I am a vegetarian. Sometimes, when talking about vegetarianism, people ask how long I’ve been a vegetarian. My answer is usually that I have been one for over 20 years. Yes, you read that right: over 20 years. Their next question is usually how that’s even possible, followed by “So are your parents vegetarian too?” No, they are not. In fact, I am the only vegetarian I know in my family. There are even plenty of hunters in my family who go into the forest and bring home a dead animal every once in a while.

So how did that happen?

Well, I only remember a few things from back then. One of them was when I asked my dad, “What is meat?” and he replied, “It’s a dead animal.” From then on, I never ate meat again, and I did so quite consciously, but also very instinctively. I just think it’s wrong. It’s strange that we have dogs and cats as pets, yet we eat their friends. But anyway. That’s not the point of the story. I was five years old at the time — at least, that’s what my parents tell me. For them, it was a very special day in my life, but for me, it was just a normal day.

The point is this: I was the only vegetarian in my family, and we lived in a medium-sized town in Germany. Back then, 20 years ago, that had some consequences for my everyday life.

Nowadays, you can eat vegetarian food everywhere – it’s the default option wherever you go, be it a conference, a restaurant (good or bad) or a friend’s dinner party. But 20 years ago, that was not the case in a mid-sized German city. Meat was the norm. I was always considered “strange” by everyone – they might have thought, “What’s his problem?” I was always forced to ask for something special or just skip eating out altogether, chatting with friends and family over dinner and pretending that the appetiser was sufficient and that I would have dessert later.

The same went for school trips: wherever we went, I was the only one in my class who had to go to the kitchen alone and get my special vegetarian meal, while everyone else ate the meal that was served on the buffet or at the tables. The teacher would come to me and say, ‘Go to the kitchen yourself and tell them what you want.’

There are countless more stories like that. Back then, it was sometimes pretty rough for little Gero. I constantly asked myself why I continued not to eat meat – what was the big deal? I was constantly asked why. I once even found myself lying to a female friend, saying, ‘Because I don’t like the taste’ – that was more socially acceptable than admitting that I just thought it was the wrong way, or at least the wrong way for me.

But things have changed in the meantime. I’ve grown up, and the world has evolved too. What I’ve learned from this experience is that it’s worth sticking to your principles and your view of the world, even if it’s not the easy option. Even if everyone else is doing it the other way. Often, it turns out later that it was the right way to go, as vegetarian meals are now a standard option nearly everywhere (even in my small German hometown). I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I hadn’t decided to become a vegetarian at the age of five.

One final point: I am not actually a lefty climate activist – I’ve never been one. I was just a little boy thinking about the world and what was on our table. That turned out to be one of the most important experiences in shaping my character: Just because the whole world around you is doing something doesn’t mean you should do it too, and it doesn’t mean it’s going to stay that way forever. Sticking to your ideas about the world is worth it, and it will eventually pay off.