Only months after first moving to Norfolk, I was spending an evening at the Taphouse with some girlfriends when three Navy men arrogantly sat themselves at our table.

Who's to say these guys aren't thoughtful, sensitive souls deep down?

After several degrading comments in an attempt to woo my friends and me into their beds, we finally convinced them to leave. Shaking off the serious creepster vibe they left behind, I uttered the words, “Navy guys are such assholes.”

And so it begins. Stereotyping at its best, ladies and gents. Those three misguided oafs had left a bad taste in my mouth, and knowing they identified with an easily recognizable symbol, such as the Navy, made them instant ambassadors to me for that very symbol. Coming to my senses, I knew I didn’t hate the Navy. Hell, my grandfather was a decorated Navy pilot in WWII, and that was something I took great pride in.

Then it hit me. The same way those losers became the Navy in my eyes is the same way that I must become veganism in the eyes of meat-eaters. If I’m at Red Dog and order the vegan pizza, I’m instantly representing my cause to my server. She now knows I’m vegan, and anything I do from here on out will be looked at as a representative of vegans everywhere. If I leave a bad tip and bad attitude behind, I could never be just some bitch to her, I’d automatically be “that vegan bitch.” Because of that, it may make that one person associate bad behavior with animal rights and make her choose to steer farther away from the movement all together, whether it be a conscious thought or not. And isn’t the whole point of being an activist to get people to rally around your movement, not run in the opposite direction?

Veganism, too, is so much more than a shirt and a label.

From then on, I became hyper-sensitive to me and my vegetarian and vegan friends’ behavior at restaurants and in other environments where our passion for animal rights is placed in the forefront. From something as simple as a pro-veg bumper sticker on your car all the way to participating in a local protest, we become true spokespeople for the animal rights revolution, whether we want to be or not. That’s a lot to take in, vegans, am I right?

But remember, despite what our meat-eating friends may think, it’s not just a diet. Some time in the last 11 years that I’ve been meat-free, it’s become about a lot more than broccoli. To me, my veganism represents my lifestyle, my career, my compassion for the animals, the earth, and my body. It represents the sacrifices I made to move across the country, make very little money, and work my ass off. And it represents the serenity I feel in my core because I know every day I made the absolute right decision. It represents the beautiful, sad, and tortured animals we spare on a daily basis because of our choices. It represents the ability to love and feel passion for something so much greater than yourself.

And if I’m out rocking a negative ‘tude with my PETA tee, all of that drive I feel to make a difference and the joy it brings my spirit can be reduced to shit in the eyes of an onlooker. When I see fellow vegans be disrespectful to restaurant staff or roll with a me-against-the-world attitude that nobody wants a part of, it breaks my heart a little, knowing that this person who obviously has compassion hidden away somewhere is hurting animals in the long run with his or her behavior.

Vegetarians and vegans of Hampton Roads, I beg of you … if you’re an asshole, leave it at home, and turn on the charm when you’re vampin’ your AR duds. Live veg and stay proud, my friends, but do it like you mean it. You owe that much to the animals you’re trying to save. (Plus, you might even find people like you better … bonus!)