February kicks off Black History Month - a reminder of not just the history of black people, their accomplishments, and how they rose up against inequality and intolerance, but it's also a reminder of the history of the people who challenged progress (or, to be exceedingly kind about it, "didn't know any better"). It is the history of a multicultural society that has made leaps forward, and can continue to make leaps forward, provided that we learn from the past.
A little while ago, I shared one of my not-so-fun vintage finds, an article from 1965 about neighbours giving their opinion on the prospect of a "Negro family" moving onto their street. While I can't claim to have the most extensive of vintage media collections, that article was among the earliest I had in my hoard pile possession that straight-forwardly dealt with race relations and bigotry. Because I tend to collect magazines and books targeted to women in the 1950s, the content of the material I have is decidedly focused on homemaking, family relationships, and fashion. Current events tended to take a back seat to "Easy Flower Arrangements You'll Love" and "How To Choose A Fur".
But if you specifically look for examples of how civil rights and attitudes around race were addressed in the 1950s mainstream media, you'll surely find them. Below is a half-hour drama called Crossroads that aired on CBC in 1957. Directed by the National Film Board's Don Haldane, Crossroads is a "sensitive drama that tells the story of a couple, Roy and Judy, and the reactions they encounter when they announce their intention to marry, reactions complicated by the fact that Roy is black and Judy is white."
According to what I've researched, Crossroads was well received by the Canadians who watched it on TV in 1957 and was applauded for its sensitive and accurate portrayals of people at the time. One wonders how it would have gone over in the United States.
It's interesting and sad, inspiring and infuriating, and it's a part of your history and mine, regardless of where our ancestors came from. It's a history that shapes relations and politics today within our countries, and it's hopefully a history was can continue to learn from.
I'm not a fan of "performance" reality TV competitions (like American Idol or X-Factor or Dancing with the Not-Really-Stars) nor do I watch musicals or, ugh, Glee, but when I see a politician sing well, regardless of what political stripe they wear, gosh darnnit if I'm not just positively tickled pink.
Barack Obama only gave a couple lines of Al Green last night, but I am on the verge of fan-girling:
It's not the first time he's sung for a crowd:
And he's certainly not the only politician to do it. Here are a few other examples ...
Canada's Prime Minister Harper is a surprise guest of the National Arts Centre a few years ago and performed this Beatles song:
Italian Prime Minister Berlusconi sing something I don't know:
Philadelphia Mayor Michael Nutter drops some Sugarhill Gang:
Russia's Prime Minister Putin is more cringe-worthy than charming in his rendition of Blueberry Hill, but check out all the Hollywood types in the audience:
And it's not singing, but remember this? Ha. Oh, Bubba, those were the days:
It almost makes you wish all elections had a talent component. Almost.
Want to help in the fight against SOPA / PIPA? First, go learnabout the bills. After that go contact your elected officials. Wikipedia has a handy-dandy page set up which allows you to locate your state representative.
Have at 'er, Americans (I would, but crabby letters from Canadians are generally regarded as toilet paper alternatives by American politicians).
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If you're one of those people who believes there is a war on Christmas going on (to which my usual reply is either tackling a Christmas tree or waterboarding anyone with a manger on their yard), I found an ad in my December 1969 Woman's Day magazine that should help you out.
All you need to do is emerge from the kitchen with this flaming turkey in your hands on Christmas Day, and I assure you, you will hear shouts of "Jesus!" and "Oh, Christ!" and perhaps even "Call a priest!":
Brought to you by everyone's favourite gourmet, Wrigley's Spearment Gum.
Hallelujah!
I'll understand if you want to skip the suggestion of singing "Happy Turkey" to the tune of "Happy Birthday" as suggested in the ad; but I'll also respect your beliefs if The Flaming Turkey Song quickly becomes a cherished family tradition as well. The bird, after all, did die for us.
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It's Remembrance Day and hopefully you've used this as an opportunity to reflect on the wars of our past, the sacrifices of veterans, and what we have to be thankful for. November 11th (and every day, really!) also presents us the opportunity to think about the struggles going on today and what we can do to make the world a more peaceful place.
In reflection of World War II and the rebuilding process of Europe, Eleanor Roosevelt said in 1950:
I, personally, am not for rearming Germany, but I am for giving her every opportunity to get back on her feet in an economic way and to trade with the rest of the world so she will not have to depend on trade with the eastern part of Europe.
It is true that, given a free hand, Germany by its ability and industry may again dominate the economic situation in Europe. That, without military power, is not a catastrophe.
I think it is essential that we help her to regain economic stability and a sense of pride in her citizenship, for no one can live happily under constant humiliation. If we want Germany to understand democracy we must realize that it has to be demonstrated over a long period of years. She has never had democracy except for a short time and her people have never understood the processes of democracy or the individual responsibility entailed.
And I think we can all agree that this attitude (and economic and political actions) led to a beneficial and healthy relationship between the world and The-Once-Biggest-Bad-Ever, Germany, yes?
While our conflicts today are different (and in some ways not), compare the attitude above with the words of another woman in the political arena right now:
Sweet Cheesus.
Yeah, that's the ticket to creating peaceful relations and pro-America, pro-democracy sentiments: send a bill to a traumatized, vulnerable, volatile country that you went into under false pretences. Sounds like a winner of an idea to me. Hey, while she's at it, maybe Michelle Bachmann can track down the people who were liberated from concentration camps in WWII and see if they can pick up some of that military tab, too.
Le sigh.
It's important to think about these things, reflect on what history has shown, and to compare approaches. Because if we truly want to de-escalate violence and foster democracy, it's really not about withdrawing troops - it's about what you do after they've come home.
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I honestly have a hard time convincing myself that the people on Fox & Friends actually believe the shit that comes out of their mouths. I mean, no one can really be this heinous and hypocritical, right? This is an Onionparody, right?:
In Canada, we don't really have a "First Lady" culture in politics. The spouse of our Prime Minister is just that - "the wife of the Prime Minister" (or for a split second in 1993, "the husband of the Prime Minister").
