When I was about eleven, one of my best friends told me that she was a vegetarian. She didn’t eat meat, and she made sure people knew it.
Light bulb.
Brilliant, I thought. Now I have a way to explain it.
“It” was my lifelong dislike of meat.
Granted, I knew what a vegetarian was, but I hadn’t really thought about what that could mean for me. As a kid, I’d never liked meat. I mean, really never liked it. I’m talking nights spent crying at the table. When I was a baby, a doctor wrote on my appointment notes, “Doesn’t like meat.”
Problem was, I didn’t want to seem rude by just telling people “I don’t like it,” when I got invited over for dinner or went out to a restaurant. Suddenly, “vegetarian” was my more civilized, polite thing to say.
Fortunately, within my circle of family and friends, it was no big deal when I, as an empowered eleven-year-old, announced that I was going to be a vegetarian. What a revolution!
The response, in a nutshell?
“Um, yeah, we know.”
(So…not much of a revolution, really.)
My family just cut out the part my meal that included meat (which they were mostly already doing anyway). They made sure I took extra cheese or some other source for protein. Or, if it was my Italian grandmother, told me to eat all of the remaining vegetables on the table.
For years, however, I felt the need to explain why I was a vegetarian. Mostly, the need to explain was to avoid being rude and simply answer their question. But it was also a little defensive: I would also say it wasn’t a “hippie” thing, it wasn’t a “trendy” thing, it wasn’t because of animal rights or health or environmentalism or whatever.
But then I started to think: So what if it is? Why should I feel the need to justify that?
Answer: I shouldn’t.
(Also, I hit my thirties, so I stopped caring about what other people thought anyway.)
Thing is, after a while, even though health, animals, and the environment didn’t really factor into my original reasoning, they started to over time, in an “I’m really glad I’m a vegetarian because…” sense.
And the “because” shouldn’t stop there.
Because I’m really, really happy eating vegetables? Because I consider peanut butter a food group, so I already get plenty of protein anyway? Because I’m afraid of birds? (Yes.)
In short, reasons for doing something or not doing something can evolve.
It’s OK to just say, “Because.”
Because, à la the grownup mantra, “Because I said so.” Because I wanted to, that’s why.
Or say nothing at all. Shrug, if you must.
So, my dear fellow vegetarians, whatever your reason, don’t feel like you have to justify yourself when somebody looks at you like you’re a weirdo, or says something along the lines of, “But…bacon.”
Hang in there, comrade. Laugh with them, take it in stride, go out with your non-vegetarian buddies for burgers (black bean or veggie for you, thanks very much).
Let’s take this a step further, shall we, for those non-vegetarians out there? What’s something about you that’s important to you, but you’ve felt like you had to explain away sometimes? Now substitute that for “vegetarian” here, and let that marinate for a minute. Maybe I should rename this post, “Why You Don’t Have to Justify Being a Vegetarian (or being anything else important to you, for that matter).”
In sum? Be proud of yourself for being who you are and not caring what other people think. And remember to eat your vegetables.
Photo: CC0, Einladung_zum_Essen
Love this Suzie….. been cooking like this for Jen for a long time..
Thank you! And I love hearing stories about other vegetarians and how they’ve made it work.