The Little Creature
This story is of a small creature who has been brought into the world against her wishes. She is adopted at birth and is loved unconditionally by her adoptive parents. The parents never consider her as a separate part of the family. Some other family members had certain expectations about the child the parents would raise. Maybe they hoped that it would be a boy, or hoped for a particular hair or eye colour or skin tone. None of that mattered to the parents who just wanted someone with whom to share their love.
The child isn’t exactly like her parents. I ask you, dear reader, as you try to picture the parents and the baby, to think of something that makes her different from them — perhaps she is a different race, perhaps she’s differently abled, or maybe there is something else that makes her “different” — but we’ll come back to that later. For now, use your imagination and think of a difference that may be a problem for “society” but that you know, in the deepest recesses of your soul, shouldn’t matter if two people want to care for a baby. Regardless of what you have come up with, just know that to these parents she is perfect. They disregard the difference you have just invented and hold her close. Making a unique name for their unique daughter they hug her tightly and say “We love our little baby Lamina”
The parents hold the helpless little Lamina in their arms feeling a sense of pride, happiness and fear… “Will we do right by the new member of our family?” For years they will need to make decisions for her, trying to do so in her best interests. Unable to speak to communicate her thoughts, Lamina cries. The parents will take some time to learn but eventually they will know which cry means “I’m tired”, which means “I’m hungry” and which means “something hurts”. Occasionally there be that special cry that can only be stopped with a warm, loving hug from mummy or daddy.
Everything the parents had grown accustomed to over the years is turned upside down. Items kept out for easy access have to be put away in locked cupboards “It’s dangerous, she might hurt herself”. The house fills with new items “I know we already have three of them, but it saves having to wash it every time”. One would think the house was being prepared for some kind of alien, unaccustomed to how humans live. The house is redesigned. “We need somewhere Lamina can sleep.” Arrangements are made depending on the specific needs of their baby and the ability and resources of the parents. Perhaps they assign a whole room with space to sleep and play for their child. Perhaps the best they can manage is a small cot in a corner of a room, just so that she doesn’t get out and roam around at night. Either way they do the best they can to accommodate her.
Over the years the parents make great sacrifices caring for Lamina. Making sure she is bathed, fed and content. Ensuring she learns everything she needs to know to live life. Though she didn’t ask for any of this, and she cannot express herself in any eloquent way, her love and gratitude is evident from her smile and from the way her eyes light up when she sees her parents. Sometimes Lamina complains, but the parents must be strict — parenting is all about tough love, what they are doing is for Lamina’s future benefit. However, each edificationary act that evokes recalcitrance is doubted, second guessed and causes the parents to reconsider the question — “Are we doing the right thing?”
Sometimes the decisions her parents have to make will mean upsetting Lamina. Other times they will fail at this and put their own convenience first by giving in and maybe allowing a treat when one is not warranted just to stop the whining. They know this doesn’t set the best precedent, given they originally wanted to be disciplined parents giving a consistent message, but they just want five minutes of peace. Sometimes they lose their temper and shout, failing their original intention of always dealing with disagreements using loving and respectful explanations. Despite these occasional failures they will still do their utmost to shield her from unnecessary harm because they love her. Episodes of lost tempers, by the parents at least, are followed with an apology once the emotions have ebbed — perhaps with an explanation of why Lamina was shouted at though she can’t understand the reasoning, or perhaps just with a long hug.
Neighbours, friends and relatives drop in sometimes. Each having their own charges, the little ones may play together. The parents talk over a cup of tea or coffee, about life being different now. About how their little one did something cute or funny or silly. Not all the children are the same, and the parents engage in a spot of subtle friendly one-up-manship. Then there is a shout, or a scream or some tears in the other room — and the parents know it’s probably time to go.
Over the years Lamina grows and is able to make independent decisions, but her parents are still ultimately responsible for her. She doesn’t leave home, she can’t, there are too many people in the world that would take advantage of her lack of understanding if she was left alone. They would exploit her. She is, however, big enough to do something for her parents — using the phrase very lightly- she adds value to the household. Perhaps it’s as basic as helping with chores, so that the parents save time or money. Perhaps she is artistic and helps the parents by designing greeting cards every time there is a birthday. Maybe it’s as simple as a skill she has that brings the parents joy- playing music, singing, making up plays or shows. Or perhaps she just has long hair that the parents enjoy plaiting, or running their fingers through when she falls asleep on their lap watching TV. Perhaps they occasionally cut her hair short and donate or sell it to wig makers so that others can enjoy it. It could even be as simple as being there to give her parents a hug after they have had a hard day at work — be as imaginative as you like, but to use a cold sounding economic term, in some way, Lamina has something that has utility for her parents. Something Lamina has or does from which her parents can derive pleasure or use without harming her.
