I heard some stories, and got some interesting comments on that post, so this is part 2.

With permission I am posting Denderah’s comments here, so many brilliant words that say what others feel.

Denderah wrote:

I have been insulted more by vegans than meateaters. I have supported a prisoner and even visited him at the prison. He has always written back and responds to all letters of support. However I feel I could go every minute of the day doing something in support of prisoners and in the end be worn completely out. I am only a pen pal as he says not one of the important circle of activists who get things done. And I accept that. He doesn’t know me. But just exactly how long can I go on sending checks for his commissary letters to his lawyer and everyday letters and books and so on before I say to hell with this? If I didn’t communicate no one would communicate with me. So it is give give give on the one-way street to nowhere. I was told by one of the “gurus” that my reluctance to show support to prisoners of war was tantamount to treason and wait until I was in prison and no one would pay me any attention to me. I don’t intend to do anything that merits a prison sentence. But I digress…I agree with your post. I feel very alien to this vegan community-can never do enough and this pen pal business is less than satisfying-kind of like a one-sided relationship where only one side gets the goods and the other side is drained to nothing. I was a happy little vegan before I got mixed up in this. But I think I should just go my own vegan way.

….tantamount to treason? are you …. kidding me? There is a self-appointed vegan-animal rights guru out there, sitting in their faux-ivory tower passing judgement on others, but treason?

Denderah also wrote:

And the checks were accepted by a New York liason who said they would inform the prisoner. But I heard nothing more about them nor anything from him that he was aware funds had been paid into his commissary. No thanks either about the letter to his lawyer that we were asked to write for sentencing leniency though copies were sent to him. It is not that I want a personal relationship with people but I get this feeling about this organization that there is an elite hierarchy and the peasants pay homage and do what they are told.

those that can do, those that can’t bully …
it seems that this guru and his inner circle are beginning to set themselves up as the Chosen Ones, vegans Anointed People, who shall interpret for the Commoners what makes a good (ie devout) activist, in much the same way the ancient priests decided who or what behaviour made one a good christian.

And, Denderah recognised that for what it really is…. an elite hierarchy and the peasants pay homage and do what they are told which is not liberating anyone.

However, it is the actions and words from the hierarchy which show a worrying picture of what it is like inside the modern animal activist community

From these above comments and others, a pattern of abuse, bullying, threats and ostracism is beginning to be made clear.

It is time the “vegan community” (if such a thing can ever exist) recognise this behaviour for what is it…

Cult-like bullying.

When you use emotionally loaded words such as treason in an attempt to change a persons behaviour, you are stepping into cult territory, using tactics that cults use to control their victims, oops, “members”.

Do what we say, when we say, follow the rules, never challenge the leaders, never ask questions, never disagree – or you are OUT of the community. Act the same, think the same, and if anyone steps out of line, let the swarms on online trolls swoop.

Like, really? This is how adults behave?

—————————————————————————————–
And a message for the “Gurus”, and all their little brainwashed handmaidens, drones, sock-puppets, attack dogs, troll-patrols, and hangers-on who think that bullying, harassment, abuse, vampire-style energy sapping distractions and death-threats is what being an activist is all about. Hint: THAT IS NOT ANIMAL LIBERATION.

If you waste our time with these little games of yours, real-world and on-line, we are not defending animals, your actions let the abusers continue what they are doing.

When you attack an animal activist for thinking differently to you, you are an animal abusing collaborator and enabler.

Because like a cult, they would rather people think the same, act the same, donate to the same people and worship the same gurus, and surveillance of other activists becomes their main priority, and saving animals doesn’t even enter the picture.

The Barbi Twins (follow on twitter @Barbi_Twins or facebook Barbi Twins or visit the website http://www.twinbunnies.com/, or read their books eg: many are listed on amazon) are tireless campaigners for the rights and lives of animals everywhere.
They are not afraid to take on anyone: from Presidents to animal abusers in their defence of animals, and they don’t shy away from what others may see as controversial subjects.

This is their movie Rescued and Rehabbed in 5 parts, enjoy:

I have no connection to the Barbi Twins, other than admire their ceaseless work saving animals.

And who is part of it?

And, who gets to decide who else can be part of it?

A recent discussion on social network sites revolved around an activist (I don’t know anything about the case, so I will be vague) who was in prison.

