I could talk about the PE teacher in my town who was asked to resign due to his harassment of female students, who was then hired as a school bus driver for a rural route with both primary and high school students. I could talk about how, from the age of seven, I refused to wear skirts or dresses, and from the time I entered high school at 10 to when I moved at 16 I always wore bike shorts or CCC shorts under my dress, because he was not particularly subtle about the way he looked at us – and those bus steps are high. I could talk about how this was common knowledge and was never denied by any authority figure we ever raised it with, but rather we were just kind of brushed off. I could talk about how, sometimes, I was the last person on my bus in the afternoon and I was never quite sure if something bad would happen to me, even though for a long time I probably couldn’t have articulated what it was that I feared.
I could talk about how I spent ten years of my childhood believing it was perfectly normal and acceptable for a seven year old child to stop wearing her favourite clothes because a grown man she relies on to get to and from school from a relatively remote location gets a thrill from looking up her skirt.
I could talk about the art teacher at my high school who used to run his hands up and down our backs, right along the spot where your bra sits. Considering most of us were fairly new to wearing bras in the first place, this was a decidedly uncomfortable experience. I could talk about how he used to get just a little too close for comfort in the supply room. Nothing overt, nothing nameable – just enough to make you drag someone else along with you if you needed a fresh piece of paper or you ran out of ink. I could talk about how the odd comment or complaint that was made was completely handwaved, that we were told to be very careful about what we were saying, that we could get someone in a lot of trouble by “starting those kinds of rumours”, and did we really want to be responsible for that?
I could talk about the first time I was made to feel ashamed of my body, at twelve or thirteen, getting into a water fight with my stepfather and uncle in the height of summer. I could talk about my grandmother completely flipping out, talking about how disgusting it was, how grown men should be ashamed of the way they were behaving with a girl. I could talk about how she then spent the next few hours trying to convince me I was being somehow victimised, while I was mostly confused about what had taken place – it took me a long time to work it out. I could talk about the unvoiced but ever-present fear for months afterwards that my grandma would bring it up again, that she would bring it up in the wrong place or to the wrong people and that my uncle, a schoolteacher, would suffer for it.
I could talk about how that destroyed what had been a fantastic relationship with my uncle, and how, ten years later, he still won’t hug me at Christmas.
I could talk about being called a frigid bitch and a slut in the same breath in high school. I could talk about multiple instances of sitting in a big group of friends, hearing someone trying to get into someone else’s pants, starting off sweet enough but quickly descending into emotional manipulation and thinly veiled abuse. I could talk about the time I went off with someone willingly enough and being followed by someone I considered a friend, someone who would not leave no matter how many times I said “no”, who only went away when the person I was with said that he “didn’t feel like sharing”.
I could talk about the family friend who always made me feel a little bit off for no discernible reason. The one who if I was left alone in the room with him, I would always find an excuse to leave. The one time I expressed this, I was told I was being a drama queen, and that I needed to grow up and stop being so precious, that one day I was going to have to deal with people I didn’t like and I might as well get used to it. I could talk about how he never did anything untoward, never gave me any specific reason to feel unsafe – but years after I last saw him, when he was found guilty of four historical sexual assault charges, one of rape and three of indecent assault on girls under twelve, I was, for reasons I still don’t entirely understand, completely unsurprised.
I could talk about my boyfriend justifying his rape of me with “you could have fought me off if you really wanted you, you slut”. I could talk about how, when I tried to tell people, I was told I was being a nasty, spiteful, vindictive bitch. I could talk about how selfish it was of me to say such things, that he’d overcome such a hard life and was going to go on and make something of himself, who the hell was I to try and stand in his way?
I could talk about how my response to being raped was to sleep with anyone and everyone because I rationalised that if I never said no, then no one could force me. I could talk about how I have been told time and time again, by people who should know better, that this is a sign that I wasn’t really raped at all.
I could talk about how, when I finally worked up the courage to make a formal complaint of sexual harassment against my boss, I was asked why I had let it continue for so long, and what I had done to make him think his behaviour would be welcomed.
I could talk about how when a much later boss got me completely wasted at my leaving party, to the point where I couldn’t walk, and fucked me in a back alley, he waited until I was sober the next morning to tell me that he had a pregnant wife, because he heard through the grapevine that I was very strict about not sleeping with married people or straight women, and he thought I should “learn my place” and realise that I’m “not such a high and mighty bitch with a moral high ground after all”.
I could talk about these things, but I very rarely do. Since I was seven years old, I have been told that my body is not my own, that my consent is not my own, that my feelings of discomfort are not my own. I have taught myself to suppress my gut instinct upon meeting people. I have been taught to smile, to be polite, to suck it up if I feel unsafe. When I complain, I have been told I’m being irrational, oversensitive, and selfish. The underlying message is, how dare I try and ascertain any kind of control over my own body?
I should talk about it. But I don’t actually know whether I can.
Please stop funding the animal agriculture industry, it wastes more water than anything. Please stop funding the depletion and destruction of resources.
