and
concerns. I spent hours rubbing my father's back as
we watched TV, listening to the advice he had for me
about classes and finances.When meal time came, I was
always a little stressed in my heart, but nothing ever
came of it. I had always made at least one vegan dish
to try out my cooking skills, and so there was no question
about me having something to eat. My family all wanted
to try what I made - usually teasing me a little when
it didn't turn out quite right, but applauding and cheering
like crazy when it did.
Probably the best moment of my visit came when my mother
was once again driving me to the airport. There was
no uncomfortable silence. We continued to chat happily
about everything under the sun. Suddenly, my mom broke
off in mid-sentence and smiled at me. "You are a miracle.
Can I tell you that? A miracle. I've never seen everyone
as happy as they are when you're around. You're so special,
and I'm so proud that you're my daughter."
At that moment, I knew I had made the change that I
thought was impossible. I had stepped out of what had
been a childhood with a bad ending and into a compassionate,
loving adulthood. It has been several years since that
day, but I've never forgotten how good it made me feel.
And how good I've continued to feel as I've extended
my compassion for all living things to my family. And
how good it has felt as they've also striven to increase
their compassion. I almost fell over dead when my mother
said she was going to only prepare meat two meals each
week, but I was too busy dancing for joy!
I regret that it took me so long to see that the principles
of compassion that I adopted in my diet and lifestyle
should be applied - perhaps above all - to my relationships
with my family. I missed out on a truly compassionate
childhood. But I'm making the best of a compassionate
adulthood.
L.D.
New York
- n e x t e
s s a y -
Copyright © 1998-2013 by Jo Stepaniak
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