Here is a humorous yet poignant essay by humorist Ben Shaberman. He has written for papers such as the Chicago Tribune and the Washington Post, a variety of magazines, and has been on NPR. Enjoy.
As a longtime vegetarian, I know we can be a self-righteous lot. Even though 97 percent of Americans eat animals, we’re convinced that we’re right—and the meat-loving majority is wrong. And there is not a vegetarian out there who hasn’t tried to convert a meat fanatic at one time or another. We use all sorts of arguments, citing strong moral, environmental and health examples, when debating. Inevitably, the response we get is, “I just need my meat.” To counter this, I have tried all sorts of tactics to plead my case to friends, family and coworkers.
My favorite ploy was the “cannibalism theory.” It goes like this: Among prehistoric humans, cannibalism was commonplace. Talk about convenience food! Just conk a few neighbors on the head and you could feed your family for days. But over time, some cave people became sad. Feasting on the neighbors meant they were running out of friends. So they decided to try eating an animal instead. They even learned how to prepare the animal so it tasted just like a human. “Honey, is this antelope or one of the Dickersons? I can’t tell the difference!” Thus began a new evolutionary period; cannibalism became passé.
According to my “theory,” we’re again at a key evolutionary moment, and the more forward-thinking people are now moving away from eating animals and going toward vegetarianism. Sounds like a logical progression, right?
Well, it didn’t take long to figure out that the cannibalism argument didn’t inspire people to change their diets. When I’d explain my theory, they’d only grimace and make jokes about cult horror movies with flesh-eating zombies. Not exactly the reaction I wanted. So over the past few years, I gave up initiating conversations about vegetarianism.
Surprisingly, I found that the less vocal I was about by my animal-free diet, the more curious people were. They asked what I ate, where I ate, how I got my protein and if I missed meat. When it came to fully exposing my feelings about being a vegetarian, I played hard to get, and my mild-mannered meat-free persona attracted more attention and more interest than ever. Now everyone I know is aware that I’m a vegetarian and is respectful of my choice.
What’s most heartening is that these days my friends and coworkers go out of their way to make sure I get vegetarian food at parties, retreats and other events. It’s become a mission for them, and they enjoy the process. I’m gratified when they realize vegetarians have a variety of tasty and healthy dietary options like tofu and seitan. And even though they might not be going meat-free themselves, at least they’re participating in my meatless world. Maybe someday one of them will cut back on meat consumption or even make the leap to vegetarianism because of a health issue or an encounter with a suffering animal. And because of what they learned while accommodating me, they’ll see it’s not so radical. But I now know that I can’t change their habits for them.
A final point of clarification: The cannibalism shtick was not only a lousy idea, it had a lot of holes. Yes, the practice of eating one’s peers did exist, but after doing some research, I discovered that it wasn’t as pervasive as I made it out to be. So I am guilty of creating a little historical propaganda … and the rather dubious feat of grossing out a few carnivores.
You can find more funny essays in Shaberman's book The Vegan Monologues.
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