Sunday, December 9, 2018
I was surprised when at work yesterday, the song ‘Baby, It's Cold Outside’ came on. After all, isn’t that supposed to be the ‘rapey’ song that everyone is offended over? Sure, it’s been over 50 years since the song was originally released but better late than never, right?
I recently watched as a wide-eyed young woman spoke about how offensive this classic Christmas song was; she understood the lyrics to be about a young man pressuring a woman to spend the night. She spoke about how it was inappropriate in today’s #metoo culture. Obviously, she’s had a sheltered life because there are songs that have popped up since the 40s that make ‘Baby, it’s Cold Outside’ look an aspirin at a crystal meth party.
And hey, I’m not a music expert but I’m sure that those who are can easily name off ten songs that would stomp on that song without even blinking an eye. So does that mean we start protesting all those songs too? Maybe ban them all from radio stations? Judge people who listen to them? Demonize the musician who wrote them?
The problem is that once we start banning certain materials, it’s a slippery slope. Next, it will be movies, books, television shows and every other form of art that will be picked apart. That’s what some of us artists would call censorship and I certainly can’t speak for others but if we go that route, then I have things in my books that are vastly more offensive than ‘Baby, It's Cold Outside.’ I’m not the only one either. Many artists can tell you the same. And then what? Freedom of speech is hit by an ax.
For me, I don’t write about things like murder, violence, collusion, and intimidation because I’m trying to suggest that others model themselves after my characters. I write it because it’s reflective of what I see when I turn on the news, what’s taking place in our society. In the unlikely event that this Baby, It's Cold Outside is about a woman being pressured into having sex than I think it’s probably a pretty realistic reflection of what is and has happened in our world since long before the 40s when the song was released. And also, can I add, it doesn’t just happen to women? Not that we hear about the men who’s been pressured or sexually assaulted. For some reason, that gets lost in the shuffle.
And on a side note, what is the deal with people overreacting to the line. ”Say, what's in this drink?" What exactly did men slip into women’s drinks in the 40s? I’m seriously curious. Who knows what kind of shady shit grandpa was up to in those days.
Saturday, November 24, 2018
In the beginning, it was only supposed to be temporary. I was going to move back to my hometown in western, rural Prince Edward Island for a short period of time. After being laid off from my job in Vancouver, BC, it was meant to be nothing more than a transitional period. I definitely had no interest in 'living rural' for long but at the same time, wasn't really sure what was next.
I ended up staying longer than expected, either because of work or circumstances that popped up along the way. I've spent the last few years with one foot in the door while the other firmly planted on the other side, always prepared to make a dash for it whenever the right opportunity came along. Any day now.
I've always been very upfront about why I don't want to stay here and often, it's met with a combination of defensiveness and uncertainty when I attempt to explain my side of things. Of course, this is most often from people who've lived here for their entire lives and therefore don't realize how incredibly socially isolating it is to live in western PEI.
But let's step back for a moment. In fairness, this isn't something I'm only just dealing with now. Growing up here, I often felt the same way. Reminding you this was before the Internet and I didn't have a license or a car, so I was stuck. Literally, stuck. Not to mention the fact that I didn't fit into the cliques. I wasn't dressing as the other kids did, (not just because I thought Vuarnet shirts and Edwin jeans were lame but because even then, I wasn't a sheep who followed the herd) I wasn't cool enough for the popular kids and I was too weird for pretty much everyone else. That's fine. I didn't intend to stick around for long.
Fast forward a few years and you assume that as an adult, things would be different. I had lived in different places, published some books, worked in various jobs, had many experiences and was pretty confident compared to my high school days. However, I came back to discover that little had changed. Cliques still existed, people now treated me like one of 'those' people 'from away' (which means you aren't born and brought up here; essentially you've been tainted by those 'away' places) and I realized that I had walked back in time...by about 20 years. I attempted to make friends but found many people friendly, yet standoffish. So they would talk to me at the grocery store but they weren't interested in hanging out. At first, I thought it was me and attempted to be friendlier in case people thought I was a city snob but I later clued in that it wasn't my personality necessarily turning people off.
See, in rural PEI, people know everything. They know where you live. They know your car. They know where you work. They know who you date (and fuck on the side....and if they don't, they assume it's anyone of the opposite sex you speak to cause I've also noticed men and women aren't friends here). They know your friends and your friends are either the people you've known for 100 years or a relative, but usually a spouse. This seems to be an unspoken rule and after being here for a while, I just stopped asking people to do anything with me because I already knew they wouldn't. The boundaries are already established.
It's very socially isolating. People often put down the 'big city' where 'no one knows their neighbor' (I'm not sure why that's a bad thing) but yet, I've lived in the big city and had an easier time making friends than I ever did here. I've made friends at the bus stop, at my work, with strangers who worked at a nearby store, you name it. However rural PEI, forget it. Here, I have mostly only acquaintances.
I also have little in common with people here, so that doesn't help. My idea of a fun afternoon isn't jumping on an ATV and driving through mud, drinking and driving (if you don't believe, check out all the beer cans on the side of the road) and going to any church function isn't exactly yanking my chain either. However, many things here are centered on the church.
I also hate country music. Like, with a bloody passion, I hate it. I also hate anything redneck. No confederate (racist) flags for me, thank you and you wouldn't catch me wearing Cabela clothing and actually calling it fashionable. I'm not even going to talk about the dating aspect of things because there is no dating aspect of things. Most men are attached right out of high school and have kids five minutes later. While I was out dancing on tables on Saturday nights, many of my classmates were apparently having babies.
