Friday ramble: the price of reasonableness

Not that it really matters, Anne and I still have a running joke going back almost seventeen years, from the time we arrived at her parents' beach cottage on L'Ile d'Oleron. We were settling in and dusting things off when she said--with a level of enthusiasm more understandable for getting dessert or seeing a movie--"A., tu sais ce qu'on va faire? On va nettoyer la salle de bain!" I called her on it--on speaking so excitedly about the prospect of cleaning the bathroom"--and we laughed, and continued to drop references to that moment in postcards and letters, and then emails. In fact, when I let her know that I'd be in her neck of the woods and asked if she'd be around, she naturally said, "on va nettoyer la salle de bain!"

I tell you this now because some dude (SD) just asked me out in an email that was a quadruple fail, the first fail of which was starting his email with, 'we worked together in painting the bathroom last weekend...' (in reference to National Rebuilding Day). I mean, I don't need much in the way of airs or flowery language, but... really? And that was actually the least discouraging part of his message.


I didn't provide him with my email address--and this certainly wasn't as creepy as when one guy dug it out of a volunteer database years ago--but he got it when the house captain neglected to blind-copy in her thank-you message. He was one of a number of people with whom I'd worked on painting the bathroom. I had to ask for help, since I couldn't reach certain corners, even with a ladder. A number of guys in the vicinity--a bunch of us were working in the same area--alternated in helping out.

A.: Being short is great for some things--like air travel--but it's not great for painting.
SD.: Where have you traveled recently?
A.: Most recently, I was in Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia.

He asked me about the food. I told him it was amazingly good, and very inexpensive--even more so for omnivores, since you could eat street food, whereas I stuck to the places with menus in English (actually, I mostly stuck to the places reviewed on Happycow.net). At which point it came out that I didn't eat animal products.

He asked why, I said environmental/animal rights motivations; he said he had inclinations in that direction, but liked certain animal-based foods too much. I noted that I didn't proselytize--I wasn't out to convince people who weren't interested in reducing or eliminating their consumption of animal foods to do so--but I was happy to offer information to people who were interested but didn't know where to start, or thought it would be too hard.

Which is a big distinction. Years ago, I stumbled upon a CNN Eatocracy column about moving toward a plant-based diet, and its silly comments, some of which said, "this sounds awful! this doesn't make me want to give up meat at all!" and I remember thinking, this column isn't for you. It's not for people who would never even think about giving up meat, who think veganism is the craziest thing ever, etc.; it's for the people who maybe think it's a great idea in theory, but not practical or achievable. I was that way for a long time: like Cory Booker, for example, I was a long-time vegetarian who knew that veganism was more in-line with my values, but I thought it would be too hard or restrictive. I was glad that there were voices out there to show me otherwise.

I continue to believe that food is a personal matter, and also that--for me--it's how I eat, not who I am. But that doesn't mean I don't take it seriously. I also continue to pick my battles and cheat when it doesn't matter (I'm not concerned about the non-existent vegan police coming for my non-existent vegan card). Which is not to say that I don't take it seriously.

But I've been wondering of late whether I'm too flexible--not in my eating, but in my interactions with other people. Whether being a non-threatening, "reasonable" vegan is the dietary analog to respectability politics and the 'cool girl' trope: systems that reinforce the status-quo by keeping people in their place (and no, I'm not implying that vegans are a marginalized demographic or a demographic at all; I'm merely saying that I see parallels). For whatever reason--perhaps because judgment is presumed--vegans are threatening to (some) people, and so (some) vegans go out of their way to appear non-threatening. I'm not so bothered with appearances, but I've come to realize--in veganism as in life--that in the course of being naturally reasonable, I invite people to speak and behave stupidly.

Let's take a step back to explain that one. I could give you any number of examples where people think that because I'm a chegan (i.e., I don't never eat animal products), I'm happy to eat animal products whenever. Sure, I ate eggs in Southeast Asia; it's what was for breakfast (from free-range chickens--mind you, those that would eventually be slaughtered anyway) and we didn't have time in the morning to seek out breakfast elsewhere. That doesn't mean that I'd care to join you for an eggy brunch when I do have more of a choice in the matter.

It also doesn't mean that I'm willing to serve animal products to other people: after all, I don't believe in it. Remember the friend who brought tamales to a party of mine and insisted that I serve them? She just couldn't understand what my issue was: just because I restricted myself, didn't mean everybody else had to. [Notes: (1) I have personally chopped and fried bacon while volunteering at a homeless shelter; I did not procure the bacon--it was already there--and my refusing to handle it wasn't going to make it go away. (2) Before the party, I'd specifically told this person not to bring anything, and as a matter of boundaries, I wasn't then going to "change my mind" out of politeness. If I tell you not to do something--even something that you think is a favor or gift to me--don't be surprised if I don't react well to your doing it (see half the RM blog).]