Perhaps her parents enjoy Lamina’s skills so much that they start to share them with their friends and family. They visit friends’ houses and she offers to help put the dishes away, because at home that is how she likes to help. When people are over at their house her parents may suggest “why don’t you sing something for our guests” or “why don’t you show them that play”. She is happy to share her gifts though sometimes she does so just to save face. As news of Lamina’s skills spreads beyond the immediate groups of friends she becomes “famous”, and so her art or skill is in demand. But her parents are still responsible for her and keeping her best interests at heart. They shield her from the wolves at the door, ready to snatch her away and exploit what she has.
Word spreads. Other parents are “inspired” to start pushing their children to adopt hobbies or display talents. Hoping to laud over their friends and neighbours about how accomplished their child is. Some are still asking themselves “Are we doing the right thing” when their child complains. Others easily rationalise to themselves that “this is for their benefit, they’ll realise when they’re older and everyone praises their accomplishments”. Some parents start to get too pushy, regardless of if this is what the child wants from their life or not, perhaps the child doesn’t like the skill they are being forced to learn, making them resentful or depressed.
Some parents are well to do so they use boarding schools, essentially outsourcing the child’s upbringing and teaching. The schools offer assurances that the children will be well looked after, cared for and taught, and then the parents can just reap the benefits. Enjoy the singing during the holidays, or boast to their friends about the many accomplishments of their child. Some of these children may be picked up by scouts or headhunters, ready to milk their gifts for what they’re worth in the open market. Some children thrive in the competitive environment, but some may cry themselves to sleep feeling there is no longer anyone around who loves them. Lamina’s parents decide to kept her at home with them. They continue to look after her with love and care.
But regardless of whether they were sent away or pushed to excel at home, many of Lamina’s peers suddenly wake-up in a corporate world. Each was given the impression in their youth that they were special, but they are now lined up in cubicles with so many others like them. Where it turns out they each have something to share and are forced to contribute what they can to the company. No longer are they in a cosy home with parents who know what they want just from the cries of their voice. They are in a harsh cold world, in a race for survival with their fellow creatures. They all feel exploited for their gifts. The penalty for not delivering being tantamount to professional suicide. Could they leave this environment if it is so terrible? Unfortunately not, psychologically they feel trapped, depressed and powerless whether there is a physically lock on the door or not.
Would they mind sharing their gifts on their own terms? Sadly we can never know. Lamina doesn’t appear to mind, she shares with her family and friends, and lives with parents who love her and care for her. But no one has asked her explicitly. More sadly, even if we did ask her, we could not comprehend an answer in spoken language.
You see Lamina is indeed unlike her parents. I invited you, at the start of this story, to imagine some kind of difference between Lamina and her parents. Her parents love her regardless of her gender, otherwise they would be sexist. Perhaps you thought of Lamina as being a different race, but they love her regardless, otherwise they would be guilty of racism. They love her regardless of any disability orelse they would be ableist.
So what makes Lamina different? The secret is in the name, read it backwards. You see Lamina may be a different species — she is an animal. Her parents still love her as a member of the family, else they would be guilty of speciesism. That’s not to say they expect her to attend school and learn english, maths or geography the same as a human child. They do not expect her to grow up and find a job, marry or have children. But they love and respect her as a living being regardless of her species. Some people may consider her simply as a “pet” or “companion animal” but we all know people whose pets are loved like (or in some cases more than) their owners’ biological children. People who would move heaven and earth to keep their own little Lamina safe, and who would be emotionally distraught at losing her.
With the level of love and care that Lamina’s parents have for her, would it be ok to share something she has to offer? Some people already lend their dogs or cats to hospitals to allow patients to experience “pet therapy” — so that sick people can feel better. But if Lamina was a chicken, would it be wrong to use her eggs? If she was a sheep and her parents gave her the occasional trim to keep her coat tidy and clean, would it be wrong to use the wool and knit a jumper?
For now Lamina’s parents continue to look after her, love her and care for her. By implicit consent they are able to share her gifts, taking as much care as they would with a human child to make sure Lamina is not exploited — but sadly unable to help the billions of others who are.
For details about the inspiration behind this story see this entry on my blog at www.gauravprinja.com
