Rion Scott - Insurrections

• Stage III: BEPs cease wearing clothing and speaking. They appear unable to comprehend human language. At this point, many researchers agree, forward evolution is unlikely, though there has been some progress with Stage III BEPs in recent years.

17. The Hottentot Venus was the epithet for at least two African women who were paraded around Europe as part of a traveling sideshow during the nineteenth century. Men were allowed to gawk at and touch their large buttocks, a feature that was a rarity in Europe. The most famous Hottentot was born Saartjie (pronounced SAR-key) Baartman in what is now South Africa. After her death the woman’s skeleton, genitals (which Baartman never allowed to be displayed while she was living), and brain were exhibited in a museum in France until 1974. Her remains were returned to her homeland only in 2002, seven years after South African president Nelson Mandela requested their return. It is this type of spectacle that the authors of this study have sought to avoid.

The Hottentot Venus was well known in her time and even after. In the 1939 cinematic version of The Wizard of Oz , Bert Lahr as the Cowardly Lion asks in song, “What makes the Hottentot so hot?” He answers his own question with the word courage . The correct answer, though it is not said in the film, would most logically be: her derrière. Or perhaps Wizard of Oz songwriters Yip Harburg and Harold Arlen meant that it took a certain measure of courage to live through such degradation.

The authors of this study do not adduce Lahr to be flip. Louis Smth, we believe, bears an uncanny resemblance to Lahr as the Cowardly Lion in both stature and complexion, particularly after his backwards evolution.

Ironically, though we sought to protect Smith from such an undignified exhibition, he would likely have been a big fan of the Hottentot Venus and, had he been living in Europe in the nineteenth century, would have gladly paid to gaze upon and fondle her backside without giving two thoughts to the racist and misogynist nature of such a display.

18. To be sure, there was much debate amongst the authors of this study about the proper course of action. We turned down a great deal of money to protect our integrity. B. J. Arcom of B. J. Arcom’s Traveling Parade of Oddities was particularly aggressive, offering hundreds of thousands of dollars, though he never breached the $1 million mark. We are all proud of our decision.

19. The Wildlands, as it is commonly known, is a largely undeveloped portion of town that borders several parts of Cross River. Hunting, fishing, building, and other activities are severely limited within its borders; however, there are corporate interests and politicians diligently working to change that. The Wildlands is a fascinating place to study, as much of it remains virtually unspoiled by human hands.

20. There is some evidence that Louis has even found a mate in Lily of the Valley, a female gorilla who escaped from the Cross River Zoo. She has thus far avoided capture, and one theory is that Lily has a more intelligent accomplice helping her flee.

21. The authors do not want to give the impression that we have turned a dangerous psychotic out into the Wildlands to terrorize an unsuspecting populace. We keep track of Louis’s progress by the use of an electronic tag implanted underneath the skin at the base of his neck. Often researchers travel to the Wildlands in order to observe his progress. One researcher, the late Dr. Adam Connor, who before his untimely passing left this project to serve in consultant roles at the Cross River Zoo and the Alfred McCoy Museum of Science, wrote an interesting journal entry about his first experience seeing Louis in the wild, from which we would like to quote:

On Seeing Louis Smith: My Encounter with Reverse Animalism

He’s a shaggy creature, like a Sasquatch, but not as tall as you’d expect one to be. I first saw him about an hour into my observation .

With his gritty hands, he clung to the mossy green branches of a tree as if it were a natural thing for a human to do, but he isn’t a human, not anymore…. Upon seeing me he howled. Perhaps in terror. I’ve been told that he’s come to distrust humans based on his past treatment .

I was amused by the howl. It rang loud and sounded as if it came from the center of his gut. My mouth hung open upon seeing him leap to another tree like he had been born to perform this feat. I watched the creased bottom of his feet, his dirt-and-hair-covered legs, the scraggly whiskers around his flaccid uncircumcised penis and testicles, the decaying leaves in his nest of a beard. His head had become a forest. Scars and bleeding open wounds covered his body, as if he had just battled a bear and narrowly defeated it, but he did not appear to be in pain. The former Louis Smith was truly a sight ….

Before this point I had never seen him, this man who believes himself an animal. He was like a character out of childhood myth. I had nearly forgotten that I was observing him as part of my job. I reached for my camera, slowly putting it together so as not to scare him. He watched what I did curiously. I wondered if there could be any understanding in him at all now; if he remembered what a camera was; if after his treatment by police, every black object in the hand of a human evoked the baton that broke his ribs and bruised his face. Did he have any memories at all, or did he just have instincts?

I snapped a picture and Louis screamed. It was a deep and painful scream, emotive and reedy. Even the trees must have shivered. It echoed throughout the Wildlands…. I kept taking shots, gripping the camera tightly as much out of fear as out of fascination. It was like a talisman, the only bit of protection I had. Louis was much taller than me. His muscles were defined, almost as if he worked out at a gym. This is a funny thought, because Louis knows nothing of gyms anymore. He’d be scared inside of one, running about untamed, horrifying normal men and women, a naked animal on the loose in the middle of civilization .

He leapt down and charged me, using his arms to propel himself forward. It was as graceful as it was odd. Before I knew it, he was upon me…. I could smell his rank scent, it filled my sinuses and inhabited the back of my throat. I swallowed it, taking it inside of me. It rested in my gut. He slapped the camera from my hands and it fell to the earth and broke apart .

Just by instinct, I reached to pick it up. Louis bellowed and threw me like I was a sack of clothing. I landed on my back, my heart pounding like the primal drums many native tribes used to communicate. I was motionless. He pounced and stood over me. His face was twisted into an angry scowl. There on the ground, I eased backward. What is the old cliché, I wondered, is it that animals can smell fear? I must have been rank with it… Seeing my expression — I can only assume it was my expression — his face eased and I watched the anger fade. His features became confused and slightly more human. Some spark seemed to fly through his brain, like he had suddenly remembered his humanity. All the science I studied told me that was now impossible, but I saw it on his face through the mess of unkempt hair on his cheeks. He breathed in deeply, as if sighing, and moved his jaw up and down. Was he attempting speech?… There I was, a distant reflection in his moist eyes …

There was then the time the Klan galloped through the main yard of Freedman’s University late in the evening. The perils of an open campus.

Four white-sheeted ghosts on white horseback riding in procession. The Klan member in front and the one in back held tight to flaming torches. The other two, on and off, waved the glowing white screens of their cell phones in their white-gloved hands. I remember the procession as a blur of white and fiery orange and gray from the smoke.