Even though we're in the midst of an election, I think we'd be fairly hard-pressed to find people who know the names of the spouses of our political party leaders. Until I Googled it just now, I was going to guess that Prime Minister Harper's wife was named Arleen. Total stab in the dark. He seems like the kind of guy who would marry an Arleen, right?
(I was close. He's married to someone named Laureen. Now we all know!)
With the exception of Maggie Trudeau, Canadians have been just as disinterested in the private lives of our politicians as we are of politics in general. There's never really been any official roles for the spouses of our politicians to play. After all, they're unelected private citizens - just like our Senate.
All this obviously isn't the case in the United States. The ladies are front and centre - and right in the line of fire, it seems. I have to admit, I was rather stunned by all the backlash to Michelle Obama's "Let's Move!" campaign - an initiative to educate and inspire parents and kids to deal with the very real problem of childhood obesity. Suddenly, the First Wife is being attacked for being the "food police" and "dictating" what people can feed their children and "shoving vegetables down our throats". And those are just the critiques on her clearly evil communist-fascist-anti-American-pro-celery-lobby agenda. Then there are the comments about her (gasp!) sleeveless dresses and how much money she made before becoming First Lady and how she's clearly Satan.
I don't recall people being so vile about Laura Bush and her childhood literacy project that "shoved books down peoples' throats". I think the biggest critiques lobbed at her had to do with her choice of husband, no? Well, that and killing a dude.
And so I wondered whether hating on the First Lady was a new phenomenon in a culture that increasingly seems to be getting more petty and hostile toward people in public life.
To the bat cave my vintage magazine collection I went - and it turns out, we've always been hatin'.
Thought the great Eleanor Roosevelt was always adored? Not the case. Here's a snotty little letter to the editor (from Ladies' Home Journal, February 1943) from someone complaining that Mrs. Roosevelt should be less in everyone's face and more in her own home where she belongs:
Snark!
Eleanor Roosevelt had a column in the Ladies' Home Journal that was meant to help and inspire the women holding up the home front during World War II. She'd answer reader questions in a section called "If You Ask Me". Here's a note from the editor mentioning that some of the mail received for the First Lady wasn't exactly polite. Probably had them wondering if they should change the magazine's name to HoBags' Home Journal:
It seems that it doesn't matter that the world was gripped by a horrible war and that everyone was being asked to pull together - the big problem for some people was this outspoken wife of the President. Ah, hate mail: American's favourite past-time.
In some of the questions Mrs. Roosevelt received, you can definitely sense the "what makes you so special?" mentality some people had toward her, like in this one questioning why Eleanor Roosevelt made a trip to visit soldiers overseas (how dare she!):
Eleanor Roosevelt really did have a great way of telling people to go fuck themselves. Like in this Q & A:
The wives of Democratic presidents weren't the only ones who got lambasted by the public. Check out this article about Pat Nixon, 31 years after these Eleanor Roosevelt examples, from Woman's World February 1974:
Here, the article opens with the public perception of Pat Nixon - a cold, robotic woman (sounds like current critiques of Nancy Pelosi!) who hasn't taken on any projects to help make America a better place. Sounds like they're damned if they do and they're damned if they don't.
All yet another reason I love this goofy, boring country of mine. I imagine the "Arleens" of the Canadian political world agree.
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In honour of the 100th International Women's Day, I'm doing something special: Taking the day off to watch Classic Family Feud while feasting on cheese and Campari in bed. Just kidding - I do that every day.
Nope, today I'd like to chat a little bit about feminism, which I'm sure is a disappointment for those who came to this website to read about bitches and 1950s housewife life. I assure you, I'll get back to all that very shortly.
If I had to write a list of all the things I am, the word "feminist" admittedly isn't the first thing that comes to mind. But if asked the yes or no question, "are you a feminist?", I'd immediately and enthusiastically answer "Yes!" To me, it's like answering the question, "Should people be nice to each other?" or "Are Cool Ranch Doritos delicious?" It's so automatic, that I can't help but be surprised when I hear modern people say that they're not feminists - or to even suggest that they're anti-feminist. I think there's a valid argument for someone who prefers to think in terms of being a humanist vs. feminist, but to me, that doesn't explain anti-feminism.
So, if I were to guess why some people flinch at the thought of being labeled a feminist, it has to do with what they think feminism is. I'll give you a hint: It's not about burning bras or hating men or voting liberal. It's not about dumping on women who wear make-up or get married or have kids or stay at home. It's even not about ignoring biological differences between men and women.
For me, feminism is about the freedom of self-determination. It's the idea that a woman shouldn't be limited in her chosen path because of notions of what a woman should, shouldn't, can, or can't do.
(Fellow humanists, feel free to replace the word "woman" with a race, class of people, or sexual orientation.)
It's a philosophy that ultimately encourages women to strive to become the individuals they want to be. Do you believe that? Yes? Surprise, you're a feminist! Doesn't it feel great?!?
Frankly, the only people I can think of who are opposed to this concept are those who are entrapped in a belief system that profits, depends on, rewards and punishes based on keeping a woman (or herself) "in her place". If you are such a person, I hope you have the freedom and drive to question it for yourself.
If you are already a feminist, I hope you have the freedom and drive to help your fellow lady out (here and abroad) and work to build and protect that which allows women to choose their own paths in life ... which leads me to the one political thing I'll say:
The defunding of Planned Parenthood in the United States is an atrocious affront to women. This isn't about abortion (none of Planned Parenthood's federal dollars ever went to abortion, and roughly only 3% of Planned Parenthood's work involves abortion procedures) - it's about affordable and safe access to health services, birth control and family planning education. Not sure how that fits in with a woman's freedom to live the life she wants? I'll let the legend, Loretta Lynn, explain it to you:
Have another bone to pick when it comes to women's rights and advancement (like how women perform 66% of the world's work, earn 10% of world's income and own 1% of the world's property)? Check out We Are EqualsRead more...
Hey, California finally got with it and realized it was unconstitutional (and therefore unAmerican!) for the people to vote on and lord over the rights of a specific minority group! Imagine that! Hopefully the rest of the country will follow suit, one judge at a time.
Those who know me know I love The Gays and spent many years as a professional hag working for Xtra, a gay and lesbian newspaper. In fact, I was at Xtra and was rooming with my very good friend, who happened to be a gay man, when I met and started dating my now-husband, Patrick.
