When I was four, my sister was seven. And one day in her seventh year of life, she went to school and learned what vegetarian meant. I wasn’t there but I have a feeling I know how that lesson went: The teacher taught them about dinosaurs and how some dinosaurs were carnivores and some were omnivores and some were vegetarians. My sister, Sara, then came home and told my parents that she wanted to be vegetarian. I’m not sure if she knew why she wanted to be a vegetarian, but I do know that our parents switched our entire diet over to fake meat, vegetables, fruits, rice, and beans as a result. 

Now, as a very confused four-year-old, I did not understand what it meant to be vegetarian. I only understood the lack of bacon and burgers in my meals—I did not like it. Yet, my parents had us stick with it, despite my complaints.

In the mornings there was no meat. At lunch, there was no meat. At dinner, there was no meat. I remember when my mom came across these fake chicken nuggets that were made out of corn and soy and had no nutritional value, however, my sister and I could not get enough of them. We ate them for lunch and dinner and if our parents would have let us, they’d be a staple in our breakfasts too.

A couple of weeks after my sister learned about vegetarians and my mom found the fake chicken nuggets, I was getting ready to go to a sleepover. It was at my best friend Pilar’s house and we were going to play on the swing and watch a Disney princess movie and probably play Candyland. Now, this was my first sleepover so it was kind of a big deal. My mom packed everything in a toddler-Olivia sized backpack and she went over all the rules that I had to follow while I was there. After all of the packing and talking was over, my mom put me in the car and drove me over to Pilar’s house. When I got there, I was so excited; I couldn’t wait to see my friend.

I hopped out of the car and ran to the door. I don’t remember much else about the details of my first sleepover, but I very clearly remember the events of the next morning. I woke up to the smell of pancakes and bacon. I had been deprived of bacon for two weeks so I was pretty pumped until I realized I wasn’t allowed to eat bacon. When Pilar and I went out to the kitchen, her mom had made plates stacked with pancakes and loaded with a pile of bacon. Then her mom told me it was turkey bacon and soon enough I was ecstatic again. I thought that since it was turkey bacon and not normal bacon, it was fine. I definitely did not realize that turkey was meat. So Pilar and I sat down at the table and happily devoured our breakfast. While we were eating, Pilar’s mom went to make a phone call but at the time I didn’t think anything of it. 

It wasn’t until later that day, long after I had been picked up and taken home that she told me, “It’s fine that you ate it but remember that turkey bacon is still meat”. My jaw dropped and my expression was puzzled.

It wasn’t until years later when I started to remember this story. My mom told me about the breakfast of champs: turkey bacon and pancakes, and how Pilar’s mom had called her and told her about it, asking if it was okay for me to eat it. Slowly, the details of my first sleepover started to come back to me. Thinking about this made me think about how I didn’t understand what it meant to be vegetarian. 

As I grew up I learned. First, I learned that it meant I couldn’t eat meat. Then, I learned that it meant I had to eat vegetables (eww). Then, more and more notions detailing vegetarianism came together to give me one definition. Being vegetarian means putting another being’s life above your own. It means truly believing that your own life has no more value than the life of a cow or chicken. And I truly feel that my life has no more value than any other being's life. But even more than that, if I don’t value the lives of others, how can I value my own?