What Can We Do After the Cincinnati Zoo Incident?

What if it was me at the Cincinnati Zoo?

I watched in horror as my son fell into the moat. He slipped past me so fast, yet it felt like slow motion; agonizing second after second as his fingers slipped from mine.

What if this was me?

I heard myself let out a primal scream, the sound emerging from a depth of fear I’d never experienced before. Hands held me back as I tried to scale the fence, adrenaline making me unnaturally strong. Only the wails of my baby brought me crashing down, as I turned to frantically count my other children; torn between their needs and my son below.

Not me. Not ever.

When I hear the shot, it sounds unnaturally loud. I fall to my knees, shaking, sobbing uncontrollably, until only silence escapes. I’m torn between immense relief that my son is safe and the agonizing reality that magnificent animal – caged for my viewing – is dead for no fault of his own. I sit with the blame, the shame, the inadequacy and I can’t breathe.

Unthinkable. Never me….What if this was me?

Facing the Anger

Appalled, I shake myself, abruptly returning to reality. I reject these images, certain I would never let such a tragedy happen. The anger, fear, uncertainty, and disgust sit like a weight in my chest just thinking about it.

I feel a helpless grief over the real Cincinnati Zoo incident from Saturday; mixed with anger, disgust, and sympathy. I don’t want to, but I can imagine myself as the mother, Harambe the gorilla, the zoo keepers, and the impetuous boy.

It’s easiest to jump into my anger, to seek blame, and to mock and demonize. Blame shoves aside my helplessness and gives me laser-like focus on something tangible. If I know who is in the wrong, I can make this an isolated incident, far removed from me.

Leaning into My Fears

Or I can resist anger  and lean in to the complexity, the uncertainty, the unfairness of it all. I can acknowledge my greatest fears; that this could happen to me and that I am somehow complicit in this gorilla’s death if I can’t do something.

You see, I’ve been an overwhelmed, irresponsible, inconsistent, and lackadaisical parent. My children are sometimes terrible listeners, reckless, and unthinking. I’ve had one run off while I nursed a baby or talked with another. I’ve overestimated my own abilities and vowed to never to do so again. I’ve frantically, desperately called my child’s name in a public place. Things have always turned out fine, but…I can’t even finish this sentence.

But I can acknowledge the fear, so I can move past it. You see, I can not change what happened on Saturday, but I am not helpless. I cannot stop to help an overwhelmed and/or negligent mother, save a reckless boy, or soothe a startled gorilla. I can not change what happened at the Cincinnati Zoo, no matter how much I want to . I can effect what happens in the future, but real change is unlikely to happen by making the mother an idiot or the zookeepers villains. This might temporarily satisfy my anger, but what can I do that will have a farther-reaching, long-term impact?

I Can

I can choose what to do with my anger and fear over the Cincinnati Zoo incident. I can spend my energy mocking, accusing, and railing against everyone in the comments section. I can also take that energy and make a positive impact. This will certainly look different for everyone. I can:

• Rethink the adult to child ratio in my public outings.
• Review my family’s current rules and expectations in public.
• Talk with my children about animals, safety, and responsibility.
• Learn more about endangered animals and gorillas with my family and cultivate respect.
• Support projects to protect gorillas and other endangered animals in the wild.
• Support another parent who seems overwhelmed or distracted.
• Accept help without assuming criticism.
• Talk through my fears and grief with a trusted friend.
• Support local zoos financially, to ensure the best environment for animals.
• Support alternatives to zoos and education about animals outside of zoos.
• Practice compassion for myself and others.
• Act as a voice for those who can’t speak for themselves.

Angry. Frustrated. Afraid. But not helpless.