Once things became more serious between Patrick and I, he told his family all about me, where I worked and my homo-loving ways. It was a non-issue, but Patrick wanted to make sure that his father, Paul, didn't say anything that could possibly offend his new love, Queen Fruit Fly. Now, Patrick's dad was not a homophobe. He really didn't care what people did with one another and when it came down to it, he was all for equal rights and freedoms. He did, however, love humour that wasn't always politically correct and enjoyed a little shock value in his jokes.
So, poor Paul was on very good behaviour the first few times I met him. Oh, how it must have pained him to not make a few quips when I explained how busy I was at work, what with the Dyke March to attend and the Rainbow Coalition meetings. How desperately he must have bit his lip when, as we all drove down Church Street together to grab lunch, we passed by a man wearing hot pants and a bib. And how his insides must have shredded with unsaid comments when I ran into someone with whom I was negotiating a sponsorship - and later had to explain to my husband's family that, no, that wasn't a guy I was talking with - that was actually a woman named Beth.
One day, Paul couldn't quite take it anymore. Pretending to ignore all of these euphoric sprays of gay gay gay all around him was taking a toll on his underused funny bone. But at the same time, he knew that Patrick would be mighty ticked if he said something that would make Patrick look like he was from a family of backward, slack-jawed hicks.
"What am I allowed to say?" Paul asked me one day. "I hear you say 'dyke' and 'queer' - but I'm guessing I can't say that."
"Well ... I'm usually referring to something specific, like the Dyke March, which is what it's called. Plus, it's really their term to use, not ours," I said.
"So, it wouldn't be wrong if I saw a guy on the street and said 'I bet that guy is gay?'" Paul said.
I suppressed a laugh. "Um, you could, but, I doubt people would appreciate someone pointing at them and saying 'there's a gay!'"
Paul frowned, likely envisioning years of putting up with his son's uppity, humourless girlfriend.
"How about this," I finally offered. "You can use what I'd use at Xtra - they're subscribers to our newspaper."
I'm pretty sure that's the moment I won him over. His eyes lit up and a big grin spread across his face. "Subscribers!" he said, enchanted with this new word. It was as if the gates of heaven had just parted before him and cherubs - carrying scrolls of potential gay jokes - were dancing before him on the clouds.
So, from that day on, the word "subscriber" was used to describe anything homosexual in nature. Not a get-together went by that I didn't hear Paul use that term with great delight. On one hand, he still got to make his jokes and point out the gay gay gay of life (usually at the expense of his sons. Paul was in his full subscriber glory the day Patrick wore a purple tie). On the other hand, Paul was actually, in an odd way that makes me smile, demonstrating his new sensitivity around the issue.
Yesterday, when California was progressing toward greater equality, we received the following in the mail. It made me think of Paul:
Just as Paul would have, I handed it to Patrick and told him it was addressed to him. We had a good laugh over it, just as Paul would have, too.
Yesterday (Canada Day) I took a little walk in my neighbourhood. The park next to our home was cordoned off with police tape as, sadly, the body of a man was found there earlier that morning.
There's a police officer near the park's entrance who has attracted the attention of a group of people in their late twenties.
Uh oh, I think, and strain to hear the conversation as I get closer. The events of the past weekend have created a bit of tension, to say the least, between the people and the police.
"... well, I was on Queen Street," says one of the guys, "and I definitely wasn't there to cause any trouble. It still got all hairy for me."
The police officer says, "Yeah, well, you and me both."
The guy then stretches his hand out. The police officer hesitates for a second and then shakes it.
"Keep your head up," says the man. "The G20 sucked, but we're still ultimately on the same side. Remember that, eh?"
"Thank you," said the officer. "Same to you."
They smile at each other and the guy and his friends walk off.
It's a start to this city repairing itself.
If we could, I think everyone would like to hit a big rewind button and go back to when the good guys were clearly the good guys and the lines between right and wrong didn't seem so muddied. And I think if all of us had the choice, we'd opt to do things differently.
As I've told friends who have very firm opinions on certain topics, I'm really not a black-and-white person. I see things in all sorts of grey shades. I easily feel empathy toward others. When things like the G20 come to town and there's such a mix of experiences, points of view and facts - it gets hard to choose a side, or in the very least, not feel bad for everyone involved. And that's why, as my blog post title suggests - I'm on the fence about a lot of what happened.
Within this post, I won't be debating whether the G20 is a good thing or a bad thing in itself. Nor will I bother to explain what I saw on TV, as you all saw the same thing. I'm just going to lay out a few things as I see them while also sharing my own personal experiences from the weekend. I'm someone who didn't go into the security zone or attend the main protests - and yet I still experienced several sides of this story.
...
So, some genius decided to hold the G20 in downtown Toronto - an area that is both well populated and the financial centre of the country. This decision was dumped onto our mayor, our police chief, our business owners and our residents.
Historically, the G20 attracts a lot of attention and creates a totally different dynamic for the host city (and I'm not just referring to the huge fence that got erected). Protesters (with a great variety of causes and relevancy to the G20), wannabe protesters (people who join in but don't really have a cause or great idea about what the G20 is), G20 delegates and their entourage, gawkers and photographers, media (both mainstream and alternative), international groups and a huge multi-city police force all converge on the city, each with their own agenda and job to do. And let's not forget all the other people here with nothing to do with the G20 (store owners, people working in the core, residents and tourists).
On Saturday, all was seemingly peaceful until some cowards decided to make trouble. We all saw that on TV. I had decided to stay home and watch CP24 coverage rather than going in person. I live downtown, just outside of the security zone and genuinely felt I would be unaffected by everything. Well, I am an idiot.
As I'm watching a police car in flames on TV, I realize it's less than two blocks away. A number of police cars tear down my empty (but normally busy) main street. I look outside and see that some people have come out of their homes and stores and everyone is looking down the street in the direction of the burning cop car. I can't help myself. I grab my camera and mini video camera and decide to become a gawker.
