Let’s have a chat about failure.
We’re living in a world of growing forgiveness, understanding and compassion. My social media feed is filled with posts about accepting your imperfections, prioritising self-care and widening your perspective. Coupled with this is a movement for transparency and openness. It feels safer to share your failures because you are sending your stories into a community that will reply with support and validation. However, there are some spaces that still exist with barriers and, unfortunately, I believe the vegan community is one of them.
I went vegan about a year ago, and wooooooow it has been a ride. I love it and I intend to continue, but it has also been incredibly difficult. It is easier to stick to than most diets, because it is based on particular ethical beliefs, rather than self-control. However, it’s still a diet… and all diets come with cheat days. However, in veganism, a cheat day is not something you can indulge in for the sake of self-care. It is a betrayal of your values and a bad mark on the entire community. Or is it?
I have thought about this a lot, and spoken about this with non-vegans, but I have never actually had a conversation about cheating with another vegan. I’ve just been too scared. What if I say, “Hey… so… you cheat sometimes, right?” and they say, “No of course not. Do you? You must be a terrible person and a hypocrite. You probably punch babies for fun.” Which is a ridiculous response and none of my very lovely vegan friends would say that to me. So really, the problem is not with judgement in the community, but a lack of transparency, and the internalised guilt that comes from not voicing difficulties. I’d like that to change. So, here we go.
I’ve cheated. I’ve cheated a lot. I haven’t eaten meat, but I’ve had damn near everything else. I enjoyed the vegetable chow mein with egg-fried rice from the Chinese food stall on UCT Upper Campus. I’ve had sushi with mayonnaise because sushi mayo makes fashion sandwiches a thousand times better. I’ve had gelatine because Speckled Eggs have always been my favourite. I’ve secretly bought myself chocolate and whey protein bars (cravings are strange beasts) countless times. And every time I cheated, I felt horrendous. I felt I’d let down myself, my vegan friends, the fluffy little cows I have as my laptop wallpaper… and most of all, I felt like a hypocrite. How could I go around talking about my love for animals and debating the ethics of plant-based living, when on the side I was probably buying more Cadbury products in a week than my omnivore friends?
I’ve slowly opened up about this to some close friends and family members, but never other vegans. I’m still terrified to be the one that failed. Because I do care. I try really, really hard and I’ve made a lot of sacrifices. I know, in all other aspects of my life, I can’t be perfect all the time, and I’m okay with that. I know that occasionally buying a Kit Kat isn’t plunging the world into despair. But sometimes logic can’t overcome feelings, and the guilt wins.
However, that has been changing. A few weeks ago, a lovely friend of mine shared an article on the real-life ethics and environmental sustainability of veganism. Sure, factory farming is terrible for the planet, but a fancy bottle of almond milk causes far more damage than a local small-scale farmer with his free-range chickens. The palm oil issue is also one that has come up in recent conversations (a lot of vegan products use palm oil as a replacement for animal fats, however, the palm oil industry has been responsible for a huge amount of environmental destruction). And even if you’ve got your diet nailed down, what about your beauty products? Your medication? Are your clothes made in sweatshops? How much plastic packaging encases your soy meat-substitutes. It’s exhausting. The world is in such a dire state, and there are so many issues to be aware of, things to protest, things to change… but it is impossible to do all of it, all the time.
But I’m trying. I check labels, I buy second-hand, I shop cruelty-free.
I try to be kind, to be understanding, to talk about what matters. To forgive people for their failures just like I hope they can forgive me for mine. In the end, it doesn’t matter if you live perfectly, only that you try. And if you’re trying your best to be the best every day, sometimes you can give yourself a break and just buy a damn Kit Kat.