The New England Vegan Ethic

Use it up, use it out, Make do, Do without – an ethic close to my New England roots, as well as my vegan life. If I don’t need it, why buy it? If I don’t use it, why not give it away to someone who can find use for it?
Applies to every aspect of life, nu?

Reminded today, while whipping up a few more veggie bags from scrap fabrics of how I coped with the loss of my beloved in October of 99, and how I dealt with 9/11. I was so utterly in shock, so deep in a black abyss, so dismantled by his sudden demise, and the vast amount of suffering that 9/11 wrought, words failed me, still fail me.

9/11 was a time of horror for the entire world, yet left me floundering in confusion why no one got that 10/29/99 was my 9/11. I went into rote behavior. I opened my sewing box. I began to piece together bits of fabric, with no plan, no clue what I was doing, just methodically washing, starching, cutting, and stitching together random bits of fabric. I bought dozens of yards of fabric in both yardage and “fat quarters” with no idea of how or why I’d ever use them up, in an attempt to fill an un-fillable void.

Fast forward to a time when I’ve pieced several quilts, given many away, and have still lots of fabric that may very well dry rot before I reach the bottom. Also, I’m now vegan, which translates into treading as lightly on Gaia as is conceivable.

Those first efforts at pieced nine squares taunt me. An opportunity has arisen, in the form of my offer to put together drawstring bags for my vegan friends to use for bulk beans, veggies, fruit, whatever else they see fit to stuff in them. I have encountered a cause, in the form of a horse with a surgical bill of over 8K. His name is Chavez. So, the deal became that anything over shipping cost would be donated to Chavez. The bags keep getting fancier and fancier, in the efforts to raise money for Chavez. My hope is that those receiving the bags will be wowed enough to be generous (to the degree they can.) and allow me, the woman who witnessed the second 9/11 from the other side of a sewing machine to find peace – at last.

Pretending I am Moving

I am still in the process of veganizing my surroundings. There are still shoes, purses, and a relic of a tub of honey body cream here, and I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. That said, there is also the relic of the ancient refrigerator in the living room. I’ve encountered a compassionate soul from St. Vincent de Paul Association and they have agreed to take the refrigerator even though normally they don’t accept nonworking appliances.

So I’ve sweetened the deal by going through the closets, drawers, and garage and I’ve gathered up boatloads of gently worn suits, some clothing with tags still on them (!!!) and many many many pairs of Stuart Weitzman, Coach, and Birkenstocks. They are also getting the many many many Coach purses and totes. MY theory is that to sell that stuff would cause me to be guilty of enriching myself at the expense of animals again, something that surely would not go into my karma account as a positive. And I am uber reluctant to mess with karma.

As a result of all the looking around, trying on clothing, sorting through stuff, I’ve also figured out that I can save even more electricity by moving my bedroom down to the guest room and closing off the whole top floor of the house. Why should I cool rooms that are not being used? So I’ve been clearing out the guest room to prepare for painting while I’m waiting for the charity truck, and thinking about how I’ve got, for example, a whole desk full of cosmetics I’ve not used in years. I’ve been thinking (still) about moving to Savannah, and how every time I pick something up that I don’t really need, use often, or love totally, that it should not be here to facilitate moving. With that thought, I’ve decided to paint the room, paint my great grandmother’s desk, and put my bed, the desk and the chiffarobe in that room and I’ll be set. As a bonus, I’ll be ten steps closer to Savannah.

