Snake people pop up often in fantasy literature, TV shows and movies. And it's always the same snake people: slits for eyes, a hissing sound when they talk, and a strange desire to conquer whatever planet they are on.
Bird people get Sesame Street. Mice people get Maus. Snake people get relegated to stereotypical, two-dimension bit parts that require them to curse our warm blood and rail against our vertebrae. "Look at them, hunched over their computerssssss, lifting heavy objects with their backsssss. They get to have spines, and they don't even take of them. Ssssssss. Soon, we will have our revenge…once we destroy the Joes. COBRA!
Why do snake people always get the shaft? They deserve our compassion. They have the worst of both worlds. They can't slither in small places and they have to pay taxes. Yet we hate them. For all we know, kind snake people from space wanted to visit our world and share their knowledge, but they were disgusted by our intense ophidiophobia. We even have a patron saint for the fear of snakes, St. Patrick of Ireland.
How deep does our hatred run that we need to embody it in a Catholic saint? Do we have a patron saint for murderers? For open sores? For television writers?
Actually, we do. The Catholics did some crazy shit. But that is no justification for narrow-mindedness. It is time we have a fair portray of snake people, one that shows them as sensitive souls and suspends the superstitions and stereotypes suggested about them that some have sought to spread in this sworld.
If the thought of snake justice still makes you uncomfortable, just remember this: the initials for snake people make up the first two letters of special.
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