I commented on a forum, that I had tried for a couple of years to make a connection with this person, and over the space of those years got absolutely nothing back, not even one single “hello”. This was someone who did not want my support, someone who had rejected my support, but now was in trouble, suddenly I was useful?

I pointed this out, and the fact I thought it was strange that there were people trying to make me feel guilty that I felt nothing about his arrest.

That set off a storm on the vegan blogs. I was selfish, a failed human being, stupid – you name it, the insults came fast and furious.

I should support my community without asking for something in return, and if this prisoner has not even said hello in two years of supporting his causes, then I should just keep giving to him, more and more and more.

(and by the way:  it is laughable how often these comments come from people who are vegans of less than a year… give someone a copy of an Alicia Silverstone book and slab of Daiya and they think they are the Gods Of Veganism, lecturing to all and sundry about who qualifies for being vegan and what you have to do to Earn Your Place In Your Community.)

It was not surprising to me, just disappointing, at how many people said “I am unfollowing you” for not supporting “YOUR community”.

That doesn’t seem very supportive to me.

I jokingly said “I resign from the vegan community, as I don’t recall signing up”.

Talk about hate-mail avalanche!

It just demonstrates once again, how petty, nasty, spiteful, predictable, insular, cliquey, highschoolish, disgusting the behaviour is of some vegans towards other vegans who don’t faithfully fall in line behind the “gurus” or toe the line on doctrine.

This is the community that I am supposed to support?

These are the loving, caring, compassionate people, who lecture others on how a community treats its members.

It is hard to find the time to be a good community member when I’m too busy deleting the hate mail pouring in from the “real” community members.

By their reasoning, I am not a proper member for failing to support a vegan in trouble, because goodness knows, the vegan community is so talented with supporting its members (so clearly, I was  never one of them, which makes it “ok” for them to send me hatemail).

yes, http://houseofhippies.tumblr.com/ I am looking at you

By defining an “us” and “them”, the Insiders and Outsiders, the real community members and the fakes, it is easy to hate others. Do exactly as we say, all of the times, and we will accept you. Have a different opinion, and you stop being a real member of the community, and you will become fair game. We will ignore you, hate you, belittle you, betray you, hack your accounts, because You Are Not One Of Us.

The same people attacking me were the same ones demanding I show more respect to others… because obviously the word “hypocrite” is not in their dictionaires.

The double standard of attacking someone who has supported you, for them not supporting someone who has completely ignored them for years – the double standard at work is laughable.

I try and try to be a good member, and get treated like, I don’t know… a melange of servant, moron, groupie, brain donor, ATM card, shitpile, football, doormat, yet when an animal activist is in trouble, I am supposed to reach out and do all I can to the very same people that have treated me like garbage.

My support has been rejected in the past, and I am a failed human being for going “you don’t want me around, I accept that, I will go away, like you want me to” and giving up… and here is the thing, you can only get kicked in the head so often before you say “I am not going to try anymore with that person”… until they are in trouble and suddenly they have a use for you.

People only pull the “be a good community member” card on you when they want something from you, and if you don’t do Exactly What They Want, When They Want It, then you are a failed human being!!!!

Being in a community is not, or at least should not, be a one way street. I find it hard to extend compassion to people who send me hatemail, or unfollow for a sarcastic comment, or take it upon themselves to be the final arbiter of who is a member of the vegan community or not.

I have seen little support and sense of community directed at me. And yet, I am asked to give more and more.

This is peer pressure at is more disgusting. Conform or you will be all alone.

Do what we tell you, and maybe you can be part of Our Community, because don’t think for one minute that just because you are vegan and animal liberation activist that you are part of Our Community. Oh No you are not.

In my experience, as someone who has been a vegan since I was 15, I have never experienced this sense of community with other vegans which people are always telling me I NEED to show to others, yet never extend to me.

Never, there has not be one single day, in the real world or online, when I have had that “I feel like I’m home” feeling.

In fact, every day that passes I feel more and more alienated from a cause which I work for practically every minute of my life.

Sometimes it feels like there is a rulebook, which all the vegans got, except me: the right forums to join, the right gurus to worshhip, the insiders, the outsiders, the right blogs to follow, you get that wrong and you just won’t ever fit in.

