Gulp—Gulp—Gulp—
And down goes the milk. How refreshing! Milk has always been one of my favorite drinks. I would drink cups of it plain with nothing else. However, I never truly considered where milk came from or how it was manufactured. In fact I never truly considered where anything I ate came from. I suppose I had this idea that food magically appeared in grocery stores and, sure, I knew the basics: milk comes from cows, but Disney movies such as The Fox and the Hound implemented the misconception that female cows just naturally produced milk. I assumed it was an all-around humane process where both the cows and humans benefitted. Unfortunately, the truth of our current farming systems are far from that.
I didn’t recognize the devastation of milk manufacturing until my fifth-grade teacher organized a field trip to a local dairy farm. The farmers, first, introduced us to a single cow and used her to demonstrate the procedure of impregnation at the farm. They brought out long gloves that reached up to their shoulders and a large metal contraption that I now know to be a catheter. The farmer proceeded to stick his whole arm in the cow along with the metal contraption, explaining that, by using this method, they are able to increase the chances of conception.
Theo Van Leeuwen’s article, “What is Authenticity” states, “Psychoanalysis has identified the truth with the irrational, the emotional, and immediate association” (Van Leeuwen 2001, 394). For me, that was the immediate feeling of discomfort I felt when the farmers used the catheter. I thought about how unnatural this procedure was, especially taking into account that it was undoubtedly unwanted by the cow. Yet, as I looked around, none of my peers seemed to exhibit the same discomfort, prompting me to push the thought to the back of my mind. I chose conformity, a continuous pattern that would follow me to adulthood.
As we continued the tour, the farmer showed us where all the cows were housed. The sight that fell before me shook my being to its very core—cows were lined up in tight pens, restricting their movements entirely; they weren’t even able to take a step. The smell was putrid and the air felt heavy. Yet, as I peered into the cow’s eyes, I swear it spoke to me. The cow didn’t speak with words, but rather, spoke through this internal connection. It was as if I was feeling the cows’ desperation—their silent pleas for help. Tears instantly sprang from my eyes. Though I was aware of the audience around me, I could not hold back my tears. My lungs felt as though they were on fire and my head pounded so hard, I thought it might explode. In the end, I never finished the tour, crying myself to sleep. When I awoke on the bus, I swore I would never drink a glass of milk again. I could not comprehend how people, just like me, could condone this practice. To me, the system was comparable to slavery. But, what could I do? I was only a child.
My oath would be short-lived, displacing my feelings and memories in further attempts to conform to society. Despite these attempts, it did not change my heart’s truth, which was constantly filling me with feelings of guilt for denying it. There was this one instance in my teenage years when I was watching a scene from one of my favorite anime, Hunter X Hunter (2011). A country had been conquered by a group of chimera ants under the leadership of their king, Meruem. In this scene, captured human girls begged for their lives, yet Meruem simply responded with, “Have you ever spared a pig or cow as it begged for its life?” I was so overtaken with emotion that I busted out in tears, knowing he was right. A fictional character had more conviction than me—that is what pierced my heart the most.
How can I claim to love and care for animals when I still support the farming systems that exploit their helplessness? I am no longer a child but, still, I stand idle. I do not speak up or pursue what I know to be right. I care more for people’s perception of me than I do for standing by what I believe is right. My conviction is weak and I am scared of being ostracized. I don’t want to be an outcast as I am in my own family. Yet, the guilt in my heart only seems to build. The more accepted I am by others, the worse I feel out of their presence. With every glass of milk, guilt fills me. The fear they must have felt haunts me. I couldn’t even write this without tears spewing from my eyes as just thinking of the atrocities done because of mankind’s greed makes my heart ache. What haunts me though is the fact I am no better than the systems I despise because I constantly choose conformity over conviction.
Rather than preventing me from living authentically, it seems the dairy manufacturing industry has shown me what I must do to truly live authentically. There will always be greed, malpractice, suffering, and pain, but the only way for it to prevail is for people to stay silent for people to conform—just as I do. If I am to ever be at peace, it will not be from the dairy farming industry’s reform, but rather from the reforming of my own mind. I must learn to stand by my own convictions and cast away the pressure of others to conform for the sake of likability. For what is the point of being liked by others if I do not like myself? Perhaps then, it will be me leading the revolution rather than bringing one who follows blindly.