Here Be Serpents
March 05, 2025 at 11:59PMIn this personal essay for The Bitter Southerner, Rebecca Burns writes about ophidiophobia, an extreme phobia of snakes that causes anxiety. Burns reflects on this lifelong fear, one that is rooted in her childhood experiences in India and has persisted into adulthood, dictating where she walks and what she does, even within her own Georgia home. “Avoiding snakes — by avoiding the outdoors — guided my behavior for most of my life. Then, during the dull months of the COVID lockdown, boredom finally drove me out into the yard,” she writes. Through exposure and education, and also facing her husband’s cancer diagnosis, Burns confronts this fear and reclaims both her garden and sense of control. [Note from the editor, who also has a fear of snakes: The story’s lede image is an illustration of a colorful flower bouquet with roots that turn into thin snakes; otherwise, the story doesn’t include any realistic images of snakes. I ultimately enjoyed this essay; reading it was somewhat empowering and helped me to confront my own phobia in a small way.]
What I remember most vividly was not an actual snake, but the possibility of one. In India, eggs were delivered and stored in the same kind of straw baskets snake charmers used to schlep their cobras. Once, sent to get eggs from the pantry, I could not bring myself to open the basket. I stared for what seemed like an hour, chest clenched, skin clammy, envisioning the cobra that would rise from the basket as soon as I touched the lid, its hood flared, its tongue flickering. I returned to the kitchen empty-handed.
Five decades later, I remain terrified of walking across a moonlit lawn or even strolling along the sidewalk after dusk. Every fallen twig looks like a baby rattler. To avoid snakes, I have never tubed down the Chattahoochee or hiked through the Oconee Forest. I decline invitations to lake houses and cookouts. Forget camping.
from Longreads https://longreads.com/2025/03/05/here-be-serpents/
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