No Life for Elephants

I attended my first circus protest recently.

The wind blew hard, it was chilly, my hands hurt from clutching the sign so hard. Twice I dropped my pamphlets and hurried to collect them before they blew away. Armed with kid-friendly stickers and in constant motion, I tried to make myself available to anyone who made eye contact.

I wanted to beg them not to go, don’t buy tickets, don’t support the cruelty. I wanted to say “If you get a ticket, you might as well get a bullhook too and take your turn beating the elephants” I wanted to tell the kids the circus is mean to the animals.

But I didn’t. I killed them with kindness instead. I nodded, smiled, and handed out coloring books and flyers.

A few thanked me. Some avoided me like I was the threat, one man shook his head.

But the funny thing was-all the kids approached me-or tried to, until some of the parents pulled them away. They were sponges, ready to absorb, wanting to learn, returning my smile with theirs.

Shame on the parents for hiding the truth, for keeping them in the dark about the realities of man’s cruelty! Why can’t they say “No honey, we’re not going to the circus because the animals at the circus are sad, and they don’t want to be there”?

The most prophetic moment of the day; a little boy with glasses and a red jacket took a coloring book, scrunched his nose at me and asked “Is the circus almost done?”

I said “Yes buddy, it almost is.”