Joanna’s Story
By Joanna Boer
"Hungry Beautiful Animals: An Invitation to Honest Friendship with Each Other and the World”
Matt Halteman, a true friend, has engaged in numerous conversations with me, both over the phone and in person. Our discussions have spanned various topics, from perfumes to art to fashion (vegan, of course). We've delved into dance practice and soccer practice, Trinidadian accents, Trinidadian hot sauce, school choice, parenting woes, and life woes. Regardless of the subject, Matt consistently brings a humble and curious approach to the conversation, even when he is an expert or scholar in the field. His willingness to engage, readiness to be enlightened, and fearlessness in enlightening others make him a remarkable teacher, as he is always open to learning.
Matt is comfortable in the kitchen and has made vegan cocktails and chocolate mousse for my husband and me. When he could not make us food, he provided us with delicious catered vegan pizza and sushi. His wife, Susan, the uncontested culinary genius in their home, has served us the most visually appealing and deliciously satisfying vegan food in their home. I never miss the meat but rather revel in the unraveling of layers of flavor that dance on my tastebuds up to my brain. Susan's feasts, more than Matt's philosophy, have the ability to convert me to veganism. But conversion is not the Halteman way; friendship is. Surrounded by the most delicious, edifying, compassionate food, I have not only laughed hysterically in their home, I have sobbed like a little girl. Shaking, but with no shame as this family embraced me.
I describe the depths of the friendship because I am proud and honored, but I want to be clear it in no way causes bias on my part. The real key to friendship is raw honesty, which is precisely why Matt and I have bonded. Our friendship is not an advantage to either of us. We are here for an authentic connection. When I had a brutal change in my life earlier this year, and I attempted to express my feelings in words, Matt was the one I trusted to review my essay. Friendship was fiercely intact when he compassionately encouraged me to consider a critical reframing, highlighting the piece's weaknesses and inviting me to interrogate my motive. I was so grateful for his benevolent censure.
Before my crisis, Matt allowed me to review his manuscript for Hungry Beautiful Animals: The Joyful Case for Going Vegan. I felt privileged (yet undeserving) to have this kind of access. I was still determining what I could add, neither an academic nor an editor, with no historical passion for veganism. However, I was very fortunate to have this opportunity, not because it was an advanced read but because I could read it in Matt's voice. I could hear his intonations and rhythms as he explained his journey. Having witnessed Matt with his two adorable dogs, Daisy and Cooper (who are very partial to me), I knew firsthand his care and love for his beloved Gus. I read the manuscript, wonderfully concluding that it was a love story. I saw the love between him and his dear wife, Susan, who patiently and firmly guided her husband to this way of thinking about the planet and humanity. It is a love I delight in witnessing in their home. I saw the love between him and all animals, and I saw love for his fellow humans. Here he was, an erudite scholar, presenting a better way to eat, care, and preserve in the vernacular. No heavy-handed doctrines, no moral judgments, no shame. He showed artful restraint and persuasion instead of condemnation and sanctimony. Where one may see limitations and deficiencies with going vegan, Matt offers bounty, flourishing, and a radical rethink of what it means to nourish.
Matt and I understand each other. I could never be a pure vegan. I could come very close, and I plan to. I am jealous of Matt's skin and Susan's trim figure. My heart is more open to the animals of creation, and my mind is open to the food industry's practices. But the food of my ancestors, youth, and culture all have meat. A vegan oil down would not unlock core memories of my Barbadian grandmother fussing over her iron pot. I need that saltfish in my accra, the tiniest bit of Christmas ham next to my pastel, and pigtails in my callaloo. My husband and I bond over Peking Duck in every new city we visit, and it is his responsibility to preorder one for me every birthday. This may make me a hypocrite; maybe I am not as intellectually evolved. But this is where Matt's friendship is not just for show. It does not expire when we disagree. He makes a compelling case for and encourages a better way, whether all the time or some of the time; he graciously gives room for inconsistencies.
While not everyone can be as close a friend to Matt as I am, you can still experience his wisdom and insights by reading his soulful, heartfelt book. In it, you'll gain a profound understanding of a brilliant philosopher, gifted professor, convincing author, devout husband and father, and my dear friend. Indeed, it is a book on going vegan, but in this case, "vegan" is his least interesting title. Read for yourself and see.
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