Here's some video I took (it's crap, I know) of what I saw when I walked outside my condo's door. Some people are heading from the protest area (although none have signs), some are people in the neighbourhood. One guy has no idea what's going on and asks me what happened:
As you can see, the police cleared our area. The officer who spoke to me directly (at about 1:35 in the video) was exceptionally polite and professional. He stressed that it was for my own safety that I leave - this - despite the fact that I was dressed in head-to-toe black (hey, it's slimming! Plus, I had no idea anyone was going to be using black garb to hide in that day).
We go inside and head for our rooftop patio to get a safer view. I am convinced that the hooligans are heading our way and I'm freaking somewhat. I am all kinds of grateful to the police for their presence and I'm hoping they're going to be OK. A bunch of fellow condo dwellers also have the same idea and are lined up along the rooftop's wall, taking pictures and trying to get a better look. Here's a picture from our rooftop of a few police lines formed at Victoria and Yonge Streets: Suddenly, before you know it, the police are moving elsewhere and our street is weirdly quiet again. I feel like a dork for being so freaked over it all.
Throughout the day, we watch TV and keep seeing the replays of the vandalism. People on Twitter are furious that this has happened. Protesters are angry that these idiots have taken away from their messages. The media is delightfully screeching the day's events.
Later in the afternoon, a set of police paddy wagons sit outside our home, waiting to be called into action: Patrick and I eventually decide we want to go outside. We've been cooped in all day, are disinterested with what's in the fridge and decide to take a stroll and find out if anything is open. We walk past the police in front of our place and decide to take a look closer at the area where the cop car was burned to see if there's any evidence of the melee left.
We can't get all the way to Bay Street as there is a line of police officers in helmets blocking the way. A small crowd of gawkers (us included) are standing about in the middle of the road, taking pictures of them. Every so often, the line of police walk forward, yelling "MOVE!" The crowd backs up, but no one is particularly intimidated. In fact, as the police yell "MOVE!" and "KEEP THE LINE!" the crowd gently mocks them, imitating the order.
People stand a short distance away from the police, taking pictures of themselves in front of the line-up. I get one of Patrick. The crowd is in a rather jovial mood. Some of the officers are amused by this and try not to crack too much of a smile, others are irritated by the fact they've become a tourist attraction.
The line eventually stands its ground at Yonge Street and Patrick and I decide we've seen enough, so we head south and then east to see what restaurants are open. It turns out most things are open east of Yonge, and we decided on the Hot House Cafe on Front Street. We get a seat on the patio. It's busy, but not super busy. I'd say the patio is about 75% full. The crowd is a bit older, but still a good mix of people. There's a security guard on his break (he tells a nearby table he got to meet President Obama earlier in the day), tourists, locals, a group celebrating a birthday, everybody.
While we're eating, a TTC bus marked "special" rolls up to the stop light. It is filled with police officers. From my seat, I take a picture of it, much to amusement of some of the officers on the bus. I wave and they wave back. The table next to us laughs and strikes up a conversation about the police presence in the city. We all agree that it's "crazy" and we're eager for the city to get back to normal. More police-filled buses roll by. It becomes a game for the people on the patio to wave at the officers and see if or how many of them wave back. Eight police buses eventually drive through. Every bus has officers who wave back - some of whom are more smiley and enthusiastic than others. One officer pretends he is trying to claw his way out of the bus - and that gets a huge laugh from the patio. Another officer indicates he wants a drink. When we raised our glasses to him, a bunch of the officers on that bus cheer and mime that we should bring the drinks to them, all with goofy grins on their faces. On another bus, one of the policemen responds to our waves by dramatically blowing kisses to the patio and doing the "Queen wave", as if he were a homecoming princess in a parade. It is hilarious and unexpected and has the whole patio laughing and smiling and waving at the officers.
Part way through dinner, sirens draw close and a motorcade led by police motorcycles makes its way through the intersection. Someone at another table excitedly asks out loud, "Is it Obama?!"
As it turns out, the motorcade is for a paddy wagon going to the detention centre. The entire patio erupts in applause. Table to table, people talk about how "horrible" those vandals were and how they hope the police were coming down on them hard.
Meal complete, we decide to walk home, but in true gawker fashion, decide to go up Yonge instead (a slight, minor detour) to see if the police lineup is still there. As we walk up Yonge toward King, it starts raining and it instantly becomes dark. Out of nowhere, police vehicles are racing around, minivans filled with cops in riot gear unload all around us.
Some young guys walk by and suggest that we should to turn back. I say, "but I live up there!" and he says, "so do I, but no one's allowed to get north of King." Since we didn't technically have to get north of King - just to King - we keep walking. As we get to the intersection, we see a massive crowd of protesters on Adelaide, heading west. It was a giant mob of fast-moving, chanting, drumming people. Their chants are loud, even angry. I can't tell if they were 'good' or 'bad' protesters - but the sight of them all (which I later found out to be about 2,000 people) and their chorus of yells startles me.
The riot police are spilling out of moving vans everywhere and they're putting gas masks on. It's a flurry of helmets and shields and rain. Everywhere officers are yelling and checking their equipment. I try to take some pictures while I'm walking (idiot, I know), but they're all super blurry as I'm more interested in getting out of there than capturing a Kodak moment. Patrick is tugging at my arm to hurry up.
I wonder if the people we're passing are the same officers we were smiling and waving at earlier. I feel like saying something to them - like "thank you" or "keep up the good work" - but even with two tasty pints of Grasshopper in me, I can't find the courage. The police are all in the 'zone', suiting up for what feels like a battle and I feel like the best thing I can do is just get out of their way.
As we get to our condo, another van of officers piles out in front of us. I finally croak out to one of them, "Stay safe."
He glances up at me for a second and says with a tired voice, "We'll try to do that. Thank you, ma'am."
We get home and watch from our window as the mounted unit rides by and more police head west. A small police blockade is set up at Church Street, cutting off everything in front of our place. The streets are wet and the police lights are reflecting off them into every direction.
Only a few minutes pass and our street returns to quiet again, the biggest sound coming from the pounding rain. There is no sight of the officers who had just taken over the street.
For the second time that day, I feel stupid for feeling so panicky.
