Billie Eilish, Bon Appetit Your Majesty, and a Buddhist Nun

For the past two weeks, my feeds (on Threads, TikTok, and Instagram) have been engulfed by “hot takes” on veganism, spawned largely by a very short clip of an interview Billie Eilish gave to Elle. In it, you can hear the multi-Grammy winning singer/songwriter and longtime vegan advocate say,

“Y’all not gonna like me for this one… Eating meat is inherently wrong.” She then goes on to say, “Sorry — you could eat meat, go for it, you could love animals, but you can’t do both.”

The clip went viral almost immediately and, as Billie herself predicted, many many people did not like her for it.

“Love her but she’s kinda of a hypocrite also I feel like this is a very privileged take lol,” commented one X user.

“Billie’s comment came from a place of privilege…. The controversy of it all is that it centres [sic] whiteness, as if it were the default. Many BIPOC communities live in food deserts where vegan options may not be available. If they are available, they’re priced higher than meat products. For example, I live in Chicago. The city is so big, and there are a million grocery stores, yet vegan products are still not accessible to all people because of how expensive they are. Shopping at a Trader Joe’s is a luxury to me,” observed another.

“Veganism is unpopular, and its practitioners even more so. Most vegans are of this white, middle, or upper-middle-class family background, and convey their message poorly to the average person…. POC have less money and mental bandwidth due to socioeconomic struggles to rework their entire diet and shift to a vegan diet they’ll actually stick to. Even on the cultural point, are POC supposed to forego their entire cultural dishes to eat like livestock? The issue isn’t eating meat, it’s the immoral practices caused by capitalism and the primary motivator being capital, not the well-being of animals,” opined yet another.

As you can see, the common thread in all of these is a reference to Billie’s privilege, which, admittedly, can impact Billie’s credibility and the reception of her opinion; but, at bottom, her privilege is irrelevant to whether the statement is, itself, true. If a statement is true, the speaker of that statement–whether she is white or brown, rich or poor, American or Korean, young or old–plays no part in the veracity of that statement. The earth is no less round because a rich, white woman says that it is so. And conversely, the earth can’t be rendered flat, simply because a non-privileged person who can’t afford to orbit the planet opines that it is so.

I realize that my being vegan might be one of the most uninteresting things about me to you. But for the fact that it’s part of my actual brand and work, I’m not sure it would be of terrible consequence to me either. In the same way I don’t allow my distaste for cilantro to define my identity, I can’t see the wisdom of permitting my unwillingness to eat a bacon burger to subsume all the other parts of who I am.

But between all the “I stand with Billie” videos and the “Billie Eilish is a racist” posts, it has made me re-examine, once more, what “veganism” really means (to me, at least), and to what extent this discussion the talented Ms. Eilish has sparked is a symptom of a much larger (and perhaps more disturbing) phenomenon.

On its face, Billie’s statement–“you can’t love animals and eat them, too”–is probably true. I’ve been a dog caretaker since I was 21 years old–long before I went vegan. I loved all my dogs. And throughout that time, the idea of eating dogs was absolutely abhorrent to me. This is not controversial. I think most non-vegan dog-lovers would agree that yes, slaughtering dogs for human consumption is awful.

Where people have a problem with Billie’s declaration is the notion that you can’t love animals, in general, while also eating animals, in general. Put another way, you can’t be a dog-lover while also eating bacon burgers. If this is, indeed, the meaning behind Billie’s words, then I would agree–this is very likely false. I watched my own mother weep inconsolably when we had to put her little shih-tzu down. Those were not the tears of a woman who did not love her dog. But spoiler alert, my mom still occasionally eats shrimp and red meat.

I don’t think Eilish is referring to the above, though. Rather, I believe she is alluding to those people who claim, “Oh, I just love all animals!” while casually chomping down on the aforementioned bacon burger (I used to be that girl). And if my read is correct, then I agree: you cannot claim to “love animals” while also turning a blind eye to their gratuitous and, in many cases, painful slaughtering. If you love a cow the same way you love a dog, if you love a pig the same way you love a cat, then you must be equally outraged by the killings of all. And if you are not so equally outraged, then you do not, in fact, love them. And, as Billie said, “you could eat meat, go for it.” In other words, right or wrong, take ownership of that choice and all that comes with it.

