I am a turkey.

You may think I’m a stupid and worthless bird.

I’m not who you think I am.

I have a purpose on this earth just like you.

Simply because you may not understand it

doesn’t make it any less meaningful.

I enjoy having my feathers stroked.

I care for my young, search for food,

take dust baths, and build nests.

You may have other interests but these are mine

and I enjoy them as much as you enjoy yours.

I am a turkey.

People have studied me and concluded I’m highly intelligent.

If I met you, I would run to greet you

and rub against you to show my affection.

That’s my nature.

Remember it when I explain what people do to me.

I’m a gentle soul.

I like to gobble, chirp, and cluck.

You may not understand it but it’s what I do.

Imagine if people who don’t understand what you do

confined, abused, and killed you because you’re different.

I think you call it genocide.

I am a turkey.

I have the ability to remember your face.

Each time you visit me, you’ll notice I can pick you out in a crowd

and I’ll run up to you first because I know you.

I defend my family from predators

but I can’t defend myself against factory workers

who kill 300 million of us every year in the United States

so people like you can eat us

when you don’t need to in order to survive.

What happens to turkeys like me?

Instead of living the full 10 years of my life,

I’m only allowed to live six months before I’m killed.

I live in a filthy and dark factory without ventilation.

I’m crammed into sheds with thousands of other turkeys.

I am a turkey.

I’m force-fed so I’ll grow three times faster than I grow naturally.

My heart and lungs can’t keep up with the growth of my body

often causing heart attacks and death.

It’s common for workers to throw me, kick me,

and even stomp on my head as they take out their aggression on me.

Many of us die of starvation or dehydration

because we can’t reach food and water stations.

I suffer from burns and blisters

and workers cut off my beak without anesthesia

so I won’t hurt other turkeys

when I go insane from the confinement.

Workers take us off trucks with forklifts

and dump us onto conveyor belts.

Many of us fall off during unloading and get crushed by machines

or die slowly from injuries.

When the factory workers are ready to kill me,

they hang me upside-down

and drag my head through an electrified stunning tank

which stops me from moving

but doesn’t kill me.

Many of us are so scared that we dodge the tank

leaving us conscious when they slit our throats.

Many times the knife only grazes our throats

failing to kill us.

We’re dumped in scalding water

to remove our feathers

while we’re still alive.

Factory workers have reported our screams are deafening.

Do you believe paying someone

to abuse me in these ways

is the proper way to celebrate a holiday?

Is it possible you can show us mercy

and find something else to eat?

Is supporting an industry that brutalizes animals

consistent with your values?

Does my life matter to you?

Is there a reason why you can’t make simple changes in your life

to avoid supporting this industry?

If you think about what you’re doing,

you won’t do what you’re doing.

This was me.

I was a turkey.

You know me now.

Now that you know that I live an unthinkable life

of pain and suffering

and die a horrible death,

please consider eating your meals, including Thanksgiving,

without supporting the abuse of animals.

Many years ago, Paul McCartney said,

if slaughterhouses had glass walls,

people would stop eating animals.

They do now.

Here are the glass walls.

You’ve seen the cruelty.

Now it’s up to you to make a change.

You don’t need to eat animals to survive.

Right and wrong doesn’t just matter when it’s convenient;

it matters all the time.

Forget the cultural norm and do what’s right.

You can eat food that tastes just like a turkey but isn’t an animal.

Please make a compassionate choice.

I was a turkey.