Updated: Oct. 28, 2019
Back in the fall of ’88, when I was just six years old, my dad underwent his first stomach surgery to address an ulcer. I don’t recall much about the hospital—neither his admission nor his discharge. However, I distinctly remember one day, a few months post-surgery, when he sat on the living room floor, barefoot, leaning against the couch with his legs crossed. I joined him there, and we were alone. The room’s reflection flickered in our heavy wooden RCA television. Dad appeared to stare into the distance, his eyes like a one-way mirror, as if concealing something deep within. He leaned closer and whispered, “I feel really good. Pretty damn OK.”
Despite his slouched posture and the lazy smirk that often accompanied his painkiller highs, something in his demeanor hinted at change. Some days he was the dad I knew; other days, he would stay in bed late and stumble around the house. Each day, a bit less of the familiar dad shone through, as his once vibrant face transformed into a shadow of its former self.
Fast forward a little over a decade, and he became one of the early victims of the opioid crisis. It feels surreal to reflect on it now, especially considering I didn’t even hear the term “opioid epidemic” until I was nearly 30. As a child, I felt profoundly isolated, grappling with my father’s addiction in a world that seemed entirely oblivious to my struggles. How I longed for a friend like Karli from Sesame Street.
For those unfamiliar with Sesame Street, Karli is a new character—a cute little Muppet with bright yellow hair navigating life in foster care due to her mother’s battle with addiction. Jeanette Betancourt, a senior executive at Sesame Workshop, explained to NBC News that children’s voices often go unheard when it comes to topics like addiction.
I can’t speak for everyone raised by an addicted parent, but I felt utterly lost and alone. I struggled to understand my father’s behavior, as did our family and friends. The stigma surrounding addiction made it even harder to find someone who could empathize with my experience. It took until my late 20s to even learn about the term “opioid epidemic,” highlighting just how isolated I felt as a child.
Growing up, I believed I was the only kid facing the challenges of having an addicted parent. If only I had heard Karli’s story back then, it would have made navigating my complicated reality feel a little less overwhelming.
Karli joins a legacy of Sesame Street characters designed to help children deal with difficult issues. In 2011, Lily, a Muppet living in poverty, addressed childhood hunger. Last year, she reappeared in videos focusing on homelessness. In 2013, Alex made history as the first Muppet with a parent in jail.
One often overlooked aspect of these characters is how they resonate with multiple experiences. My father’s addiction led to frequent jail time, food insecurity, and even a brief period of homelessness during my childhood.
What’s crucial is that these characters not only provide solace for struggling children but also foster understanding and compassion among those who are more fortunate. When my peers discovered my father’s addiction, they often teased me or distanced themselves, making me feel like an outsider—an experience that was almost as painful as the addiction itself.
So, to the creators of Sesame Street, I extend my heartfelt thanks. You’re doing a tremendous service. While Karli won’t solve the opioid crisis, she certainly lightens the burden for children living with it, which is invaluable.