Animal Advocate,

Writer & Attorney

I am a lawyer and writer trying to change how the world thinks about animals.

But first, I had to change what I thought about one animal in particular: myself.

It all started when I was in law school and living with my partner of 5 years.

I had everything I thought I wanted: a relationship, the start of a legal career, big ideas about the future. But I began feeling more and more dissonance in my daily life. There was a lot of tension between what I believed in and what I acted on. My partner and I were fighting a lot, but we hid it from everyone. I didn’t know what I could do to fix the situation, because we had been together for so long.

I felt stuck.

I questioned what to do after law school even as my peers pursued big job opportunities; I constantly felt anxious about what the next step should be, because honestly nothing felt quite right. I cared deeply about animal advocacy, having learned a lot about the reality of animal agriculture in law school, but I was hesitant to change my own dietary practices. I didn’t want to face the friction I knew it would cause. I felt so unsure—like I needed the world’s approval, like I could become who I was meant to be only through the confirmation of others. I wanted to succeed, to fit in, to not make a stir. 

Then things started falling apart, one by one.

I remember going home for Christmas that winter and eating the meat my mom had worked hard to prepare (by then I had stopped eating meat the rest of the time). I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but it felt awful. That ended up being the last time I put meat in my mouth.

Then, in January, my partner and I suddenly and unexpectedly broke up, leaving me living completely alone (in my now half-empty apartment) for the first time ever.

I felt like I had failed, and like I had let other people down. And then in March, the COVID-19 pandemic broke out, shutting me off in my newfound isolation.

The pandemic pressed pause on so much. Where before there were meetings and commutes, coffee chats, and cafeteria run-ins, now appeared silence and newfound stretches of time that gaped open. Gone were the distractions, the niceties, the busy work of navigating a day in the world. All I had then was me.

Without the noise of daily life, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore about what made me happy.

I understood the broad changes I would have to make: leaning into my creativity despite being in a rigid career, living by an ethic of compassion even when it was socially difficult, and learning to make my own choices rather than look to others around me for instruction. But I didn’t know the specifics; there was no guidebook, and it wasn’t easy. I felt so lonely. There were many times I cried to my therapist over Zoom, complaining that I just wanted to be normal, with a normal life, with a normal relationship and a normal job. I didn’t want to be this messy, this confused. I wanted to know what I wanted, to fast forward through the process to get to the good stuff.

But I began the only way we can: by making small decisions every day that I knew aligned with my values.

Instead of letting fear of what other people would think constrain me, I started to act on my own beliefs. I began cooking only plant-based food at home, experimenting with new recipes and ingredients and techniques. I started dating again, leading with a new sense of transparency and honesty, not worrying if someone wouldn’t like me for the things I said or wanted. I joined a writing class and began playing around with words and ideas. I started running more, meditating, and reading. I started writing a book, one chapter at a time, tentatively at first, and mostly in secret. My priorities shifted. I filled my days with gratitude and dog walks, and I watched closely as the seasons changed, like me, slowly then all at once.

I met my wife for the first time in the midst of this period.

I was skeptical at first, because her Hinge profile included a photo of her holding a fish she had caught. But we finally met for bagels one summer morning, and when I got hummus instead of cream cheese on mine, I told her I was vegan. This was one of the first times I used that word to describe myself, even though I hadn’t eaten animal products in almost a year. Until then, I didn’t want to use a label. I was insecure in my values and afraid of making things difficult for other people. But when I said it out loud, it felt right and true. She smiled and asked me about it, curious to learn about my experiences and choices.

The process of becoming who we are is never done, and I am still learning how to trust myself and take chances on what I want.

I want to make the world a better place for animals—that has always been true.

But there are countless ways to make change, and I have learned to do the work in a way that feels good to me. Writing a book feels good; it feels good to put words on paper, to articulate my thoughts and observations, to write a story that just might change someone’s mind. It feels good to be creative, and to share ideas and thoughts with other people. I realized, as simple as it sounds, that I don’t need anyone’s permission to do so. 

As human animals, we have choices about how to live our lives, how to eat, how to work and build families and find joy.

I didn’t always know I had different choices available to me—in my relationships, in my career, and on my plate, some things simply felt inevitable, too hard to change in the face of others’ expectations and my own fear. But every single day, we all get to make dozens of small choices that reflect our truest selves. And these choices add up.

Since the crucible of 2020, I have run two marathons, hiked across the Grand Canyon, got married to my amazing wife (with a fully vegan wedding!), and written a book. What starts as a quick run or a single journal entry or a new recipe can change your life.

We all have the power to make real change—in our own lives and in the broader world—with the small choices we make every day. 

What will you choose?

I am a Harvard-educated lawyer, with experience in animal law and environmental law.

While in law school, I worked on issues related to farmed animals, wild animals, and captive animals with Harvard’s Animal Law & Policy Clinic. I was also in the inaugural cohort of Emerging Scholar Fellows with the Brooks Institute for Animal Rights Law and Policy, where I worked on animal law scholarship. After two clerkships—with the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court and the Federal District Court in Arizona—I now litigate with one of the top environmental nonprofits in the country. My first book, FORGET THE CAMEL!: The Madcap World of Animal Festivals and What They Say About Being Human, will be out soon. 

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My content focuses on human-animal relationships and how we can reduce our need for animal products. I've dedicated time to learn about these topics, so you can enjoy the insights without the homework. I also feature stories from my personal experiences and daily life, too. I invite you to join my community, where we can learn, share and grow together.

Get to Know Me

  • Enneagram

    I relate closely to Enneagram types three, six, and one.

  • Values

    Compassion, Humility, and Integrity.

  • Myers Briggs

    INFJ (Advocate)

  • The Animals I Live My Life With

    Jack (my 70-pound dog), Sammi (my geriatric cat), and Molly (my amazing wife).