So while I'm not one to opine about what goes on elsewhere, I will not provide an occasion for the consumption of animal products. As the late Sam Simon said when asked whether, through his Sam Simon Foundation, which had started a program that provides low-income families with free vegan meals, he was imposing his own vegan diet on those his charity served, “They can eat all the meat they want. I’m just not going to pay for it.”

***
The day after Rebuilding Day, a friend had a mutual friend and I over for a lovely multi-course dinner. I appreciated all the work she went, tremendously. She managed to accomodate me--a vegan--and the other friend--a paleo. I was very much taken aback when the paleo, who is a good friend of mine, asked me if I'd have ghee because the milk solids have been removed. I mean, this is someone with whom I've talked about food and who knows I'm an 'ethical' vegan. The ghee came from a cow, which consumed a lot of land and water and emitted a lot of methane. Unless the ghee was imported from India, which it may well have been, the cow had her calf torn from her so that humans could take her milk, and that calf was likely slaughtered. So what would the removal of milk solids have anything to do with anything?

I was less offended than intrigued. Did my friend--perhaps like the tamale-toting friend--simply not believe that my motivations were ethical? Did they both think--and both have their own motivations that they may have projected onto me--that I was just making up the ethical stuff? Maybe to be 'the cool girl' who wasn't on a diet? Ffs, I've been a vegetarian (with intervals of pescetarianism based on travel and other such circumstances) for twenty-five years. Just because I don't preach my views about eating animals and eating their products, it doesn't mean I don't hold those views strongly. 

So I'm starting to wonder whether I need to preach my views more strongly--to become the tiresome vegan that I'm not naturally--so that people quit saying stupid shit to me and expecting me to eat or serve animal products whenever they think I should get over it.

***
So this guy sent me an email, and it reminded me of a running joke about cleaning bathrooms, and also of a dude who asked me out just over a year ago. I'd given him my card at a work-related event because his organization was doing some work on an issue--filtered vents--that had recently come up in my work. So he sent me an email, nearly identical to one he sent to a friend/colleague of mine who was also at the event--same attempts at wittiness and name-dropping. We couldn't believe it didn't cross his mind that we might compare those emails--specifically, that I'd share mine with her in the context of, "can you believe this creep asked me out?" Can you believe he felt the need to mention filtered vents in the ask?

Now, this year's guy has something on last year's guy: I looked like shit on Saturday. I was wearing loose, paint-covered clothes (even before I started painting that day). Last year's guy had no reason to ask me out--we'd barely exchanged words--apart from how I looked.

So this year's guy started with the bathroom reference, and then went on to ask me if I wanted to join him at a restaurant with zero vegan options. C'mon, dude: check the menu. It's the age of the internet. It would be one thing if the guy hadn't known I was vegan--after all, I do go out with guys who don't know that I'm vegan--but we'd had a whole conversation about it. So why would you then suggest a place where I couldn't eat anything? It reminded me of this guy (although that, for whatever reason, ended well).

At this point, I was still entertaining the thought of going out with him, even though I didn't particularly want to, but I guess you never know. Then, I read the third line of his message, which was along the lines of, "your ideas about diet are nice and all, but I like my chicken."

I mean, hadn't we established that I didn't care what other people ate? I guess I didn't establish what I just did a few paragraphs up: I don't care what other people eat, but I also don't need it rubbed in my face. I've told this guy that I don't eat animals for ethical reasons. Maybe one's love of chicken isn't the most appropriate thing to include in an email asking me out? If you need to talk about how much you like your chicken, do it over dinner with someone else.

Again, it's context: A couple of years ago, I found it mildly sweet when a guy offered me some of his chicken quesadilla. I hadn't explicitly told him I was vegan. This was, of course--yes, I do have a code name for every man in my life (or, more accurately, not in my life)--my long-range standoff. I'd have forgiven him any number of things that led me to dismiss this guy and others, because there was a connection. Is there a joke here about not kicking someone out of bed for eating (cheese and) crackers?

So I can see how things worked out for the sweatshirt guy a few paragraphs up (that and persistence--sweatshirt guy will tell you that "persistence pays;" lrso runs away). As much as I roll my eyes at fvg for asking me out for no reason and at bathroom-chicken guy for asking me out so poorly, I admire the latter especially for asking me out at all (which is not the same as feeling any desire or obligation to go out with him).

But this I know for sure: I'm done being gracious in the face of ignorant comments and questions. I've been done a while with regard to ethnicity, and now I'm done with regard to food. Take my reasonable-vegan card; I'll embrace militant veganism if it means people will think twice before being tiresome.