Idon’t think I’ve ever made a new year resolution. But this year I’m going to stop telling people that I don’t eat meat. It’s not that I do eat meat – I don’t. The thing is, when I tell people that I don’t eat meat, I’m saying it to be polite. I use that form of words because I don’t want to offend people. So, from now on I’m going to be more honest. I’m just going to tell people that I don’t eat animals. I was nine when I decided to stop eating animals. My twin sister and I were the only black children in school. I experienced racism in and out of the classroom, so in the playground I would often find myself sitting in a corner talking to the local cats. When the cats were away, I’d talk to the birds and the bees. Amazingly, I never met a racist animal. Some were nervous when they first approached me, some would make a few visits before they got close, but it never took long for us to make a connection. Then we would just hang out together. Even though I wanted to stop eating animals then, I was “force-fed” bits (which I ate very reluctantly) until I was 11 and turned vegetarian. That’s when I felt I could put my foot down and express myself. My mother thought it was just a phase I was going through, until I turned vegan at 13, and I’ve never looked back since. So I really don’t remember what meat tastes like. Meat itself is not my main concern. I think going vegan for health reasons is great. There are also valid and urgent environmental reasons for going vegan. A plant-based diet can reduce those dreaded emissions by up to 70%, and that’s not just greenhouse emissions. I’m talking about other baddies, like those horrible acidifying and eutrophying emissions that we get from intensive farming practices. Worldwide more and more people are becoming vegan, and if everyone decided to adopt a plant-based diet we could save about 75% of the world’s farmland. But for me, it is simpler than that. I’m vegan because I love animals. I feel I’m not telling the whole story when I say I don’t eat meat. I do have issues with the smell of it. This might be because of personal trauma. One night, in the late 80s, I was walking through Beirut, which was then said to be the most dangerous city in the world, when I came across a pile of burning bodies. I will never forget the stench. Now, every time I smell animals being cooked I have flashbacks to that terrifying night. When I stopped eating animals I told my mother that I don’t eat my friends. When I grew up, someone told me that George Bernard Shaw had said that a long time before me. A wise woman once said: “I don’t eat anything with a face on it,” and a Jamaican friend of mine recently said: “I don’t eat anything with an arse.” I really don’t want to offend animal eaters for the sake of it. I just want to be more honest about the way I use words. I am not a pet lover. I’m an animal lover. I don’t single out certain animals that I think are cute and lovely so that I can stroke them as I watch TV on the couch. I don’t even really have a favourite animal. I just don’t think animals are here for my entertainment, or to make me feel better. When I look into the eyes of an animal, I not only see into its soul, I also see a sentient being that might have similar concerns to me. Like the need for food, shelter, and comfort, not to mention love. So even if the meat industry had zero impact on the environment, and my health was guaranteed regardless of what I ate, I still could not eat animals. I once decided that I would never ask people if they were OK, unless I really meant it, and I was prepared to listen and help if they weren’t. A long time ago, I decided never to tell people to stay in touch if I didn’t really mean it. I won’t even tell people that it’s good to see them, if I don’t mean it. I just want my interactions with people to be genuine. I don’t really know anything about meat. I don’t lie in bed at night thinking about meat. So, from next year onwards I’m going to tell people the truth. I don’t eat animals. But I won’t be telling you, because now you know.