The Danger of Othering
AI can't give you a heart even if you ask it for one | No. 023
For three nights this week, we fostered a tiny baby. He lay on a blanket in the backyard under the huge aspen trees while we watched the leaves shake in the sunlight. I squished him into my front pack carrier, and we went on walks. We got up in the middle of the night and changed diapers and made bottles and rocked back and forth, back and forth, singing “Jesus Loves Me” and “You Are My Sunshine”. Stories were read, rattles were shaken, and itty bitty clothes were washed. My big kids tickled his toes and cooed, oohed, and aahed over him.
After a few sweet days, he left, as we expected. He was mellow and sweet and the type of baby who tricks someone into having more. And yet, even given his laidback demeanor, it’s only truthful to say that four kids are more work than three, and getting up in the night for two babies is more tiring than getting up at night for one. So, after he left, we had a quieter afternoon, and we anticipated a laid-back evening following what had been a full-on few days.
However, life had other plans. As it often does.
He left in the morning, and later in the day, around dinner time, a neighbor couple from the house closest to ours unexpectedly arrived at our doorstep. I went outside, with the big kids following me, and Anna, our neighbor, was carrying a large rectangular Styrofoam container. Inside the box were three tiny kittens.
“Um, hi, we were just coming to see if you knew about these kittens?”
Well, no, I did not know about these kittens.
The neighbors went on to tell us that the tiny kittens had been crawling from underneath our garage, across the yard, and over to their house. They had tried to put them back and let the mother possibly find them again, but the kittens were no longer interested in staying under the garage, and there was no mother in sight. We all knew they must be hungry.
It was 6:04 pm on Wednesday, and the cat shelter closed at 6:00 pm, and it would not open again until Friday. I tried calling them anyway, along with one other shelter, but nobody answered. Troy and I began contacting anyone else we could think of who was even halfway a cat person and who might be able to care for the kittens until the shelter reopened.
My big kids love cats. They have owned cats in the past prior to joining our family and dearly miss those pets. They begged to keep these fur babies, and they were distraught when I told them, again, that we would not be adding kittens to our family.
We have an 11-year-old dog who would not take well to three new kitten additions. Adding three kittens unexpectedly to our crew is just not on my list of things I want to do right now (or ever). I have three children whom I need to keep alive, and the 1-year-old fearless furniture-climbing baby in our house is testing my ability to do even that effectively. And, perhaps my children’s least favorite trait about me: I’m simply not much of a cat person. Sorry kids, Mama still loves you.
After many texts, phone calls, and chaotic hours later, we found a friend who wanted to take them, but they were on a date, so they couldn’t pick them up until nearly midnight. It was going to be a long evening.
Troy carried the box of kittens downstairs to the basement and created a barricade across the doorway of our exercise room so they couldn’t escape. The neighbors had gone to the store and picked up a can of kitten milk replacement, so we poured it onto a plate and set it on the floor. We spoke with Jordyn about being a “kitten foster parent” for a few hours, even though we couldn’t be a permanent home for them.
I watched Jordyn’s dismay dissipate while Jordyn lovingly cared for and snuggled those fur babies until nearly midnight.
Finally, my friend arrived like a hero in the night to take the kittens home, and our long day came to an end.
Dragging myself into bed, I reflected on my day:
time spent with a baby, a baby born into the most challenging of beginnings. A baby who was not my own, but needed to be loved and cared for like he was;
abandoned kittens on my doorstep with nowhere to go after the shelter had closed;
neighbors running to the store to buy emergency kitten food;
my child, a child who spent six years in foster care themself prior to adoption, caring for these kittens until they had a safe place to land;
my friend, arriving at midnight to take the creatures home.
It was a full-circle sort of day, the kind that reminded me how necessary it is to simply see the inherent worth and value in other beings.
It was the kind of day that reminded me how much harm is done when we engage in the opposite of that -“othering,” - which is defined as:
“Othering” is, of course, as old as humanity itself, and there’s nothing new about the concept. What is relatively new, however, is this oppressive culture of artificially-lit 24/7/365 news, media, hot takes, opinions, cancel culture, and polarizing political antics showcasing “otherness” like it’s a game or some twisted and hateful type of entertainment. And, I don’t even want to say it, but add in A.I. to this “game,” and now we’re swimming in deep fakes so convincing they could convince you to hate your own mother.
How can outsourcing our thoughts, feelings, and very hearts to technology lead to anything but othering? I considered writing a condensed version of this story on my Facebook page, and I started to do so, but then I noticed a feature that isn’t super new, but I just hadn’t really noticed it before — the generative AI feature that allows you to make your words more “heartfelt.”
That. icked. me. out. I decided not to write a Facebook post after that. Are we all walking around like the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz, hollow and lacking empathy and searching for hearts we don’t have? I don’t think so, but then why are we green-lighting this feature? I won’t deny that AI is here to stay, and I’m sure it will continue to impact our society in both beneficial and detrimental ways. We likely won’t know the true impact of this Monster until many more years down the road.
However, now that we mass employ AI to assist billions of numbed-out souls in expressing “heartfelt” or “inspirational” thoughts, because we no longer want, can, or need to do that on our own human accord, the only disturbing, dystopian-level outcome for us is othering.
Yet, this week, I see proof again in my own life that there is no real other; there are only babies and neighbors and creatures and friends who are here with us. That’s it.
And I don’t think we need AI to help us feel that.
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This reminds me of a message that was shared on Sunday: “Israeli, Iranian, or American we are all Gods children.”
Hi Breeann, I loved this essay, which really showcases what a hectic day in your household looks like. I think it's terrific that you foster children; you are trying to give them a great start to their lives. The kittens are adorable, I am a huge cat person, but I wouldn't be able to consider kittens because my senior cat is too scared of other animals.
This quote stood out to me: "Yet, this week, I see proof again in my own life that there is no real other; there are only babies and neighbors and creatures and friends who are here with us. That’s it" You take such genuine care of other people and animals.
I adopted my daughter as a 13-month-old in China. She was traumatized by seeing me, a stranger, taking care of her. Luckily, after some time, we bonded.