The Truth About Milk — Something I Never Questioned as a Child

I grew up believing milk was essential.

Back home in India, going to a dairy farm and bringing home freshly drawn milk was normal. It was routine. It was something we never questioned.

At that age, no one spoke about ethics.

We were told milk gives strength. That cows are meant to feed us. That it’s important for our health, even healing. These beliefs were everywhere — in our homes, in conversations, in culture.

And I believed all of it.

I remember going with my parents and watching very carefully as the milk was collected. The biggest concern was always whether it was pure. We didn’t want water mixed in.

If it looked diluted, I would refuse to take it.
I would say, “I’ll wait for the next batch.”

I wanted pure milk.

And now when I think about it, I pause.

Because I never once asked myself something so simple:

Why was I drinking milk that was never meant for me?

It was meant for the calf.
But that thought never crossed my mind.

There is one memory I can never forget.

One day, I saw a small calf lying on the ground. It didn’t look right. It didn’t look like a fully grown calf. Something about it felt off.

I asked the woman there what happened.

She said, “It was born dead.”

And I believed her.

I didn’t question anything. I was just a child.

But as I grew up, I started understanding things I wish I had known earlier.

Male calves are often not “useful” in the dairy system because they don’t produce milk. And many of them are killed.

But what stayed with me even more…
was understanding why that calf was lying next to the mother.

So she would continue to produce milk.

Even today, when I think about it, it feels heavy.

A mother had just lost her baby.
And instead of acknowledging that pain, it was used.

Used so that we could take something that was never ours.

And I find myself wondering something I still don’t have an answer to:

How do we, as humans, understand love so deeply — especially as mothers — and still not recognize the pain of another sentient being?

I don’t write this from a place of blame.

Because I was once that child.
I didn’t know. I didn’t question. I followed what everyone around me believed.

But awareness changes you.

And once you see something clearly, it becomes hard to look at it the same way again.

Now, when I see milk, I don’t just see food.

I see a story.

A story we were never really told.

A small thought to leave with you

Next time you see milk, just pause for a moment.

Not with guilt. Just with awareness.

Ask yourself:

Where did this come from?
Who did it belong to?

Sometimes, the things we grow up believing the most…
are the things we’ve questioned the least.