I often feel like I’m out here on my own, my own little vegan world of one or two, standing outside in the cold and the snow, rubbing the frost off the window glass, peering in, while all the other vegans are in a warm cozy room, huddled around a flickering fire, comfortable and secure.

Maybe I will never fit in, maybe I should sacrifice some of my beliefs (such as stop trying to convince people that leather wearing and cheese eating celebrities are not vegan; or vegans don’t necessarily need to have a USAmerican guru, and join the liberationists Or the abolitionists- must chose!), maybe it is time to compromise who I am in order to fit in better with a community that seems to constantly reject me.

It seems to be, that when ever I express an opinion, I am ostracised, and sent hate mail, I am called names, but do I really need to lie and say, “oh yes, celebrity in prison has my full support”, because he does not, and more to the point…. if I was ever in prison, I doubt he would take the five and half seconds required to give me a second thought.

So it seems my role in “my community” is to shut up, smile, reblog, promote other peoples causes, sacrifice my beliefs, never have an original – controversial – opinion, never disagree with anyone Ever, never ask questions, and suck up to the celebrities activists, and only then will I be accepted.

Only by changing everything about myself, is there ever any hope of fitting in with “my” community.

Because being part of a community is giving in to everyone unquestionly, and giving uncritical support every minute of the day, by pretending to be someone you’re not, so you can be completely ignored by everyone involved, except those sending you hate mail.

Yep, riiiight…. and people criticise me for saying, I don’t feel like part of THAT community?

Really? that sounds like something which people willingly want to be part of? And they wonder why so many distance themselves from “the vegan community”.

These side-shows, this online popularity contest, is best left to people who are still in highschool. The whole “I am unfollowing you” drama, really? this is how adults act? it’s time some people grew up (lunaselenaunicorn, I am looking at you, don’t just unfollow me, block me, because I don’t want to be reading about your mylittlepony obsession any longer).

If the spite, pettiness and nastiness is what it means to be part of “the vegan community”  the one, true, very beige, homogenous, group-think community – then I am pleased I resigned my membership from YOUR community.

Oh, I am still a vegan, and will always be, I have just given up trying to feel some sense of belonging, a feeling of kinship, searching for a community – Your Community, which does not seem to exist for me, from people who send me hate mail about how I am a bad member of the community.

Eternally an Outsider:

RedglitterX

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all heaven in a Rage.
A dove house fill’d with doves and Pigeons
Shudders Hell thro’ all its regions.
A dog starv’d at his Master’s Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State.
A Horse misus’d upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear.
A Skylark wounded in the wing,
A Cherubim does cease to sing.
The Game Cock clip’d and arm’d for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright.
Every Wolf’s and Lion’s howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul.
The wild deer, wand’ring here and there,
Keeps the Human Soul from Care.
The Lamb misus’d breeds Public strife
And yet forgives the Butcher’s Knife.
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that won’t Believe.
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbeliever’s fright.
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belov’d by Men.
He who the Ox to wrath has mov’d
Shall never be by Woman lov’d.
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spider’s enmity.
He who torments the Chafer’s sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night.
The Catterpiller on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mother’s grief.
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly,
For the Last Judgement draweth nigh.
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar.
The Beggar’s Dog and Widow’s Cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.
The Gnat that sings his Summer’s song
Poison gets from Slander’s tongue.
The poison of the Snake and Newt
Is the sweat of Envy’s Foot.
The Poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artist’s Jealousy.
The Prince’s Robes and Beggar’s Rags
Are Toadstools on the Miser’s Bags.
A truth that’s told with bad intent.
Beats all the Lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so;
Man was made for Joy and Woe;
And when this we rightly know
Thro’ the World we safely go.
Joy and Woe are woven fine,
A Clothing for the Soul divine;
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The Babe is more than swaddling Bands;
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made, and Born were hands,
Every Farmer Understands.
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity;
This is caught by Females bright
And return’d to its own delight.
The Bleat, the Bark, Bellow and Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heaven’s Shore.
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of death.
The Beggar’s Rags, fluttering in Air,
Does to Rags the Heavens tear.
The Soldier, arm’d, with Sword and Gun,
Palsied strikes the Summer’s Sun.
The poor Man’s Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Afric’s Shore.
One Mite wrung from the Labrer’s hands
Shall buy and sell the Miser’s Lands:
Or, if protected from on high,
Does that whole Nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the Infant’s Faith
Shall be mock’d in Age and Death.
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall ne’er get out.
He who respects the Infant’s faith
Triumphs over Hell and Death.
The Child’s Toys and the Old Man’s Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons.
The Questioner, who sits so sly,
Shall never know how to Reply.
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out.
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesar’s Laurel Crown.
Nought can deform the Human Race
Like to the Armour’s iron brace.
When Gold and Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow.
A Riddle or the Cricket’s Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply.
The Emmet’s Inch and Eagle’s Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile.
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will ne’er Believe, do what you Please.
If the Sun and Moon should doubt,
They’d immediately Go out.
To be in a Passion you Good may do,
But no Good if a Passion is in you.
The Whore and Gambler, by the State
Licenc’d, build that Nation’s Fate.
The Harlot’s cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old England’s winding Sheet.
The Winner’s Shout, the Loser’s Curse,
Dance before dead England’s Hearse.
Every Night and every Morn
Some to Misery are Born.
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight.
Some are Born to sweet delight,
Some are Born to Endless Night.
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro’ the Eye,
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light.
God Appears and God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night,
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day.

