“How my vision changed on a vegan diet” - a short story from Ed Winters
Before I was vegan I saw the world so differently to how I see it now. If I enjoyed the comfort of ignorance, or the bliss of being unaware, you could say that veganism ruined my vision.
Have you been dreaming of a white Christmas? Well a dream that shall remain, as Christmas is stained red. Not because of Rudolph’s nose or Santa’s sleigh, but because of the blood that is spilled for those slain for our Christmas day
Silent night? Not for those in the slaughterhouse listening to the sounds of pigs screaming and thrashing in gas chambers. Santa conveniently ignored the plumes from those chimneys as he travelled the world spreading good will and joy.
Pigs wrapped in more pigs, otherwise known as pigs in blankets. The sausages being the ground up remains of many pigs, solidified together and wrapped in the flesh of another pig, disturbingly called a blanket. A blanket made of flesh.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year, except of course if you’re a dairy cow, because there’s no better way to spend time with your family, than through eating a product that caused the forced separation of someone else’s. And for all of those rich, decadent desserts filled with dairy, a family has been forcibly separated.
As we pour the cream on the Christmas pudding a mother cow cries out for her child who has been taken from her. However her cries fall on death ears, ignored by the farmers and unable to be heard by her calf, who was male and shot soon after birth, ground up and turned into pet food.
Do they know it’s Christmas time?
All the turkeys certainly do, killed by the billions and hung on the kill line like the stocking on the fireplace. Their throats cut and their blood spilled like a merlot used for the dinner table toast, over their remains that we call the roast.
“Oh bah humbug”, you say, “why are you trying to be the grinch who stole Christmas day?” But rather that, than the grinch who stole someone’s life, I would say.
And when it comes to Christmas, it’s more than just one life that is taken. I used to eat big spreads with the bodies of turkeys, chickens, pigs, salmon, cows. Foods filled with dairy and eggs.
So, let’s get the list together and see who’s been naughty and who’s been nice. Except the judges are those whose Christmas present from us was a freshly sharpened knife. How do we think they would rank us if given the chance?
And so now it’s the end of the meal and we are experiencing a ‘food coma’, our stomach rumbles as the remains of countless animals swirl around. The sun has set and the Christmas TV specials are on as we slowly doze off, but unlike Scrooge, it is not the ghost of Christmas past we should fear visiting us, but instead the ghosts of all the animals in our stomach.
So just make sure that before the day is done, we make our Christmas wish for peace on Earth, unless that peace gets in the way of our Christmas dinner. After all, it is hard to kill an animal with just peace alone.
But just as we fabricate tales for our children of elves making their presents, we fabricate tales for ourselves about where our dinner comes from. The concept of Santa’s workshop is as farcical as the concept of a humane slaughterhouse. Both made up, non-existent places, except one we grow out of believing and the other we grow up to believe more strongly.
We let our children believe that the fake Santas we take them to visit will answer their wishes, just as we let ourselves believe that all those fake labels plastered over the Christmas turkey, about high welfare and humanely raised, will answer our guilty conscience.
But just as we one day realised there was no Santa, we must also realise that there is no humane slaughter. No ethical exploitation. No happy Christmas for the animals who have been killed. And for what, a tradition. A massacre disguised as a celebration.
Nobody needs to suffer and die for us to celebrate. Newborn babies do not need to be separated from their mothers for our families to come together. Turkeys do not need to be killed by the billions for us to talk of peace. And pigs do not need to be killed in gas chambers for us to express love and unity. And so even though we may not think of their suffering or acknowledge the harm that has been caused to them, that doesn’t make it any less of a reality.
How can it be right then, that billions must suffer and die for a tradition? For food that we eat just because we think we’re supposed to on that day. Because isn’t that the reality of Christmas, that we are just doing what we think we are supposed to be doing.
We eat turkey because of a tradition started by King Henry VIII, a man notably remembered for murdering two of his wives. A tradition started by a man who favoured beheadings and continued by those who perpetuate that same legacy, the bins of slaughterhouses filled with the heads of the animals beheaded for our merriest of days.
Their lifeless eyes staring up at the sky, looking at stars twinkling on this holy night. Their guts strung out like tinsel over the Christmas tree. So next time we say “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night,” perhaps we should make sure that we do actually mean ‘to all.’
We can still have a wonderful christmas day, with a vegan christmas dinner. There are vegan alternatives and vegan recipes for all of our favourite christmas foods. And making those swaps doesn’t take anything away from us, we can still come together and celebrate love and togetherness, give and receive presents, spend time with our loved ones - it’s just now nobody else has had to suffer. What could be more embodying of the message of Christmas than sparing someone’s life?