Compassionate Iconoclasm: The Vegetarian Experience
by Sophia Magnone, age 16
Chicago, Illinois

Did I ever truly eat before becoming a vegetarian? Sure, I mechanically
stabbed my fork into hunks of roasted flesh, shoveled gobs of greasy
poultry appendages into my mouth, and had no second thought about making a
repast of a shriveled, processed patty of dead meat within an airy bun.
After all, I was an American and therefore my duty was to consume, to feed
the frenzied capitalistic cycle upon which my nation was based. Into my
head were drilled the pillars of the glorious American doctrine, beginning
in childhood. Earn money! I learned. Comply with cultural beauty standards!
Marry a socially acceptable man! And EAT MEAT!

As I grew older, I began to realize that not all of this was necessarily
true. Still, the concept of vegetarianism seemed foreign, and vaguely
subversive. Why wouldn't I eat meat? Everyone ate meat! What else was
there? I loved animals - cute ones, that is - but somehow the image of a
benignly mooing cow, grazing serenely in a field, had no relation to the
steaming slab of steak I saw on my plate. The idea that a person would
adopt a custom as strange as vegetarianism struck me as illogical, and I
continued mindlessly dining on the staples of a normal, carnivorous diet.

It wasn't that I enjoyed eating meat so much. I derived no atavistic
pleasure from the knowledge that my species stood grinning on the top of
the food chain. It was just what people did. So I did it. Then one summer,
a jaded and restless teenager, I decided that I wasn't happy following the
rigors of conformity. No longer did I shop for clothes with the objective
of blending in with my peers; I spurned the radio, with its monotonous
medley of prepackaged vulgarity. And, surprising even my own self, I made
the decision to become a vegetarian.

I am still uncertain exactly how the original notion surfaced in my head.
It was motivated partly by a concern for the fates of livestock, partly for
the environment, and partly for my own health. More than anything, however,
I just wanted a change in my life. Vegetarianism had the allure of
radicalism, of going against the grain of the banal American tradition.
Regardless, I established a trial period which, I believe, will last for
the rest of my life. For I adored being a vegetarian. It was a matter of
merely a few weeks before I had transformed from a staid, meat-eating
automaton into a zealous progressive who flinched whenever her skin came
into contact with meat. I felt healthier and more compassionate; I was
aiding my planet and its inhabitants; plus, I was swindling the proponents
of the corporate meat-packing scheme, those conniving swine who profited
greedily upon dripping bovine blood. Vegetarianism transcended my eating
habits; it was a state of being. No longer was I a vacuous cog in the
consumer system. I was an individual! I was somebody! I was a vegetarian!
My mother was at first wary of my decision, foreseeing her maternal duties
doubled by my separate meal requirements. To ease her acceptance of my new
lifestyle, I began to take an active role in the cooking process. Soon I
was cooking several meals a week and enjoying it immensely. I loved being a
chef. There was something truly empowering about chopping vegetables,
stirring rice, arranging everything tidily on the dining room table. As a
bonus, my mother, a subtle iconoclast in her own right, evolved towards
vegetarianism on her own, and gradually became my fellow defender of
vegetarianism against the close-minded remainder of the family.

I discovered how much I had been shortchanging myself as a carnivore. Then,
I had never felt particularly enthusiastic about what I ate. After my
conversion, the simple pleasures of eating well became apparent. Vegetables
were not only aesthetically stunning, in their reckless colors and
geometric shapes. They also actually tasted good. Tofu, long considered by
me to be pretentious and bland, made its way into my diet, along with the
exotic commodities of seitan, tempeh, and the indispensable textured
vegetable protein. It was easy to adapt our traditional pasta recipes into
vegetarian delights, and I also began to experiment with more unusual
substances: hummus, couscous, and the whole-wheat bread with bits of
visible grain which I had always detested. Ethnic foods had always seemed
too weird for me, but now I openly embraced cuisine from all cultures. And
even though I savored eating so much more, I was actually healthier than I
had been as a meat-eater. My eating habits were more balanced, and I
stopped craving the empty wiles of candy, chips, and soda, in which my
teenage peers wallowed. I became more aware of my nutritional needs, making
sure that I received enough non-meat protein to stay active.

When high school started that fall, my friends were astonished to hear my
news. Some were openly disdainful; others regarded me with mild admiration,
mumbling, "I tried that. . . once." Without realizing it, my reputation as
a non-meat-eater spread. I soon discovered that I was one of a small,
diverse elite of vegetarians within my class. My new identity was
reinforced. No one treated me any differently, but being surrounded by the
veggie mystique was slightly empowering.

By now, after a mere ten months as a vegetarian, I feel as though it is a
major aspect of my character. It sets me apart from the swarming, grease-
consuming masses. The single word "vegetarian" divulges a whole set of
forms; someone who thinks about her actions and how they impact her
surroundings; someone whose idealism has not yet been quite extinguished. I
believe that I can make a difference, even in a passive way such as
vegetarianism. I believe that by educating people, I, and others like me,
can encourage a more harmonious relationship between humans and their
planet.

My campaign is simple, informal. It doesn't require an elaborate scheme, no
radical world conquest - not that I've completely ruled that out. And I
don't intend to become a militant, screaming fanatic at any point in the
future; I shall never resort to waving bloody meat plant photos and death
threats in the faces of McDonalds' patrons. I'm realistic enough to see
that eating meat is too firmly entrenched within our society for it to be
eliminated so easily. Nevertheless, I do my best to spread my ideals among
my friends. Some of them are pretty receptive; I've even influenced two or
three people to go vegetarian themselves.

However successful my crusades are, I know that every time I reject meat, I
am not only benefiting my own body, but helping my environment and fellow
creatures, as well as dodging the grasp of the malevolent capitalist pigs
of the meat industry. I can deal with the perplexed stares and
condescending sneers of the unenlightened. Embracing vegetarianism is, for
me, the most natural thing in the world.


courtesy of http://www.vrg.org/journal/vj2001mar/2001maressay.htm

--
And the best that you adult bozos can come up with is "If we aren't
supposed to eat animals then why are they made of meat?"