October 24 through 31 is World Go Vegan Week, a celebration of compassion and a time to take action for animals. Today’s guest post is by Rebekah of Jaunty Dame, about her journey toward veganism.

It was, as I recall, the spring of 2008. I was perched on a tall stool in a campus computer lab, desperately wishing that my co-worker would wear headphones if he insisted on watching Mamma Mia! at work.

The phone rang. It was Ian, my boyfriend.

“Rebekah,” he said gravely, “There’s something I have to tell you.”

My heart paused. Was Ian leaving me? Was someone dying? Or worse, both; was he dying to leave me! Curses!

Ian said, “I’ve decided to become a vegan.”

Why hadn’t I seen this coming? Date a Buddhist, expect to hear about sentient beings. He had recently read Gary Snyder’s Writers and the War Against Nature and taken a sudden interest in albatross. Most tellingly, he’d gone vegetarian a few months before.

I’d heard of vegans; a well-meaning friend sent me a vegan cookbook that included enticing recipes such as a cooked carrot on a hot dog bun. Somehow, I was in no rush to join their ranks.

In many ways, I was an unlikely candidate for veganism. My heart seemed three sizes smaller than those of veg people. In childhood, I threw our cat down the stairs repeatedly to learn if cats always landed on their feet. (Trust me, they don’t.) My teenage journals reveal entries about Arby’s, I was so thrilled at the prospect of roast beef. As a college sophomore, I defined “rich” to a classmate as “being able to buy meat and dairy whenever you want” and sniffed belts to make sure they were leather. For years, I believed that if misusing animals mattered to God, my church leaders would have told me about it. I had never met a vegan.

By the time Ian announced his pending veganism in 2008, I was newly ex-Mormon and still bristling at extraneous commandments and “thou-shalt-nots” of any stripe. Why trade one set of rules for another?

But in more ways, veganism made perfect sense for me. My family loved animals and always had plenty of pets. I’d read the anti-factory farming children’s book called Nature’s Chicken that had pithy lines like “You do not need cow milk; you are not a baby cow.” My favorite aunt and uncle were vegetarians, which made having unpopular dietary ethics seem feasible. Then as now, videos of baby animals reduced me to a quivering puddle of happiness. Naturally, I loved the movie Babe. When a boyfriend announced he’d shoot a dog or cat for entering his yard or walking on his car, I dumped him the next day. Wouldn’t you?

More than anything, I learned about veganism when I was fresh out of organized religion and finding my own moral path; where would I draw my lines?

Back when Ian had first become vegetarian, I’d attempted to follow suit and failed. Unsurprisingly, the strength of his convictions didn’t change my diet. Only when my sympathy for animals finally overrode my love of sausage could I live meat-free.

Veganism was a similar story; when I tried to give up eggs/dairy/leather/silk/honey/the kitchen sink to keep pace with Ian, I couldn’t. It wasn’t food that defeated me; it was the teasing, an endless gauntlet of friends saying “Oh, I’d just DIE without cheddar.” I wasn’t emotionally ready to take a stand. After so many years dutifully defending Mormonism, I was aching to lay low and “play normal.”

In a Thaïs-style twist, Ian stopped being veg. That final factor tipped me from aspiring vegan to vegetarian for more than a year, awkwardly straddling the fence. I drank soymilk, yet ate cheese by the pound. I refused to buy leather, yet ate eggs and honey. I wasn’t disciplined or self-sufficient enough to completely change my ways, but it was too late not to care about animal welfare. Like I said, awkward.

But one of the noblest spillovers from my Mormon upbringing is an abiding love of integrity. Whenever I asked myself “Rebekah, are you comfortable with living and eating this way?” the answer was always no. It was too late for me to “play normal.”

For the past two months, I have been using up the last of my “pregan” possessions (some supplements and mascara, mostly) and inching toward coming out as vegan. My conscience is at peace, my body feels fine—and I live by “rules” I’ve chosen for myself.

About Rebekah

Rebekah is the bookish, soul-searching, nearly-vegan mastermind behind Jaunty Dame. Contact her via Facebook or email rebekah@jauntydame.com.