“If there’s one indulgence I’d allow myself, it’s gravy. I can’t give up poutine; it’s just not happening,” reflects an evolving vegan.
My 10-year-old daughter is choosing to leave meat behind.
Currently, she identifies as a pescatarian, but given her strong bond with her five pet fish housed in four separate tanks, I doubt she’ll be able to enjoy a plate of wild salmon for long.
At the age of ten, I was relishing porterhouse steaks; she, on the other hand, is cultivating her conscience.
Her motivations align with those of many who pursue vegetarian or vegan lifestyles: an unwavering empathy for animals that tragically face a terrifying end, even when pursued by those with good intentions.
For her, the matter is quite straightforward—much like the excitement I feel over a perfectly grilled New York strip. “I just don’t enjoy the taste and I feel a bit sorry for the animals. Just think if you were in their position, you wouldn’t get to live at all. It’s just like, ‘I’m going to die, now.’”
I can’t hold it against her; she inherits her father’s love for animals. While her compassion has sparked action, mine remains moderately engaged.
As she navigates her dietary choices, I’ve begun to reflect on my own eating habits. It’s prompted that strange sensation of suddenly realizing I’m the last to discover a common truth. It seems that vegetarians and vegans are nearly ubiquitous, while I find myself in the minority, clutching my Herefords.
My teenage neighbor Oliver labels himself a “strict vegetarian, mostly vegan.” He shares that his choice stemmed from “environmental and political motivations, as a protest against the harmful factory farming system.”
Yikes. I don’t feel personally attacked, but I may consider burying my meat freezer this weekend, with only the secret entrance accessible beneath the tomato plants.
My daughter’s desire to limit her diet has sparked a sense of unease within me. I’ve often written on eating disorders, peer pressure among teens, and issues tied to body image, which can be particularly distressing for young girls.
Could my daughter’s new dietary commitment be a cause for concern? Am I equipped to guide a 10-year-old—and eventually a teenager—through the challenges of vegetarianism and veganism?
I sought counsel for my aspiring vegan.
Kim Arrey, an author and registered dietitian, explained that there are abundant resources for parents and children interested in exploring dietary alternatives.
Among the authors Arrey endorses is Vesanto Melina, who has written extensively on vegetarian diets, including the book Raising Vegetarian Children (McGraw-Hill Education, 2002).
I can vividly picture my daughter at the dining table, focused on her homemade bean and apple salad, confidently explaining the merits of veganism based on her newfound knowledge.
The hunter has transformed into the hunted.
Considering energy dynamics
Must there be a connection between my daughter’s soccer performance and the primal instincts that once drove humans to chase their meals across vast open spaces? What motivation exists to pursue algae? If she decides against hot dogs, will she also withdraw from swim team to bask in sunlight like a plant?
Pearle Nerenberg, an author and sports dietitian, frequently collaborates with elite and aspiring athletes, focusing on performance enhancement. She assures me that adopting a vegan diet doesn’t have to hinder athletic performance.
Upon inquiring about my role concerning my daughter’s newfound conservationist lifestyle, Nerenberg pointedly suggested, “Don’t shy away from it. Embrace the journey of food exploration. This will make her feel that her choices are engaging to you.”
Isn’t that what I’ve always hoped for, to motivate my children to cultivate their ideas, seek their beliefs, and celebrate their unique identities?
It seems I’m getting my just desserts.
If exploring vegetarianism or veganism leads to more quality time with my daughter, does it really matter if chickpeas replace chicken? Beyond those legumes, everything else is just gravy.
