Because 'I get my protein from suffering in silence' does not (and will never) work.
Last Thanksgiving, I watched my friend Maya handle The Question with the grace of a stand-up comedian.
"Where do you get your protein?" her uncle asked, reaching for his third helping of turkey.
"From the same place your turkey got theirs," she said, stealing a dinner roll. "I just skip the middleman."
Her uncle laughed—actually laughed—and passed her the cranberry sauce. No debate. No lectures about canine teeth. No one mentioned bacon even once.
This is when I realized: we've been doing vegan conversations all wrong.
The internet taught us to memorize statistics about B12 and amino acids. We prepared scholarly dissertations on the environmental impact of factory farming. We bookmarked peer-reviewed studies about plant-based athletes. And for what? To deliver TED talks at dinner parties nobody asked for?
Meanwhile, Maya just made everyone laugh and got to eat her mashed potatoes in peace.
After five years of plant-based eating, I've collected the responses that actually work—the ones that make people chuckle instead of challenge, that diffuse instead of debate. These aren't comebacks designed to "own" anyone. They're conversation enders that leave everyone feeling good, including your cousin who posts pictures of steaks with the caption "trigger warning for vegans lol."
Quick Reference Guide (Screenshot This)
🥗 Protein? → Gorillas
🥓 Bacon? → Salt, fat, smoke
🧀 Cheese? → Sinuses/personality
🌱 Plant feelings? → Plant hero
🦷 Teeth? → Amazon boxes
👑 Superior? → Hot mess
🏝️ Desert island? → Would die immediately
🍕 Real food? → Pizza, pasta, burritos
📱 Just a phase? → So was the internet
1. "Where do you get your protein?"
The response that works: "From the same place rhinos, elephants, and gorillas get theirs. Have you seen those guys? Absolute units."
Why it works: It's visual, unexpected, and nobody can argue that gorillas are weak. Plus, saying "absolute units" (aka massive legends) makes Gen Z laugh and confuses boomers in a delightful way. Yes, they have different digestive systems, but still—look at them.
Runner-up: "Everywhere. It's weird—protein is in everything. It's like asking where I get my carbon."
I used the gorilla line at a work lunch last month. My boss googled "gorilla diet" right there at the table. "Holy shit, they're herbivores," he said. Then we talked about Planet of the Apes for twenty minutes. Mission accomplished.
2. "But bacon though"
The response that works: "I know, right? I loved bacon too. Then I realized I actually just loved salt, fat, and smoke. Turns out you can put those on anything."
Why it works: You're agreeing with them (bacon is indeed delicious) while reframing what makes it delicious. No judgment, no lecture, just a gentle redirect.
Alternative if you're feeling spicy: "My personality is more complex than a breakfast meat."
The key here is not taking the bait. They're expecting you to clutch your pearls. Don't. Bacon isn't a personality trait, despite what internet culture wants us to believe.
3. "I could never give up cheese"
The response that works: "That's what I said. Then I gave it three weeks and my sinuses cleared up for the first time since middle school. Now I can actually smell things. Wild."
Why it works: It's personal, specific, and includes a funny detail. Nobody can argue with your own experience.
If they persist: "Honestly, cheese was my entire personality for 30 years. Turns out I'm actually pretty interesting without it."
My friend Tom uses: "I didn't give it up. It gave me up. We're seeing other people now." The divorce metaphor kills every time.
4. "Plants have feelings too"
The response that works: "Maybe! That's why I eat them directly instead of feeding ten times more plants to animals first. I'm actually minimizing plant suffering. I'm basically a plant hero."
Why it works: You're taking their absurd premise seriously and running with it to its logical conclusion. Plus, "plant hero" is inherently funny.
If you want to go darker: "Everything I eat is already dead. I'm basically a botanical scavenger. Very goth of me."
As philosopher Peter Singer noted in Animal Liberation, if we're really concerned about plant suffering, eating plants directly causes far less harm than feeding them to animals first. But honestly, just saying "plant hero" works better than quoting philosophy at dinner.
