Seeing Snuffy

and what survivors want to hear

As a child of the 80s and 90s, I grew up on the likes of Mr. Rogers, 3-2-1 Contact, Romper Room, Reading Rainbow, and of course, Sesame Street. I loved the characters, the genuine interaction of adults, children, and the Muppets. I loved the sincerity, the mix of animation, songs, and creativity. Maybe you did, too.

Last week, I came across a clip of an old episode that taught me a brand new and incredibly valuable lesson for today.

Almost 40 years ago today, the grown ups on Sesame Street finally saw the elusive (and maybe imaginary?) Snuffleupagus. You can watch the clip here:

Here’s what I noticed:

• Big Bird’s first response is joy and excitement that they saw him at last. It quickly turns to justification and vindication, telling the grown ups how he had told them all along, and how they had never believed him.

• Gordon quickly jumps in to point out that he and two other grownups believed Big Bird. It’s not enough. “Yeah, but the rest of you didn’t,” he responds, quickly echoed by both Snuffy and Elmo.

• David responds next, saying, “Yeah, you’re right, but…” and is at a loss for words trying to defend and excuse the adult’s behavior and disbelief.

• Then, Susan steps in with the words every abuse and trauma survivor long to hear: “You have a right to be angry…Because after all this time and we didn’t believe you. It must have been very hard for you…from the bottom of my heart, I want to apologize because I’m really sorry.”

• Finally, Bob makes it clear: “From now on, we’ll believe you whenever you tell us something.”

Cue tears.

You should have been heard and believed

For each one of us who have tried to tell the truth and not been believed, I’m sorry. You have a right to be angry. It must have been hard for you.

For each of us who have carried the knowledge and belief that we were right and yet doubted ourselves because of how often we were disbelieved, dismissed, or gaslit, I’m sorry. You have a right to be angry. It must have been hard for you.

Almost 40 years ago, Sesame Street was teaching us valuable lessons about believing someone, even when it seems unbelievable.

“You have a right to be angry…Because after all this time and we didn’t believe you. It must have been very hard for you…from the bottom of my heart, I want to apologize because I’m really sorry.”

Is there a danger to crying wolf? Yes. Is there a possibility that reporting abuse is false? Rarely, but yes. Is there damage done to victims every single time they try to speak the truth and are not believed? Absolutely.

But wait…there’s more

It would be enough to stop here and walk away with this lesson. But the more I dug in to the story behind this story, the more I was blown away.

For ten years, Big Bird and Mr. Snuffleupagus shared a friendship visible to us, but never to the Sesame Street grown ups. It became something of a running joke, and one that began to wear on Caroll Spinney and Marty Robinson, the puppeteers who operated the characters.

The actor’s frustrations coincided with another cultural moment of the 80s: news programs like 60 Minutes began reporting on stories and statistics of child abuse both at home and in daycare centers.

Head writer Normal Stiles said in an interview with Mental Floss: “We started getting some letters from people who worked with children who had experienced some kind of abuse, and what we were told was that they often don’t think they’ll be believed because the stories are so fantastic in their minds.”¹

Executive Producer Carol-Lynn Parente shared: “The fear was that if we represented adults not believing what kids said, they might not be motivated to tell the truth. That caused us to rethink the storyline: Is something we’ve been doing for 14 years—that seemed innocent enough—now something that’s become harmful?”²

They knew it was a big deal, and they wanted to do something to address it. But rather than simply produce an episode where Snuffy is “suddenly” visible, they played the long game. They recognized that it would require an intentional, careful, and strategic plan to do it the right way.

The producers and writers consulted with researchers, psychologists, childhood development experts, and others to ensure that the message was communicated in a way that children could understand what was happening, and adults would receive the impact of the message.

Over the course of two years, they laid the groundwork for Snuffy’s eventual big reveal. They created episodes and scenes that demonstrated that Big Bird could distinguish real from imaginary, knew there was a difference, and was clear about it. This created an environment where the grown ups were now divided, with some believing him and actively trying to see Snuffy, and others continuing he was making it up.

When the moment finally came, the result is what you see in the clip above. It still packs a powerful punch all these years later. Perhaps more so for those of us who have experienced abuse and been dismissed.

The Sesame Street grown ups and friends reach their arms to touch Mr. Snuffleupagus after seeing him for the first time. source: Muppet Wiki

Big Bird gets his opportunity to voice his frustration and anger, “Well, now what do you have to say?” It was a moment of empowerment and vindication for a young child who refused to give up on the truth.

It didn’t dismiss, bypass, or ignore the fact that for 14 years, Big Bird was not believed. Beyond David’s first attempt to justify their disbelief (which doesn’t get any further than “but…but…”), the message is simple and clear: We should have believed you. You have a right to be angry. We’re sorry. From now on, we’ll believe what you say.

Here’s the other thing: the grown ups on Sesame Street didn’t really have anything to lose by believing Big Bird. They didn’t have a reputation or position to lose or ruin, a congregation or organization to defend or hold on to. There was no loss of power or control. It makes sense why those who abused us and those in their community continue to side with our abusers: they have it to lose.

And here lies the devastating truth: while it seems to cost them nothing, we pay the price. We lose our reputations, our communities, our connections and relationships. They get to go on with their day, conducting business as usual, and thinking themselves your friend, as though nothing has changed. And we live with the weight of their inability to see.

I’m here, and I choose to believe you

I don’t know what stories you’re carrying. I don’t know the depths of the harm that you’ve experienced. I don’t know how many times you’ve tried to share and didn’t, or weren’t heard or believed.

What I do know is that I choose to believe you. I choose to receive this profound message and apology from actors on a children’s show a generation ago. And I affirm that message for you:

“You have a right to be angry…Because after all this time and we didn’t believe you. It must have been very hard for you… from the bottom of my heart, I want to apologize because I’m really sorry.”

Whatever it was, it should not have happened. It was not your fault. It was wrong. And I’m so sorry.

I do know the courage it requires to decide to tell our story, much less the additional courage to actually do it. I know how soul-crushing it is the first time you share and are dismissed or disbelieved. I get why we choose to keep these stories to ourselves. And I know the damage it does to us to keep them secret and tucked away.

Zora Neale Hurston writes, “There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside you.”³

If you can’t tell anyone else, tell yourself. If no one else will believe you, believe yourself. There’s power in our stories, especially when they’re shared and received. They can create ripples of impact and consequence, starting with our own agency and empowerment.

Sometimes it takes 14 years for someone else to see what you did. And that sucks. Sometimes, we find a compassionate soul who hears and believes us. And that moment can be filled with glory, wonder, joy, grief, anger, and rage, all at once.

As for me, I’m choosing to tell my story more often and more freely. I’m hoping it will land on someone who hears me and believes me. Who validates my experience.

I don’t know or have a say in what you’ll choose to do. But if and when you do, I see you. I hear you. I believe you. I’m so sorry it happened. And I hope that you can hear and receive that.

1. https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/71281/oral-history-1985-mr-snuffleupagus-shocked-sesame-street

2. https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/71281/oral-history-1985-mr-snuffleupagus-shocked-sesame-street

3. Zora Neale Hurston, Dust Tracks on the Road