Veganism Isn’t a Cult—We Just Really Like Hummus

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Let’s get one thing out of the way: being vegan isn’t a personality trait, it’s a lifestyle. But if you’ve spent more than three minutes around someone who isn’t vegan, you might think we’re one badly lit room away from handing out robes and chanting around a beetroot. For some reason, the moment someone hears the word “vegan,” they immediately assume you’re either here to recruit them into your tofu-loving temple or ruin their braai with kale propaganda. And listen—we’re used to it. But let’s set the record straight: it’s not a cult. It’s just plants. Delicious, spice-covered, pan-seared, guilt-free plants.

The comparisons, though? Hilarious. “You people always talk about your lifestyle.” Oh, sorry, I forgot that you don’t mention your gym routine, your keto journey, or your new air fryer every five seconds. My bad. “You vegans are so extreme!” Meanwhile, you’re deep-frying cheese into your coffee and calling it a breakfast trend. But sure, I’m the radical one because I’m eating cashew cheese and reading food labels like a responsible adult.

And don’t even get me started on the snack accusations. “But what do you even eat?” The answer: literally everything except the sadness of animals. We’ve got brownies that taste like forgiveness. We’ve got burgers that bleed beet juice and trick your drunk uncle. We’ve got dairy-free ice cream that will make you reconsider your entire existence. We even have kale chips that are 50% crunch and 50% moral superiority. The point is, we’re not starving. We’re snacking—and thriving.

Now, the cult vibes, I’ll admit, come from a few things. For starters, we do like to talk. A lot. About nutrition, about the environment, about our cholesterol dropping faster than Eskom’s energy output. But can you blame us? When you cut out animal products and suddenly stop feeling like a bloated zombie with heartburn every day, it’s hard not to mention it once or twice. Or every day. For a year.

Also, we like to gather. Farmers markets, vegan expos, plant-based potlucks that require a spreadsheet and three WhatsApp groups to coordinate. It’s not because we’re plotting world domination—though, to be fair, we’d probably make a great global task force. It’s because community matters. It’s tough out there when everyone else is still arguing over whether oat milk is real. We need a support group. With snacks.

And sure, there’s the unspoken dress code. We do wear a lot of earth tones. Many of us own tote bags. Some of us have tattoos of avocados or mushrooms or very smug-looking animals. But so do most hipsters and no one accuses them of being in a cult. (Okay, bad example.)

What really gets me is how weirdly defensive people get around vegans. You bring your own lunch to work—suddenly everyone’s performing their bacon like it’s a Broadway solo. You mention tofu, and people look at you like you kicked their dog. You decline a slice of cake at a party and suddenly it’s a moral standoff. “But it’s just one piece!” Yeah, and I’m just one person trying not to crap my ethics for sugar. Calm down.

Ironically, the cult-like behaviour is often coming from the non-vegans. The ones who feel personally victimised by almond milk. The ones who bring up “plants feel pain too” like it’s the mic-drop moment of the century. (Cool, Kevin. Let me know when a carrot screams in fear.) We’re just trying to get through our day without navigating a thousand dietary debates at every social gathering.

And then there’s the myth that we’re all joyless salad suckers, roaming the earth with iron deficiencies and an overactive sense of superiority. First of all, no one eats as much variety as a vegan. Our meals are like rainbow explosions. Have you seen a Buddha bowl? It looks like the contents of a unicorn’s pantry. We’re flavour scientists. Texture architects. The amount of paprika we use could fuel a small country. If anyone is having a boring meal, it’s not us.

Plus, there’s science behind the snacks. Studies show plant-based diets can lower cholesterol, reduce inflammation, and improve digestion. We’re not making this up. This isn’t a vibe—it’s evidence. You don’t have to join us, but maybe stop treating our lifestyle like a pyramid scheme. We’re not here to convert you. We’re just here for the hummus.

But I get it. We can be annoying. We talk about protein like it’s the plot of Game of Thrones. We post one too many Instagram stories about our jackfruit tacos. We get passionately upset when someone calls almond milk “nut water.” We share documentaries like they’re gospel. I know. It’s a lot. But we’re also just people who watched a few cows cry and never quite got over it. Let us have this.

Veganism doesn’t require a blood oath. There are no weekly meetings in a basement. You won’t lose your family if you accidentally eat a marshmallow. You don’t have to swear allegiance to oat milk (though, let’s be honest, it is the best one). It’s not about perfection—it’s about intention. And that’s not culty. That’s just trying to do better. One snack at a time.

So no, veganism isn’t a cult. We don’t have robes. We don’t chant. There’s no mysterious leader (unless you count Tabitha Brown). But we do have group chats. And recipes. And a borderline fanatical love for chickpeas. If that’s weird, then fine. I’ll be weird. With my flaxseed crackers and superior bowel movements.

And if you’re ever curious—really curious—we’ll welcome you. No pressure. No sermon. Just an invitation to try the cookie. The one made with almond flour and joy and zero existential dread. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find out the snacks were worth it all along.