Can a vegan participate in the rodeo?

My mother used to bake pancakes drenched in butter and slap freshly sizzled bacon on a plate for me to devour. Friday night takeout was reserved for either double cheeseburgers from Burger King or triple cheese pizzas from Domino’s.

This meat-and-dairy diet followed me into high school, when a whole pack of thinly sliced turkey and American cheese on white bread became a lunch staple. Growing up in Houston, with barbecue joints on every corner and billboards flaunting Whataburger’s newest triple bacon cheeseburger above every freeway, I never saw flaws in our typical American diets or had reason to question the clothes I wore.

A few years ago, though, I went to my first Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. I couldn’t help cringing at the meats cooked without any shame of where they came from. People were digging their teeth into turkey legs as though they had ripped them straight from the bird. Layers of barbecue sauce failed to hide pigs’ hooves and snouts. There were so many foods on a stick, and, for many, the stick was just the animal’s bone.

And that was just the food. In temperatures as hot as 95 degrees, animals were stuffed in cages, cramped and paraded around. Sitting in the stands, I watched teenagers chase down baby cows and rope them to the ground. Many of the teens choked the animals to stop them from moving and then yanked them with ropes tied on their faces. Even from the stands, I could see the piles of dirt the calves kicked up.

As the crowd cheered, I dug my face into my boyfriend’s shoulder. Somehow, looking away was easier. We walked out of the stadium so I could forget what I saw and inhaled a large pile of fries covered in chili cheese.

Clearly, calf roping wasn’t enough to change me. It wasn’t until 2017, when I watched a documentary, “What the Health,” that I made the choice to become vegan. The documentary graphically showed me broiler chickens so overfed they couldn’t hold themselves up, beheaded cows hung upside down to drain their blood, pigs so sick from being force-fed in tight cages surrounded by fecal matter and dead animals that their bodies swelled from infection and oozed pus. The documentary showed me the death inherent to the American diet I grew up enjoying.

I gave up eating meat, eggs and dairy. No more of my mom’s pancakes. No more of the breakfast sausage, bacon, turkey sandwiches, fajitas, steak, flautas and empanadas I grew up loving. I started eating fruits, vegetables, beans, legumes, grains, nuts, seeds. I stopped wearing leather boots and clothes made with animal products. Since then, I have been unable to justify any act of cruelty regardless of how “good” it tastes or looks.

So, how am I supposed to think about the rodeo? It’s not so simple. The rodeo increases regional employment, pumps millions of dollars into our economy, provides scholarship opportunities and brings together communities from all over the state. It’s a tradition. As a native Houstonian, I recognize that the rodeo is a huge boost to our city every year. And I recognize that raising and caring for animals can help young people learn responsibility and empathy. The rodeo is an important cultural part of our city and our state, with roots that stretch back decades, all the way to the 1930s.

But how can vegans like me participate? Can vegans participate? My conflict is not just with the food or the leather boots, it’s with animal welfare, too. Sometimes, it feels as though I’m in conflict with the very essence of Texas.

For years, protesters have rallied outside the rodeo to raise awareness about these issues and provide a voice that people can understand, because the cries of animals can be easily ignored, especially when the crowds are cheering. This year, a petition asking Cardi B, an animal lover, to cancel her performance scheduled for March 1, has received more than 22,000 signatures to date.

I know I can still order veggie burgers, fried pickles, homemade potato chips and watch Panic! at the Disco in faux-leather boots and do my part to make purchases that support the least amount of cruelty.

But, in the end, I would be lying if I said that I do not feel conflicted by the fact that I would like to see a concert at the rodeo but do not love that I have to give money to an organization that makes food, products and sport out of animals. I know I could always just not go, but ignoring and avoiding the problem is not a solution, either. It’s that eternal question: How do you be in the world of turkey legs and calf roping and overfed broiler chickens who can’t stand up, but not of that world?

It’s tough, sometimes, in Texas.

Lopez is an intern at the Chronicle.