For the sake of the animals, more people need to see the truth of what we do to them, something which most will refuse to do.
The truth is you cannot really blame them for it.
It is not just the harsh and naked misery of it. The throats slit and the heads kicked. The tails docked and the beaks trimmed. The lambs and the calves and the baby chicks. Misused, broken, severed from safety, crushed and suffocated. The crowdedness, the faeces, the injuries, the cages. The blood, the screams, the panic. The unrelenting suffering.
It is that, of course. It brings me to tears on a regular basis. It will surge up into my chest, envelop my heart. For a few seconds, minutes sometimes, all the suffering of all the animals in all the world will press on me. It is unbearable.
And yet you have to bear it.
But it's not just that. It is also the knowledge of your own complicity. I was not born vegan. I was not raised vegan. I was an omnivore for, currently still, most of my life, and vegetarian for a few years after that. I was a part of it. I looked away, because I knew what I would find. Not precisely, but I knew. For several years before I went vegan I knew that I ought to. That it was the logical consequence of my commitment to vegetarianism. That I did not cut the suffering out of my life. That I wasn't even trying.
This knowledge you have to live with. It does not leave you as the years pass by, as the beauty of the lives of animals enriches you, as the horrid reality of their besmirched existence stays with you. It sticks to your skin while you move through the world with the promise of no more.
So can we really blame them if they do not wish to face this?
But do we not owe it to the animals that they do? That we open our fellow humans' eyes and hearts. That we show them what is hidden behind closed doors of animal farms and slaughterhouses. That they listen to the cries and moans that testify to what they so desperately do not wish to hear.
The truth is we must amplify these animals' voices even if they hurt the people we love. Even if we must pull them, these people who are good and kind, into the abyss that we stare into - not unflinchingly, never unflinchingly.
Until the abyss stops staring back.