As always, dear reader, apologies for the recent radio silence, so to speak. Between work, the onset of summer, and the glories of the World Cup (DONOVAN!), we’ve been stretched thin a bit in the realm of free time. That said, we endeavor to bring many exciting things next week, including a photo shoot piece we’re very excited about that’ll feature one of our favorite companies and clients. In the meantime, we’re happy to bring you another installment of our version of the Veggie Tales, Not Just a Phase (explained in detail here).
I also grew up during the birth of MTV and it wasn’t long until it became my church. I worshipped Michael Jackson, Cyndi Lauper, and random new wave pop and it wasn’t long before it started reflecting in my wardrobe. I wore the thriller jacket & the rhinestone glove to school in 7th grade, but while I was moonwalking down the halls, the other, rural Connecticut never-exposed-to-diversity kids were plotting my demise because they did not know what to do with me.
This awkward time of not relating to others (humans especially) made me dive into getting to know our farm animals, which were always there and always ready to interact with us. So I did. I got to know the 4 pigs and 2 goats on a level that no one else in my family seemed to be experiencing. I had friends! I ran off the school bus to get back to them and they greeted me with equal enthusiasm. The goats would play with me so hard that I would be rolling in the grass with them cracking up. As for the pigs, I cleaned them, I fed them, I rode them around the house, and even though they hated when I managed to catch up and grab a 2 second ride, they loved the game of it and I knew it. I felt it.One day I came home from school and the pigs were gone (this particular story is just the 1st time this happened). They had been killed, slaughtered, cut up and wrapped in white paper packages and stacked up neatly inside the freezer in our garage. I wasn’t told; I discovered it by myself when I opened the freezer. Everything came to me in seconds—the emotions, the shock, the confusion, the anger, the absolute undeniable feeling of wrong.
These few seconds directed the rest of my life. It wasn’t long before I hit the nutrition books and combined scientific fact with what I had known in my heart all along—animals are not food. Realizing this also made me realize that, just because I want to wear shoes, carry bags, wear belts and carry a wallet, none of that has anything to do with animals, so why drag them into it? Let alone rob them of their lives and make these items from their actual bodies after being forced by us to live a life of torture. If I don’t want that done to me then why should I do it to anybody else?
These were the pieces of my puzzle, but why others find my position disagreeable continues to baffle me to this day.
That’s my story morning glory.