Put On Your Vegan Walking Shoes!

Okay folks. Here we go again.

Last year's Walk for Farm Animals was a highlight in my activist life, and I am so grateful that all of you came out to support Farm Sanctuary and raise necessary funds and awareness for the farm animals. Last year, in NYC alone, we raised over $40,000 and had over 350 walkers. Nationally, we raised about $180,000, and had over 2200 walkers. This year, I've handed off the local coordinating of the NYC Walk to my amazing intern, Cody, so that I can focus my attention on coordinating the 50 national Walks we have in store.The details are in place, and now all we need is the MONEY!!!! Boys and girls, the money you donate to this Walk goes DIRECTLY to the rescue efforts of Farm Sanctuary. If you haven't visited the Farm, first of all, GO, and second of all, I can tell you that it's the most magical place on earth. I can't think of anything better for you to do with your money than to donate to my fundraising page, unless you'd prefer to actually register yourself, which is even better! That way you could have your very OWN fundraising page! And you could actually come to the Walk! Speaking of coming to the Walk, I'm one of the MCs again this year, so send me your best jokes and I'll try to work them into the routine!

Thanks in advance for the gigantic donation you're about to make. :) The animals thank you, too. You're superstars.



Love,

jasmin

Advantages

First the good news. Advantage Rent-a-Car refunded the gay-partner
charge. They previously had no policy on waiving the additional driver
fee ($10 a day--pretty hefty) for same-sex couples, but after my
complaint letter, they gave it back. Now I'm working on changing their
policy so others like M and me--as well as special friends and
non-coupled people--don't wind up in this same predicament.

(If you're interested in assisting me in that, send a friendly email to hr@advantage.com asking them to please adopt a policy recognizing same-sex partners and waiving the additional driver fee.)

The bad news is that I'm very upset tonight about how gay people are
continually viewed and treated insofar as marriage. This article did
not give proper justice to one person who spoke up against straight
marriage until it is available to everyone. The comments on this
article--which was reposted WIDELY thanks to the Associated Press--were nothing but abusive and unfair toward her and her POV. If only
people would step back and see that she HAS a POINT. MOST straight
people who get married are completely blind to the fact that marriage
is an antiquated industry that continues to oppress others. The minute
someone stands up to this in a public forum, she is name-called. I'm
sick over it. This kind of name-calling is at the root of gay-bashing. It
stems from the same roots of othering those who are not in the
mainstream, those who have the courage to speak up for the underdog,
and even more unique, to actually act on their behalf (as opposed to
just nod vehemently in fake-solidarity).

Vegas with a Vegan...and other Woes of Oppression This, Oppression That

Last week, M and I took time off from the world and ventured to the
southwest. Unfortunately, before we got to our destination, we had to go
through Sin City, where what happens to vegans stays with vegans.

I didn't want to hate Vegas -- it's just too easy, too trite. Instead, I hoped to have an ironic, kitschy kind of experience. But I just couldn't pull it off. When I was there, I realized that everything that's wrong with the world was epitomized in this little big town. Being from New York City, I'm used to bright lights and crowded sidewalks, but I like to believe that some people in NY are on their way to experiencing culture and diversity, rather than the unadulterated consumerism, conditioned air, and addictive bait that is rampant all over Las Vegas. IMHO.

There were two stellar parts of Vegas--one was the thrift store outside of
the strip, Opportunity Village. M and I went there for a shop-stop and each got new wardrobes, practically. The other redeeming factor was Ronald's Donuts, a hole-in-the-wall dive located in Chinatown (the only place where a vegan in Vegas could get a decent veggie soba dish), across the street from several gun and ammo stores. Ronald's is owned by a Cambodian Buddhist guy who has been vegan all his life. (The memory of the Boston creme variety still reminds me of the one time in Vegas I hit the jackpot.)

Our main part of the trip was Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, which was nestled in a canyon just outside Kanab, Utah, where a double rainbow in the sky is not unusual. We spent part of the trip exploring the national parks and monuments, including the spectacular Zion National Park, where the
mountains were named after patriarchal Old Testament figures, which was
unsettling to me at the very least, considering the land is more connected
to the Native Americans than to the Mormons. I've since learned that
it was the Paiutes who originally occupied the area, when it was called
Mukuntuweap. Zion--meaning "heavenly refuge"and, I am sure not without coincidence, a big deal to Mormons--became the new name. I bet it wasn't a refuge for the Indians.

