Lisa Finlay served as a national director for Feminists for Animal Rights (FAR), a leading vegan feminist organization active from 1983-2000 and is a mother of three adult children raised vegan from birth. Now living in North Carolina, Finlay works in the field of psychotherapy, but she was quite active in vegan feminist organizing until 20 years ago.
Finlay’s journey began when she took a job with a humane society in Atlanta, Georgia in the 1980s. Here, she “was exposed to all kinds of animal rights literature,” and “became vegan at the time and decided to try to make a career out of animal rights.” She enrolled with North Carolina State University (where she would collaborate with famed animal philosopher Tom Regan) to pursue a degree. Finlay explains that there “wasn’t any area of study that would prepare you for a job in animal rights,” so she created a Masters of Liberal Studies degree that focused on intersectional oppression rooted in philosophy, literature, and history. This led to her co-organizing a student conference in 1992 with Regan and other leading philosophers, including FAR. The conference focused on intersecting oppressions, and Finlay supposes that “it was the first of its kind anywhere in the world.”
At this time, Finlay was then offered a position with FAR, albeit parttime. Finlay explains, “We were not a rich organization at that time.” Indeed, this vulnerability is foremost in her memories of her time with FAR. Finlay recollects that, even at its height, FAR was still a small organization with limited support from the movement. The manufacture of a quarterly newsletter and regular university talks dominated FAR activities, but the development of its domestic violence companion animal co-sheltering program spurred the emergence of several smaller organizations across the United States.
Finlay suspects that the decline began not long after due to and overstretching of resources. FAR had many volunteers, but it ultimately relied heavily on a much smaller number of especially committed activists. Beyond this, FAR lacked wider support from the animal rights movement, the feminist movement, and the environmental movement despite the considerable overlap in movement goals. “For some reason or another,” Finlay reflects, “I don’t really know how to explain it, it just […] didn’t last.” She also considers the specificity of FAR goals as a possible barrier:
I was always uncertain whether having a name like that would bring in supporters. And, I think that, people viewed an organization that focused on feminism for animal rights [and] believed that we didn’t speak for enough of these ideas. That we were, too hyperfocused. And, I think it may have it may have turned some people off.
Similarly, Finlay notes the barriers to participation enforced by FAR itself. The regional meetings, she clarifies, were only open to women, although there were men who wanted to participate. Although she clarifies that men were free to support FAR by attending events or donating, “I think just minimizing participation in that kind of way was a drawback for people.” Finlay acknowledges more recent concerns that women-only events alienate gender non-conforming persons, but she suspects that limiting participation in any way, including the restriction of cisgender men, constrained FAR’s resources unnecessarily.
Otherwise, FAR had, she explains, “A certain focus,” and this, she suspects:
[…] was not appealing to everybody in the animal rights movement. It certainly wasn’t appealing to a lot of feminists, because they didn’t want to stop eating animals.
By way of an example, Finlay remembers FAR tabling at a women’s music festival almost to be completely overlooked by attendees: “I was shocked, I was so surprised and disappointed that more feminists didn’t care about these issues.” “People I always thought would be allies,” she continues, “don’t feel like they need to care about these other issues.”
Subsequently, Finlay is less optimistic about the legacy of vegan feminism.
I travelled all over the place doing the FAR slideshow at universities, even as far as Austria. Um, and, that always brought up wonderful conversations and brought in people who were very interested in these ideas. […] I just don’t know much further it went than having an academic interest for the majority of people.
She concludes: “I definitely think we seeped into these other movements, but I don’t know how much measurable influence we had, or anybody has had.” She also points to the decline in publicly visible anti-speciesist activism as evidence that the movement may be stalled. Grassroots efforts, she suggests, have all but disappeared in favor of professionalized lobbying. Likewise, the slow growth of veganism has disappointed Finlay. Looking forward, she predicts increased antagonism against animal rights messaging given the heavy conservativism of American politics.
Social change may be slow and frustrating, but Finlay is also proud of her vegan feminist legacy. As an example, she points to FAR’s contribution to the gender justice discourse regarding the connection between women and companion animals in domestic violence cases. This relationship is now widely understood and included in training for social services and police teams. Some crisis relief shelters, furthermore, are now beginning to include services for nonhumans. For Finlay, this intersectionality is fundamental to any social justice effort: “Once we start looking at that and looking at how we fix our own relationships with other human beings, we have to look at how we relate to other beings and the world, the earth. And, once we do that, we will see that we have to approach all humans, all beings, and the environment with the same care and concern.”
The Lisa Finlay Papers can be found in the Tom Regan Animal Rights Archive at North Carolina State University.