photo via, http://www.flickr.com/photos/16559532@N06/2791867801/in/photostream/ author allows reuse

but I have been approached because people think I dont like her enough to take my disagreements with her outside my blogs and target her.

People have extremely personal details about her, that I think someone in some sort of anti-animal rights group or law enforcement, I dont know, is ramping up efforts to shut down her group Negotiation Is Over.

Over the past couple of weeks, what I am hearing is louder and more detailed than anything Ive heard before.

My suggestion to Camille, if they have tried to use me, they will try others – be aware of any new person who wants to be your best friend online.

This feels different from other times Ive been approached to dish the dirt on other animal rights activists.

In the past Ive been fed rumours that people have asked me to blog, in an attempt to discredit her, I think anyone who knows Marino has heard the rumous, but I refused to do that because they were not something I knew personally, and I doubt theyre true.

And just because I dislike her methods, doesnt mean that I agree with what appears to be an organised targeting of ARAs.

If someone knows her, possibly pass on the message.

When I was about 10 or so, there was a girl at my school who was vegetarian, and I was always asking lots of questions about what she ate, there was also a 7th Day Adventist family, and I asked them a lot of questions too.

One day, I mentioned this “nut meat” product that my vegetarian friend at school would eat, my mother warned me, “Don’t think you’ll be allowed to go vegetarian”.

When I was 11, I was at luau in Hawaii, with my family, and part of that was a whole pig on a spit, roasting over an open fire. I took one look at it and knew then and there I would be vegetarian.

It wasn’t just “pork” – It was a pig!

It didn’t look like a pork chop… It. Had. A. Face.

I refused to eat any of the pork at the luau, and my mother told me she was so ashamed that I didn’t eat this wonderful food, what would people think.

When I got to high school, a big event happened that changed my life completely. I was brutalised and terrorised by a teacher. This man was a famous football player, back in the day when teachers still had real jobs.

He was my maths teacher. He was also a Parramatta Eel, NSW State Of Origin, Australian representative in Rugby League, and we were so annoyed that he wouldn’t even take a day off school during State Of Origin, not even when the games were in Queensland. (From this point on, he shall be named as Mr Win-At-All-Cost)

Anyway, I told my mother about it, she told me “don’t make a fuss”.

I told my principal about it, Did I have evidence? No. Then it didn’t happen.

The being targeted by this man continued, I told my mother that if it happened again, I would scream so loud, that the whole world would hear, my mother said “I am so ashamed you’re my daughter, now go apologise to Mr Win-At-All-Cost”.

I had been getting a lot of detentions, both as a result of this mans brutality, which led to me not co-operating with authority, but also because of being vegetarian, which the school decided was yet one more example of my bad trouble-making ways.

Apparently I had behavioural problems – at school, because I refused to co-operate with the man who brutalised me,
and also at home, which in my mothers’ world, that meant, I wouldn’t eat meat.

And wasn’t my mother ashamed that I was her daughter.

These two events happened about the same time in my life. They are inexorably linked. The brutality from the teacher, which lasted for a few months, and the standing up for myself as a vegetarian.