Notably, Billie responded to the backlash by profering evidence of the rampant animal abuse infecting the overwhelming majority of the food system in the United States and Europe, implicitly acknowledging that the dissonance around this topic might be less a result of hypocrisy and as much a product of ignorance. If people could actually bring themselves to see just how that bacon makes its way onto their plates, maybe their compassion would be better equipped to re-align their choices with their stated values.

When my mother was very young, she accidentally witnessed the slaughtering of a pig on their farm. To this day, she cannot even smell pork without wanting to vomit. A good friend of mine, a therapist, recently told me that one of her clients is suffering PTSD from working at a slaughterhouse. As sentient beings ourselves, we are all too familiar with the crippling effect of pain, isolation, loneliness, and death, and as such, it harms us to watch other sentient beings–cows, pigs, chickens, and dogs–subjected to those things.

Where is the discussion of that privilege? The privilege of not witnessing pigs get slaughtered in your backyard? Of not having to work at a slaughterhouse? The privilege of ignorance? The privilege that inheres in our ability to bury our heads in the sand, look the other way, swipe quickly, say out loud, “I don’t wanna see that stuff lalalalalalalala” anytime we are confronted with the truth of factory farming? Because the problem isn’t one of access. The internet has made it very easy to see exactly how a chicken sandwich makes its way onto your dinner table. For many of us, it is a choice. And like I said, right or wrong, it is the height of privilege to disown that choice while continuing to make it.

I wonder, too, whether these defenders of the less-privileged have ever interrogated their own biases. The detractors assume that veganism is reserved for the wealthy, when, in fact, lower income Americans are twice as likely as middle income or upper income individuals to adopt a meatless diet. Indeed, it appears upper-income Americans are the least likely to adhere to a meatless diet. Thus, in this case, they are just factually wrong, projecting a stereotype of veganism that doesn’t stack with reality.

Detractors also assume that veganism “centres whiteness,” when, in fact, they are centering whiteness. The practice of meatless eating goes back millennia in many parts of Asia–a fact casually ignored by those who are oh-so-willing to throw up the “BIPOC” community as a shield against any moral interrogation of their own choices. Indeed, one could argue that white imperialism is, in part, responsible for the rise of Christianity and the increased consumption of meat in many countries, including South Korea. These two things are not unrelated.

Korea is an interesting example and one that is obviously near to my own heart. It seems many of the Billie-haters are unfamiliar with the precepts of Buddhism (a religion that discourages the consumption of animal products) or its prevalence in many Asian countries. For instance, from 57 BCE to 668 CE, as well as from 918–1392 CE, during the Silla period and Goryeo Dynasty, respectively, Buddhism was the state religion of Korea, leading to the development of and respect for meatless cuisine.

If you are familiar with the very popular Korean drama, Bon Appetit Your Majesty, you may recall that in one episode, the royal chef was tasked with preparing an entirely vegan meal for her majesty, the Dowager Queen, who did not eat meat (though, at the time this drama took place, Buddhism was no longer the state religion). The influence of Buddhism may be why kimchi was originally made without fish sauce or shrimp paste. The influence of Buddhism is partly why banchan–the bounty of pickled, cured, and seasoned vegetables–accompanies every traditional Korean meal. The existence of meatless diets born out of a deep respect for sentience in places like China, Korea, and India is precisely why so many American vegans turn to cuisines from those regions when they are just learning the ropes of vegan cooking.

Maybe in your part of the world, only white people eschew meat, but what a privilege it must be to assume that your teensy, tiny part of the world is the only one that matters.

Now, is there some truth to this notion that veganism is prohibitively inaccessible to some? Yes and no. Here, I think, we must wrestle with the definition of veganism. According to the organization that coined the term “veganism,” it refers to “a philosophy and way of living which seeks to exclude—as far as is possible and practicable—all forms of exploitation of, and cruelty to, animals for food, clothing or any other purpose….”

Our world is not equipped to make perfect veganism accessible to anyone, including Billie Eilish. Simply running outside will lead to the death of innumerable animals. One could argue that I am thus “exploiting” or causing “cruelty” to animals by choosing to go for a run around my neighborhood instead of on a treadmill. But, if I were to use a treadmill, one could point to the many animals that gave up their lives to make the rubber and plastic parts of that treadmill. Many detractors of veganism will point to its so-called impossibility to either shift the blame to systemic oppression or “capitalism,” or describe it as “unnatural.”

