pg. 2--Help For The Helpers
by Brenda Shoss
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CF recovery begins with recognition of its symptoms and the willingness to connect with others. An international network of CF self-help groups, based upon the Alcoholics Anonymous voluntary structure, would not only save the savers, but also strengthen the collective spirit of the animal protection movement. A support system that enables people to vent stored pain, share coping strategies, and occasionally laugh is vital.

So are timeouts. In moments when stress overtakes me, I pause to see our backyard squirrels, crows and rabbits as my son sees them: little miracles. His wonder refuels me. I am reminded that the fight for animals is also a celebration of life.

SIDEBAR
Across The Pond: U.S. And U.K. Activists Share Stories Of Post-Traumatic HLS Shock

Brenda Shoss, U.S.
Certain images can send even the most seasoned activists over the edge. Nothing prepared me for the volcano that would erupt in my soul when I viewed undercover investigator Michele Rokke's video footage of life inside Huntingdon Life Sciences, one of the world's largest contract research laboratories with facilities in England and East Millstone, New Jersey. Michele, who worked at HLS for seven months, wore a facade of indifference to learn the sarcasm and sadism her fellow workers practiced with effortless brutality. At times, she slipped into rooms unobserved to kiss a doomed beagle goodbye or scratch the pink underside of a grateful pig. She gave each numbered specimen a name--Spud, Joey, Angel, James--and whenever she could, makeshift pieces of human kindness.

Excerpts from her journal, "Diary of Despair, Inside Huntingdon Life Sciences" and her video footage left me speechless. I struggled to breathe as I watched HLS techs punch anuncooperative puppy, over and over again. During sleep they came to me, one by one. The beagle with a crude strand of ropey stitches carved into the center of his shaved head. Oozing, bloody, vomiting puppies, pigs, and monkeys asleep on cold, metallic floors. How would they face another day of poison poured down tubes lodged in their stomachs. How would they survive more smashed bones and severed limbs? Who would go to them when their bodies trembled in uncontrollable seizures?

No one. I knew I could only pray for the lonely death that would finally release them. This knowledge left me with rage and inconsolable despair. I could not eat, sleep or focus on anything else. So, I wrote--endlessly. I compiled "Inside/Out: Diary of Madness" to chronicle their treacherous lives in pictures and words. I sent letters to every HLS investor, supplier and client. And I traveled to other cities to stand beside hundreds of fellow activists and demand justice.

My glimpse inside Huntingdon Life Sciences reconfirmed my commitment to the animals. But, as with many activists who proceed beyond the gates of hell, I emerged with irreversible scars.

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