At this stage, if there was meat in something, I would take it out (yeah, I thought I was vegetarian). If it was on a sandwich, I would take the meat off. If it was on my plate I would eat around it.

I also cooked the family meals. I would come home from schools, while my siblings did sport or other activities, I had to do housework, cook dinner and clean up from dinner. But my mother would leave detailed instructions about what to cook.

If a recipe called for 150 grams of ham in the fried rice, it better be 150 grams, not 149 grams, not 151 grams.

In those early days of my vegetarian experience, I had to cook a lot of meals like goulash, spaghetti bolognaise (minced beef in tomato sauce with onions), things where it was almost impossible to take the meat out.

I didn’t dish up the meals, just cook them. So I couldn’t put more vegetables on my plate and less meat. No.

There was many nights when all I would eat was plain boiled spaghetti. For example, if the meal was bolognaise, I would push all the meat aside and wash the spaghetti off. My mother didn’t like that, she would hold my face down and tell me to clean off my plate, she didn’t like a messy plate.

Everything had to be clean. I often sat at the table until 9 or 10 o’clock, refusing to clean the meat (eat) off my plate.

This only reinforced my mothers views that I had behavioural problems. I was a messy eater.

That was my mothers big thing, if something was messy she would throw it out. If my pencil sharpener was a millimeter out of alignment on my desk, it was too messy, she would throw it out. If my book had a page that was bent or folded, it would be too messy and thrown out. If I hanged my clothes with the coathanger facing out instead of in, that item of clothing would be too messy and thrown out.

Meanwhile, at school I was always, always getting in trouble, I spent more time in detention that in all other classes put together, almost.

I got detentions for dodging maths class (hey, who could have predicted that)…

I got detentions almost every week for not being in uniform – no I’m sorry, but your policy that girls had to wear skirt, and no pants allowed, uh-uh – no one is getting access to under my skirt, I don’t care who they are, I wore pants, and the detentions continued.

or the time when it came to selecting subjects, I chose metal work, I got put in home economics (cooking) because I was a girl and girls didn’t do metal work.

Although I was the most popular kid in that class, I would pay the same money as everyone else, but when it came to eating the food, I ate the vegetables, and the rest of my table ate the meat, they loved that.

In one class we had to kill, dehead, scale and gut a fish.
Yep, that is right, there was like this bucket of fish swimming around, we had to choose one, kill it, chop its head off and scale it, and slice it open and pull its insides out.

The 7th Day Adventists were excused. This girl who cried and cried was excused. I was told I would fail the class if I didn’t.

“But I’m vegetarian, I don’t eat animals”
“Fine,” my teacher told me, “you don’t have to eat it, but you still have to …..”
“But that’s not fair, Anna doesn’t have to, and she actually eats fish”
“But she cried”

I failed the class and had to get my parents to sign a note. Oh boy, was I in trouble that night. I was such a continued embarrassment to my mother. Brought such shame to the family.

Or the times, that they had fund raising barbecues – “But I’m vegetarian, I don’t eat sausages, I don’t eat butter or margarine, and I don’t eat white bread, you expect me to pay the same money as everyone else, to lick up $3 worth of tomato sauce?” I said …. and off to another detention I went.

Detention was fun, I got to hang out with all the bad boys – “and what are you in for?” would usually be the start the detention sessions. The boys would be in for fighting, graffiti, smoking, skipping class…. and me? Oh I’m vegetarian.

When I was about 14 going on 15, I started experimenting with vegan days, where I would secretly not eat any animal products while still pretending that I did, and hoping no one would notice.

I would still have to prepare and cook meals with meat and other animal products.

One day, when I was barely 15 still in my occasionally eating dairy and eggs (I didn’t eat honey) sometimes, and vegan meals other times phase…. my sibling bit me.

I turned up at the meal table, my arm was bleeding, big mistake. My mother forced my head onto the floor and told me to clean up the mess. One drop of blood was just too messy. So I licked up the blood that had fell on the floor from my bitten arm. Then sent to my room without dinner.
What? but my sibling bit ME!

My mother responded if my sibling bit me, I must have deserved it.

I wasn’t allowed dinner, or any other food the next day either. Or the next.
On the 3 day of no food, one of my friends gave me a cheese sandwich. I ate it, and threw it up soon after, it was so greasy, all margarine and white bread and cheese slices, and I hadn’t eaten in three days by this stage. But it was possibly one of the greatest sandwiches I’d had in my life at that point.