But this is intellectually dishonest. The definition above clearly limits the practice “as far as is possible and practicable,” a limitation often ignored by both sides of the debate: the vegan haters and the vegan “police.” There is room enough in this definition for a vast gradient of behavior. There is compassion enough in this definition to recognize a deficit of privilege. What there is no space for, however, is dishonesty.

As you probably know, my mother almost died from starvation when she was a baby during the Korean War. Many infants–particularly girls–were left behind in wicker baskets, abandoned on the road, where they eventually died. Over 2 million Korean people died during that war–many of them from lack of food. My mother was lucky, though. She was given a Hershey bar by an American GI, just in the nick of time.

It wasn’t “vegan.”

“Perfect veganism” would ignore the fact that she was literally dying, that there was a war going on, and that millions of human beings were fighting to survive. Perfect veganism would also ignore the fact that people who survived that trauma might feel some sorta way about being told they should give up the very foods that allowed them to live. And perfect veganism would also ignore the fact that intergenerational trauma can leave long-lasting and invisible scars, that cultural foods and traditions help to ease the sting from wounds we can’t easily forget, and that poverty very often adheres to oppression. But Billie Eilish wasn’t directing her comments at the baby who lived to come to America by eating a chocolate bar filled with cow’s milk.

Here, I am sharing my mother’s story to outline the limits–the very real, practical, and felt limits–of the moral framework underpinning veganism. This is entirely different from erecting my mother’s story (or stories like hers) as a way of deflecting an otherwise valid criticism of one’s choices when those stories are in no way, shape, or form applicable to you. That would be akin to me saying, “Well, I must eat bacon burgers because my mom almost starved to death when she was little.”

Like, whut? 

When I visited Korea in 2019 while writing my first book, I had the honor of meeting with a Buddhist nun, Jeong Kwan sunim (“sunim” is the honorific that attaches to nuns and monks). She explained to me that the reason Buddhists avoid eating animals is because they recognize the interconnectedness of all living things, including plants (that’s for the “plants have feelings too” contingent). Imagine a piece of string, one that connects all living things. When you hurt something, it’s like you’re pulling at that string, pulling at the flesh attached to that string. Eventually, when you pull it hard enough, the piece of that string attached to your own flesh will grow taut. You will feel it. It will hurt.

When you hurt something, you hurt yourself, was how she explained it. She pointed at a plant on the ground, its leaves swaying in the wind. When you take these plants to eat, you are causing harm. You are harming the stems. You are harming the bugs who live on the plant. You are harming the soil that houses the plant. And thus, you are causing small hurts to yourself. But we humans need to eat, she continued. And thus, we must do the least amount of harm we can.

We must do the least amount of harm.

This is my “definition” of veganism. I use that term loosely, mostly because I don’t really care how it’s defined. Apart from the name of my brands, on a personal level, I don’t even really care whether someone calls me a vegan or not a vegan. I care only about doing what Sunim advised:

The least amount of harm.

There are indeed many people across the world who might not qualify as a “vegan” under its popular meaning but are still doing the best they can with what they have in the circumstances they find themselves to live by that precept–do the least amount of harm. If you are one of those persons, fine. In my book, you’re as “vegan” as I am. Maybe even more so. But more often than not, the folks posting their criticism of Billie Eilish aren’t the ones stuck in a food desert in Chicago with zero access to affordable plant-based foods, and thus, their willingness to use someone else’s suffering as a shroud for their comfort looks less like solidarity, and much more like a perverse sort of exploitation.

That is what I find so troubling about the backlash to Eilish’s interview. It is grounded in intellectual deceit, a craven shrinking away from responsibility cloaked under a thinly veiled and wholly unsupported moral superiority. This way of thinking will not be limited to an attempt to cancel Billie Eilish or decry a philosophy that just wants animals to not die horrible deaths. It can be weaponized whenever we’d rather borrow the hardship of others in lieu of examining our own choices–whether they are ethical, political, or even personal.

Once you remove the fallacy that veganism requires a dogmatic adherence to an impossible standard, you have the agency to determine–with honesty–what “doing better” looks like for you. And the truth is, most of us are probably not doing as much as we could.

When I ask myself,

Can I do better?

Can I be a better steward of this planet? Of my body?

Can I do more for the animals I proclaim to love?

Am I deploying all the blessings I’ve been granted, all the breaks I’ve had, all my “privilege” in a way that honors life?

The answer is this:

Yeah. I could do better.

Wishing you all the best,
-Joanne

Questions and Comments