“There’s one indulgence I can’t resist: gravy. Poutine is off my list; I’m just not ready to let go.” This sentiment comes from a transitioning vegan.
My 10-year-old daughter has decided to give up meat.
Currently, she identifies as a pescatarian. However, given her strong attachment to her five pet fish (which occupy four different tanks), I doubt she’ll be able to enjoy a plate of wild salmon for much longer.
At her age, I quickly developed a taste for porterhouse steak; instead, she has cultivated a sense of compassion.
Her reasoning mirrors that of many who choose vegetarian or vegan lifestyles: a profound empathy for animals, which, even when treated by the most conscientious hunters, face an inevitable fate.
For her, the dilemma is quite straightforward—much like my profound appreciation for a juicy, marbled New York strip fresh off the grill. “I don’t really like the taste of meat, and I feel bad for the animals. Just imagine being an animal, knowing you’re about to die.”
I can’t fault her for this perspective. She takes after her father, who has a love for animals. While her compassion has blossomed into action, mine has remained somewhat hesitant.
Her dietary exploration has compelled me to reassess my own eating habits. It has also created that peculiar sensation of feeling like I’m the only one clueless about a prevalent secret. Vegetarians and vegans seem to be everywhere while I was off in meat-centric oblivion.
My teenage neighbor, Oliver, proudly labels himself as a “strict vegetarian, mostly vegan.” He adopted this lifestyle for “environmental and political reasons, as a form of resistance to the harmful factory farming system.”
Yikes. I don’t feel directly targeted, but I might be burying my meat freezer beneath my garden shed this weekend, accessible only via a hidden door under the tomato vines.
The fact that my daughter wants to limit her diet raises concerns for me. I’ve written frequently about eating disorders, peer pressure among teens, and body image issues. These struggles can be incredibly challenging, especially for young girls.
Should I be alarmed by her dietary choices? Do I possess the knowledge to guide a 10-year-old—and eventually a teenager—through the complexities of vegetarianism and veganism?
I sought some unbiased advice for my aspiring vegan.
Kim Arrey, an author and registered dietitian, informs me that numerous resources are available for parents and children willing to explore alternative food choices.
One author Arrey suggests is Vesanto Melina, known for her work on the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics’ paper on vegetarian diets. Melina has penned several books, including Raising Vegetarian Children (McGraw-Hill Education, 2002).
I can easily picture my daughter sitting at the dinner table, her spoon delving into her homemade bean and apple salad, eagerly sharing the advantages of veganism—as per the excerpts I recommended.
The hunter has become the hunted.
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Energy Needs and Performance
Is there a connection between my daughter’s performance on the soccer field and the primal instinct to hunt for sustenance? What’s the motivation for chasing algae? Will she forfeit hot dogs and abandon the swim team to spend afternoons photosynthesizing?
Pearle Nerenberg, an author and sports dietitian working with both elite and aspiring athletes, states there’s no reason a vegan diet should hinder athletic performance.
Upon asking Nerenberg how I should approach my daughter’s newfound commitment to environmentalism, her ironic response was, “Don’t shy away from it. Embrace this exploration of food. It will make her feel that what she’s doing is intriguing to you.”
Isn’t that my ultimate hope for my children? To motivate them to nurture their own convictions, to delve into their beliefs, and to celebrate their uniqueness?
It seems I am receiving my just desserts.
If venturing into a vegetarian or vegan lifestyle means more time with my daughter, does it really matter if chickpeas replace chicken? Outside of that bowl of legumes, everything else is just gravy.
