I got to meet my two nieces and nephew for the first time this past October. I could not stop holding on to them for the duration of their visit as we drove from Washington, D.C. where a family was reunited at Dulles Airport, through Maryland, and Philadelphia. In New York City, my mother and I shared a king size bed at night in one of the hotel bedrooms. The two girls––the oldest five, the other three–lay between us, recalling events of the day, asking me questions sposmadically in my half awake state, and then, suddenly, asleep before I was.
Their voices overlapped one another's in the dark as they told me about their visit earlier to the zoo––we had split up in two groups and only rendevouzed at the hotel later that night.
"What did you feel when you saw the animals in the cages?" I asked. The both of them went silent, unsure of what I meant. The oldest responded after a moment, "Ummmm...".
So I asked, "Did you think it was right or wrong to keep them in cages?" I felt guilt rise inside of me right as the question left my mouth because it was more of a leading question. Clearly I was suggesting a particular response, one that I desired. Much like a certain type of lawyer or journalist would. Conflicted, I wondered if I was being irresponsible, or already too severe on two kids enjoying their childhood experience. I'd prefer not to be the spoilsport aunt who's quick to point out everything that's wrong with the world, but this generation of entitled halfwits, groomed by their similar parental units haunts me daily.
After we had a big lunch at Dean and Deluca in Georgetown, D.C. earlier in the trip, one of the girls announced that she wanted chocolate. "No," I responded before anyone else at the table could, as her parents had gone for a stroll. She starts to tear up quietly in the corner, and I am immediately demonized by my mother, who says to my brother and father, "Zihan semua tak boleh!" (With Zihan, everything is a no!) I proceed to protest the accusation hurled at me by my mother, who, along with my father, had denied me and my siblings most things growing up, regardless of how many tantrums we threw.
Another conflicted moment for me. I found myself apologizing sweetly to my niece like the many spineless adults of today while everyone continued judging me, the vicious oppressor. Coaxing her into the store, I buy her and her sister ridiculously expensive icing-coated cookies she picks out, which isn't her fault, since everything in Dean and Deluca is a rip off.
But I suppose there are less manipulative ways to educate children, especially when it comes to important issues like animal rights. When I was in the third grade, my teacher, Mrs. Rogers, a calm, exceptionally kind woman who always wore long A-line skirts that swirled gently around her legs when she walked would read to the class after break time. She would sit on a chair in the back of the room and us students gathered around her on the floor to listen. One day she read from a short storybook about elephants. I can't remember the name of the book, but there was an injustice that the theme touched upon. Towards the middle of the story Mrs. Rogers began to cry. She cried as she continued reading, until she had to rest the book on her lap and wipe at her face while the rest of us stared at her wide eyed. She apologized, and explained that she really loved elephants, and the story broke her heart.
"It's wrong," my older niece replies to my earlier question. We explain to each other in the darkness why we think it's wrong to cage animals, kept from their natural habitats for human profit and amusement. I fall asleep thinking how frightening it is to navigate through that duty called responsibility as there is no compass for it, and how I can be the best aunt in the world despite that.
