Vegetarian Ecofeminism

This week, I’ve explored the philosophy of Greta Gaard and Deane Curtin, ecofeminists who center intersectionality with nonhuman species . Gaard, as shared in her article “Ecofeminism on the Wing” for Women and Environments Magazine, believes when we position ourselves, humans, above other species, we lose part of our compassion (2001). Keeping pets, animal consumption, and using animals for work are all examples of our anthropocentric tendencies. Gaard criticized the hierarchy of society that placed humans at the top and exploits other species, and lamented the “imperfect choices” from which we make our lives, and human-driven circumstances, like industrial farming and food deserts, that perpetuate them.

Curtin shares many of the same beliefs as Gaard, but allows nuance for the human condition. In his essay Contextual Moral Vegetarianism, he explains that moral vegetarianism differs across locations, genders, races, and class because human lives are comprised of unequal interests. He states, correctly, that people can’t be expected to be indifferent to their children, and when faced with the choice between an animal or their child, they will choose the child (1991). Is this another example of our own animal nature? Would a bear not choose its cub? Are we but mere animals, scrubbed and clothed and schooled? Yet from our menu of imperfect choices, we choose again and again to put ourselves above other species. Ecofeminists like Curtin and Gaard seek to correct this hierarchical structure by cultivating compassion and empathy toward nonhuman animals.

Consider the image above. At first glance, it is neutral clip art. Upon further inspection, it’s a layered commentary on speciesism. The white man, an animal in costume, is cutting the flesh of another dead animal with his man-made tools, upon a bed of Earthly wood, slashed and stripped and carved into a board for the white man’s convenience. The tools themselves are made from plastic and metal, materials made by extracting finite resources from the earth. The dead animal is pinned down by the white man’s tool, kept in its place on the board, waiting to be consumed. This is not a Native Arctic village eating meat because there is nothing else; this is a man with agency and a plethora of nonmeat choices, destroying another animal in a controlled, systematic manner. It is factory farming and agricultural dominance, zoomed in and sanitized.

We as humans are aware of and exploit this place in the proverbial food chain. This awareness has entered our lexicon and occupies our day-to-day lives, even subconsciously, as we subjugate others and ourselves. In his essay, Curtin discusses connections between the oppression of women and the oppression of animals, as expressed through food and food traditions (1991). Some of these examples include disparaging nonmeat foods, like referring to people in comas as “vegetables,” associating women with dainty foods, like finger sandwiches, and connecting red meat with masculinity. This reminded me of how men are generally expected to have larger appetites, especially when it comes to meat and dairy products (i.e. Ron Swanson, epitome of masculinity, asking for “all the bacon and eggs you have”). Meanwhile, women are expected to eat smaller portions, more salads. We nibble and we graze. I thought of this tonight when I served dinner for my family. Why am I inclined to pass my husband the larger piece of steak? He often eats less than I do, but my instinct is to give him a big portion. Thinking more about it, the fact that I cook dinner 5 times per week is probably testament to deeply ingrained patriarchal standards within my own progressive family. 

Works Cited