365 True Things: 69/Other

I've just finished proofreading an excellent book about the Mexico-U.S. border and those who each year, in the hundreds of thousands, often multiple times, risk everything—including their very lives—to cross it. Many of them were deported from this country for misdemeanors, and they want only to return to homes they've maintained for years or even decades, and to their children and loved ones. They do menial labor here, but it's better than the poverty they left behind. They are honest and hard-working. They do necessary jobs that "real Americans" don't want to do, at least not for the pay they get.

I won't go into my thoughts on the immigration debacle of this country. What I do want to say is that I was struck by an observation in this book by anthropologist Michael Jackson (referring to the practice of anthropology/ethnography): "If we are to avoid the trap of becoming infatuated with our own intellectual-cum-magical capacity to render the world intelligible, then the vocabulary 'we' all too glibly project onto 'them' must be tested continually against the various and changing experiences of actual lives" (The Wherewithal of Life: Ethics, Migration, and the Question of Well-Being, 2013).

I've been thinking about this us vs. them dichotomy, and how easy it can be to "other" people—usually, I believe, out of ignorance or fear, or just different life experiences; though in many cases, unfortunately—sadly—it's out of outright arrogance. And how we would all be so much better off if we all practiced more compassion and did our best to understand that we're all people with specific dreams, goals, sorrows, pains, desires, needs, fears. That is, we all live actual lives, and—I like to believe‐for the most part, do our best. But "othering" is easier. It's the lazy way.

(Then again, I am pretty happy to "other" the arrogant, insensitive ones. So what does that say?)

This is a heady subject, but since I'm trying to illustrate this blog, I gamely googled "other." And who did I find but my old friends, the star-bellied sneetches! I loved this book when I was a kid. One of my father's nicknames for me was Sneetch. I'm sure back then I didn't really "get" that it was about othering. But now I do. (Which makes me wonder about that nickname, but I probably shouldn't go there.) And so, for your reading pleasure, here is the full text. (You can also watch an animated version of it here.)

"The Sneetches"
by Dr. Seuss

Now, the Star-Belly Sneetches
Had bellies with stars.
The Plain-Belly Sneetches
Had none upon thars.

Those stars weren't so big.  They were really so small
You might think such a thing wouldn't matter at all.

But, because they had stars, all the Star-Belly Sneetches
Would brag, "We're the best kind of Sneetch on the Beaches."
With their snoots in the air, they would sniff and they'd snort
"We'll have nothing to do with the Plain-Belly sort!"
And whenever they met some, when they were out walking,
They'd hike right on past them without even talking.

When the Star-Belly children went out to play ball,
Could a Plain-Belly get in the game... ? Not at all.
You only could play if your bellies had stars.
And the Plain-Belly children had none upon thars.

When the Star-Belly Sneetches had frankfurter roasts
Or picnics or parties or marshmallow toasts,
They never invited the Plain-Belly Sneetches.
They left them out cold, in the dark of the beaches.
They kept them away.  Never let them come near.
And that's how they treated them year after year.

Then ONE day, it seems... while the Plain-Belly Sneetches
Were moping and doping alone on the beaches,
Just sitting there wishing their bellies had stars... 
A stranger zipped up in the strangest of cars!

"My friends," he announced in a voice clear and keen,
"My name is Sylvester McMonkey McBean.
And I've heard of your troubles.  I've heard you're unhappy.
But I can fix that.  I'm the Fix-it-Up Chappie.
I've come here to help you.  I have what you need.
And my prices are low.  And I work at great speed.
And my work is one hundred percent guaranteed!"

Then, quickly Sylvester McMonkey McBean
Put together a very peculiar machine.
And he said, "You want stars like a Star-Belly Sneetch... ?
My friends, you can have them for three dollars each!"

"Just pay me your money and hop right aboard!"
So they clambered inside.  Then the big machine roared
And it klonked.  And it bonked.  And it jerked.  And it berked.
And it bopped them about. But the thing really worked!
When the Plain-Belly Sneetches popped out, they had stars!
They actually did.  They had stars upon thars!

Then they yelled at the ones who had stars at the start,
"We're exactly like you! You can't tell us apart.
We're all just the same, now, you snooty old smarties!
And now we can go to your frankfurter parties."

"Good grief!" groaned the ones who had stars at the first.
"We're still the best Sneetches and they are the worst.
But, now, how in the world will we know," they all frowned,
"If which kind is what, or the other way round?"

Then up came McBean with a very sly wink
And he said, "Things are not quite as bad as you think.
So you don't know who's who. That is perfectly true.
But come with me, friends.  Do you know what I'll do?
I'll make you, again, the best Sneetches on the beaches
And all it will cost you is ten dollars eaches."

"Belly stars are no longer in style," said McBean.
"What you need is a trip through my Star-Off Machine.
This wondrous contraption will take off your stars
So you won't look like Sneetches who have them on thars."
And that handy machine
Working very precisely
Removed all the stars from their tummies quite nicely.

Then, with snoots in the air, they paraded about
And they opened their beaks and they let out a shout,
"We know who is who! Now there isn't a doubt.
The best kind of Sneetches are Sneetches without!"

Then, of course, those with stars got frightfully mad.
To be wearing a star now was frightfully bad.
Then, of course, old Sylvester McMonkey McBean
Invited them into his Star-Off Machine.

Then, of course from THEN on, as you probably guess,
Things really got into a horrible mess.

All the rest of that day, on those wild screaming beaches,
The Fix-it-Up Chappie kept fixing up Sneetches.
Off again!  On again!
In again! Out again!
Through the machines they raced round and about again,
Changing their stars every minute or two.
They kept paying money.  They kept running through
Until neither the Plain nor the Star-Bellies knew
Whether this one was that one... or that one was this one
Or which one was what one... or what one was who.

Then, when every last cent
Of their money was spent,
The Fix-it-Up Chappie packed up
And he went.

And he laughed as he drove
In his car up the beach,
"They never will learn.
No. You can't teach a Sneetch!"

But McBean was quite wrong.  I'm quite happy to say
That the Sneetches got really quite smart on that day,
The day they decided that Sneetches are Sneetches
And no kind of Sneetch is the best on the beaches.
That day, all the Sneetches forgot about stars
And whether they had one, or not, upon thars.