Sometimes the harsh reality of a non-vegan world hits me smack in the face and the pain is brand new again.
Most recently it was on my way to work when I passed an empty slaughterhouse truck on the highway. I immediately had to hold back tears. I’m not sure what’s more depressing, an empty slaughterhouse truck or a full one. No wait— full is definitely worse. Never do I feel more helpless than when I see a truck packed full of animals, completely exposed to the weather, staring out the tiny holes, probably scared shitless, not knowing they’re about to have their hellish life culminated by a merciless death so some selfish humans can have a cheap meal. I inevitably glare and flip off the truck driver, wondering how he can possibly justify delivering so many animals to their death. I could be homeless and starving on the street and you still couldn’t pay me to drive that truck.
It’s easy to get comfortable in my own little bubble, with my kitchen full of vegan-friendly food, the vegan-friendly restaurants I go to, the fellow vegans I talk with every day. I sometimes forget just how truly horrible it really is out there for the animals. It’s usually a new Mercy for Animals investigation that jolts me back to reality, but sometimes it’s things like that truck on the highway, or another upcoming instance– the holidays.
It’s less than three weeks until Thanksgiving and I’m already depressed about it. I can’t wrap my brain around 45 MILLION animals being killed for one stupid day or that so many people are okay with that.
In the past I’ve set aside the sadness and tried to incorporate vegan options into my family dinner so I could show that meat is not necessary and I have PLENTY to eat besides dry rolls and salad. I’d bring soy butter, veggie gravy, Field Roast, etc. I considered doing that again this year, but was bothered by the fact that no matter how much food I bring, there will still be a dead bird on the table that everyone else will be eating. Not to mention the countless side dishes chock full of tortured animal products. No amount of green bean casserole or mashed potatoes can shield me from that. Plus I can’t handle listening to people pray to their god, giving thanks for all their blessings and asking for compassion, while ignoring the dead animal on the table who had no blessings or compassion whatsoever in its life. I concluded that by trying to adapt to existing traditions, I’m only granting legitimacy to this disgusting event.
So this year I’ve decided to opt out of Thanksgiving.
Perhaps this is selfish and I should try harder to be a good ambassador, but I can’t handle the emotional distress. Even just thinking about how my words and pleas for compassion have no effect on my family at all brings tears to my eyes. It’s too much.
I’m pretty sure most people think I’m crazy for how much this bothers me. For some reason people have compassion for dogs and cats, but not many other animals. The rest are okay to barbecue, hook up to machines, test chemicals on, cage up in zoos, etc. Perhaps they would better understand what Thanksgiving is like for vegans if instead of turkey, tradition called for everyone to eat a fat, juicy cat instead. Or maybe they would just build another mental wall and excuse that practice too.
There are many vegans that are really good at accepting a non-vegan world. Obviously I’m not one of them.
45 million dead turkeys do not evoke a “thankful” feeling. It makes me disgusted and ashamed to be a human. I don’t want to be a part of this revolting holiday any more.
No use to his owner since he’s male and therefore can’t produce milk, he was chained up, starving, and almost too weak to stand when he was rescued by 
