I became a veterinarian because I could not turn away from the suffering of animals. From an early age, I witnessed pain that was both preventable and ignored. I wanted to save lives, to heal, and to ensure that animals did not endure unnecessary suffering. In veterinary school, I immersed myself in both the science and practice of medicine, working tirelessly to become not just competent, but truly skilled to save and minimize the suffering of animals.

For a long time, I believed this was my purpose, to treat, to mend, and to provide relief. And in many ways, it has been. I have saved lives. I have eased suffering. But no matter how many animals I have helped, I kept encountering cases that left me with a sinking feeling in my chest. These were not cases of complex, incurable diseases. These were animals in desperate need, abandoned, neglected, or left to suffer not because their treatment was impossible, but because the resources to help them simply were not available.

The most heartbreaking among them were free-roaming dogs, surviving on discarded scraps, plagued by diseases that spread fear in the communities they wandered. I saw them scavenging, limping, wasting away. Their suffering was not hidden, it was out in the open, and yet it persisted. It persisted because there were no systems in place to help them, no structures dedicated to their welfare.

I could not ignore them. I committed myself to advocacy, launching mass vaccination drives, providing medical treatment, and organizing spay and neuter programs. I believed that through these efforts, I could break the cycle, prevent disease, ease suffering, and change the lives of these animals for the better.

And then, I learned something that shook me to my core.

Through my research, I came across data on factory farming, on the billions of animals trapped in a system designed for efficiency at the cost of unimaginable suffering. I thought I had seen the worst of animal cruelty. I was wrong. What I saw in companion animals, as devastating as it was, paled in comparison to the systemic suffering endured by farmed animals.

Their reality is one of confinement, deprivation, and relentless pain, on a scale so massive it is nearly incomprehensible. They live not as beings, but as commodities, their suffering unseen, their cries unheard. The injustice was staggering. And yet, this was an issue the world had largely chosen to overlook.

I couldn’t look away.

This realization left me with an urgent question: How can I contribute to ending this suffering? How can I not only treat and advocate but dismantle the structures that allow this cruelty to persist? I do not have an immediate answer, but I know that my work can no longer stop at the level of individual cases.

Through my engagement with research and evidence-based advocacy, I have made an unexpected discovery about myself. I am not just a veterinarian. I am not just an advocate. I am a researcher. I have found fulfillment in reading, analysing, and questioning. In seeking truth through data. In understanding not just the symptoms, but the causes.

I am, at my core, a research-driven veterinarian. And my fight is not just for individual animals, it is for systemic change.

The journey toward effective altruism is one of profound uncertainty. It is unsettling. It forces you to confront truths that are difficult to accept. It makes you question everything you thought you knew, about morality, about impact, about yourself.

But amidst the uncertainty, there is something stronger: evidence.

Effective altruism is not guided by emotion alone, nor by tradition, nor by personal belief. It is guided by a relentless pursuit of the greatest good, by following the evidence wherever it leads. And in doing so, it pushes us toward a radical kind of impartiality. A way of thinking that is not easy, not comfortable, but necessary.

It is a path that reshapes the world. That demands we think beyond ourselves. That challenges us to act, not based on what feels right, but on what is right.

And though the journey is filled with uncertainty, the impact is real. The change is tangible. The world shifts, inch by inch, toward a future where suffering is minimized, and justice prevails.

That is the path I am on. And that is the path I will continue to walk.