Late that night, we hear loud cursing. Like drama vultures, we swoop to the window and press our faces toward the noise. Down the street at King and Church, a man is screaming at the top of his lungs. He is so filled with rage that his body contorts with nearly every syllable. The best way I can describe it is to imagine Elaine from Seinfeld dancing - but to a rant. The angry man stands next to two police officers who are in normal police uniform.
"HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?! I'M A FUCKING PEACEFUL PROTESTER! I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING, I SHOULD BE ABLE TO GO WHERE I WANT, YOU FUCKING SACK OF SHIT!!!! EVER HEAR OF RIGHTS? I'M FUCKING PEACEFUL!!!"
To which we hear, "SIR! MOVE! THIS IS YOUR WARNING. YOU NEED TO GO - BUT GO NOW."
We watch the man turn off around the corner, heading north away from the police at the intersection. I think I can hear the sound of a newspaper box getting kicked.
Patrick and I stare at each other for a second, each making a 'WTF face'.
"That didn't sound super peaceful to me," I said.
"No shit," said Patrick, "that was a major exercise in police restraint if I ever saw one."
Our opinion of the police, at that point, is sky high. They saved our little stretch of the road from the crazies. They were courteous and friendly with us. They waved at us. They had a sense of humour. They didn't take Angry McGee down Rodney King-style, and in fact, let him go "in peace."
We are, however, completely ignorant to the arrests and protester break-up that occurred in the Free Speech Zone at Queen's Park earlier that day and the mass arrest of those sitting-in on the Esplanade (around the corner from us) at that moment.
We wake up the next morning, take care of a few things and then turn on the TV and my Twitter feed. It's like the city has been flipped on its head. Hundreds of arrests, a raid at U of T, and what looks to be a peaceful protest at the detention centre gets aggressively broken up. Reports and rumours are coming in of journalists getting hit and arrested by police, a friend on Facebook talks about getting a gun pointed at her face in Queen's Park, another talks about being detained in Union Station by police and not being able to join the protest. Many of these stories are coming from people I know, people who are not liars. More are coming in from those I don't know - from people making allegations of police brutality and rampant, unwarranted arrests and searches.
A friend sends me a message on Twitter saying that another protest is being organized across the street from me. I think "Oh, crap." It turns out to be a "nonviolent prayer vigil" organized by the Student Christian Movement. I figure that's safe enough to go outside and check out.
There's maybe 50 people standing on the lawn of the St. James Church. The signs are of poverty issues and some about freedom in the city (people upset about the fence and how the G20 has taken over everything). Someone is dressed up as a cob of corn - why, I have no idea. A young couple have brought their baby, but everyone else appears to be an adult of all ages. There are two police officers on the lawn as well, standing next to the organizer. She gets on a megaphone and explains to the protesters that they are there peacefully, that they will march to the fence (or as close as they can get) and will follow police instruction. She tells people not to wear any masks or bandanas. She stresses to keep things peaceful and to follow police instruction. By the time they're ready to get going, the crowd has grown to about 75 people. A minivan of police lead the group down King with a line of officers walking along side the marchers. They head west. It is very calm. Patrick and I don't bother to follow them. We are gawk'd out.
At home, we learn that their march has stopped at King and Bay and officers aren't letting them go any further. They've sat down and are mainly singing songs, clapping and chanting. More people have joined them.
We later find out that after a sit-in, police have directed them north. Some people involved in an earlier bicycle protest have joined them (the rest are at the detention centre, participating in a sit-in that is again growing tense). The group eventually ends up on Queen and heads west. Some people from the original prayer vigil have left, but more people have joined in.
This area eventually becomes the site for the now infamous Queen-Spadina "show down" where the police use the kettling technique for all the city to see. It seems bizarre and insane that so many people are being treated like criminals and forced to stand out in the pouring rain as they're being arrested one by one, for what charge, we can't understand. I wonder how it seemed to be more of a matter of luck that Patrick and I hadn't been caught up in a scene like that. After all, we were no better and no worse than the people trapped at Queen and Spadina and had been out and about - even at times looking to see what was going on - just the night before.
People are crapping themselves on Twitter (myself included), our parents call us to make sure we're alright, people are phoning in to CP24 to give a range of opinions. My feelings on the police are radically different than how I felt about them the day before and I have trouble matching my own experiences with what others have expressed and with what I'm seeing on TV.
Later we learn that over 900 people have been arrested and that most are claiming to be peaceful protesters and bystanders. People are talking about the conditions in the detention centres and how unlawful and unfair it all seems.
....
For the last few days, I've been seeing and hearing a lot of opinions, some I agree with, some I understand but see a different side to, and some I disagree with entirely. Here are some popular ones, and how I feel about them:
"The city was out of control!" It certainly appeared that way on TV, but many of my friends who were actually there insist the mayhem was overplayed. They, themselves, barely saw any of it. There were 25,000 protesters on the big day and roughly 100 - 200 people using Black Bloc techniques (and among them, according to some people in the crowd, only about 20 were "super aggressive").
"We were a peaceful crowd." I believe this, for the most part, but I also think some people have a weird idea of what 'peace' is. I've seen a lot of videos of people taunting the police (even before the Black Bloc crap), saying things to them like:
"Are you normally an asshole, or are you just paid to be one?" "Did you know that you're a banker's dog?" "Go fuck yourself, pig!" "Oh, sure, you're so tough with all your riot gear on, but I don't think you'd be so tough if I met you in an alley!" "Can't you think for yourself, you fucking robot? You're a fucking paid goon!" "I'm paying your salary, so how about you get out of my way?"
If we ever talked to someone like that in a bar, we could probably expect to be punched in the face.
I later saw someone being interviewed by the media after he was let out of the detention centre. While rolling his eyes he explained that he was being charged with carrying concealed weapons. Dripping with sarcasm, he says (and I'm paraphrasing) "Yeah, these are the weapons I had on me. They're baggies with flour and paint. I figured that if the police used teargas on me, I could throw these at them to retaliate. A little paint on their uniforms! So what? It'll wash off in the rain."
