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I didn't know quite what to expect. I was nervous on the drive to downtown Philadelphia and the short walk to the steps of the soon-to-be-imploded Philadelphia Spectrum. There, along with maybe 10 other PETA members and/or animal lovers, I protested the Ringling Bros. Circus for instances of elephant abuse. I stood on the bare pavement and carried a black-and-white sign that read, in big block letters, "Ringling Beats Animals." I also passed out leaflets detailing a court case alleging such abuse under the Endangered Species Act --- a case that Ringling is, for its part, fighting.
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There were no riots. There were no lobbed canisters of teargas or spent rubber bullets. There was, however, a PETA representative with a bullhorn talking about the bullhooks (one of which is pictured) that handlers use to coax elephants into performing silly little tricks, about how one baby elephant drowned while trying to escape a bullhook-armed handler and about other horrid details that have been captured on film and can be viewed online by anyone who wishes to see them. The circus-goers were mostly tolerant, if not respectful, and many of them asked questions, wondered why we were there, wondered what all the fuss was about.
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I felt like an arrogant jerk at times, thinking these people paid good money to spend an afternoon with their families and be entertained by professional performers. Then I realized there are plenty of other ways to busy one's family that do not involve the ritual abuse/unneeded suffering of innocent animals that belong elsewhere. I got more aggressive in handing out the leaflets once I accepted this reality.
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People can be such cruel creatures. And this cruelty extends far beyond the abuses man inflicts upon the animals he is supposed to care for or, at the very least, leave the hell alone. After the demonstration I drove two hours to the Jersey Shore for a few slices of boardwalk pizza.
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I walked back to the car with a full belly and saw what appeared to be an argument between a man and a woman. I soon realized I had to walk past them to get to the car, making me uncomfortable but they left me no choice. Upon closer inspection I saw it was an older woman --- a mother or a grandmother --- and a young boy, no older than 10 or 11. She was screaming at him, humiliating him. He sobbed. Tear lines creased the bare skin of his cheeks.
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And that's when I saw the belt.
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No, I thought, she wouldn't dare. She proved me wrong and proceeded to whip him with the folded-over belt. She did it at least twice. I mumbled something under my breath and considered intervening. Yet I didn't feel it was my place and kept walking. I wondered, on the drive back to Philly, does this make me a hypocrite --- even a coward --- that I am willing to protest an organization that abuses helpless animals while I am silent as a fellow human abuses a helpless child for which she is supposed to care?
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Perhaps if I had had a sign and some leaflets ...
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