This week, I caught sight of two girls pinning some photos of chickens up by the dish return in Peirce. These photographs depicted white chickens against a black background. The posters collectively spelled “YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT,” with one word on each. Honestly, my first thought after seeing them was “can I go one day without someone here telling me how to think?” And then I went into the servery to take as much chicken as my heart desired.
Despite what my behavior might suggest, I am actually a huge animal-rights activist. I was a vegetarian for two years, though my mom told me when I started at age 12 that I would have to cook my own meals. I’ve read books on vegetarianism. I support local, humane farms and shop at farmers markets. Even though I mostly pay for my own groceries, I still spend extra money on cage-free eggs.
So why don’t I agree with posting “YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT” in Peirce? There are a few reasons. In my current home of Nashville, Tennessee, I have seen quite a bit of poverty. At the local grocery store and food pantry alike, people suffering from food insecurity have little or no choice over what they can buy. In addition, a vegetarian lifestyle, when pursued in a healthy, safe way, is not economically viable for everyone.
I stopped being a vegetarian not because I didn’t care anymore or because it was difficult, but on a doctor’s orders. Because I have allergies to nuts, I couldn’t integrate enough protein into my diet to remain healthy. Luckily, I had resources all around me to ease the transition to eating meat again, because even in 8th grade, my friends had many opinions on my vegetarianism. I was fortunate to grow up in a small farming town in Vermont, where many kids informed me about what it’s like to raise animals for meat. They clarified many things for me that sensationalizing Internet articles and vegetarian books never mentioned, like the environmental benefit of deer hunting. These conversations made me feel better, and more informed, about eating meat again.
Even without the silent assumption that we can all afford, physically and financially, to not eat meat, the photographs bothered me. Honestly, what I eat isn’t anyone’s business. Growing up with disordered behaviors around food, I resist feeling uncomfortable about what I eat. I used to especially feel uncomfortable about what other people thought of it. I even tried, briefly, to become a vegetarian again in high school, using the “moral” restriction to cover up not eating enough. I think that if I became a vegetarian again, I would be tempted to restart some unhealthy and dangerous behaviors.
Someone told me later that these photographs were part of an art installation. If so, I applaud whoever put them up: they sparked discussion, and they made me think. Someone else said they were a commentary on our food waste. This seems far-fetched, but we should think pretty hard about how much food we waste here. Whatever they originally meant, the next time I saw the photographs, someone had taken down all the words except EAT, repeated over and over again. I have to admit, I laughed pretty loudly before I could catch myself. I was happy someone else had seen through a message that I didn’t agree with.
Here’s what I believe: you aren’t what you eat. Eat what you want; eat what makes you feel good; eat what makes your body work well. If you feel better not eating meat, great. I respect you for thinking critically about where your food comes from. If, like me, you can’t become a vegetarian, that’s OK too. There are many ways to be involved in changing the food industry for the better. But don’t believe that you are better or worse than anyone else because of what you eat. You are your actions, your choices, your passions. You are who you are; not what you eat.
Image Credit: Destination Delish, Bon Appetit, Flickr