It used to be that in this country, a man could have his fresh, nutritious Dewick-Macphie dinner no matter his race, creed, gender, religion, ability to come within 500 feet of a school, etc. And yet today I came in for my daily dine and was faced with a brand new placard: Halal Roast Chicken Thighs.
“Denoting or relating to meat prepared as prescribed by Muslim law,” Wikipedia tells me. Now, what on Earth was I to do? There I was: tuckered-out, hungry, pissed off, and now all of a sudden my protein of choice has been locked behind an ultra-progressive ultra-max prison, keyword: Halal.
Considering there’s plenty of demand for chicken from all the student body, they should really have a non-Halal option for everyone else as well. There could be a plate for the Muslims and then a plate of normal, unseasoned, tasteless chicken for the rest of us—I’m not too picky.
Don’t get me wrong, I support Muslim students’ dietary requirements, I really do. But at the expense of everyone else? They warned me when I first came here that Tufts was a “liberal” arts college, but I had no idea that things were going to be this bad. And don’t even get me started on Pax et Lox . . .
