The Case of Ota Benga

It is hard to imagine that the Bronx Zoo would place a human being on display along with animals, but that is precisely what happened to a man by the name of Ota Benga.
One hundred years ago, on September 8th, 1906, the Bronx Zoo in New York unveiled a new exhibit that would attract thousands of visitors to come and marvel. Inside a cage, in the monkey house, was a man. His name was Ota Benga. He was 22 years old, a member of the Batwa people, pygmies who lived in what was then, the Belgian Congo
Ota Benga first came to the United States in 1904. The St. Louis World's Fair had hired Samuel Phillips Verner, an American explorer and missionary, to bring African pygmies to the exposition.
After the World's Fair, Verner, as promised, took the Africans back to their country. But Ota Benga found that he didn't fit in at "home" anymore — all the members of his particular tribe had been annihilated during his time away — and he asked Verner to take him back to the United States.
That's when Ota Benga ended up at the Bronx Zoo . It's estimated that 40,000 visitors a day came to see him.
At the same time, a group of African-American ministers mounted a vigorous protest.
From an article in The New York Times on Sept. 10, 1906:
"The person responsible for this exhibition degrades himself as much as he does the African," said Rev. Dr. R. MacArthur of Calvary Baptist Church. "It is too bad that there is not some society like the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. We send our missionaries to Africa to Christianize the people, and then we bring one here to brutalize him."
The Bronx Zoo soon ended the exhibit, and the ministers' group moved Ota Benga to the Howard Colored Orphan Asylum in Brooklyn. He stayed there for a short time before being relocated to Lynchburg, Va., where various families housed him and tried to help him live a normal life.
Ota Benga lived in Lynchburg until March 1916, when he borrowed a gun from one of his host families, went to the woods on the edge of the town, and shot himself.
Ota Benga was one of many people who were placed on display during the 1906 fair. Placed on display and treated less than human simply because they were what some would call “they” or “the other”. The same story can be told of African slaves as well as people today who are enslaved. How we perceive and treat “others” has everything to do with our humanity and everything to do with our faith. To un humanize or sub humanize others perhaps says more about “us” than what it says about “them”. We may excuse what happened to Ota Benga as an issue of many years ago, but we still wrestle with the same core issue of how we view others. Others who may be Iranian. Others who may be Muslim. Others who may be homosexual. Others who are Democrat or Republican. Others who are not like me. For those of us who profess Christianity, Ota Benga’s story paints a vivid reminder that understanding and respect must come before disagreement. It also reminds us that who we perceive others perhaps is the greatest identifier of who we are.

We and They

Primarily during the past 300 years, nations have tried to define race and ethnicity as a way of defining who is "in" and more importantly who is "out". We have used categories of skin color, language, beliefs, and documentation as ways to differentiate between "us" and "them". Anthropologists, lawyers and even clergy from the 17th to the early 20th century went to elaborate measures to define who was "white" so that they could define who was not "white" and thus be excluded from the rights and priveledges that a "white" person had. Sadly to say, this type of definition for categorizing people has been a practice of nations, but in some cases has also been a practice of congregations which are highly concerned about building tight definitions concerning who is "them" and should thus be exluded from "us". I have copied a poem, ironically from Rudyard Kipling entitled "We and They". I welcome your thoughts:

We and They
By Rudyard Kipling
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Father and Mother, and Me,
Sister and Auntie say
All the people like us are We,
And every one else is They.
And They live over the sea,
While We live over the way,
But-would you believe it? They look upon We
As only a sort of They!

We eat pork and beef
With cow-horn-handled knives.
They who gobble Their rice off a leaf,
Are horrified out of Their lives;
While they who live up a tree,
And feast on grubs and clay,
(Isn't it scandalous?) look upon We
As a simply disgusting They!

We shoot birds with a gun.
They stick lions with spears.
Their full-dress is un.
We dress up to Our ears.
They like Their friends for tea.
We like Our friends to stay;
And, after all that, They look upon We
As an utterly ignorant They!

We eat kitcheny food.
We have doors that latch.
They drink milk or blood,
Under an open thatch.
We have Doctors to fee.
They have Wizards to pay.
And (impudent heathen!) They look upon We
As a quite impossible They!

All good people agree,
And all good people say,
All nice people, like Us, are We
And every one else is They:
But if you cross over the sea,
Instead of over the way,
You may end by (think of it!) looking on We
As only a sort of They!