Why I Am An Anti-Speciesist | Nancy Correa

I had been ovo-lacto vegetarian since my early teens, but I became vegan 30 years ago when I witnessed crippled calves punched and kicked into the abbatoir. I looked into their doomed eyes and promised I would be a conduit for them by documenting their exploitation in this speciesist zeitgeist.

I chose poetry, visual art and photography to tell their stories—through art I am the voices of the unheard ones. When I became vegan, my artistic focus centered on abolishing speciesism, a term coined by Dr. Richard Ryder to describe the myth of human supremacy. I created non-human animal rights-themed fanzines as well as performance art, poetry and apparel. We spread the message at diverse venues including Irving Plaza, CBGB, Mudd Club, Hurrahs, Spit, Ron’s Place, The Gardens, etc.

When the animal rights movement started to fracture, I became a solo activist documenting abuses at aqua prisons, fur farms, slaughterhouses, stockyards, farms- humane, organic, CAFO’s, homesteading. I read the aforementioned Dr. Richard Ryder’s seminal book Victims of Science and decided to expose vivisectionists by documenting the nature of the experiments and conditions in vivariums. I sent these photos/videos anonymously to whatever publication would accept it.

I became a direct action activist when I witnessed “bowhunters” kill a doe by aiming the arrow at her gut. It was an excruciating death that took hours, her fawn frantic by her side. I stayed with them until she was released from her agony. When the “hunters” hauled the body to the truck, the fawn followed her mother’s body mewling pitifully until a hunter kicked her. I rescued the fawn and became a hunt saboteur.

There were only a few vegan non-human animal rights activists in Connecticut in the 1980’s but we were very active and effective. We protested the killing of tame deer at Bluff Point, did hunter harassment and hosted the first vegan conference in Connecticut. Ken Bergeron, first Vegan Gold Medal in Culinary Arts winner, provided the food.

During this time I wrote poems and did visual art based on my observations to reduce the anguish I experienced witnessing humanity at its vilest. I also rescued nonhuman animal victims from stockyards, farms, slaughterhouses whenever I could.

Other species have taught me myriad lessons in compassion. I try to impart those lessons through documentation and creative activism. Four of my poems are included in the first anthology of vegan poetry, Even In My Dreams.

 

 

 

The first time she inhaled fresh air was overwhelming
she almost stopped breathing yet
she continued inhaling the sweet air redolent
with the promise of verdant spaces crawling life
she was so frail that what little feathers she had
fell out making lazy twirls in the dust motes
she slept breathed breathed and slept her porous
bones recovering from laying egg after stolen egg

one day the promise of grass dirt and sun were too enticing
she finally stood – a thin dancer lost in her equilibrium
dancing past memories of stacked cages ammonia laden air
deceased friends she moved ahead
parting the speckled light
letting the sun shine on her for the first time

                           Sarah Undefeated

 

I smell sweet earth mingled with my favorite plants
though I cannot reach them       they feed me food
which reeks of the blood and bones of my own kind
under light I feel but never see       there is burning

the smell of my charred flesh
I run into a devise that restrains me there is
hurt stretching deep     inside me     crinkly wetness
I cry out for help that never comes

movement inside me growing        I am no longer
alone he moves within me joyfully
I love him as I loved the others
our cells sing one song
he arrives into this world through jagged pain

I clean     nuzzle him     content in his smell
he walks on wobbly legs gazing at me
I invite him to suckle the milk my body made
just for him

a deafening roar splinters stillness     he crumples
my baby’s head splits open
I can see myself in his lifeless eyes

they drag him away throw him on top of others
some still moving       crying for their mothers
a wail of anguish sweeps through me
I run to him        rough ropes restrain me

they beat me     hook me to a machine that hurts
which steals my dead infant’s milk twice a day
as they have done for as long as I can remember

                               Mother’s Day

 

She lay with her crumpled arms about her head blending with the
rocks that wedged her in   she had lost two arms and the remaining
six were crumpled looking things

I placed my finger next to her   She unfurled one of her arms
tentatively and curled it around my hand

I named her Twink because I didn’t know then whether she was
male or female

I named her Twink because a lifetime ago the Christopher Park
street queens had named me that for the same reason

I named her Twink after anarchist and Pink Fairies drummer
extraordinaire

Wunderpus because that’s what she was — Wunderpus
Photogenicus and because  it was a wonder that such a little
octopus could have survived

I made her a den in the shallow waters   fed her sea animals that
had expired during the night   I slept near her stroked her head
and mantle

when she was well enough to move about   I waded into the
shallow aquamarine water and sit with her in my lap looking for the
green flash that appears on the horizon between sea and sky as the
sun sets

in the evening she would climb onto my head and stroke my hair
with one of her arms as the whispering breezes percolated through
my closed eyes    I could feel her three hearts beating

one day I went to her den and couldn’t find her   I dove into the
blueness and found her with another one of her species  his
third right arm raised above his head as if asking for permission
from the teacher to deposit his sperm packet

a few days later I went in search of her   she was nestled in a newly
made den with thousands of pearlescent eggs on her mantle   she
reached out an arm and I touched it with my finger

I visited every day she seemed herself for a while   although she
wouldn’t eat   tending to her eggs continuously   she grew more
translucent as the days went by

Sometime later I watched as she helped her eggs hatch   slowly
sweeping her tentacle through them    dispersing them like sea
dandelions   she was so weak her flesh was falling off in strips   her
vivid coloration faded    my Twink

she held on to my hand weakly as I stroked her one last time
when she died she detached from her nest and floated away

                            Twink the Wunderpus