Truth or Consequences: Placing Animals Over Ideology

by Miyun Park

VegNews, Veg Children & Teens, Nov./Dec. 2003, Page 34

Though no longer a teenager, Miyun Park went vegan at 19 and is a frequent and valued contributor to VegetarianTeen.com online magazine. Her article below kicks off the regular teen contribution to the Child & Teens column in every issue of VegNews. —Melanie Wilson, Editor

Call me obsessive or passionate—I, of course, prefer the glamour of the latter—but I never do something just a little. When something interests me, whether it's a band, an author, a relationship, or anything really, I throw myself into it with an enthusiasm bordering on neurosis.

As you can imagine given my tendency towards excess, when I became aware of the horrific ways we abuse animals, I was manic. In fact, for the first 12 of 13 years I've been vegan, I took cruelty-free living to the extreme. I ripped up carpeting in my apartment because it might have wool in it, refused to sit at a non-vegan dinner table, and wouldn't let anyone wearing a speck of wool, leather, silk, or down enter my home. While I told myself and others that my uncompromising stance reflected my dedication to end animal suffering, I wasn't looking at the consequences of my actions.

While I was being self-righteous (although I'd still prefer we say "passionate"), I drove a car (killing hundreds of thousands of insects a year), watched movies and took photos (gelatin in film), rented an apartment (built on land once home to countless wildlife), and ate (how many animals die in crop harvesting?). I did recognize that we can't ever be completely vegan without killing ourselves, so I arbitrarily drew a line with "vegan" on one side and "animal abuser" on the other. I convinced myself I was doing all I could for animals, and those actions less convenient to shun (the biggie being eating) could be written off as unfortunate necessities.

As I was patting myself on the back for my compassion and commitment, I was turning off people left and right. I alienated vegetarians and vegans who didn't follow my rules of selective purity and likely caused strangers to think all animal activists were fanatical freaks. I was defined more by what I didn't do, eat, wear, or support than by what I did do for animals. I'm sure I pushed away vegans-to-be by making animal-friendly living seem more like an exclusive religious cult with my long list of don'ts than an empowering decision to choose compassion over killing.

It wasn't until I had dinner two summers ago with someone I respect greatly that I was encouraged to question how I let my principles affect my advocacy. I was telling him how horrible I felt when I had lunch with a reporter and he ordered a lacto-vegetarian dish. I was equally upset about eating at a non-vegan table as I was with my silence. For some reason, I didn't say a word, and, for that, I berated myself for losing my commitment to animal liberation. Instead of consoling me or lamenting the rudeness of the journalist, my dinner partner asked if I thought I would have helped more animals had I made a comment about the cheese on his plate or gotten up and sat at a different table (which I've done many times in the past).

I rambled on for a few moments about how it was disrespectful for someone to consume animal products in front of an ethical vegan and then realized I hadn't answered his question. In fact, I realized I had never before considered his question. I had always assumed that being steadfast (intolerant?) and unwavering (obsessive?) in putting my principles above all else (egocentric?), I was helping animals. My dinner partner was amused by my epiphany and simply smiled and encouraged me to be mindful of the consequences of what I do and say, especially around potential vegetarians and vegans.

Since then, I've tried to see us all as the animals' ambassadors. People who first consider the idea of animal liberation turn to us to see how they would have to live if they adopted our ethic. Chances are, if we come off as self-righteous, marginal fanatics, we make veganism that much less attractive. Now I try to approach every interaction, whether with a friend, family member, or passerby, as if it will be that person's one and only experience with an animal advocate. So, what's the best way to encourage someone to explore animal-friendly diets? Rattle off a list of don't-eats with white sugar, honey, and sodium lactylate alongside chickens, eggs, and fish? Condemn her for supporting the veal industry by still eating dairy products? Tell someone they're hurting animals if they're not 100-percent vegan when they're still doing more than 99.9 percent of the population? Of course not. Chances for a positive outcome for the animals lie with encouraging people to enjoy the growing variety of animal-friendly products, knowing they'll get great satisfaction-and a happy stomach!-from knowing we can all help animals every time we sit down to eat.

For far too long, I did the animals a disservice by making veganism seem fringe and unattainable instead of working to make compassion mainstream. Although I admit it's sometimes difficult, I'm trying to remind myself that the animals don't care what I think as long as they're left off our plates.

Miyun Park is the president of Compassion Over Killing, www.cok.net, a nonprofit animal advocacy organization based in Washington, D.C. working to end animal abuse.