...I was little.
When I was young, my mom would have me hold the wings and the legs of the chicken while she slit it's throat. I'm desensitized to the way it feels to have a life slip away into death. Then when I was old enough, she'd have me slit the chicken's neck and hold it until all the blood was drained.
When my mom wants to eat chicken, she will have us slaughter at least 40 at a time. She thinks it's too much trouble to just slaughter 3-5 chickens.
"Pom xeeb mus tua qaib mas yuav tsum tua kom puv lub freezer," is what she used to say.
Plus, where we lived the farms were far away. We had to get up at the crack of dawn just to get there in time to purchase the chicken and bring them back home to slaughter. A lot of farms didn't allow us to kill the chickens on their property. Setting up and cleaning up was a laborious chore.
Slaughtering a pig was even more arduous. I've seen cows and pigs being slaughtered savage-style way too many times to feel sad about it. My husband is totally savage. He doesn't look it but dayem, he slaughters them all by himself. Goat, pig, cow, and even a dog back in Laos for the most serious shaman rituals.
YOU THINK I AM GOING TO HESITATE IF I HAVE TO TAKE DOWN ONE OF THESE BLM AND ANTIFA TERRORISTS?
I come from a clan who loves to hunt not just for the game meat but for sport. They hang up their kill as trophies. I MEAN, MY BROTHERS, UNCLES, AND MALE COUSINS REALLY, REALLY, REALLY LOVE TO HUNT. They invest A LOT OF MONEY into their hunting gears and guns.