Growing up in Australia, I was socialised into believing acts of animal exploitation were normal and a reason to celebrate. Some of my earliest memories are of animals being tortured for sport or food.
I was only a few years old as I stood in my aunty’s suburban kitchen and watched as live crabs were lowered into boiling water. My childhood memories are filled with fishing trips with my father who would press live worms onto the barbs of hooks as a tool to snare fish. Many of these fish were considered too small to warrant taking home, so were returned to the ocean with severe cuts and gashes in their mouths. Bigger sea creatures were left to experience excruciating deaths in the open air before being taken to a kitchen to serve as a meal.
My uncle kept racing dogs. Another uncle used a pump to suck living prawn-like animals from their sand homes. I have relatives who worked themselves into a near-religious frenzy when betting on animal sports. I was taken to a circus by my mother and aunty, where I was encouraged to ride a donkey. The poor creature trembled under my 9 year old weight, as my lanky legs dragged on the ground. Tears come to my eyes as I type these recollections. I feel shame and sorrow.
As a young person with world views still in development, I had no compassionate voices shaping my outlook. I was being conditioned to see animals as an unquestionable source of food, entertainment, clothing and sport.
A particularly perverse example took place in a classroom.