Pages

Showing posts with label vegan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vegan. Show all posts

Thursday, January 26, 2017

Really want to resist Trump and his puppet masters? Stop eating animals.

I’m teaching Edward Abbey’s 1975 novel The Monkey Wrench Gang in my undergraduate environmental literature class.  I say that I’m teaching it, but the teaching is not going so well so far. Despite telling the students how controversial the book was (and, I suspect, will be again), despite the fact that I told them that it led to Dave Foreman’s founding of Earth First! and his publication of Ecodefense: A Guide to Monkey Wrenching – the purchase of which is rumored to place one on an FBI’s watch list – about half the class has yet to buy Abbey’s novel (you won’t get placed on an FBI watch list, at least I don’t think that you will, for buying Abbey’s book).

So because only half the class had done the reading yesterday (and because the half that did the reading hated it…), I spent much of the class talking about the book’s four epigraphs.  The first is from a poem by Richard Shelton:

. . . but oh my desert
yours is the only death I cannot bear.

We talked about how a desert might die.  My students suggested that deserts are already dead.  One suggested that you could kill a desert by adding water. I told them that perhaps the death of a desert would signify the ultimate death; deserts, I argued, would seem impossible to kill.  The animals and plants that live in the desert (deserts are not already dead, dear students) are well equipped to survive the extremes of desert life.  The death of the desert would mean the death of us all, I suggested.


The second epigraph is from Whitman’s Leaves of Grass: “Resist much. Obey little.”  Whitman, I suggested, was a badass. I also let my students know that earlier in the day, activists from Greenpeace had scaled a crane near the capital building and unfurled a huge banner upon which was emblazoned one word: “resist.” Think you’re reading in a vacuum? I asked.  Think again.

And the third is Thoreau from his journals: “Now. Or never.”

With both the Whitman and Thoreau quotes, Abbey has changed the punctuation: Whitman’s line is “Resist much, obey little,” while Thoreau’s is “now or never!”  The periods give both Whitman’s and Thoreau’s words a contemporary makeover; I suggested that perhaps #Now.Ornever might trend on twitter.  Now. Resist much. Obey Little. Or never…

But the epigraph that gave me the most pause was the one on the page that followed, the definition of the word “sabotage.”  Here’s the Oxford English Dictionary’s definition:

and here's the definition of sabot:

Put your foot up someone's ass, in other words.

The term “ecoterrorism” has been roundly applied to the real life actions of those who followed Abbey’s fictional lead. In 2004, the FBI launched Operation Backfire to deal with the so-called terrorist activities of the Earth Liberation Front and the Animal Liberation Front; those activities were destructive acts to property including setting fire to a meat processing plant, fire-bombing a ski resort, and destruction of an energy plant.  No one was harmed or killed in these attacks, but the financial cost was around $80 million.

The conflation of sabotage with terrorism is erroneous; terrorism targets people, sabotage targets property.  It targets the machinery of ideology, of capitalism, of religion, and of government. And in the U.S., destruction of property – something with a monetary value – makes a much more profound impact on our esteemed leaders than the destruction of human (and nonhuman) life.  Men take note when the money stops flowing, not when women march around the world in opposition to their policies. 

Yeah.  Let's talk about veganism, shall we?

The resistance within which many of us find ourselves at the moment must disrupt the money, and for that to happen, you need to involve your whole body in the fight.  We must monkeywrench and jam the system.  Posting on Facebook and signing every petition out there won’t change anything.  We have to be willing to physically kick the machinery off the cliff, into the canyon, and listen to it explode when it hits.

Abbey’s fictional monkeywrenchers put their feet in the gears. They place their bodies in opposition to the machines, setting fire to billboards, blowing up bridges and dams.  They disempower the national infrastructure by pulling at its purse strings. 

You can do that, too, and you don’t have to set fire to a thing. You don’t have to go out there and destroy anything.  You can just become vegan.

Asheville's Ashley Capps!

At the women’s march in New York City on January 21, I looked at all the environmentally aware signs, those that said, for example, “I’m with her” and had a picture of the earth on them. I marched beside a woman wearing a fur coat (and I thought, really?  People still wear fur?).  I wondered how these women at this march were vegan and how many are still missing the point, that all of this oppression of all of us – women, people of color, immigrants, and nature – is enmeshed and reinforcing.