It was shocking how so much of my trip through Native American land did not
officially reflect anything about the Native Americans. At Pipe Spring National Monument, which is where Paiutes lived (and still live) and depended upon the water from the spring, the tour focused on the Mormon church--the first white people who were there--who built a house right over the spring (the only water for miles around) on the Indians' land and had shooting-holes in the bedroom in case any Indians came to invade what was rightfully theirs. I guess I could even go further back than that and say that the Indians took what was the animals' land. Humans -- oy.

Let me backtrack... And thanks for dealing with my rantings...

When we were in Vegas renting a car, it was $100 extra to put on an additional
driver (me). While the rental car guy was processing our order, the dude
next to him was helping another couple, a man and woman. The car rental guy
said to them, "You don't have the same last name. Are you married?" and the
straight people said "yes." The car rental guy said "Great, than it's no
extra charge for the second driver," and I looked at M and rolled my
eyes.

Oppression is so...oppressive. Humans develop these hierarchical systems
based on, what, religion? And they go in and take what isn't theirs to begin
with. Then a gazillion years later, this unfair patriarchal existence is
only rivaled in ugliness by the annoying trend of walking around crying woe
is me.

I'm no exception. I get stuck--way too often--in this yucky cycle of feeling
like the world is out to get me. I take way too much personally (though I'm
getting better at that and rougher around the edges), and though I don't
want to admit it, I think that since I'm a vegan dyke who only wears thrift
store clothes, I should somehow get a complimentary "get out of jail free" card. Before you send me hate mail, let me first say that though I recognize
my habit of crying woe is me, my entire point is that I don't like it in myself, and I don't like it in anyone else either.

I'm oppressed, you're oppressed, everyone's oppressed-oppressed...
I'm depressed, you're depressed...get OVER IT!

It sucks that my partner and I had to pay an extra hundred dollars on our
car rental when those who cash in on the marriage-privilege--something not
available to M and I--don't have to. It sucks that I know at least a
few of you who read this are single straight women who have chosen--for
whatever reason--to not get married, and you'd also have to pay $100 extra
on the car, if you were traveling with a buddy. And we should absolutely
fight for equality, no question. Because it does suck. But it doesn't suck
THAT MUCH.

There are people who are in truly dangerous situations who have to fight to
survive because of who they are. People try to "take their land" constantly,
and sometimes they succeed. Animals fight for their lives all the time, and
almost never succeed. The number 267 is tattooed on my left wrist because
that is the number of chickens who die in this country every second. No,
wait, let me correct myself... It's now 286. I'd get another tattoo, but I
would likely run out of room soon, the numbers are so staggering.

There must be a point when you...or okay, when I... stop complaining and
start recognizing that though it is completely and entirely unfair that I
was charged an extra hundred bucks because my partner doesn't have a penis,
at least we are not fighting for our lives. When I accidentally said out
loud to M, "keep me calm," and noticed the car rental guy staring at me
with confusion, I snidely told him that "we aren't ALLOWED to get married."
He said, "well, I think you should be." He just works there, after all, and that's probably no bed of roses either.

I am not fighting to be alive. And so responding to this stupidity with an
eye-roll is fine, it's acceptable, but the insanity of the extra fee because
I'm not married does not make me a victim (and maybe the real problem is not
that straight people are allowed to get married and gays aren't, but that
the government holds the definition of marriage AT ALL). Rather, it is a
shitty inconvenience, and I will absolutely send a letter to Advantage
Rent-a-Car (irony) stating that the injustice was annoying and unfair. But
it doesn't make me a victim.


The Native Americans whose land was stolen and renamed, redefined...they were
victims. The animals who were killed, who continue to be killed, for no
reason other than selfish greed and ignorance, they, too, are victims. The
gay people in both this and other countries who are risking their lives when
they come out, they are victims, and it is no eye-rolling matter--it is so
way beyond that.