I watch that and I think this guy should thank his lucky stars to be arrested. Imagine his plan had actually come to fruition: Do you think the police are going to stand there as some strange objects are being hurled at them? You think they're going to - in the midst of a screaming crowd and teargas - stop, investigate what's on them, maybe go to the lab to see what it is - and then decide how to respond? For all they know, you've just tossed chemicals at them. Their response would be to take you down - HARD. And I wouldn't blame them. You might as well be pointing a toy gun at them while you're at it, moron.
"You should have all stayed home. You were asking for trouble by being there." Sorry, but I think this is bull. I do think people shouldn't act dumb about why they're out (if they're not true protesters) and should acknowledge that if they're walking into an area that's filled with cops that you have to take certain responsibilities for your actions, but it's a living-breathing city. As I illustrated from an account of my days, protesters and police seemed to come out of nowhere in areas outside the security zone. No one should have to act like the city is being held hostage just because some idiots broke some windows. Some of the people who got tackled and hauled off to the detention centre included TTC employees with full uniform (who were on the job), waiters getting off work, restaurant patrons, journalists doing their job, shop owners looking to protect their stores from vandals ... and so on. Their arrests seem like total, crazy overkill and an overreaction to the previous day's craziness.
Additionally, I think protesters had every right to protest. No one won the right to vote, the right to choose, the right for equality, etc. by staying home and shutting up. The majority of people cooperated with the set protest "rules" with police and yet were still stripped of their rights to protest and assemble, seemingly without warning. Utter and total crap.
"If you don't listen to the police to leave, you deserve what you get." I'm all for complying with the police - but according to many people in the locations, they were never given the warning to leave. I've watched many G20 protest videos, and I haven't heard ones were the police were on their big megaphones giving clear instruction. They need to do this in order to get people to comply. They need to explain in a clear and consistent way why a legal protest is getting disrupted by the police.
Furthermore, in the videos where you do hear individual officers telling people to leave or go home, there's no way for people to do that. They're being boxed in at every direction with no way out. People who are politely (at first, more angrily later) asking for a way out aren't given that option or information. You can see some of that (and get a sense of a) some shit talk police have to listen to and b) how scary it must have been to be boxed in like that) in this video.
"This is all a set-up by the police." When I was watching TV and the image of the little snot punks breaking windows and burning cop cars filled my screen, I was just waiting - with a touch of blood lust, I'll admit - to see an image of the cops swooping in on them, batons swinging. And then it didn't happen. With all that I saw (hundreds, thousands of officers) and all the spending and planning that I knew went into the weekend, it was confusing to see a lack of police action and presence when things were running amok.
People then started to theorize that police "allowed" the thuggery to occur and / or that the police in fact helped to instigate these crimes via "agents provocateur"so that they'd be given a carte blanche to crack down on the city and hippie citizens hard later and / or so that people would stop bitching about the $1.3 Billion event price tag.
Unless someone has information otherwise, I'm not under the impression that the police officers are getting paid based on who or how many people they detain and arrest. I don't think there's any "bonus pay" out there for the police force on this. I have a certain amount of faith (maybe ill-placed, but I guess that's my own failings, in that case), that the police chief and command officers don't have secret deals with the Prime Minister to make him look good. From some of the reporting done, there was confusion on the ground, everyone was speaking over each other on the radio and these criminals took advantage of that.
If facts arise that say otherwise, I'll be the first person to change her opinion. And the only silver lining if that IS the case? It tells these little Black Bloc "anarchists" that they're just predictable pawns used by the authorities they claim to be against. Chumps!
"I was tortured by the police." / "The cops are neo-Nazi fascists." I don't doubt that some people were treated poorly, even possibly illegally, by certain officers - and that needs to be dealt with in the firmest manner possible. That said, I don't deal well with people who swing around heavy, heavy words and apply them willy-nilly. Tortured? We live in a world where people are trying to deny that water-boarding is torture. I don't think sitting in a cold, cramped cell (while totally shitty) quite compares. And Nazis? I hate that one. Nazis murdered millions of people. You reduce the severity and the horror and atrocities that were actually committed by Nazis by thinking every person who offends should also be labeled as such.
"The place was a war zone." / "The city was infiltrated by terrorists." The same goes for above. Let's not get all dramatic with our language. It wasn't a war zone. It was downtown Toronto and it featured a small riot. And last I checked, terrorists murder as many people as possible in the name of a cause or a group. People who stand for nothing and break windows are just little pathetic pukejobs. Big difference.
"The people complaining are just pussies. We're pampered here. In other countries, they'd be murdered for their protest actions." Personally, while I feel lucky to live in this country, I don't think we have "pampered" rights. I think our rights set the bar for others. Our rights are BASIC. Rather than view ourselves as privileged, we should view those who don't have similar rights as exceptionally unfortunate - not as more "hardy" than us when it comes to civil liberties. I think we should never be complacent about what we have, and that these rights (to assemble, to free speech, to a free media, to only be arrested with charge, to an attorney, to have our laws spelled out for us, etc.) should be protected and fought for.
I also think that the experience many people had in the detention centres were far from pleasant and something most people would complain about if it happened to them. I found this person's account of his evening and arrest to be quite enlightening (although, to be clear, I don't know him. Take it with a grain of salt if you must. It's really just his word at this point.).
"Let these people go!" All of them? Because, quite frankly, I don't think the criminals should be let out - and let's make no mistake - the police caught people who were seriously breaking the law and / or had intent to.
"The police were within the law to do what they did." I think this is up to lawyers to decide - and only once they have all the information (which they don't) - can they do that. However, our confusion as to what is legal illustrates how blurry the difference is between our laws and rights (the Charter of Rights and the Criminal Code have a few things that seem to disagree with each other) and how uninformed we are about the law in general. It sounds as though, in general, much of the police action was performed legally (even if it was a bit of a stretch of the code) but that there likely were instances where peoples' rights were not adhered to. Regardless of what us armchair lawyers say, it's absolutely necessary that complaints are dealt with seriously ... and perhaps another look at the law is needed to spell things out more clearly and firmly.
