Livestock auctions reflect the gendered oppression that both humans and nonhumans face. Female bodies are put on display, meant for the objectification and viewing pleasure of men.
Image from USDA...
It was a rare sunny day, with none of Portland’s usual grey skies, when
students (myself included) from the Animal Law Litigation Clinic at Lewis &
Clark Law School, led by Professor Delcianna Winders, embarked upon a field
trip to a livestock auction in rural Oregon. That day, I glimpsed a
microcosm of the animal agriculture industry in the United States—an
on-the-ground look at the factory farming that I am studying to fight
against in courts of law.
The livestock auction was located about one hour outside of Portland. During
the drive there, I witnessed the sprawling lush greenery of the Oregon
countryside and quaint farmhouses straight out of a children’s book, with
the majestic snow-capped Mount Hood in the background. To think that
anything disturbing was happening to animals anywhere near this
picture-perfect place seemed almost delusional.
Arriving at the livestock auction, we parked in an almost empty lot outside
an unassuming building. We knew that the auction lasted all day, from eight
a.m. to five p.m., but were surprised by the lack of crowds or other
fanfare. Walking toward the front of the building, we encountered a couple
of people practicing their lassoing skills with a rope on—thankfully—an
imaginary animal. I braced myself for what was inside.
The first thing that hit me was the smell of manure, followed by the sounds
of cows. The area where the cows were kept was close to the entrance,
separated only by a slatted wall; a few animals gazed out through the slats.
The auction area itself was designed like a mini-stadium, as if for a
spectator sport and not an auction of living beings. White bleachers
surrounded a ring fenced with wooden bars. The auctioneer stood at a podium
on one end of the ring, calling out prices and serial numbers for each cow.
A woman stood next to the auctioneer, using an electronic device to track
sales. The buyers, who were scattered around the bleachers, were nearly all
middle-aged, white men with similar builds, indistinguishable down to the
baseball cap on every head. Within my group were the only women in
attendance; the auctioneer welcomed us to be seated.
The ring contained two gates, one where cows entered and another where they
exited, after having been presented for viewing. Two men stood in front of
each gate, behind wooden barriers, holding what looked like long flagpoles.
A cow would enter the ring from one gate; the men would start waving the
flagpoles and occasionally smacking her in the back or rump with the poles.
The men’s goal was to keep her moving constantly, preferably in a full
circle, to enable the audience of prospective buyers to examine her. Each
cow was “displayed” in this manner for an average of twenty seconds, after
which the cow was forced through the exit gate using the same poles. The
“backstage” area where the cows were held was shielded from public view.
The cows at this particular auction were all dairy Holstein cows, of varying
sizes and builds, with hanging udders. Some cows’ backs were visibly
injured, some cows were limping, and others had docked tails or bands around
their rear legs—presumably to keep them from kicking. As soon as each cow
was forced into the ring, the animal would immediately head to the edge of
the ring and peer out through the wooden fence-like structure; many of the
animals appeared to be looking for an escape. The animals were quickly
corralled and roughly prodded or smacked by the men with the poles; each cow
was visibly agitated and confused.
The personalities of the cows spoke volumes. Some cows were belligerent,
rebellious—they stomped around the ring with vigor, charging aggressively
one way or the other. Those cows usually spent the least time in the ring,
perhaps because nobody likes the troublemakers. Most were meek, resigned to
their fate. They entered the ring and tried to stare out through the bars,
looking confused when forced to spin and move for the prospective buyers.
When the gate opened to let them depart the ring, their relief was obvious
in the way that they sprinted toward the exit, perhaps hoping that a better
fate awaited on the other side. One cow seemed to actively seek affection
from one of the pole-wielding men; the man momentarily lowered his pole to
pat the cow on her head, before using the pole again to send her on her way.
After observing the sales of ten or so cows, I began to view the scene from
a more detached perspective: female bodies on display, meant for the
objectification and viewing pleasure of men, all of whom blended
homogeneously into one. I perceived this obscure livestock auction, likely
one of many that occurred in the United States on that day, as a perfect
representation of the patriarchy. The only thing that mattered to the men in
attendance was the literal flesh for sale, including how that flesh could be
used and what it could produce for the men’s benefit. The personalities—all
too evident—of the individual creatures on display were irrelevant. The way
that the cows rushed towards the exit in hopes of salvation, only to end up
exactly where they started, seemed analogous to the plight of many womxn.
Trapped in similar cycles of abuse and patriarchal violence, trying
desperately to cope with untenable circumstances, women, too, are expected
to constantly perform in a patriarchal society, much like the animals were
forced to audition for the attending men. The behavior of the cow seeking
affection from the man in the ring is reminiscent of oppressed women seeking
affection from their oppressors. In a patriarchal system, females are valued
only as sums of their parts.
Since arriving in Portland from Pakistan in August, I feel like I am living
in a utopia. Portland is an idyllic “bubble” where no one laughs when I talk
about animal rights, where I can study and even specialize in animal law,
and where I can actually feel offended if a restaurant doesn’t offer any
vegan options. I understand that Portland is not representative of the
United States or even the State of Oregon, which remains largely rural and
agriculture-focused. The livestock auction profoundly reminded me that, in
most parts of the world, nonhuman animals are still largely treated like
commodities—unfeeling objects whose lives are dispensable and whose
suffering does not matter. While humans globally cherish companion animals
as family, farmed animals like the cows I witnessed suffer horrendously for
the durations of their short, miserable lives, only to ultimately end up as
dinner.
The livestock auction further underscored for me the gendered nature of the
oppression that both humans and nonhumans face. Throughout history, scores
of women around the world have fought and continue to fight for freedom from
patriarchal violence, domestic abuse, rape, harassment, and objectification.
Females across species deserve to be treated as more than just objects for
males’ personal gain. The livestock auction served as a stark reminder that
nonhuman females face much of the same oppression, abuse, and
objectification as human women. All sentient creatures, male and female,
just want to be with their families, not poked and slapped and raped for
their secretions, and not killed for food. Nonhuman animals rely on people
to fight for them. They rely on us humans to feel for them.
Hira is an attorney from Pakistan and is pursuing her LL.M in Animal Law from Lewis & Clark Law School on a Fulbright scholarship.
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