“Alright, I got one,” slurred Don from the head of the table, prompting eye rolls. “How do you shoot a blue elephant?”
Edna’s trunk froze halfway to her mouth, salad tumbling onto the tablecloth. She looked down to see how much skin she had visible, and then immediately hated herself for doing so.
“With a blue elephant gun!” chortled Don, VP of Marketing for the Northeast region. A colleague moved to redirect the conversation, but Don had not finished.
“Wait, wait, so how do you shoot a pink elephant? Eh?” The table got quiet, and Edna felt more human eyes on her than Jumbo had attracted. “C’mon, somebody,” prodded Don.
“With a pink elephant gun,” answered an anonymous, human voice.
“No!” crowed Don. “You hold his nose until he turns blue, and then you shoot him with the blue elephant gun! Ahahaha!”
Edna’s trunk flopped onto her plate. She felt all feeling and energy burst out of her like air from a popped balloon. Ancestors, that joke hit close to home. Again the female pachyderm looked down at her forelimbs, her trunk, her bare feet – all blue. Due to a genetic disorder called methemoglobinemia, 12% of Edna’s hemoglobin – just 12! – could not properly deliver oxygen. The condition tinged her flesh blue and her blood purple. In addition, it stole her breath more quickly, making stairs nearly impossible. Had Don seen her, the ridiculous blue pachyderm gasping for breath on the fourth-floor landing?
In the crowded silence that followed Don’s joke, Edna wished her instincts could direct her to the correct response. Should she spray water in his face, like women in the movies tossed the contents of their glasses? She could overreact and trumpet her laughter, displaying her contempt through over-enjoyment. Maybe she could joke about not having blue balls in retort, shaming the VP’s masculinity. Ha! That would certainly get her fired. But why did Edna even need to be the one to respond? These supposedly friendly, moral humans were sitting quietly stunned, hanging on her every breath and eye twitch. Did she need to trunk slap them all to find just one ally capable of thinking beyond their species?
And Pat, the other pachyderm at the table, did nothing. The older male frowned, pinched his lips tight, and deliberately moved his eyes down to his own serving bowl of greens.
Edna could not even register surprise. “Elephants never resent,” had said her grandmother, the clan matriarch. Edna had nodded, for she understood. That had been the way for the older generations. Pachyderms had begun integrating less than a century earlier, not even a full lifetime ago for many. Discarding resentment had gotten the elders through speciesist oppression, the crimes of the ivory trade, the riots following the trophy buybacks. Finding humans ill-equipped to deal with just how much they had exploited, alienated, and lessened another species, pachyderms had relied on quiet strength to bear the collection of injustices. They might never forget, but they could choose not to remember.
In practice, however, too-quick forgiveness and silence exposed pachyderms to more frequent and prolonged injuries. They did have thick skin, Edna knew. Still, even thick pachyderm hides could burn in the sun, could bleed under assaults. How long could they shrug off abuse before its perpetrators grew emboldened to return to the worst crimes of the not-distant past? What would deplorable Don say next?
In the end, Edna smiled tightly around her trunk, then found the first opportunity to excuse herself from the dinner. Dragging herself home, ears drooping, Edna allowed herself rest before facing the specter of “What now?”
The next day, Edna considered going to Human Resources with a complaint. Drunken Don had clearly violated several workplace policies. Legislation had not caught up yet, though, and Edna had no guarantee that the protections of human law would shield her from retaliation or firing. Sometimes the squeaky wheel gets replaced, after all. What if Don’s intoxicated mirth transformed into sober viciousness? Edna did not really fear a physical assault from someone a fraction of her size. Nonetheless, humans had proved crippling and lethal far too often for her to feel secure.
After much hedging, Edna headed for her HR generalist’s office. Before she could knock, the door opened.
“Thanks, Fran,” said Selina from Marketing, walking out.
“Of course,” replied Fran, the HR generalist. “I will look into this and get back to you.” She stopped. “Edna, great timing. I was hoping to speak with you today.”
“You were?” Edna asked.
“I told Fran about Don’s nonsense last night with the blue elephant jokes,” said Selina. “That was completely inappropriate, and I’ve filed a complaint.”
“You did?” Edna squeaked out a reply. Selina smiled.
“Yes,” interrupted Fran. “But let’s talk first, before we muddle each other’s statements, yes? Good, now Edna, I would like to speak with you as a person with information about Selina’s complaint. This does not preclude you from bringing your own complaint in the future…” Fran continued, a professional guiding an interviewee through a script.
Edna did not listen. She watched Selina down the hall, saw the human female wave briefly as she turned a corner. Perhaps, thought Edna, elephants could indeed never resent, if humans could focus on righting the wrongs.