“The tigers — supposedly the kings of the jungle — stood up on their hind legs, paws out. In a line. In an unnatural line. Some of the tigers roared pitifully. They looked less like tigers and more like sad, nameless cats.” —Beena Raghavendran
The U.S. Bank Arena in Cincinnati — the largest indoor arena in the city — smelled like fresh popcorn, cotton candy and children. The average height of a person in the room must have been about 4 feet. Kids were everywhere.
It was truly the Greatest Show on Earth.
My little sister — who’s not so little anymore, having just entered her late teens — wanted to go to the circus over spring break for her birthday. I thought, why not? It was the circus. Who doesn’t like the circus?
We’d seen the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus when we were kids. This time, the show was full of singers and dancers, dressed as fixer-uppers in construction and paint clothes. The lights beamed bright colors. Energy pulsed through the audience.
But about 10 minutes in, I started to get a bad taste in my mouth.
A tiger handler lashed the floor with a whip in front of the caged-in tigers. The tigers — supposedly the kings of the jungle — stood up on their hind legs, paws out. In a line. In an unnatural line. Some of the tigers roared pitifully. They looked less like tigers and more like sad, nameless cats.
Elephants did tricks and acrobatics. Parents yelled at their children in the rows behind me, forcing them into arena seats. Kids drank from souvenir tiger cups.
At intermission, I searched “Ringling Bros.” on Google. The results left me stunned but not surprised: PETA claims that the circus tortures its animals.
The circus is largely controversial. Three elephants escaped from a circus in Missouri on March 22 (handlers eventually caught them). PETA protested outside Ringling Bros.’ show at the Verizon Center two weeks ago.
Maybe I missed the animal degradation inherent in the circus as a child. But now, looking past the cool acrobatics, the charming ringmaster and the spectacle of terrifying feats, I feel empty. My trip to the circus was supposed to be about fun in a strange, magical way, not about exploiting animals. It was a truly sad sign of human power gone wrong.
I can’t down the whole institution and say the entire event was terrible. It wasn’t. The acrobats were top-notch, and the entertainers were humorous and enjoyable. But I felt guilty.
I left the circus conflicted, wishing everything could be as clear-cut as it was when we were children.