5. "Humans are designed to eat meat—look at our teeth"
The response that works: "These teeth?" points to mouth "These are designed to eat cooked food, and gossip about our neighbors. We're not exactly apex predators anymore."
Why it works: Self-deprecating humor about human evolution lands better than biology lectures.
Alternative: "My teeth are designed to bite through plastic packaging and occasionally open Amazon boxes. Evolution is wild."
I once responded with "Sir, you needed a knife to eat that steak. Your teeth aren't doing what you think they're doing." But that's more confrontational—use with caution.
6. "You must think you're better than everyone"
The response that works: "Nah, I'm a mess in literally every other area of my life. This is my one thing. Let me have this."
Why it works: Radical self-deprecation disarms judgment. Nobody can attack someone who's already roasting themselves. It's verbal aikido—using their energy against itself.
Also good: "I don't think I'm better than anyone. I just think I'm better than I was last year. Personal growth and all that."
For the philosophers: "According to Socrates, the only thing I know is that I know nothing. Especially about folding fitted sheets."
The truth? Sometimes vegans do act superior. Don't be that vegan. Be the vegan who admits they still can't figure out how to fold a fitted sheet or remember to cancel free trials.
7. "What about on a desert island?"
The response that works: "Honestly? I'd probably die immediately from trying to befriend a volleyball. 'Wilson! Wilson!' You know, real survival skills."
Why it works: It refuses to engage with the hypothetical seriously while being genuinely funny. The Cast Away reference lands with most age groups.
If pushed: "I'm more worried about surviving this conversation than imaginary islands."
My personal favorite: "Bold of you to assume I'd survive the plane crash."
8. "Don't you miss real food?"
The response that works: "You mean like pizza, pasta, burritos, curry, and french fries? I had all of those this week."
Why it works: It reframes what "real food" means using examples everyone loves. These plant-based comebacks work because they're about foods people already eat.
For the philosophy majors: "Wait, has my food been imaginary this whole time? That would explain why I'm still hungry."
Sometimes I say: "I miss dinosaur nuggets specifically, but that's more about the shape than the chicken."
9. "It's just a phase/trend"
The response that works: "So was the internet, and look how that turned out."
Why it works: It's short, surprising, and makes them reconsider what "trends" mean.
Long version if you have time: "Yeah, vegetarian philosophy has been 'trending' since Pythagoras, about 2,500 years ago. Really long phase. Like the moon, but longer."
Gentler option: "So was everyone's regrettable fashion phase in 2007, but we've all moved on. Some changes stick."
When and how to deploy these responses
Here's the thing: timing is everything. These responses work best when delivered with genuine warmth, not sarcasm. Think of them as pressure release valves, not weapons. Use them when:
- The conversation is getting tense
- You're genuinely too tired to explain
- The person asking seems more curious than combative
- You want to keep things light at mixed gatherings
The goal isn't to win. It's to redirect the energy from confrontation to connection. Sometimes that means making them laugh. Sometimes it means making yourself the butt of the joke. Always it means remembering that how you respond matters more than what you say.
Here's what I've learned: Most people asking these questions don't actually care about your answers. They're following a social script they've seen play out online. When you go off-script with humor instead of defensiveness, the whole dynamic shifts.
My friend Maya, the one from Thanksgiving? Her uncle went plant-based for January. Not because of her jokes, but because she made veganism seem accessible instead of exhausting. She made it seem like something normal people do, not just people with meditation apps and strong opinions about mercury retrograde.
Though for the record, I do have a meditation app now. But that's unrelated. Probably.
The secret weapon? Being the funny, normal vegan who doesn't fit their stereotype disrupts their entire framework. You become a person who happens to be vegan, not a vegan who happens to be a person.
The next time someone asks where you get your protein, remember: you don't owe anyone a nutrition seminar. You owe yourself a peaceful meal. Make the joke, change the subject, and get back to your accidentally vegan pasta that nobody realized was plant-based until you mentioned it.
Because the best vegan advocacy might just be being a person who happens to be funny, happens to be plant-based, and happens to make others wonder if maybe—just maybe—they've been making this whole thing way more complicated than it needs to be.
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