The Six Principles of the Animal Rights Position
The animal rights position maintains that all sentient beings, humans or nonhuman, have one right: the basic right not to be treated as the property of others.
Our recognition of the one basic right means that we must abolish, and not merely regulate, institutionalized animal exploitation–because it assumes that animals are the property of humans.
Just as we reject racism, sexism, ageism, and homophobia, we reject speciesism. The species of a sentient being is no more reason to deny the protection of this basic right than race, sex, age, or sexual orientation is a reason to deny membership in the human moral community to other humans.
We recognize that we will not abolish overnight the property status of nonhumans, but we will support only those campaigns and positions that explicitly promote the abolitionist agenda. We will not support positions that call for supposedly “improved” regulation of animal exploitation. We reject any campaign that promotes sexism, racism, homophobia or other forms of discrimination against humans.
We recognize that the most important step that any of us can take toward abolition is to adopt the vegan lifestyle and to educate others about veganism. Veganism is the principle of abolition applied to one’s personal life and the consumption of any meat, fowl, fish, or dairy product, or the wearing or use of animal products, is inconsistent with the abolitionist perspective.
We recognize the principle of nonviolence as the guiding principle of the animal rights movement.
Gary L. Francione© 2007 Gary L. Francione

Dear Omnivores who tell me Veganism is a "personal choice" Extinction Hurts ALL of Us. In fact, I'd offer up to you that since you are so self righteous about my right to swing my fist ending at the tip of your nose take a look around you... See what I see? That we are all stuck here on this tiny little planet together? So, when we successfully overfish the Mediterrainian Sea to the point of killing off six species of sharks essential to the ecosystem, will anyone else be making the connection between the "fish is not a vegetable" ? When the Condor is gone, due to lead poisoning from bullets left in dying animals by hunters you'll proudly announce that you never hunted.... you got your meat and fish served up in style on styrofoam platters wrapped in plastic. See http://www.plentymag.com/blogs/extinction/ for details.

Oh, and Dear Omnis who ask that I "spare them the lecture" yeah.... go ahead and continue your selfish squandering of the limited remaining resources while breaking your arm patting yourself on the back about what an "animal lover" you are. Yeah, go ahead, because we all know when the shitstorm ends, we'll ALL be dead and I won't be able to find you....to say "I told you so."

Clearing Out The Clutter

In my growth as a human being, ie becoming more vegan with every passing day, I've faced conundrums like what to do with all the clothing, shoes, handbags, luggage, jewelry, cars, and other sundry items that have come to represent oppression, slavery, and worse for all sentient beings.

One of my Vegan Freak contemporaries signature says it all for me: I didn't stop eating meat because I didn't like the taste, I gave up meat because I couldn't stand the taste of suffering. This concept runs through my head every time I consider such small acts as drinking a cup of coffee. For me, a trip to Starbucks became symbolic of the oppression of the humans harvesting the beans, to their families who likely were malnourished, denied basic rights, and then presented to the world as being "the reason for starvation" because they are "not practicing birth control." To add insult to injury, my Starbux slave trade coffee would be topped off with cream. Cream stolen from a cow, who like millions of her sister cows, had been artificially inseminated only to have her baby ripped from her teat soon after birth. Baby was destined for a veal crate or a repetition of Mom's "life" of slavery, foreshortened by hormones designed to increase the speed with which her body was stripped of calcium so that *I* could "enjoy" the products of her lactation. All this "enjoyment" of a cup of coffee while wearing a diamond tennis bracelet mined by slaves, wearing shoes constructed of the skin of slaves, swathed in "beauty products" tested on slaves, with my perfectly manicured fingertips (the errant bit of polish cleared away with nail polish remover tested in the eyes of rabbits.... yup, nail polish remover still burns bunnies eyes after all these years!) *I* could stand there chatting up the new styles of Coach bags with my silk scarf tied oh so cleverly around my neck feeling ever so smug about finding an amazing bargain on a pair of gently worn Manolo Blahniks and not even think about the women and children who'd labored through 85 hour work weeks in a sweat shop to produce my Victoria's Secret lacy thong and matching bra beneath my Levi's from Cambodia, and my baby tee sporting a show dog portrait. And then I woke up.

