I, like many others, originally and instantly judged the mother of the child who fell into the gorilla enclosure at the Cincinnati Zoo. I thought ‘Really, lady? Keep track of your kid! This poor, gorgeous creature died because of your gross negligence. This would never have happened with one of my children’. I spent a few hours of my evening in this self-righteous mindset, pontificating my point of view to my husband and detailing how she went wrong. The next morning the realization hit me… well, accosted me… ok, if I’m being honest, gave me a hearty throat-punch, taking my breath away.
Who am I?
I was not there, I did not have all of the facts, but I was more than ready to jump on the judgemental bandwagon. I saw ONE edited video and immediately it was as if I knew everything there was to know about parenting, zoo enclosures and gorillas (education compliments of SMU; Social Media University). And the passion I had regarding the subject?? I felt like debating anyone who disagreed with me. I was actually looking for it. Looking to inject my perfect parenting antecdotes…how I would have never take my eyes off of my child and furthermore they would have known not to wander in the first place. Buuuut… then I must have forgotten about the time I was watering my frontyard landscaping when my, then 2.5 year old, son darted out into our infrequently busy street, following after a rabbit that ran ahead of him. Much to my horror as I turned around a split second after he ran, I saw a truck speeding down the road in our direction, the driver was looking down not paying attention to the street. I grabbed my son and pulled him to myself seconds before devastation would have occurred (whew!). It must have also slipped my mind that once when one of my sons found a lone penny under the couch, he immediately placed it in his mouth, swallowed and began to choke…the real kind of choking… blue lips, purple face…the whole scary nine yards. I quickly began the appropriate CPR techniques, flipping him over my knee and delivering significant back blows to dislodge the troublesome coin. After, what seemed like an eternity, he threw up the coin along with the lunch he recently ingested and took a large, gasping breath to my immeasurable relief.
I began reminiscing about all of my personal parenting close calls. Too many to catalog in this post. Some events bringing back awful memories, ones that still provide nightmare fodder to this day.
I felt sick.
How had I judged this mother so harshly when I myself have had similar moments wherein potential tragedy materialized out of no where? I have three boys. I feel like that says all you need to know. But for those of you who are devoid of these testosterone-riddled blessings, I will elaborate slightly. I have three, wild, adventurous, thrill-seeking, rogues. I do my absolute best to ensure an environment where safety reigns but they manage to instantaneously create formidable feats of danger. Am I a horrible parent?! Should I be charged with neglect? Oh dear Lawd have mercy, I hope not.
As a few more days passed I began to see more and more posts about the mother and her inability to parent. I happened to take note that the significant majority of the posts were written by those who did not have young children; those who have no idea what it’s like to parent a wild stallion in human form or have had too many years since they did and have forgotten. It’d be similar to me chastising a policeman for his behavior when I myself have never been faced with a situation even remotely mirroring his/hers (good thing this never happens….(dripping….with….sarcasm)).
Today I read a post calling for the mother to be shot, truly. That’s when it hit me. If people utilized the same amount of passion that has been expressed regarding the death of a gorilla towards pursuits like eradicating sexual slavery, building homes for the homeless, caring for the neglected elderly in their community we could accomplish great things. And yet, we choose to devote our time tearing apart someone’s parenting skills because ONE charismatic, endangered animal died. ONE! ANIMAL! This event occurred during Memorial Day weekend. A time dedicated to reflecting on the sacrifices that led to this country’s freedoms. A time to remember the lives of men and women who fought valiantly for a country that cares more about an animal that contributed little to this world than those who gave their lives to protect ours.
I could hardly stomach the notion.
Of course I’m pretty confident the sickened feeling had a lot to do with the fact that I had taken part in it. I was the judgemental, limited-perspective boob that got riled up about a mammal when so many other note-worthy things should be occupying my attention. I was the one who threw a stone at a fellow mom while relaxing comfortably in my glass house. It was me who uttered insults about a woman I had never met. I was the superior human who judged someone based on incomplete knowledge of an event I never witnessed first-hand. But hey…I’m sure it’s probably just me.
“Harambe”-Meaning in Swahili; “Togetherness”
ohdearlawdhavemercy 