Here is a link describing the way that animal agriculture in general pollutes the Earth/wastes resources:
Here is a link that describes, in depth, the water footprint of animal agriculture compared to vegetables:
It is obvious that animal agriculture is literally drying up the Earth and destroying it in other ways as well. Please do not fund this.
Oliver the Dog and Arashi the Cat: the cutest best friends ever!
lusitanoqueen said: Oh my god another vegan equestrian I love you. Haha it's kind of weird being vegan and equestrian because on one hand the equestrians think you're hippies who don't know anything about horses and the vegans who don't ride think you're an animal abusing murderer. Sigh.
Holy shit, that is the most accurate thing I’ve ever heard. I follow you on my equine blog (musicalfreestyle) and I know you’re fab! Thanks your the nice message!
you really need to drop vegan from your vocabulary
This is so sad. Vegans don’t ride horses. Why would any horse be content bearing your weight just for funsies? Is all logical thought dead here?
Just for funsies? Seriously? Yeah my horse gains absolutely nothing from having mental and physical stimulation and being trained using POSITIVE REINFORCEMENT. Yeah they totally hate their lives that why they canter from the far end of the pasture when I drive up, that’s why they basically bridle themselves it’s being they just hate me. Here’s a tip, fuck off and realize just because I ride horses I’m not some animal abusing monster alright? You may have this idea of black and white with animals but it’s not like that at all. And I really don’t appreciate how you guys think you can dictate scumbagvegan’s culture like you have.
So here’s a tip. Realize the world isn’t Black Beauty. Not all horses are abused. I’ll admit my horses weren’t trained with positive reinforcement because I rescued them (oh yeah did I mention my horses are rescued?) and they were already trained so. But from this point most training I do is positive reinforcement based. They enjoy work because they get something out of it, food. But no. I’m just a animal abusing loser who rides around whipping their horse because I enjoy torturing animals. Okay.
Oh and for any non-vegan followers (I’m still vegan thanks) this is not an oppurtunity to attack vegans beacuse that’s seriously annoying.
your horse friend is excited when you come up because they love you, and they have a relationship with you. you can have a relationship with a horse and not ride them. you can train a horse and have them be excited to learn new things without riding them.
trained horses are not unhappy to have someone on their back. but it is inappropriate to use nonhuman animals in that way.
think of it like this: does it physically harm a chicken to take away their eggs? no, as long as the human replaces those nutrients. and it doesn’t (usually) physically or mentally harm a horse to ride on their back. however, both situations are inappropriate, because both horses and chickens exist not for human benefit, but for their own purposes. horses can be intellectually fulfilled by hanging out with you and being taught new things — they don’t have to be ridden. if you stopped riding your horse friend, but continued to spend a lot of time with them and teach them things, they wouldn’t be upset. knowing this, why do you still ride them?
Exactly. Riding a horse reinforces the idea that we can do whatever we want with animals simply because we’re humans and they are not. It’s speciesist and not vegan.
People seem to have zero idea of how biological mutualism works. So many animals use each other for the benefits they provide, including us. Horses being ridden get exercise and friendship, humans get transportation/sport and friendship. Chickens get food, a comfortable place to live, and a happy life (obviously not on most farms, but in a perfect world), humans get food. Dogs were evolved because they received food scraps from humans, and the humans enjoyed the protection and friendship the dogs provided. Nature has couplings like this that don’t include humans as well.
I think it would be one thing OP was using her horse for transportation purposes, bc then they would be using animal labor. But since she isn’t, it kinda seems like these people are getting pissy bc they don’t agree or understand her relationship that DOESNT CONCERN THEM. Vegans always wanna police everyone else’s use of the term and weed out anyone who doesn’t fit their requirements. It’s such a fucking elitist group and it’s annoying. Leave this person alone
it does perpetuate a grey area of “some benefits we receive from animals are okay, as long as they appear happy”
determining the well-being of an animal is difficult, especially when that animal has been rigorously trained and manipulated through positive re-enforcement. if you have to use psychological techniques and bribes to have an animal do what you want it to, then you’re exploiting an animal. regardless of your perception.
Animal agriculture is the number one reason for global warming, deforestation, water shortage and ocean dead-zones.
And there’s a reason you never hear about it.
Dairy and meat industries are a BUSINESS. They exist purely for PROFIT. They do not care about the environment, or peoples’ health, or animals.
Beetroot-carrot-apple juice :-P #freegan apples and homegrown beets and carrots. my juicer died so I had to make it with a hand blender and strainer and stuff, tastes pretty good ;-) I’m gonna try to do a raw Monday every week from now. Last time I had a raw day I felt pretty good so I want to do it more and it’s easier to do it when I have a sett day :-D
#nutrition #bananagirldiet #beetroot #gorootyourself #veganfoodshare #vegansofig #vegan #cleaneats #ctfu #cleaneating #lfhc #juice #healthyeating #hclf #healthy #fruitarian #fullyraw #diet #plantbased #organic #811 #801010 #raw #rawfood #rawtil4 #eatclean #30bad #whatveganseat