So now - what to do with all those shoes, bags, clothes, etc.? Should I set up shop on eBay? Go the consignment route? Profit more? Create more market for these symbols that are now meaningless to me? I cannot, in good conscience. In a very feeble attempt at restitution, I've been donating them to charity. Let those who need it most get the last remaining vestiges of value from those things I should never have found any value in possessing. They were never really mine to take.

The Hypocrisy of Cage Free Eggs

Yesterday I heard an interview with Moby on Animal Talk, a segment played on my local community radio station WMNF . Moby expressed the opinion that, while he is still vegan after almost 20 years, he’s become less “militant” about it. He supports some of the work of PeTA, and the work of the HSUS. He’s of the mind that HSUS negotiating with Ben and Jerry’s to use cage free eggs in their ice cream is a step in the right direction. He thinks that cage free eggs reduce the amount of suffering.

I think he is patently and dangerously wrong.

I think free range eggs reduce the suffering of those who have a slight amount of conscience, but not enough to make them take total responsibility for their actions. I think cage free eggs merely assuage collective guilt.

The reality is that cage free hens are still hens. Which is to say that if an egg intended for a cage free egg factory is hatched out as a male (ie potential rooster – whereby valueless) it will be just as dead when it is gassed, tossed through the chick blender, or left to suffocate in a barrel with its millions of counterparts.

The reality is that the access to the outside world for a cage free chicken is still controlled by humans, humans who will capitalize on the loopholes in the rules that allow them to proclaim the reproductive byproducts “cage free” when in truth, there is a very narrow window of opportunity for the chickens to access the outside, compounded by the “weather permitting” caveat.

I think we’ll see consumption of “cage free” eggs increase. Here’s my view of what this person will look like…..

S/he will be very busy patting her/himself on the back as being “an animal lover” who is willing to spend a few pennies more for cage free eggs at the local breakfast bistro. S/he’ll be all puffed up as s/he consumes aforementioned eggs and explains his/her reasoning to his/her friends at the table all happily consuming cheese omelets and buttered (whole wheat because it’s healthier) toast. S/he’ll eschew the bacon because “it’s full of nitrites and nitrates – which, as you may know, are linked to cancer,” all the while drinking coffee harvested by slaves and lightened with ORGANIC milk – because everyone knows that the cows that give organic milk have organic lives filled with organic and bucolic fields to run around in. That’s right, organic milk comes from HAPPY meat! And s/he’ll do all this consuming with a clear conscience because some of the chickens got to run outside… maybe, once or twice, before they are “spent” and are converted into pet food.

Liquid Morphine – A Sestina

I forgot each past lover, all of the others
Yours is the love I believe will be my last
With velvety liquid kisses that take away my breath
Our craving, burning desire transcends
everything else in my life
We are gaping yaws of unfulfilled needs

And yet even such a love as this needs
acceptance and approval of others
those who gave me life
suspect our May December romance won’t last
My faith, my unwavering trust in you transcends
reason. I argue it will work with every breath.

If only your wife would draw her final breath
We all know it is a Morphine drip that she needs
Her release from dementia’s suffering transcends
the law laid down by judges, attorneys and others
She never thought she would out last
any useful purpose in life

Only when she is gone can we begin a new life
It will be like we are finally taking a breath
of fresh air at long last
It has been a struggle. Everyone has forgotten your needs
for love, laughter, and companionship among others
always your wife’s terminal illness transcends.

It’s about me! Yes, my motive transcends
any legal document concerned with end of life
issues drafted by lawyers, witnessed by others
Save your breath
It is only about my needs
My needs come first and last

Morphine provided a few stolen moments together. Last
night’s lovemaking so tender transcends
any thoughts of fidelity. Your wife needs
to finally surrender the tattered remnants of life
Take that rickety rattling death breath
Just like the wives of all of the others

Liquid Morphine, the last vestige of life
She needs that final sharp intake of breath
Morphine transcends the needs of others.