But I fell over in class. I was walking to my desk, and its like I took a step and the floor came up to face, I didn’t have the sensation of falling. I must have fainted or something.

So of course I get a note sent home, my parents had to sign it, to give the school permission to keep me back late for afternoon detention. For “being a disruption to the other members of class”.

My mother went out of her brain. Accepting food from strangers, like I was a charity case, she was “mortified…. so ashamed that I was her daughter”. And I got no dinner that night either.

On the 4th day without food, my friend, the wonderful, adorable Sonya, whose parents had a farm, brought me in a container full of the luscious, plumpest, juiciest, reddest strawberries that have ever existed. And I ate them, every last one.

When I got home from school, I went straight to my room, like I had to, only allowed out to cook. Lamb chops, mashed potato (with one and a half potatoes each person), and three tablespoons for each person of frozen peas, and sliced carrots, no wider than 5 millimeters each slice.

After they finished eating, and I went out to wash the dishes, my mother called me out of the kitchen.
“Is it true, that you were seen eating at school?”
“Just a strawberry, Sonyas family own a strawberry farm”
“How dare you, I am so ashamed that you’re my daughter, accepting charity…. do you want people to think we don’t feed you?”
(Well, you don’t)
“If you ate food like a normal person, you would be allowed dinner, now here, have a chop”

There was a plate with a lamb chop on it. It was cold and the fat had started to congeal. It smelled like burnt flesh.

I refused.

My mother didn’t like that, can’t leave food on a plate, it’s too messy. She shoved my head down and I refused to eat it.

“But I work so hard to put food on the table, and you think you can just be ungrateful, that you refuse to eat it?”

“But I don’t eat meat”

So my mother dragged me into my room, and began packing my things into whatever bags she could find. I didn’t have much, most of possessions had been thrown out over the years as being “too messy”. And, I was pushed out the door and the door locked.

I slept that first night in the garage. I snuck back in, in the morning to get ready for school. I hadn’t eaten in days, and the food cupboards were locked. But the fridge wasn’t. I opened the fridge, and was about to drink some milk, in my head the phrase “meat is murder, milk is rape” kept going through my mind.

I didn’t drink the milk.

I was never allowed back in the house again.

For the first few days, I kept thinking, “I’ll be asked to come back, won’t I?”

Was I really so messy, that I had to be thrown out as well?

There was an abandoned car under a bridge at an abandoned farm, “The Poderosa”, I lived there. I would go to school really, really early, shower in the locker room, dry myself with paper towels, then stay in the local library until that closed then go sleep in the car, and hope like hell that no one would come around and harass me.

In the hotter weather, when more people would be around The Ponerosa, I would sleep in an empty church, the Country Womens Association Hall, in the park, any place where there was no people. Sometimes I would go to sporting grounds and use their change sheds for a shower.

It was hard, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

When I finished year 12, I had actually topped the state in 3 subjects (but not Maths, I barely scrapped by with a pass). That meant 100%, there was people from other schools too that got 100%, but it was actually a big deal. There was an awards night at the school, and I went to the local op shop and bought a cheap old bridesmaid dress and got all pretty and went.

I collected my awards, and after the ceremony, one of my favourite teachers ever, Mr James, asked me where my family was, did I really come alone? I had topped the state, didn’t any celebrate with me?

Mr James was the first person I told, I said “my mother kicked me out of home when I was 15, I’ve been living in the park”.

“But your siblings, they go to this school too, are they homeless?”

“Nope, just me”

Yes, I still went to the same school as my siblings, the people who were not too messy and allowed to stay. I would pass them in the halls occasionally, that was weird.

Maybe all those hours and hours, I spent at the library, doing nothing but reading everything that had a printed word in it, did have some advantages. I didn’t watch television or listen to the radio. All I did was read.

How different my life would have been if I never looked at that poor pig on a spit roast at the age of eleven and decide that I was meant to be vegetarian.

How different my life would have been if I just ate that lamb chop at fifteen that my mother tried to force me to eat.

But I am vegan, it’s who I am, and I refuse to change that for anyone, for any reason.

