Why I Eat Meat and Still Call Myself Vegetarian
I’m coming up on my first year anniversary of dedicating myself to a vegetarian diet. This past year has been one in which I felt like I took a big step towards aligning myself with my values, one of which is distancing myself from factory farming and its associated strains on the environment. I have not willingly purchased meat with my own money in the last year, but I have accidentally purchased it, and this weekend, I will even purposely eat meat.
But I still consider myself a vegetarian.
I know the topic of abstaining from meat and animal products for environmental reasons is a controversial one that can (and often does) become a rabbit-hole conversation when I discuss it with others. I will not justify my personal reasoning for pursuing this path here, but instead acknowledge that I know my efforts to lessen my impact on the environment may yield little benefit in the grand scheme of things. I just try to stay up to date on projections of the global climate crisis and eat my chickpea salad as a coping mechanism. To each, their own.
I have made one attempt in the past to adopt a vegetarian diet, which utterly failed. My reasons were largely the same then as this time around; the only difference was that during my first attempt, I gave up after the first time I slipped up and ate meat. I felt that I was no longer deserving of the label of “vegetarian” because I had broken my all-or-nothing rule once.
This time, I knew I would not succeed by being so strict on myself. I would like to progress to a mostly-vegan diet eventually, but I knew that trying it straight away would lead to another failed attempt. So a year ago, I gave myself one rule upon starting my second attempt at vegetarianism: I will allow myself to eat meat in meals cooked for me by others, and in traditional family meals.
This allowance seemed like a no-brainer. To me, there is something almost spiritual about sharing a meal with the people you care about. I travel fairly often, and frequently on my travels I am invited to dinner on the fly, where meat may be served. Meat is so expensive all over the world, and I wouldn’t dare refuse a meal offered to me by someone who prepared it out of the goodness of their heart and the money in their wallet. Especially if I am visiting Japan and the meal in question is my host mom’s okonomiyaki. So good.
The other part of my allowance is traditional family meals. My main reason for including this is my family’s special gumbo. My aunt has been preparing it since long before I was born, and the recipe goes back even farther than that. It was my great-grandmother’s recipe, and my aunt learned it from her to prepare for my grandfather on special occasions. It’s all he ever asks for on his birthday and Father’s Day, and in obliging his Cajun tastes, my aunt also made a gumbo lover out of me.
This weekend is my grandfather’s 90th birthday, and his first since I’ve gone vegetarian. This is also the first year my aunt is allowing me to help her make the gumbo, as she’s been in poor health and can’t manage the mammoth task on her own. So this time is kind of a big deal for us.
Although I feel a twinge of guilt for the animals killed for our gumbo (dozens, if you count all the shrimp), it’s an enduring tradition, and choosing not to partake would feel akin to turning away from a sacred rite that helps bring our small family together. So I will continue to enjoy the little things that make these gumbo occasions special: the sprinkle of paprika on the potato salad, my grandfather solemnly nodding after his first bite, as if a secret invocation to his mother’s memory, and the sight of my dad fishing around in the savory broth for white meat chicken for me.
And I will go easy on myself during these times, because a small handful of these special meals will not undo all of the other 1000 plus meatless meals I eat a year. Indulging on special occasions, at least so far, has not weakened my resolve, either. I will never know whether my lifestyle choices will have a positive impact on the future of our world. But I also don’t know how long I will continue being able to enjoy my grandfather’s favorite meal with him. I am a strong believer in the idea that even a small effort is better than no effort, so I will continue to call myself a vegetarian despite eating meat occasionally. If that makes me a hypocrite or a liar in the eyes of others, that is something I can live with.
