Puppies, Pigs, and the Polis had it’s final class meeting (along with a special vegan brunch) last week. This course examined how animal ethicists use feminist relational theory, which usually refers to views that are grounded in the claim that people are constituted in and through relationships. The course aimed to spark our imaginations about how to build better worlds with and for nonhuman animals. I was game to keep meeting each week, but the semester must come to an end!
The theory-practice reflection
With some trepidation, I assigned a “Theory-Practice Reflection.” The goal of this assignment was to critically examine the relation between the student’s theoretical commitments, their practice, and philosophical justifications.
There were three options for the Theory-Practice Reflection: (1) Engage in Meatless Mondays for the duration of the term, (2) engage in some other practice where you can meet the learning goals of the assignment, (3) blog about current animal news and relational theory.
Students had to write reflections through the course of the semester, and I wrote prompts to help them. Deviation from the prompts was fine, as long as students demonstrated that their reflection met the learning goals of the assignment.
The classroom is not a political protest
I often begin my classes by considering how the classroom is different from other public spaces. For my eager feminist students, engaging in class usually asks of us a different comportment than we may have when engaging in spaces such as political protests. The same goes for me, the teacher.
If you know anything about me, you probably know I’m vegan. How would this impact the classroom space? Would students feel threatened? Despite assuring students that the assignment wasn’t intended as a conversion experience, would they believe me? Would anonymous grading be enough of a protection for students to feel they could be honest?
My own theory-practice reflection
I just finished reading the last batch of reflections. I am pretty pleased with how they went, though I will have to wait until I receive student evaluations to know what the students thought about the assignment.
Though I wasn’t very vocal about it, I did my own sort of reflection this semester. I aimed to avoid palm oil, something I think should be part of a vegan practice, but which I had not been thorough about adopting.
Though plant-based, many people argue that palm oil is not vegan because it’s farmed in a way that destroys the habitats of indigenous organutan and human communities. Even palm oil labeled sustainable contributes to these harms.
Through my attempts to avoid purchasing palm oil, I learned that most “vegetable oil” contains it. I learned how to make my own vegan butter, since palm oil is an ingredient in all margarine options that are available in my geographic area. I’ve messed up a few times (e.g., bought carob chips that contained palm oil), but I’m learning to scrutinize labels with my list of palm oil’s “other names.” Soon it will come as easily as skimming a label for milk ingredients.
The reflection I didn’t expect
A theme through many reflections was the importance of the social dimensions of eating. In When Species Meet, Donna Haraway emphasizes the significance of eating together. Indeed, cum panis is Latin for “with bread.” Sharing a table isn’t just a metaphor for sharing ideas. There’s something about sharing meals that facilitates community-building.
I found that after grading a set of theory-practice reflections, I would get grouchier when I ate with people who consume animal flesh or products from animals. My students were taking arguments for treating animals with compassion seriously–why wasn’t everyone? I got angry, and I got quiet. I recognized I was getting upset so I didn’t vocalize my discomfort. At least I don’t think I did? My colleagues will have to report back to me.
Of course, everyone is at a different point in their journey. Golly, it took my years to become vegan–I first dabbled with vegetarianism in 2007 and went vegan somewhere around 2012. And that’s after I spent 23 years eating animals without reflection. My frustration wasn’t intended to be judgmental. It was frustration with arguments I believe to be correct (and which I am willing to defend) not being taken up by people who I think would be committed, generally, to principles of non-violence and compassionate living.
Finding my way to the table
How can I cultivate being a better messmate at the table? I’m not sure. Most of the time, I avoid spaces where animal flesh is centered as consumable.
For example, there’s a really cool opportunity this weekend in my city to cook with Syrian refugee women and share a free community meal. They’re even making vegan options available. I thought long and hard about signing up to cook, because this kind of initiative is what I think helps include newcomers into our political community. But, I decided not to attend; I can’t stomach being around animal flesh. Or rather, I don’t want to try to stomach it.
I volunteer with a group that provides a free community meal each Saturday (Kitchener City Hall, 1:30ish pm, come down sometime). This group attracted me because they emphasize structural problems with food production and food waste, and because they are non-hierarchical with leadership. What made me comfortable volunteering was that the meal they make is vegan.
I went with another volunteer this past Saturday to serve some of our soup at the Idea Exchange’s At My Table exhibit in Cambridge. We met with other people organizing around food and had interesting conversations about reclaiming urban and neighbourhood spaces for growing food. We talked about community-building through sharing meals, and about decolonization and democracy.
At this event, organizers from Feed Five talked about how conversations with vegans are encouraging them to provide a vegan meal each time they serve, even though they don’t (currently) plan to become a plant-based group. There is much I admire about this organization, which was started by students at my university. But, I also admitted to them that I would be similar to the vegan students who wouldn’t donate funds or support products that contributed the consumption of animals.
The conversation we had with the other food organizations, patrons, and curators have given me much to think about. And we did come together around food. But how to have these conversations when vegan soup isn’t served?
Lingering indigestion
This post was sparked by reading my students’ reflections. My other class from the fall, Queer Theory, was also in my mind, as we worked hard to speak across difference and resist dogmatic positions all term. Haraway writes about the need for “nourishing indigestion” for thinking and eating well together (see pp. 294, 300). This indigestion is a visceral reminder that feeling settled means we’re not challenging ourselves intellectually. Unsurprisingly, sharing meals is an (albeit fragile) opportunity for nourishing indigestion.
There was a time when I found communities that gave me nourishing indigestion. Many years ago now, I attended an early-morning prayer service followed by a shared breakfast at an Anglican church. Each of us would take turns bringing breakfast for the group. Slowly the group started bringing more vegan options. I learned to make meals to avoid gluten and other dietary insensitivities. We listened and we talked to each other a range of subjects over those long, lingering breakfasts. It was a space where I met people with views that I likely would not have encountered (or sought after) anywhere else.
A qualification: I hope it goes without saying that I’m not talking about tolerating hate speech or bigotry. The breakfast group was composed of people who aimed to “do good in the world,” but went about it quite differently. When I volunteered as a clinic escort in Maryland, interacting with anti-choice protestors was not a source of nourishing indigestion.
What does it look like now for me to seek out shared tables where indigestion can be both nourishing but also lingering, to keep me unsettled and thinking?
Our class brunch
I know, you really want to know about the class vegan brunch! My contribution was cornbread biscuits, served with strawberry jam, avocado, and coconut bacon. I am, after all, from Tennessee! The recipe for the biscuits was from Isa Chandra Moskowitz’s Vegan Brunch and the coconut bacon from the Chubby Vegetarian’s The Southern Vegetarian.
One student contributed Hemp Peanut Butter Cookies, and substituted the eggs for aquafaba, which also goes by the name “chickpea water.” AMAZING. I didn’t even know they were flourless until I hyperlinked to the recipe here.
Another student brought some cashew cheeses (including my favourite, Smoky Artichoke and Herb) from Nuts for Cheese, based in London, Ontario. thanks to the students for such a good class!