"There should be a public inquiry." Let's do it. And not simply so that we can hang the police out to dry, but also so that they can finally release information on the other side of the story - the legitimate threats, their own videos of what happened on the line, and footage from within the detention centre. Everyone has been free to upload their videos, tell their stories, forward articles around - the police have not. They have one spokesperson who is standing by the decisions but has committed to look into any allegations. Like anyone else, I want bad cops exposed. But I also want good cops and police work applauded. If an inquiry can do both, I'm all for it.
"Police Chief Bill Blair needs to resign." I'd rather get a full picture of the facts before demanding his head. While I know he's ultimately accountable for his police force, I must admit that I feel sort of bad for the guy. He didn't ask for the G20 to land on his front step. He had to deal with a huge job, using police officers he didn't know, and a situation that was changing every minute. The people booing at him outside The 519 sort of broke my heart, as I also remember all the strides he's made between the police and the gay community over the years (that, and I just hate when people boo each other. It's just a thing for me).
"This is all Harper's fault." Yes, it is. Remember that when it's election time.
Twenty years ago today the Berlin Wall fell. I was 11. At school, they wheeled a TV in our classroom and we were given a break from the usual studies as our teachers insisted, "This is a moment in history. We don't want you to miss it." I did my best to focus and record it all mentally, but I now just have bits and pieces of my impression of everything.
My main impression is that I was too much of an idiot to grasp what was happening. We had only just begun to learn about World War II and my understanding of the war was flawed and overly simplified: Germans were Nazis and Nazis were the most evil humans that ever lived. Somewhere along the way, I misunderstood the West and East German divide and thought that West Germany was filled with "good" Germans like Anne Frank's dad and East Germany was a prison-like country for old Nazis and "bad" Germans. I had somehow gotten it in my head that the USSR had agreed to be the guards of the East German prison.
It was the images of the East Germans dancing on the wall, particularly what they were wearing - jean jackets, high-top sneakers, t-shirts - that made me realize for the first time that modern Germans probably weren't Nazis. Odd how seeing people in clothes like yours can shift your impression.
The other big memory I have of the Berlin Wall falling was that shortly after the unification of Germany, there was a Who's the Boss episode in which Mona was chastising Angela for not sharing her romantic feelings with Tony. Mona, exasperated, finally says "Angela! Let Tony know you love him! It's been years! Communism has fallen!"
Warning: Long and rather un-funny political post follows.
Not long ago, I blogged about how I wanted to become more passionate and active in local and national politics. I said this while basking in the glow of the Obama victory and the outpouring of everyday citizens who believed they could make a difference to better their nation. When I imagined myself becoming ga-ga for government, it was with a naïve vision of making myself heard in order to help push through important legislation, stop a great injustice or promote an inspiring leader. Instead, I am muttering about the crappiness of our elected officials and doubts that Canadians have little say over what’s going to happen next.
Before I continue, I’ll let my biases be known: I’m a socially left and fiscally right-ish individual. I don’t belong to any party and view each election as open season when it comes to my vote. In past federal elections, I’ve voted Conservative, Liberal and most recently, Green (dare to dream, little vote!). I’m by-and-large not optimistic about the people we elect and tend to presume that they’re all just a bunch of egomaniacs who will likely do and say anything to get what they want. I don’t, however, “hate” anyone – not even the people who are least likely to ever get my vote. I don’t think anyone or any party is evil – but I don’t think any one party is particularly awesome – they’re all as fully capable of corruption as they are at doing good. My vote in every election is done so that I can retain the right to take part in Canada’s favourite pastime: complaining.
This is how I see the events of late:
Prime Minister Harper, leader of the party with the most votes, has been described as the type of guy who only likes to be in the company of Yes Men. Where Obama hopes to surround himself with diverse thinkers, Harper prefers to hear one unified voice. It’s this trait – not his much heckled cold Syberian Husky-esque eyes or Lego Man inspired hairdo – that seems most defining. Anyhoo … a lack of dissenting opinion has a history of producing the risky environment of group-think and like nearly all occasions of when group-think has been festering, a false set of realities sink in (like, oh say, acting as if you have a majority) and crap that would normally be flagged as dicey or unwise gets the green light. Add into this mix that these group-thinkers are also all politicians (a.k.a. self-interested pigs) and you can actually see shit clearing space to create clear runways toward fans. So, when the Conservatives presented their Challenger Shuttle of a budget, the Tory Fantasy World burst.
Now, the elements within the budget that have people up in arms are actually worthy of debate. Not everyone supports public funding of parties. Not everyone stands behind strikers. And not everyone thinks pay equity suits should go beyond a union to solve. But according to some, these hot-ish button issues were tossed into the budget as a bully move and peeps don’t like getting bullied.
But, no, this isn’t what happened. Remember, we are talking about petty, petty politicians whose decisions are completely personal. Instead, we get The Coalition: a merry band of power-hungry white hairs who proclaim to represent most Canadians. You know, because a vote for the Liberals is the same thing as voting for the Bloc. Or the NDP. Or vice versa. Totally the same thing. Where the coalition passes the math test, they flunk the one about ideologies.
Cue idiotic mud-slinging. Conservatives transform themselves into Sarah Palin and shriek that Dion is “pallin’ around” with communists and unity terrorists. They refer to the coalition as traitors who are attempting to perform a coup d’etat (apparently some Tories believe that the world is their Wikipedia and this term can now be edited to describe a legal shift in power that occurs without military force). They stupidly poke the dormant separatist beast. It quickly gets fugly.
The coalition, on the other hand, likens Harper to a certain dictator who had a fondness for goose-stepping. They act incredibly dismissive of people who actually DID vote Conservative, provoking that other dormant beast, western alienation. They also become more entrenched in their resolve to gain control of the government and perform a vote of non-confidence, even if the Conservatives delivered a new budget that contained seeds for trees that grew money. The fug worsens. For the first time ever, America - with its lack of health care and an insane love of guns in the hands of everyday chump citizens - looks like a tempting place to live.
So, rather than being instantly voted out, Harper did the obvious thing – request the suspension of parliament for nearly two months. If anyone thinks that the Liberals or NDP would have done differently if in the same position, you are either lying to yourself or a monumental idiot.
So now we are where we are.
In my opinion, this small break presents an opportunity to right wrongs:
The Conservatives need to create a budget that is chiefly focused on benefiting Canadians – not sucker punching their foes.
