I care about the planet – so I quit being a vegetarian
A definitive guide to adopting the most sustainable diet
Congratulations! You’ve come to terms with the idea of food as a manifestation of personal agency – that what you choose to eat is not only a personal choice, but a political act, whether in favor of the planet, animal welfare, fair labor, local supply chains or anti-corporate interests. Now that you’ve made the decision to adopt a more sustainable diet, which will you choose? Options include:
Pescatarian: Doesn’t eat meat, but still eats fish
Vegetarian: Doesn’t eat meat or fish, but still eats eggs and dairy
Vegan: Doesn’t eat meat, fish or any animal byproducts
Beegan: Doesn’t eat meat, fish or any animal byproducts, except for honey
Raw vegan: Vegan, but doesn’t cook food above 104–118°F (40–48°C)
Flexitarian: Eats mainly plant-based and occasionally meat, but varies greatly with the individual. Examples include: Doesn’t eat any red meat but eats poultry and fish; only follows Meatless Mondays; or only eats meat on special occasions
Reducetarian: Same as flexitarian, but more mindful about reducing their meat consumption
Cakeatarian: What my mom used to call me when I first became a vegetarian but understood nothing about nutrition and ate mostly white flour-based food products in the absence of her home-cooked meals, which usually included meat
According to the UN, “Sustainable diets are those with low environmental impacts which contribute to food and nutrition security and to healthy life for present and future generations. Sustainable diets are protective and respectful of biodiversity and ecosystems, culturally acceptable, accessible, economically fair and affordable; nutritionally adequate, safe and healthy; while optimizing natural and human resources.”
When it comes to addressing climate change at the individual level, one of the most commonly suggested actions is to adopt a plant-based diet. With the proliferation of non-animal food products in recent years, it’s never been easier to reduce your meat consumption without feeling restricted by limited alternative options.
So why is every vegetarian I know, including myself, “quitting”?
“I’ve done my time.”
“Life is short. Enjoy it!”
“I was traveling and wanted to indulge in the local cuisine.” Or, similarly, “I was traveling and knew vegetarian options wouldn’t be available where I was going.”
“I’ve been working out more and I needed to increase my protein intake.”
“Grazing is an essential aspect of regenerative agriculture, so I started purchasing beef and chicken to support farms using these practices and encourage them to continue doing so.”
“I was visiting home and wanted to eat whatever my dad was cooking.”
“I was craving a burger so I ate one.”
“Oysters, clams and mussels can help with the purification of waterways and I wanted to incorporate them into my diet to support an increase in their demand.”
The list goes on.
This phenomenon is not unique among my limited sample of friends. A 2023 Gallup poll found that only 4% of Americans identify as vegetarians, and an additional 1% are vegans – a decline in both groups from five years prior. A Bon Appetit mini-series called Anxious Carnivores shares similar anecdotes of long-time vegetarians and vegans who gave up their monikers, often to re-engage in their culture and community around food.
Does labeling sustainable diets hurt the causes (and people) we care about?
I became a vegetarian in 2010 and the label came to occupy a significant part of my identity. For me, and for many who abide by vegetarianism and veganism, my diet felt like an expression of my values; telling people I was a vegetarian was a way to let them know I care about certain issues.
However, as the only person I knew at the time opting not to eat meat, I wasn’t prepared for the social sanctioning that would come from my dietary choices, such as having to decline the goulash my grandfather prepared for family supper, rejecting an expression of his love and pride in his culture; or feeling guilty when hosts went out of their way to prepare a separate dish for me from what the group was eating.
Five years into my life as a vegetarian, I began to question the helpfulness of labeling my diet, especially as I came to terms with a new addition to my food identity (lactose-intolerant), meaning yet another dietary restriction with which I presented myself to the world (no milk or cheese for me, but eggs are still OK, thanks).
I expressed my confusion and discomfort to a friend: How was I supposed to label my diet when it didn’t fit into any one box?
My friend Solange rocked my world when she replied, “I just tell people I’m a Solangetarian.” The general ethos of ‘Solangetarianism’ is that as long as she was at peace with what she was eating and that this was in alignment with her values, she did not need to present herself to the world with a strict dietary label. It also cheekily mocked all the sustainable dietary ‘-isms’ emerging everywhere, which were causing more confusion than clarity.
Not either/or: Reconciling your food identity as both a political act and sociocultural conformity
Does this all feel overwhelming? For most, it is – which is likely why we’re not seeing a rise in the number of people who identify as a vegetarian or vegan.
Does it mean we’re collectively giving up on one of the few individual actions we can take for the benefit of the planet? No, and findings indicate that the opposite is true. Per capita meat consumption in the United States was forecasted to decline for the first time in a decade last year, and nearly one in four Americans have reduced their meat consumption in recent years (though for many, the main reason is for health benefits, followed by environmental concerns).
So what’s the way forward? Instead of strict adherence to a specific sustainable diet, let’s abandon the notion that we need to label what we eat in order to express our commitment to the causes we care about through food. While the labels differ, we share a collective ambition to make dietary choices that have better environmental and socioeconomic impacts – without prohibiting ourselves from the food and culinary traditions we enjoy.
This isn’t to say that people are less understanding of the importance of our dietary choices for reasons beyond personal pleasure. If anything, I’ve felt awareness and tolerance increase among my friends and peers when it comes to eating conscientiously, for whichever reason.
When deciding what to order off the menu at a restaurant or when a group chat is created to invite guests to a dinner party, it has become standard to ask “Does anyone have any dietary restrictions?” or “What is everyone eating or not eating right now?”. These questions also help to facilitate conversation on why it’s important to consider what we eat, share stories about the new ways and reasons we’ve tried to be plant-based, and offer a support group to each other as we vent our frustrations about the sustainability of it all – for ourselves and for the planet.
At the end of the day, the most sustainable diet that we can adopt is the one that is sustainable to maintain.