Image via Wikipedia

Chocolate is the first luxury. It has so many things wrapped up in it: Deliciusness in the moment, childhood memories, and that grin-inducing feeling of getting a reward for being good.
Mariska Hargitay 

Cake Recipe

(all ingredients vegan)

1 1/2 cups of Self-Raising flour

1/4 cup of cocoa powder

1 cup brown sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/4 cup light oil (oil of your choice, eg sunflower, macadamia)

1 cup of water

1. Preheat oven to 160°C / 320°F.

Line with baking paper and grease a cake baking tray

2. Sift together flour and cocoa, add sugar mix well.

3. Add vanilla extract and oil.

4. Add most of the water (better to reserve some water, than add all in one go; it is easier to add more water if the mixture is too dry than add more flour if the mixture is too wet).

5. Blend by hand, 4-5 minutes (or with electric mixer), until the mixture is a velvety smooth batter.

6. Pour into prepared baking tray, tap the sides with a wooden spoon to make an air bubbles come to the top.

Bake 40-50 minutes or until a wooden skewer comes out clean. (I like to spin my cakes around half way through baking, to ensure that it cooks evenly from all sides).

7. Cool in tray for 5 minutes, then remove and transfer to a wire rack to cool completely before adding ganache and / or chocolate butter cream.

Ganache

100 – 150 grams of vegan chocolate (such as a block or choc-dots)

1 tablespoon vegan margarine

1. Melt the chocolate in a microwave (in 10 second bursts) or in bowl over a saucepan of simmering water (double-boiler) ensure no water gets in the melted chocolate, stir until melted.

2. Add margarine, mix.

3. Spread over cake as an icing / frosting.

Chocolate Butter Cream

1/2 cup of icing mixture or icing sugar (powdered sugar)

(icing mixture is icing sugar with corn flour, icing sugar is very fine sugar)

1 tablespoon cocoa

1 tablespoon vegan margarine

1. Mix the cocoa and the sugar, til blended, add enough margarine til mixture is spreadable.

2. Adjust the quantities to taste or til desired consistency.

3. Spread over cake instead of ganache or as a filling.

Image via Wikipedia

Optional extra

Top cake with crushed chocolate biscuits, sliced strawberries,

or a light dusting of powdered sugar.

* Tip

Wait for cake to cool completely before removing greased baking paper.

I received contact from 4 separate people claiming to be members of #OccupySydney, 3 claimed they just wanted to help, but did not even ask for basic information, such as the address I took the goods to. Surely that would be one of the first questions you would ask, in case it was a member of the organisation who was storing them and had not yet got around to telling the other memebrs.

I have been patronised, harassed, and even after I asked to be left alone the harassment continued, Ive been insulted and trolled. And I’ve been called names and slandered in a public social networking sites.

But the most laughable thing after all of this was, I was contacted by someone claiming to be in charge of collecting donations for the occupy group (I’m sure he would have trouble actually spelling “logistics” though) and did he want to help sort the scamming of donated goods. NOOOOOooo, he wanted to insult me some more and then ask for me to donate more free stuff to their little elitist princess tantrum.

And to say that I am some how a [bunch of insulting names] and your proof is because I refuse to use Facebook, is deflective of your own defectiveness.

They claim their accounts must have been hacked – yes, for the entire length of time it took for me to discuss a location to drop off donation items…. and then apparently the hacker left them alone without doing anything else.

These people have done nothing but turn my online life upside down.

— The harassment, the insults, the spiteful vindictive comments, the trolling and harassment, the begging for more donations yet claim they are “helping” to sort out what happened to my previous donation, then harass me and insult me while asking for more.

Not to mention what they have done to my real world life.

— Misplacing a uteload (like a pick-up truck) of donated goods.

I will say it again – you people are nothing but a scam, you are a sham, you are doing not one single thing for support or occupying but sucking donations and goods out of good, hard-working honest people while living it up in your Baulkham Hills lifestyle (for those outside of Sydney, think…. Beverly Hills 90210 or Chipping Norton 0X7 or Toorak).

You are harassing, you are trolling, you are slandering, you are all (at least the four of you that I have had the misfortune to come across) lying cheating deceptive thieving nasty pieces of trash.

And if you take offence to this, I am so sorry, I was aiming my comments at the person who hacked your account for 3 minutes.