That when you’re eating the body of (likely) a female animal or an animal’s feminized protein in the age of climate change, you might want to reconsider whether or not you are actually a feminist or an environmentalist.  


Am stealing these images from here.

The 500+ people who are friends with me on Facebook likely all have the resources to be vegan – and many of them already are.  This is what you get when you write a book on the subject and have a significant other who owns a really well-known vegan restaurant. I received an email from a friend the other day telling me that he was eating a vegan diet, but most of my non-vegan friends won't go there. Decolonize your food choices.  Put your foot in the machine of our industrial food complex.  Yeah, I just said that.  Vegans scare the living shit out of the patriarchy, so if you want to do some serious sabotage, here’s your in.  Kick that tractor off the cliff and do some damage.


We aren’t terrorists, but they’ll treat us like we are.  We're saboteurs. And Bannon, Pence, Conway and the rest will lie about that, too….

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

On my 45th Birthday

So I went to Earth Fare the other day to buy some vitamins, and there were these, which I bought:


The whole "nutritional support for the mature woman" was the bit that got me.  I kept thinking, what the fuck does that mean?  Do mature women survive heart attacks? Do they run long distances (away from everything and towards nothing at all)?  Maybe they do!  Do they hold steady jobs?  Yes!

But then: would a mature woman have this particular grade of hangover (the one I had when I was in Earth Fare buying the vitamins) after drinking gin with her friend Will who was going to leave her and move to Pennsylvania?  Would a mature woman be no better capable of making adult decisions than she was at age 22 -- the point at which (I guess) I started making such decisions?

Maybe a mature woman would realize that there are no real adults.  That adulthood is a myth.  There are no adults (adulthood is a myth).

Would a mature woman continue to consult her tarot cards in the hope that they might guide her in her decisions?  Would she write down her dreams and read through their symbols for meaning?  Or get tattoo after tattoo (even though she still hides them from her parents who have no idea that she has any)?  Would she be so staunchly childless?


Would a mature woman get this asymmetrical haircut? Would she still believe in ghosts and assert with complete confidence that she's seen one?  Would she wear a Cure T-shirt from the 1980s and dance around the house for hours alone while listening to Typhoon or Live or Sleigh Bells or Father John Misty or Neutral Milk Hotel or P.J. Harvey or Sleater Kinney?

Would she panic?  Would she float away at the worst possible moment?

Oh, I don't think so.  She would
Calm. Right. Down.

Would a mature woman continue not to eat animals, when her father (still alive) informed her when she was 18 that this was "just a phase," and that someday she'd "be an adult and have a family to feed"?  Where's that family?  When will the phase end?

Would she continue to get lost in narrative, in books, in fiction, when there are real world problems to address, and would she continue to feel powerless to stop those problems?  Would she continue to think that women and men are equal, that animals are people, that people deserve rights, that rights are a human construction, that rights are a fiction?  That all of it is fiction?  That all of us deserve deep, deep ethical consideration nonetheless?

The things that marked maturity for me when I was a child are the things I will never have: assuredness, security, trust in some higher power, the certainty of a soul mate -- and the ability to impart these things as attainable truths to those less mature, those in search of their later selves.  I don't believe that the mature people who imparted these things to me believed them then either.  But I'm just being more honest.

A mature woman would give of herself.  She would avoid the conflicts and seek to assure.  She would nurture and protect, and she would be dutiful, sober, and sane.  She would stop buying Chuck Taylors.

She would listen to good advice; she would take care of herself.  She would take great care.  She would avoid the spotlight, the perceived unwarranted attention, the controversy.

She would stay out of the sun.  Or at least wear sunscreen.

I used to draw or paint a portrait of myself at every birthday: one year a woman filled with glass, another, a woman growing tree limbs.  Once pregnant.  Once a dead body covered in hungry cats; the next year a woman hanged from a tree.  An apple in my hand.  An apple in my mouth.  This year, a photo.  Me in the evening.  Me with tired eyes and the weight of many things upon me.

This is not a cry for help.  It is a love letter to myself.

Would a mature woman fall in and out of love and fear being abandoned, particularly as no one has ever given her reason for this fear?  Would she lash out and be always selfish, always self-interested, never willing to sacrifice that which she feels is her birthright?

I don't think so.  I am not a mature woman.  And this is me.  And it is my birthday.