Whenever shitty parents, or decent parents in a shittier moment, tell their children that they’re lucky, that they should be grateful, that there are starving children in Africa who would love to eat the cauliflower or whatever that kid just refused: the Omelas child is brought into being. As far as I’m concerned, that’s what the Omelas child is, at heart. Not a real starving African child but the conceptual starving African child. Someone whose whole purpose is to suffer so that we can look at them, or even just imagine them, and feel ever so grateful for our own moderately shit lives.