You were loved

This is a baby pig on a transport truck, about to be unloaded at a slaughterhouse. She may look like an adult, but she's just six months old. She's been fattened up and selectively bred to grown as fast as possible, so that she yields as much flesh as possible when she's slaughtered.

I briefly met this individual as she was nearing the end of a days-long journey to her death in Modesto, CA, just a few hours from the bustling Bay Area. With the local chapter of The Save Movement, I and other animal rights activists had a few moments with her and others crammed into a double-decker truck. The Save Movement hosts vigils in cities all over the world, encouraging people to draw closer to where animal suffering happens so that we can know it better, provide comfort, and inspire change.

In some areas with longstanding Save groups, there's an established routine that exists only because brave activists refused to stop coming week after week to places of animal cruelty and death. In Vernon, CA, near Los Angeles, activists come every Wednesday and Sunday to give water to the pigs delivered at Farmer John's slaughterhouse. Most of the truck drivers know they'll be there, and they are willing to stop for a few minutes while activists comfort the pigs and offer water.

The night I met the baby in this picture, there is no established routine. We stood on public land on the side of the road until a truck turned off on the exit. Keeping a safe distance, a few activists walked out in the road, with handmade signs asking the trucks to stop for a few minutes. After speaking with the driver, all obliged to give us time with the pigs.

Some of the trucks delivering animals to slaughter have traveled three or more days - days during which the animals are given no food or water. They stand up, lie down, and sometimes collapse and die in their own waste, crammed together and scared. In some trucks, many of the pigs are sleeping. In others, they're wide awake and frantic. Each of the pigs has a unique personality and distinctive irises that are reminiscent of human eyes. They look around and take in everything in these last few hours of life.

While spending moments of love with these individuals is the most important experience for me, it's also crucial to share the experience as best I can with others. Most people will pass by a slaughter transport truck on the freeway in their lives, but almost none will ever see the beings inside. Most people have little to no connection with the animals and suffering behind "meat," and that's just what the industry wants. But, on this night, I was there with her for a few moments, and I saw her. I knew she was alive, and I knew that she suffered, and she mattered to me.

I took this image on my iPhone 8 using the camera app, then used Instagram basic editing tools to lighten it, sharpen it, and deepen shadows. Without these tools, it would have been very difficult to identify the details, like her coloring, eyes, and beautiful eyelashes. Usually, I take about 20-30 photos of the pigs I connect with and edit them later to post and share on Instagram. During the vigil, I also take videos and livestream to share on Instagram stories.

It's hard to find a bright spot in the endless sadness that is the "meat" industry, but things are changing. The number of us who come closer to the suffering and refuse to look away is growing. When we expose the truth and offer the stories of these beings, we can help people start to align their actions with their morality, free from the lies they've been sold by big business.

I would really love these tools and cash to continue to fight for animals' rights and keep documenting individuals, each of whom are valuable and important and loved.