Before I was vegan, the word ‘humane’ used to enter my thoughts several times a day. When buying ‘food’, clothing, toiletries, household materials, everything, I was concerned to ensure that I was making ‘ethical’ choices, ‘humane’ choices. Oh, how principled I imagined myself to be! Everyone I knew used to roll their eyes at me when I recounted the lengths I had gone to, the ‘organic’, ‘free-range’, ‘cage-free’, ‘not-tested-on-animals’, the welfare-approved, ‘lived-a-happy-life-in-the-sunshine’ efforts that took up my time and concern as a consumer.
Then one day it happened. The truth finally hit me like a sledge hammer.
I can’t remember exactly how it came about, but that knowledge still sits in my core like a stone. I opened my eyes to the truth about dairy products; the reality of motherhood violated, manipulated and enslaved; the anguish and the desolation of innocent and gentle, mothering creatures, the sobs and despair of the babies they love…
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