One third of Americans will resolve to go to the gym more in 2019. I’m resolving to go less.

In the last year, I’ve lifted weights for hours each week, hoping to prove vegans can gain muscle too, and it worked. I didn’t undergo a dramatic transformation, but my arms now fill out my shirt sleeves a little more, and a few friends noticed the change. But once achieved the personal victory felt hollow. I thought weightlifting would somehow make me a better representative for plant-based eating. Instead, I felt duped. In my effort to deconstruct stereotypes about vegan men, I reinforced the outdated concept that one’s physical strength determines one’s masculinity.

Now, I’ve always been thin, and I grew up playing sports that require more cardiovascular endurance than muscle, like running. In my early twenties, I even ran fast enough to place high in some local races. Around that time, I also became vegan, inspired by writings on nonviolence from Gandhi and Cesar Chavez . I didn’t just become vegan – shocked by the cruelty of factory farming I saw in undercover videos, I became a fully fledged advocate. But I quickly learned that in speaking out for animals, I wasn’t just representing myself. I was representing veganism in a society that erroneously associates meat with muscle, and muscle with masculinity.

In my early days of advocacy, I talked to young men who worried they might lose their competitive edge if they swapped chickens for chickpeas. I’d point to meat-free Olympians as proof they’d be just fine, but to no avail. All the while I wondered if they looked at my physique – a typical runner’s body – and decided to continue eating meat.

Frustrated – and worn down by several running injuries – I eventually put my running shoes away and began lifting weights. In time, I packed on an extra 15 pounds of muscle. Deep down I knew it was all a little silly but I had a stubborn desire to prove people wrong, so I carried on, challenging one iteration of toxic masculinity – gender norms thrust upon boys and men expecting us to be dominant, aggressive and insensitive – while subconsciously trapped in another.

I’m not alone. There’s a flourishing subculture of meat-free bodybuilders, including the PlantBuilt collective and the Badass Vegan . I think there’s value in their efforts to change the public’s assumptions, but I also fear we may be giving the stereotype more attention than it deserves, while playing into the meat industry’s game of body politics .

Most vegan men will be familiar with these athletes, as we often point to them as proof that we vegans can also be traditionally “masculine”. The issue comes up frequently because vegan men are held to a higher standard, having to defend our bodies while explaining our ethics, despite the fact that vegans come in all shapes and sizes, just like everyone else. If we’re thin, it’s assumed we’re thin because we’re vegan, yet if a man who eats meat is thin that’s just his natural body type.

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It’s clear we need to decouple meat and masculinity or else we’ll continue to stigmatise a way of eating – plant-based – that is better for men’s health. We can reject the toxic masculinity that the meat and fast-food industries sell us and not let our gender determine what we eat. And we can redefine masculinity to condemn harm rather than justify it.

I’ve recently cut my gym time in half. I’m done trying to break down a stereotype that reinforces harmful gender norms. At first, I felt I was giving up on the progress I had made, which I thought might help me give veganism a better look. But now, I know it’s not worth trying to end one stereotype while reinforcing another. I’ll use my newfound time for running and cooking – among other foods – tofu.