I Cevapi are tasty
It all started with one pro porn feminist from Bosnia tweeted ironically how her boyfriend thinks she cannot eat equal amount of cevapi- pieces of grilled minced meet, as he can, which showed up on my line. I want to believe that personal and private is also political still, I am usually very shy to do it and I almost never comment on people’s choices of food in private life except when they ask me about it. However, when they post images and tweets bragging about how they eat animals I find this to be public speech. Public hate speech against animals and its easier for me to react.
What is important in the context of social movements is how people who participate in them have much more opportunities to think things more critically. We also perceive ourselves as the ones who are critical, committed to the issues of justice, equality, and solidarity, protection of helpless and subaltern. Still, regardless of our activism, unfortunately, we are not divine. As other humans we tend to have strong motivation not to see our own injustices, and how we do not treat others equally, how we are not in solidarity, and how we do not protect helpless and subaltern, rather we enjoy eating them.
In Serbia very few feminists decided not to eat animals. Actually, they often post about how they have been eating cevapi and pljeskavica (minced meat), sarma (minced meat and rice in cabbage), slanina (bacon), prsuta (smocked sliced meat). And indeed, most of my friends also eat animals. I also did until recently.
When you live in a society which is based on animals’ death it is hard to avoid normalization of their death just for the pure preference of taste of their meat. While you are kid your parents take you to the countryside, you play there with animals, pet them, and for lunch your grandma slaughtered a chicken or two, grandpa slaughtered a pig or a sheep. That’s normal. While still they would not eat the dog who is guarding the sheep or a cat which gets few pieces of other animals for himself.
Actually, you do not have to go to the countryside, you can go to the market and buy yourself a piece of meat. It has no eyes, no hoofs, it does not breathe, it does not scream, does not bleed. Just a simple piece of meat, let’s say chicken breast. And you make yourself a nice chicken with potato and then you go to the protest on feminist march for example. Surely you should not go there on empty stomach, and you should definitely finally learn what your feminist friends teach you all along to love yourself and to put your basic needs on the first place. Or you go to this march and then all of you feminists and activists go together on cevapi and pljeskavica. That is normal.
At last, cevapi are very tasty.
II Ribs are tasty
So you realize that cevapi do not grow on trees. Still, that death of the living creature which must be somebody grabbed, pulled to some surface, probably concrete, throw it on it, pushed its head with the knee to it, while its eyes were wide open, jumping out of its skull, and while all the way it was screaming and kicking, to whom must be somebody then stabbed a knife into the throat, while its body was flooded with stress hormones, aware that it is dying, screaming, wheezing, gasping, twitching at the end slowly while the blood rushed from its throat, until it stopped moving, stays below the level of your consciousness.
Ribs are tasty.
I remember my grandfather and how he used to kill pigs with the help of another man who would hold its legs while it would kick strongly. It was not in the countryside, but in the city center, in Belgrade, in a park where they would take the pig and kill it. After they would pierce its legs, open them wide and put hooks so that it can hang from the kids’ climber while its blood would drain in a bucket. They would cut it open and take all its organs. It is normal to see men’s hands going through the pigs entrails, taking its organs outside its body. Its just normal.
Well, it is banal to say, but pig did not want to die. And it must hurt when a knife gets stabbed into your throat and immensely stressful when you are aware you will die. Still, we, kids, we witnessed to this scenes all the time. It is normal. Once, they were slaughtering a lamb. It was very cute, and it was following us kids, I guess since its mother was not there. It had very thin legs. The sound which it made while they slaughter it was something so strange. It tried to kick with its feeble little legs and free itself, but the men grabbed it tightly and hold it with grate force. I always noticed how big their hands are on these animals’ bodies. It was screaming so strangely and it was so disturbing that some of my relatives had to leave. I never did. Like in some trans I would stay there and watch the whole thing. Look them straight in the eyes trying to figure out when it happens. This moment when they actually die. Never figured it out. Only when their body starts to relax and finally stops moving I knew that their life is gone. I do not know how many times I watched this and eat their ribs.
It is tasty the lamb. I liked to munch their ribs and their legs. It is crunchy. I think even now I like the taste.
III Rape is tasty