There are so many similarities between gay people and animals--way too much
to write about in this entry, but do see "Coming Out for Animals Rights" on
this page. Likewise, we can find the links between many oppressed groups.But just as we all have things in common, there needs to be a much stronger dividing line between an inconvenient situation and a life-threatening one. The car rental situation is a remnant of a much bigger problem, that is true. But it would be so immoral and uneducated of me to use that as
fodder for calling myself a victim.

That's not to say I don't have really crappy days or moments of weakness
when I weep into my lover's arms sure that nobody in the world is as the blank> as me. But at the end of the day, I usually have enough insight
to slap myself across the face and say "wake up, little girl! There are wars
to be fought!"

So what do we do about it? Well, I have no idea. I'm just a young woman with
a decent-sized vocabulary and a determination to make bitter lemonade out of
old oranges. Go figure that one out.

When I was in Vegas, I got to talking to two of the three owners of Ronald's
donuts (but not Ronald, he's the third one). The woman was telling me that
her brother (Ronald) has been vegan since he was a kid, and that those
values were instilled in him by their grandparents, who were also vegetarian.
When we asked her if her grandparents were here in America now, she looked
down, only slightly distracted and said softly, "no, they were killed in the
war -- you know -- the killing fields." After the war, the remaining family members found their way to Las Vegas, where they now run Ronald's Donuts. Nowhere is there a sign that says the donuts are vegan, but it's commonly known within some underground veg folk that Ronald is pretty hardcore. The vast majority of the donuts are vegan, just ask them. Still, they don't advertise it as such, because they are not after a niche.It simply does not compute to them to include dead animal parts into their
food, into their livelihood. It's amazing how these victims have come out as
survivors, and how completely unflappable they are--and how "woe is me" is
not in their vocabulary.

Whether we want it or not, Viva Las Vegas, and Viva Lost Vegan.

I'm totally Mortified

There are times in life when you get to where you planned to be, and you look up and realize you're about to share your innermost secrets to a theatre filled with strangers. I have no idea how I get myself into these situations, but tomorrow night at about this time (8 p.m. on June 2nd), I will be doing just that...

It's called Mortified, and I'll be just that...

Mortified: Hailed a "cultural phenomenon" by Newsweek and celebrated by
the likes of This American Life, The Today Show, The Onion AV Club,
Esquire, Entertainment Weekly, Daily Candy, and more, Mortified is a
comic
excavation of teen angst artifacts (journals, letters, poems, lyrics,
home
movies, stories, and more) as shared by their original authors before
total strangers. As the largest and longest-running project of its kind,

our grassroots comedy collective has spent years sifting through
hundreds
of otherwise forgotten notebooks on a mission to celebrate the
extraordinary lives of ordinary people. Mortified is co-produced in New
York by Brandy Barber and Anne Altman.
www.getmortified.com

I will post a blog entry to tell you how it goes. In a nutshell, I'll be talking all about my obsession with Bette Midler, as well as several other legends of the theatre, but also including my teachers and waitresses.

And yet, I had no idea that the Kinsey Scale might possibly be a bit...tipped.

Which is not to say that I didn't have my day with the boys. I came out as bisexual when I was 19, but then somehow wound up ENGAGED to a MAN a couple years later. I always think: I could be a fat New Jersey WIFE by now... thank Gaia I found my way, and stopped to smell the .

Still, despite popular belief, I am MUCH MORE SHY than you'd imagine, and so I'm a bit TERRIFIED about tomorrow night...

I'll leave you with a snippet from my 7th grade journal:

March 2, 1992—AGE 12 ½

I disagree completely with what the critics say about Bette Midler.
For the last few days, they haven't had positive things to say about
her. They said that she JUST BARELY MADE IT as an Oscar nominee.
That's not true! She was FABULOUS in For the Boys!!!!! Being my one
and only idol, she's FABULOUS in EVERYTHING! She deserves that Oscar
and SHE WILL GET IT!!!!


March 4

Everybody has an idol. Everybody has a hero. Everybody has an
obsession. But NO ONE is as obsessed as me!! My obsession with Bette
Midler started in October. I was watching her 1988 movie, Beaches, for
the 12th time. I always loved that movie, but that time it was
different.


