Mandy and Kim
I celebrate the beginning of each year with my vegetarian and vegan anniversaries. On January 1, 1974, I became a vegetarian after working in a chicken slaughterhouse the previous summer when I was a student. The only vegetarian I knew at the time, Mandy, convinced me to give up eating meat and fish. Two years later, I became a vegan along with my Mum. So, as of January 1, 2021, I start my 47th year as a vegetarian and my 45th year as a vegan.
In 1976, I began my full-time work for animal rights with some of the world’s foremost organizations. In 45 years of living, breathing, and eating as a vegan animal rights advocate, I have learned a lot and made many mistakes, which I consider in my book, Growl: Life Lessons, Hard Truths, and Bold Strategies from an Animal Advocate (Lantern; 2014). I conclude there are four key values in animal rights: truth, compassion, nonviolence, and justice. Since 2007, I have worked as an independent author, scholar, and consultant.
My proudest achievement in 2020 was to establish the Kim Stallwood Archive at The British Library. Finding a home for the remaining materials in the Kim Stallwood Collection and writing a biography of Topsy the elephant are my two priorities for 2021 and beyond. I continue to volunteer my time for the Culture and Animals Foundation as a director of the organization.
I recognize 2020 has been a challenging year for many people. I sincerely hope 2021 will be a happy, vegan year for all. Now is the time to try Veganuary if you have yet to take the pledge to live compassionately.
I want to conclude by sharing with you the ending of Orlando, the film dramatization of Virginia Woolf’s novel by Sally Potter. It’s an inspiring film whose final minutes sum up how I feel about the New Year. I will leave with you to figure out why.
Dear Kim Stallwood & Team,
May we mention our new poetry book, Blue-bird sings the Blues, by Noël Sweeney which might be of interest to you.
The poems cover all aspects of animal rights that connect racism and sexism and speciesism including the Voyage of The Zong, the Tulsa Massacre 1921, animal abuse in Wuhan, the death of Emmett Till, the murder of George Floyd, bull-fighting, factory farming, fox hunting, trophy hunting, killing whales and a Suffragette force-fed as if she was foie gras.
Thank you.
Best wishes,
Wendy & Polly
The Clerks to Noël Sweeney
NB. Perhaps we should add a caveat that the poems are not for the faint-hearted. Here is an example:
The Fish that failed to Scream
He threw the line that fooled the fish
The rusty hook caught the bream
He could hardly see her struggle
Part of the joy of his serene dream
As he overcame her strength
By the rising line and his length
Catching her silver scale in the stream
He was secretly glad fish do not scream
The bent hook curled around her throat
The time was right for his lucky strike
Close on the surface he grabbed her
The prize was a splashing thrashing pike
He found her fight added to the delight
Using his power and all his might
Catching her silver scale in the stream
He was secretly glad fish do not scream
He threw the lasso into the river
Intent on catching a another carp
His jagged hook and line and sinker
Reflected his mind blunt and sharp
Like the last throw of a cardsharp
Wanting to make sure he got that carp
Catching her silver scale in the stream
He was secretly glad fish do not scream
Intending on ending with a perky perch
He stood close to the fast water’s ledge
His line got caught in a drooping birch
That dragged him to the snagged edge
Losing balance he slipped on the bank
A crooked hook in his tongue as he sank
Angler and line swinging in the stream
Both gripped beneath the vice slipstream
Beneath the water open-mouthed
Bubbles killed his fish-like shout
The perch was dragged down and out
While the angler was dragged all about
The spreading pain shot through him
His life flashed in a nightmare scheme
Echoed by his heart-rending scream
Followed by scream-after-scream
In that moment he lost all doubt
About the cold-fish-no-pain shout
The angler so often used to spout
A different time and a different theme
Drowned as if he was another bream
Sinking as no one heard his stifled scream
Like catching her silver scale in the stream
His heart went boom-boom-boom
Seeing the crashing flashing watery tomb
No longer secretly glad fish do not scream
A Trophy for Vanity
Proudly she stands with her foot
On the head of her prey
Her weapon across her shoulder
The trophy for a well-paid day
A handsome reward for the risk
She takes on every shoot
For the victim could fight back
And deprive her of the loot
She smiles so the photograph
Will capture the unleashed iron
That coursed through her
When she sees her bagged lioness
Or better still the shaggy lion
Adding another notch on her bedpost list
The feeling of power too hard to resist
Yet she fails to see through her vanity mist
The ghost of her image turned topsy-turvy
Her phoney claim to be a ‘conservationist’
Cuts a tarnished symbol as some women see
The trophy hunter as naked as a naturist
The trophy hunter as nature’s terrorist
The trophy killer as a stalking rapist
The rapist steals a piece of his victim
Sings his hymn of hate as a maxim
To take away as a token of his prey
To dwell on his pervert’s power
Used to slay the one in the way
A perfect reminder of his crime
A mirror-image of his victim
A trophy of power that satisfies him
A rapist and trophy hunter whose vanity
Advertises a naked hatred of humanity
Blue-bird sings the Blues
She flew through the unchained
Sky-blue countryside
Sparkling eyes and freedom’s song
Spiralling and soaring wide
Twists and turns as nature’s acrobat
On a wild glide wing
Her timeless tune is proof
The blue-bird was born to sing
A single shot from the one with a sawn-off soul
A single shot burst out to end her timed life’s toll
A single shot in spring split her pain-filled sighs
Blasted the last blue-bird
From the blood-spilled skies
On her wing lies the bleeding shotgun bruise
In her eyes lies the stark dark spark of her muse
At once her shattered heart proves who to accuse
Denied her silvery voice leaves her no choice
Silently the dead-eyed blue-bird sings the Blues
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Thank you and congratulations on the publication of your book. Please email me at kim@kimstallwood.com if you would like to arrange for a copy of it to be sent to me.