Carrying the Snake to the Garden
by: Mary Oliver
In the cellar
was the smallest snake
I have ever seen.
It coiled itself
in a corner
and watched me
with eyes
like two little stars
set into coal,
and a tail
that quivered.
One step
of my foot
and it fled
like a running shoelace,
but a scoop of the wrist
and I had it
in my hand.
I was sorry
for the fear,
so I hurried
upstairs and out the kitchen door
to the warm grass
and the sunlight
and the garden.
It turned and turned
in my hand
but when I put it down
it didn't move.
I thought
it was going to flow
up my leg
and into my pocket.
I thought, for a moment,
as it lifted its face,
it was going to sing.
And then it was gone.
A lot of people have a phobia about snakes. I'm not one of those people, and, apparently, neither was Oliver. There's something almost maternal in Oliver's treatment of the tiny snake in this poem, the protectiveness and admiration parents feel watching their child compete in any kind of contest, whether it's football or forensics. There's always an impulse to step in when things go wrong and scream with pride when things go right. That's what being a parent is all about.
A few days ago, I wrote a post about a local school district that was considering retiring the Native American nickname and mascot of its sporting teams. Of course, the arguments from both sides of the issue were heated, mean sometimes, and emotional. It's difficult to change something that has been in place for around 70 years, whether it is right to do so or not. Old timers and some new timers plant their flags on the hill of tradition.
Last night, in a very close vote after a very long and contentious meeting, members of the school board made the decision to remove the nickname and mascot permanently. And today people are losing their minds on social media, threatening school board recalls and changing their Facebook profile pictures to the image of the now former mascot of the school.
Obviously, the United States has been a fractured country for quite a while. Politics has torn us apart, mainly because of the election of a President of the United States who, rather than trying to bring about unity, threw gasoline onto the dumpster fire of his administration every day he was in office. Don't misunderstand me, though. The problems that came to a head during Donald Trump's presidency existed long before he was elected. Trump simply gave permission to some of the worst elements of society to display their hate publicly without repercussions.
Most of my disciples know which side of this mascot issue I support. It's not my goal with this post to change anyone's opinion. I know what I say here isn't going to make any difference when it comes to prying open minds that have been closed for a very long time. People are entitled to their feelings. However, when those feelings harm other people, then there's an issue.
I saw a Facebook post from a friend of mine this morning, an alumnus of the school in question. My friend was incensed by the decision of the school board. He claimed that last night's vote was evidence of how we've become too hypersensitive about things like nicknames and mascots. Because he has Native American ancestry and his grandfather had no problem with the school's mascot, my friend doesn't understand why any Indigenous person should be upset by it.
I find my friend's position a little baffling, as he is a member of the LGTBQIA+ community. If anyone should understand the need to be hypersensitive regarding this issue, I would have assumed it would be him. Rest assured, if the school's mascot was a drag queen and nickname was "The Fags," he would have been the first person advocating for change.
We can't pick and choose whom it's okay to offend or not offend. I said it in my last post about this subject, and I will say it again: if only ONE student is uncomfortable because of the school's nickname and mascot, that's one student too many. No child, adolescent, or young adult should have to swallow shame or anger because of a 70-year-old tradition. Slavery was a tradition in the South for 300 years until the Civil War.
In today's poem, Oliver takes the tiny snake out of her basement and releases it into her garden. Because it's the right thing to do. The little snake deserves care and compassion. We need to follow Oliver's example when it comes to our children. ALL of our children.
If you are reading my words and are angry, I'm not sorry. I'll tell you what I am sorry about. I'm sorry that I live in a country where racism and misogyny and homophobia are so ingrained in the national psyche that we don't even recognize things that are racist or misogynistic or homophobic. And then we pass those beliefs down to our children through school mascots and nicknames, for example, perpetuating the problem.
That's something to get pissed about.
And if that makes Saint Marty hypersensitive, so be it.
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