March 8

I belong to Verne Fowler School of Dance and Theatre Arts. When I go
up on stage, I feel so free! I don't have to be myself. I could be
anyone. Anyone at all. I could even go anywhere. To the moon, outer
space, Japan, Louisiana, anywhere!

Verne Fowler isn't the only stage-work that I do. I also belong to the
junior choir at my temple. Being the oldest (next year I start teen
choir), I almost always have a solo. Other than those, I audition for
plays throughout Middlesex County. I do plays at camp as well. This
last summer, I was in the musical, Annie. I played Mr. Bundles, the
laundry man. Most people think that my wanting to be an actress is
just a phase. Well, it's not! I'm going to make my dream a reality!


March 12

I saw the movie, This is My Life. I LOVED IT!!! It was witty,
charming, funny, sad, and Julie Kavner was terrific! It would've been
better with Bette Midler, but wouldn't everything?!?!

Milk and Other Trash

I have laryngitis. For everyone who has ever told me to shut up, your wish is my command. When I try really hard to speak, it sounds like I am honking.

Yesterday I picked up Augusten Burroughs' new book, Wolf at the Table. Augusten is the author of Running With Scissors and Dry, two incredibly morose memoirs. Aside from trashy lesbian fiction, my favorite thing to read when I'm not immersed in this animal book or that animal book, is depressing autobiographies. They somehow make life seem much sunnier for me.

Yesterday, Darren and I bought lotto tickets. It's up to 100 million dollars. Keep your fingers crossed.

M and I were talking about what we would do if we won an absurd amount of money. We were honestly stumped--aside from opening a foundation where activists could apply for our grants, we couldn't think of very much.

Though, if we won, I'm sure we'd figure something out...

Tonight I will be stopping at Pure Food and Wine takeout for the best damn (non-oppressive) "cheese" you ever did have. We have this theory, though, that the carnivores don't really GET how amazing this "cheese" is. It is so good, but no animals were harmed in the making of it.

Really, eating dairy is one of the most egregious forms of cruelty. When people say they are vegetarians but not vegan, for ethical reasons, I want to say..."GO VEGAN! But if you're not going to, at least ditch the milk for the flesh of large animals...like cows (beef)...because when you support the dairy industry, the animals are being grossly abused, and only eventually killed, after they are considered "spent"... plus of course, the veal industry is a DIRECT link to the meat industry... since cows born male are made into veal because only girls can be dairy cows. Dairy cows have to be constantly impregnated in order to produce milk--just like us, gals. And their babies are taken away from them immediately. Plus, milk is BAD FOR YOU. And why did I say eat large animals as opposed to small ones? For all you ethical "I-don't-eat-red-meat" types, when you eat "red meat," (cows), less animals suffer than when you eat small ones (turkeys and chickens). So the bottom line is...Ditch the Damn Dairy! And go vegan! And go to Pure Food and Wine takeaway and get Dr.Cow, the best cheese in the world!

(And you thought you could get me to shut up...)

I once wrote a paper for grad school and said, quite dramatically (yet truthfully) that as a rape survivor, I simply cannot palate the idea of consuming dairy, since the cows are being raped over and over again in order to produce babies. For more on that subject, read this or this.

You can see why I have to stop sometimes and read trash.

Thanking the Monkey

(That's a fairly unflattering shot of me in Ventura last week.)

No good deed goes unpunished. I have this gross virus (don't get too close to your computer) that was surely caused from my kind hearted attempt to quiet a little child (Deon) sitting behind me on the plane ride from LAX to JFK. The fever and chills even brought me to the doctor, a place I haven't been in at least 7 or 8 years. Alas, I am beginning to feel better, thanks to a VERY patient girlfriend and an empathic and warm doggie.

