An hour later we reconvened and got back on the metro. My sister dug deep in her coat pocket and came up with half of a crumpled veggie burger. She unwrapped the tinfoil and examined the soy. I explained that it was cooked in barbecue sauce to add flavor and that it was produced cruelty-free without supporting the horrors of factory farming. My sister asked some questions about modern day agriculture and we discussed animal rights philosophy. I was glad she was taking an interest in an issue I was so passionate about and I offered to loan her my copy of Animal Liberation.

A couple days later when my sister was back at school several hundred miles away I received an email from her. "I don't want you to get your hopes too high," she wrote, "But I'm going to try being a vegetarian." I was ecstatic not only because I was so proud of my sister and glad to have a new ally in my non-vegetarian family, but because I had just witnessed firsthand how people could become more open to a compassionate lifestyle once they became informed. That night I made a personal "Vegetarian Starter Kit" and sent it off to my sister.

When I returned home two months later for the summer I went straight to the library to borrow some cookbooks. I was determined to keep my sister excited about her new diet and I was ready to change my parents' ideas about what vegan food really tastes like. Over the course of three months, I made everything from sloppy joes and chocolate chip cookies to vegetable curry and zucchini bread. While my vegan home cookin' met little resistance in my house, my vegan beliefs were not welcome. There were many animal rights debates, and each time I opened my mouth to talk about extending compassion to other species, I saw my sister's eyes roll. I asked her about it and she said that while she didn't support factory farming, she did believe animals are resources and that it is morally okay to eat them. While my sister definitely was not spreading the vegan message I hadn't seen a piece of flesh pass her lips, and I considered that, in itself, something to celebrate. So I cooked more tofu and bought more Veggie Booty.

Two weeks ago my sister said, "Kate, I have something to tell you." Her tone made me nervous but I expected the news to be something along the lines of "I lost your Counting Crows CD." Instead, my sister said, "I don't think I'm going to be a vegetarian anymore." I couldn't have been more disappointed. I listened to her reasons and fought back. "It's too political," she said. "I feel like I'm offending someone whenever I tell them I don't eat meat." I asked if she felt bad telling other people her favorite food or color, her views on religion or whether she was a Democrat or Republican. I explained how every time you tell someone you're a Christian or Muslim or atheist, you're also telling them that you've decided not to believe in Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism or any other faith. When you tell people that your favorite food is strawberries, you're also telling them that you don't like cake as much, even if that's your audience's favorite food. You don't believe in things so that you can agree with people, you believe in them because you hold them to be true. By telling someone you're a vegetarian you're telling them that you've decided against a meat-inclusive diet. But in the same token, by telling someone you're a meat-eater you're telling them that you've decided against a vegetarian diet. You can't worry about offending someone, I told her, you will always offend someone. You just have to stand by what you think is right.

But then I realized something. It wasn't worrying about what others would think that had ended my sister's interest in being a vegetarian. The problem was that my sister didn't believe in vegetarianism herself. I asked her why she stopped eating meat in the first place. She said that a lot of smart people she knew were vegetarians and she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. She brought up the fact that she had given this diet a chance before deciding against it, but I wasn't impressed. I didn't want to help people become "switch-hitter vegetarians," I wanted to help them become lifetime vegetarians. "What about the animals?" I asked. "Do you think its okay for them to suffer on factory farms so you can eat meat?"

"I just don't think it's that big of a deal," she said. I wondered how many more animals would need to be hung up by their legs and have their throats sliced while still conscious for her to consider eating meat a big deal. Instead I said, "I'm pretty sure the animals think it is." But it was no use. You can't change someone's mind if they've already done it for themselves.

My sister didn't want me to take it personally. But in my mind if she went back to eating meat, I had failed. I knew there were people out there who had stopped eating meat after I handed them a "Why Veganism?" leaflet or talked to them about factory farming. But it wasn't the same. I had invested more time and energy in my sister's vegetarianism simply because I spent more time with her. When she said she no longer wanted to be a vegetarian, I felt like my efforts were wasted. Time spent talking to her about animals, the environment, and health could have been spent informing other, less indecisive individuals and increasing the number of vegetarians.

A few days later while talking to my best friend, who also recently became a vegetarian, I mentioned that my sister had decided to start eating meat again. "I could see that coming," she commented and then explained how my sister had been drooling over someone's turkey sandwich at work. Suddenly I changed my mind about my sister's decision not to be a vegetarian. It would in fact do the animal rights movement more good if she wasn't one! When my sister was a vegetarian she was sending people the message that she didn't want to be one. Others would see this so-called vegetarian drooling over meat and they would decide that being a vegetarian is synonymous with being deprived. They might make a decision not to become a vegetarian from that one encounter with my sister. In order to change people's minds about eating animals we have to be walking advertisements for the vegetarian lifestyle. We have to send the message that we're happier and healthier when we don't eat meat and we must prove that we don't crave "forbidden foods" or feel deprived.

Later my best friend said something that made me think about vegan outreach even more. "Wow, if I stopped being a vegetarian, I'd be really afraid to tell you," she said. But I don't want anyone to be a vegetarian because they're scared into being one. I realized that there is such a thing as a helpful herbivore-and a harmful one. A helpful herbivore is someone who has convictions about not eating meat, whether they're guided by religious, health, ethical or other beliefs. A harmful herbivore is someone who is not at peace with his or her diet and may deter others from becoming vegetarians simply by the example he or she sets. All vegetarians help save animals' lives on the basis that they're not eating them. However, helpful herbivores, even passively, may save more animals by showing others how great it is to be a vegetarian. If we're going to be successful in changing others' minds, we must first lead by example.

I haven't seen my sister eat meat since she announced her decision, and I have a feeling she's too embarrassed and self-conscious to do so in front of me. I don't like to make people uncomfortable, but I've admitted to myself that I've done nothing wrong. If she feels awkward and ashamed, her conscience is speaking out against her decision to eat meat just as much as my silence is.

Instead of dwelling on my experience with my sister, I've decided to learn from it. Next time I go out leafleting, I will have a conversation with that ex-dairy farmer who just doesn't think animals can feel pain. But I'll interrupt the conversation to hand out information to a passerby who may be more receptive to vegetarianism. As a movement we must keep moving, we can't wait for one person to change his mind. Instead, we must reach as many people as possible, engage them and then let the animals speak for themselves while we start the cycle again.

--Kate Epting is a 19-year-old college student and the only vegetarian in her family.