This weekend I had my first opportunity to feel like a true activist. It was during the “Walk for Farm Animals”, sponsored by Farm Sanctuary. I have been a supporter of the group for several months now, but this was the first time that my involvement transcended donations or visits to my “adopted animal family”. It really makes a difference to put yourself out there in a public forum.
I had my first opportunity of the day when it turned out that people were having difficulties finding the registration site. Had I not been there early to help set up, I suspect I would have been among the frantic throngs, milling about in search of a sign. It was my turn to be that sign! At the request of the event organizer, I went to the Farmers’ Market Information Center to hold up a poster of an adorable cow and the “Walk for Farm Animals” text.
The plight of farm animals, particularly in the US, is amazingly grim and deplorable. However, I respect the Farm Sanctuary for choosing a positive image for their signs rather than one which exploits the horrific treatment. This is part of the attitude that drew me to the group in the first place. While there is no way to deny the horrors, the visceral reaction is to recoil and retreat back into denial when confronted with slaughterhouse images. The friendly cow, chicken, or pig signs (The pig looked kind of like our adopted Ramona), however generate a completely different response, one in which people may look at the animals in a different way, which is ultimately the goal.
After a few minutes of holding up my sign (Like dog years, time spent holding a sign above your head does not pass in human time), I was successful in helping my first walker find his way to the event. Yay! This was unfortunately followed by a long drought and a lot of arm swapping with my sign. After about half an hour, I had some more people stop by to chat. Some of them knew about the group and were stopping by to show their support. Others had never heard of it. One gentleman passed by stating “Jeez, I was just looking!” apparently thinking that I was there to protest the Farmers’ Market. The last one left me laughing, at least on the inside.
I enjoyed having the opportunity to talk to numerous passers-by and share the message of the Farm Sanctuary. I couldn’t help but flash back to my childhood where I would be encouraged to get up in church and share my beliefs. When I was really young, I probably enjoyed the attention, but as I got older I realized that I was basically play acting and reciting words that I knew my parents wanted to hear. This had made me highly sensitive to hypocrisy and false testimony. The situation this weekend was completely different. I was able to communicate with a sincerity that is borne of true belief in a cause. Each person I talked to asked different questions and I did the best that could to respond to them, and pepper my answers with personal observations from my visits to the farm in Orland. In some cases, I didn’t have all the answers (Such as when one young lady was asking about abandoned chickens in the Bay Area), but I was able to confidently say that the Farm Sanctuary’s mission was to advocate for all Farm Animals and that I had witnessed this first hand.
Having had the chance for such one-on-one personal contact, it was almost a shame to leave the Information Center to go to the actual walk. While the walk was certainly well attended and well organized, I believe that the most effective strategy for winning the battle will always be to engage with others in open and frank discussion. I don’t know how many hearts and minds were changed this weekend and there are no good ways to measure it. In my case, it started very simply with the recognition that my actions have consequences and once the veils of naïveté are lifted, it is truly a sin to continue in such a manner. Maybe if we touched just one person, that person will decide to change their life, and tell another friend and eventually show up for next year’s walk. I sure hope so, for that is how change happens, one life at a time.