My trip to California was, just that, a trip. I had a great time on the other side of the country, doing outreach and whatnot. (The whatnot was particularly fun.) On my final day, I stayed with my friend Karen Dawn. Karen's new book, Thanking the Monkey: Rethinking the Way We Treat Animals hits bookstores TODAY and I SWEAR ON MY LIFE, we do not have another 101-type book that is this comprehensive, sensitive, witty, and on the mark. There are tons of cartoons scattered throughout this book, including those of my other buddy Dan (who is also a complete genius), and beautiful veg celebs, like the wickedly hot Pink. Karen does a brilliant job of approaching the welfare-abolitionist argument, and then, like any good advocate, she moves past it, and onto more important uses of energy, such as informing her readers about everything from animals in circuses to farm animals. And her dogs are also throughout the book... I had the huge privilege of spending time with these dogs last week. Buster and Paula are fabulous, and Buster sings Joni Mitchell songs quite well. Here is a pictures of Paula:




I love them! I miss them! Though being with them made me miss my Rose, and of course my Xhosa.

Funny afterword: TWO DAYS LATER, I decided to walk Rose around the block late at night. I took her a different route, and as I turned the corner onto Prince Street, who do I see standing outside of a bar on the phone but KAREN DAWN! It was hilarious. 15 minutes later, Mariann and I were having a drink with Karen AND Rose! Thank you to the Soho Grand, and it's dog-friendly rules.

And now I'm sick as a dog.

Here are some pictures from Mariann's birthday party a few weeks ago:

Jasmin Avenue, California USA

I write to you from Orange County, California, where I'm attempting to warm up my freezing cold motel room. I'm here assisting in outreach on the historic Prevention of Farm Animal Cruelty Act, which, if passed, would ban three of the cruelest confinement systems for farm animals--battery cages, gestation crates, and veal crates.
California for Humane Farms is a coalition of animal protection organizations, spear-headed by the fabulous Farm Sanctuary and HSUS, as well as many other smaller animal protection organizations. If you've read my blog before, you know that I am the outreach coordinator for Farm Sanctuary, the nation's leading farm animal protection organization. We have worked with thousands of volunteers to gather 800,000 sigantures from people who want to see this on the ballot in November--and it worked! Mainly through volunteers, we have gained enough signatures to bring the vote to the people.

Anyone who doesn't think that vegans travel around in style have not seen Black Beauty. That's the name of the truck I'm traveling around in, with Jason P. driving Miss Jasmin. The truck has 3 80-inch screens, and at night we show footage of factory farming. During the day, the screens are covered with messaging tarps--and oh my, the looks we get...



Jason P. and I started our day out with french toast and tofu omelets at Real Food Daily in Hollywood, and then headed for Mission Viejo where I spoke to a room full of volunteers who are truly awe-inspiring, to say the least. We showed a bunch of people the truck and then headed to Native Foods, where I had fake chicken that would give Red Bamboo's soul chicken a run for its money. Our waitress, the lovely Megan, walked us back to the truck and gave us a box of vegan doughnut holes for our evening, which we wound up inhaling before we pulled onto the Freeway. Then it was off to Laguna Beach, where we parked BB on a heavy foot-trafficked area. I got out of the truck to call M, and I saw the big black truck in front of me, garnering many uncomfortable glances. In back of me was the Pacific Ocean, full of bon-fires on the sandy beaches. Boy oh boy, did I feel zaftig. The street we parked on was called "Jasmine Ave," but they mistakenly had an "e."



We headed back to Lake Forest, where I sit in my motel room now, which is only slightly warmer than when I started this entry.

Before I left for California, I was bitching about this and that. I won't get into the reasons why--such as the fact that marriage such a blatantly unfair privilege and it blows my mind and keeps me up at night that more straight people don't realize that and then stand in solidarity with those not so lucky, until we are--and so both M and Dezz keep saying "267, 267," over and over again, and here's why:

Every second in this country, that is the amount of chickens killed for food. 267. Puts things in perspective, yes? So I left the house and got it tattooed on my left wrist: 267. A gentle reminder, a not-so-gentle reminder, a powerful conversation starter, a morbid moment... A romantic gesture, even, since that figure came from an article that M co-wrote. Okay, maybe not romantic...

I also had a V added to another tattoo of mine.



V for Vendetta, of course.

Tomorrow, off for Ventura, then Santa Barbara, and then back to LA...

One last thing... I said to a bunch of wealthy Californians that Thursday I was going back to "the city." That's how I said it: "the city."

"I'm sure you're talking about Trenton," said Jason P.

As if there were only one city...

Well, there's only one city for me...And I miss Her.