Harper needs to learn to play nice or take a hike.
The coalition needs to wipe their shit-eating grins off their faces, start thinking about Canadians and work with our government to pass a good budget.
Dion and Layton: Enough. We know this is about $1.95 and your own blind ambitions.
Jean Charest. Jean Charest. Jean Charest.
We ALL need to demand more from our elected officials. Make your voice heard today.
Finally, for fuck's sake, show up to vote. Even if it is only a few months after the last one.
Last month, Canada had a federal election. Patrick and I marked the occasion unceremoniously by dragging ourselves over to the nearby polling station. We had no line in front of us, so it was quick and painless. We sighed, voted (for different candidates, as it turns out) and returned home to eat leftovers and obligatorily watch election coverage on CBC and Twitter. When the numbers were in, we turned to each other, shrugged and said “well, that was a waste” and went to bed. And the next day, we didn't think anything of it. Election done, business as usual, pass me a beer.
We acknowledged the American election quite differently. Last night, in anticipation of Barack Obama becoming the next US President, we hosted Siobhan and Patrick (her husband) to watch the coverage. I had decorated the place in Democrat blue, printed and hung Obama posters in the window and made gourmet hot dogs, Freedom Fries and apple pie. We even bought some bubbly for the occasion. We joyously screamed, hooted, danced and lit sparklers when Obama's success was made official and then cheered loudly through our window in the direction of the ultra-conservatives streaming out of the Albany Club. We felt energized, relieved and thankful. I’ve spent the better part of today warmly looking at footage of people all over the world who were also swept into the emotion of this moment.
Now, I love Canada. Love, love, love, love, love. In fact, this election probably gave me extra fuel for my sense of patriotism and confirmed how proud being a citizen of this country makes me. I like that our politics rest in the rational centre. I love that there’s no need for Proposition 8 here. I adore that people realize that contributing to a system that provides affordable health care for all its citizens is just as – if not more – patriotic than fighting for the right to own a gun. I love that if someone accused a candidate of being Muslim during an election, the first reaction would be to ask ‘what the eff is wrong with being a Muslim?’, and not simply deny the fabrication.
So my Canadacrush aside, I’m feeling the love for the USA today, which is a bit of a rarity. Ok, it’s a lot of a rarity (although Prop 8 passing still gets a huge, judgey thumbs down from me). The election of Barack Obama and the outpouring of positively-driven passion among the everyday citizen is genuinely inspiring.
Yes, the election of an African American for President is an important moment in the nation’s history in itself. But more than than this, for me, his campaign and election symbolized America finally turning a sharp and sinister corner. The old fear fog was lifted in favour of the massive, unabashed feelings of hope, change and a need for better.
Despite the best efforts of some campaigners, media and small-minded voters, The People didn’t give in to the time-honoured American tradition of fear-mongering, bullying and labeling that has made the rest of the world so disturbed by this once great nation. It’s not for lack of trying. They screamed and screamed: Commie! Terrorist! Anti-American! Godless! Corrupt! Un-Patriotic! Muslim! Anti-Semite! Illegal Alien!
And despite the continued barrage of these tactics in this election, The People finally, FINALLY turned away from the filth and looked toward a light of someone refusing to leave the high road. And when they looked, they started believing in doing better. In playing their part. In working with others. In grasping hold of the truth that they had the power. It caused people to vote for the first time in their lives. To volunteer to help the Obama campaign. To show up, en-mass to public places to celebrate with complete strangers. To cry with joy.
Last night was one of the first times I’ve ever felt that we Canadians could take a cue from our neighbours to the south. No, we don’t have the same dark veil of fear to lift from our eyes, but we certainly have one of apathy. Our country is a wonderful place – but just imagine how fantastic it could be if we chose to be invigorated by a need and a drive and a spirit to make it better. To dream bigger, feel deeper and actually WORK toward the advancement of The People.
I love my country, but today America has my applause and respect. It also has my gratitude for showing us exactly what we’re lacking. I never want to feel so dismissively hollow about the future of my nation again.
I told this story to some people the other night so it's all fresh in my brain and ripe for making it even more public. So here I go:
Back in 1995, a friend of mine was working through a student co-op program in her MP's (Member of Parliament) office. Basically, she had to answer phone calls from the constituents who wanted to bitch about the government. As you can imagine, she got a lot of calls from old people, angry people and the kind of people that believe that anything that interests them, from health care to the temperature of McDonald's apple pies, is a "right."
Anyway, in 1995 Canada was hopping with debate on account of the Quebec Referendum. For those that can't quite remember, the Quebec Referendum was a public vote in the predominantly French-speaking province of Quebec that asked the people if they wanted to move toward a process that would allow them to be separate and sovereign from Canada. The most memorable thing about it was immediately after the votes came in, the leader of Quebec and the separatist movement, Jacques Parizeau, got all drunk and blamed immigrants and ethnic people for the loss, on live television. This was right on par with Canadian politics because getting wasted and making crazy statements is a favourite among the leaders of our provinces.
So that's the background. During the time leading up to the vote a very angry (and probably old) man called the MP office where my friend worked and started blasting her about how ungrateful and horrible Quebec is for even considering leaving Canada. The man continued on and on and on to the poor 16-year old volunteer (who was working for an MP in ALBERTA, not Quebec) about what wretched people these separatists were until he was pretty much spent.
"You know what," he finally sputtered, "it comes down to just one thing."
"And that is?" my friend asked.
"If English was good enough for Jesus Christ, it's good enough for them bastards," and he promptly hung up the phone.
And that, my friends, is the logic of a politically-interested voter. If anything should encourage you to lose the apathy when it comes to voting and politics, it’s the knowledge that this guy and a handful of his friends are more than willing to make the decision for you.
My name is Jen and I look like that picture at all times. I enjoy appetizers as entrees, fountains choreographed to music and television shows intended for teenage girls. Oh - and I really dislike it when people spell it "Jenn"; it's practically a phobia.
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Need words? I'm a Toronto-based freelance writer who injects great ones into blogs, websites, magazines, ads and more. So many services, one lovely Jen (with one 'n').
parody, right?:
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