The Compassion Connection

Outreach today consisted of providing over the top customer service to a woman who found our system of receipts troublesome and confusing. I have this theory, you see, that if every chance I get to demonstrate compassion and empathy gives me a chance to demonstrate, by example, that vegans are vegans BECAUSE of the compassion connection. We are more compassionate by nature, and our vegan lives cause that compassionate side to expand as we live a more peaceful existence side by side with all creatures, and indeed, Gaia herself.

The lady is working with a difficult client. There have been lots of changes which translate into lots of trips to see me and my contemporaries in action. She tried to explain to me what she meant, but our vocabularies are a bit different – she is not at fault there. I thought I understood, and for the largest part of her return she was thrilled. Then I asked her a question, and she really didn’t understand, but answered “yes,” and I proceeded to do something she’d previously found confusing. She’d told me the recent experience had caused her to take a 20K sale across the street to our competition. This made me sad. I wanted to fix it. I got others involved, and by the time we were finished, she was glowing and heaping praise on us. She left her paperwork for us to sort out, and said she was going to Starbucks, and what would I like…..

“Thank you. That is very kind. I’m vegan.” I said.

“Oh, no dairy!” She said. I was thinking YES! We have someone who may have a smattering of knowledge!

“That is correct.”

“They have a chai tea thing.”

“No, thanks very much. We’re not supposed to have anything up here but water.”

So, after all was said and done, she got our full names, store number, corporate addy, and is intending to write a letter and make some calls. She got to see (and with luck connect my compassion with my veganism.) YES! My review is imminent. What could be better?

The Bag Lady Project

It dawned on me during a conversation about plastic bags and such that not everyone is able to make shopping bags, and I have a fabric stash of epic proportions. So, since I’ll never use it all, how about sharing the wealth and helping to reduce the amount of plastic vegetable bags that go into the landfill, where they’ll stay forever.

The bags themselves are constructed from fabrics and ribbons and such that have taken up space for way too long in my space. I figure they’ll figure out that they can not only be useful for grocery trips for fruits and veggies, but also for bulk beans, and the like. So far, bags have been mailed off to 4 recipients, and I am totally jazzed waiting to hear the reaction. This morning I made another 16 bags. I intend to send them out with love, and hope they can cover the postage, and if they choose to send me some small token of appreciation, all the better. Just passing it forward……

The Monkey that made me a Sandwich

As vegans, we all face the vapid “what if you were deserted on a desert island and a monkey (which previously had been used as a test sample for Proctor and Gamble) and miraculously showed up on the same episode of Vegan-Vivisection Monkey Survivor – The Unnamed Island Series” made you a sandwich question…. Ad nauseum.
I’d like to address that question in first person, drawing upon personal experience.
History: I’ve not eaten of pork, nor pork product or byproduct for over 30 years. I resumed vegetarianism (AKA halfasstarianism) in 2006. I then realized my self aggrandizing posture that I had miraculously reduced veal consumption was an all out lie – to myself and the surrounding individuals who must have endured my outrageous self-righteousness and indignation.
And I got really sick. My left arm swelled to the size of a veal calf. I have not been keen on doctors, since one killed my husband through ineptitude. However, it was painful- and getting worse. Doctor sent me to emergency room. ER diagnosed as Deep Vein Thrombosis. Following day, hospitalist told me he’d cut me loose if I filled a prescription. I caved, frantic that I’d not be able (even with so called health insurance) to pay the bills.
I went to the pharmacy, they filled aforementioned prescription to the tune of $760.00 (it was a “designer drug”). The home “health” care aide informed me the insurance would not cover her visits of over $100.00 each. I was left to figure out how to de-traumatize myself into injecting (twice daily)…
Only AFTER I’d made it through the week long regime did I read the ingredients. The monkey made me a ham sandwich. It sucked.
I’ll never let a monkey make me a sandwich again. Next time I think I’m going to die, I’ll just lay real quietly and appreciate what I’ve had, and be grateful for it all.