Coming out vegan

Coming out as gay to my mother was, as one might expect, difficult. This was in the mid-eighties, I was 12-years old and living in a predominately Latin, Catholic, and working-class community in South Florida. I wasn’t sure what to expect from a woman who leaned more on the emotive side of expressions, but I was at a developmental point in my life where I was sure about my affectional orientation and ready to tell the world. Fortunately, she received the news better than I had hoped. She advanced through the first three stages of Kubler-Ross’ model of grief (denial, anger, and bargaining) and, realizing that depression (fourth) was not her style, skipped this stage and moved straight to the final stage (acceptance) all in about a week. Not bad. 

Fast forward to the age of 32 when I first started noticing my metabolism slowing down and my body taking longer to recover from a night out. I took this as a wakeup call to start being serious about my physical health. A friend recommended Andrew Weil’s book, Eating Well for Optimal Health: The Essential Guide to Food, Diet, and Nutrition (2000). In this book, Dr. Weil thoroughly provided basic facts about food, nutrition, and their effect on our bodies. He also commented on a variety of conventional diets from around the world. For some reason that I cannot recall today, I was drawn to his review of veganism and was convinced by his exposition. I knew it would be difficult, especially since my husband was the cook in our household, and he was very fond of meat.

My new diet also put a damper on social situations since our friends tended to pick restaurants that lacked vegan options. These obstacles were expected, but I was committed to maintaining my vegan diet. What I did not anticipate, however, was how tough it would be to tell my mother. Meat was a considerable part of her cooking. Animal protein headlined every dish she made, even her salads. I had more anxiety about telling her I was vegan than I did telling her I was gay. It felt like the coming out process again, but this time I was less confident. Her progress through the stages of grief was different. At first, my mother was in denial, she thought I was joking. Then she moved to anger and started to bombard me with “facts” about how a vegan diet would lead to starvation and eventual death. Next, she entered the bargaining stage and said that it was a phase and that I would eventually come to my senses. Through it all, I stuck to my convictions. It wasn’t easy visiting my mother. She would nag and swear to me that I would become anemic (this concern was more rational). She would even sneak meat under a pile of rice or drench my vegetables in bacon grease, hoping that I would not notice. I did, and it was exhausting. 

During this period, we were at odds with each other, often arguing about what she saw as a poor lifestyle choice. It was a very stressful time in my life and strained our relationship. In fact, I find my anxiety increasing, just writing this entry. Why was my being vegan more difficult for her to accept than my affectional orientation? Why did this put such a barrier in our relationship? It took me years to realize that my mother wasn’t angry about my vegan diet per se, but confused and saddened by the realization that I established a restriction on how she loved me; through her culture and cooking.

It’s no surprise that food is a significant part of our lives. We certainly need it for sustenance, but how did it become so pleasurable and such an essential part of our social and cultural interactions? How did we develop such an emotional attachment to certain foods? Why don’t we eat just enough in the privacy of our homes to keep us going to the next day? There are biological, psychological, and cultural adaptations throughout our human development that connect us to food. We can start by looking at part of Darwin’s research while at Galapagos Island, which was integral in solidifying his theory of evolution by natural selection. Darwin discovered several species of finches whose bodies and beaks varied from island to island. Each species of finch adapted to a specific type of food that was available on the island; thicker beaks for ground-finches who fed off crunchy seeds and crustaceans and longer beaks for warbler finches who fed off insects found in vegetation.  

Like Darwin’s finches, the need and availability of food shaped human development. There’s evidence of evolutionary changes to the bodies and brains as our hunter-gather ancestors as they adapted to changing climate and increasing populations, which affected available food sources. Humans spent ninety percent of our millions of years on Earth foraging, and most of the day was consumed by gathering and hunting for food. The earliest evidence of bipedalism in early proto-humans (hominins) dates back to approximately 3 million years ago. There are many theories of how humans evolved from walking on knuckles to walking in an upright position. Two prevailing theories center on adapting to available food sources. The postural feeding hypothesis describes hominins developing to an upright position as the need to reach food on trees became more of a necessity while the savanna-based theory describes how their eventual migration into the savanna led to standing upright in search of food over tall grass. Although modern humans (homo sapiens) started to evolve in Africa approximately 200,000 thousand years ago, it wasn’t until about 70,000 years ago that small groups began to leave Africa and spread to other continents out of the changing availability of food sources. Some anthropologists believe it was during this period when humans started to find ways to differentiate themselves with their own set of beliefs, customs, and rituals. Food would have been a fundamental part of this differentiation since available food sources varied across the path of human expansion. Humans developed various dietary adaptations, including food preparations, and those connected with local plant and animal populations. Mothers provided the only source of nourishment for their children. Nursing not only assured the survival of their young but also bonded the mother and child, strengthening psychological and emotional connections. As modern humans transitioned from small hunter and gatherer relationships to agricultural societies, some 12,000 to 23,000 years ago, humans started farming and raising livestock, which increased permanent settlements. These settlements led to job specializations, governing structures, accumulating possessions, and oppressive gender roles. 

Before the agricultural revolution, men and women had equal roles in their lifestyle. The farming lifestyle led to the specific division of responsibilities; men spent most of their time in the fields working with animals while women worked at home tending to their children and preparing foods. Local available vegetation and animals led to the development of unique cuisines. Women had more options for feeding their children, and preparing delicious meals became part of the bonding process, further connecting ourselves to our mother’s cooking. In addition to the responsibility of feeding children, women had a burden of passing on traditions to ensure cultural continuity; women taught their daughters how to prepare foods so that they could feed their children and families. 

As people continued to migrate, they brought their customs and their culinary practices with them, sharing them with other people they encountered. Food shifted from being consumed for sustenance to being consumed for pleasure, expressing cultural uniqueness, celebrations, and connecting with others. Today, in every country and culture, the sharing of food is central to our expression of love. The sharing and receiving of food brings joy and connects us to each other in ways that can only be truly understood and appreciated by knowing our past. We also need to recognize the role of our families, especially our mothers had with our emotional connection to cuisines and why we feel so safe and loved when we eat a home-cooked meal. 

It is no wonder my mother had such difficulty with my new vegan diet, I had taken away part of the way she expressed love. She must have also felt saddened that I had “abandoned” my culture and not continue the long tradition of passing down the love of her selections of Latin cuisine. Coming out as gay was easier for her to accept. It didn’t matter what my affectional orientation was, she could always cook me mofongo, arroz con gandules, and pasteles, and all would be alright. A lot has changed since I came out as a vegan, I eventually went back to eating meat, learned how to cook, sadly buried my mother, and I am proud to say, passing on the love of Latin cuisine to my daughter. In the end, she was the one who knew me best. For me, being vegan was just a phase, and although this period in our lives was stressful, I take comfort in knowing she truly believed that I would eventually come back to her love.