Who knew this was a thing?
Racism is big here. Like, really big. I once had a relative tell me that all the people from 'those foreign countries' should all 'go back where they came from'. I pointed out that her people were once from somewhere else, in attempts to point out her ignorance but that particular point was missed. Another person saw a Muslim family and suggested they were going to 'blow us up', which demonstrated her ignorance. Of course, there are Trump fans here too. One moron told me he wished Trump could rule Canada too. I almost barfed on him.
Jobs are scarce here. I had one local interview where I gave terrific references from long-term employers only to be asked if I had any references 'from here'. I guess the others didn't qualify since they were 'from away'. Many people are known to get jobs because of political patronage. People pretend it's not a thing but it is. I've seen it. Not that politicians are interested in having many jobs here. Most are seasonal or government-sponsored (the employment equivalent of 'throwing crumbs at us') therefore giving just enough work to apply for EI (a federal program) which keeps people feeling they need to stay in the politician's good graces in order to keep on...you know, eating, especially come election time.
Then there are the pesticides. Lots and lots of pesticides. The only reason why the Irvings don't own PEI is that there's probably some pesky law in the way that doesn't allow them to take over the entire island and turn it into one (super pesticide filled) potato field. This, in itself, is a topic. It makes me nervous to stay here much longer because I'm not interested in joining the cancer club that constantly has new (forced) members. As in, I hear the word 'cancer' every day because someone new seems to have it every day. People pretend that's normal. It's not normal.
Don't get me wrong. There are a lot of friendly, kind people here who aren't racist, who are educated, open-minded and open-hearted but there are also a lot of unspoken rules that I don't tend to follow. And for that reason, it's pretty isolating. This is my reality.
Sunday, November 4, 2018
Back in the day, there was a song called Peace Sells…but Who’s Buying. Interestingly enough this song has been popping in my head lately due to the current political climate in the US. I'm guessing the rebellious, teenaged version of myself that listened to the song in the 80s probably wouldn't have been too happy if she saw ahead to the future.
The 2018 version of myself isn't dealing with it too well either.
The problem is that I feel as if I can’t avoid Trump. Whether I turn on the television, check out my daily newsletters or even go on social media, I’m bombarded with images of the fat, orange slob, always with a deeply etched frown on his face. Let’s be honest, the man looks as miserable as fuck. I mean, he has all the money, power and (surprisingly) attractive women he wants and yet, he looks consistently hateful as if someone just struck him in the testicles with a hot poker.
But I’m getting off topic.
The reality is that society is now shining a light on prejudices that have always been there but people suddenly feel justified in stating them, attacking others and even murdering in the name of racism. I think we’ve all witnessed it in our daily lives in some way or another, whether it be a racist remark made by a relative (we all got one) or witnessed Islamophobia on a Facebook wall. It’s enough to raise the blood pressure of anyone with a heart … and some form of rational thought.
It has gotten to the point where I have to watch news sparingly. I listen to The Left Daily Podcast to get the overall scoop on what insanity is taking place that day and scan through the highlights on various newsletters and that’s it. The days of overconsuming news are done. I just can't do it anymore.
Regarding people who follow Trump like mindless sheep, I have to say that I’m done with them too. I’ve deleted racist, ignorant and hateful comments off my Facebook wall (followed by the person who posted them) without bothering to argue. Is there really any use? My time is too valuable to waste on lunatics. I have, however, told off one Trump lovin’ moron who decided to attack my mother on her own Facebook when she posted a positive meme about Obama. I told the miserable cow to keep her hate-filled comments on her own wall.
Sidenote: ever notice how Trump's followers are often as miserable and hate-filled as Trump himself? (See paragraph #2)
The point is that just because Trump insists on controlling our media doesn’t mean we have to consume it. In fact, isn’t that what he wants? To have all the attention on him? Furthermore, you don’t have to take abuse from anyone who disagrees with how you feel. Delete, block, or tell them to fuck of....whatever works, then move on. Why keep someone on your social media (or in your life) if they're making your blood boil on a regular basis? Do they really hold the values of someone you want as a part of your world?
Peace sells…but no one's buying. At least, not when war makes so much money. 💰
Sunday, October 7, 2018
I recently had a conversation with a young, wet-behind-the-ears man who informed me that he was ‘with Kavanaugh’ and that there wasn’t ‘any proof’ that Dr. Ford was raped. I almost lost my mind.
Unfortunately, there are many people who feel the same way. And even more unfortunate is the fact that a lot of those people are other women.
I’m not saying that no woman has ever lied about being raped. I’m not trying to suggest that women are always honest with the police, in court and anywhere else for that matter but the thing is, why is it our first assumption that they’re lying unless there’s cold, hard proof. We’re concerned about ruining the ‘good reputation’ of a man, however, no one considers that any woman that comes forward against a man in power is probably risking her own reputation since there’s only about a half a chance people will believe her…even with proof.
This young male went on to say that there were extremists on all sides. With this, I did agree, however, was slightly concerned when he used the example of ‘extreme feminists’ as an example. He claims ‘extreme feminists’ are most likely to hate him simply because he’s white and male.
I’m guessing it might be another reason however, I remain quiet and listened to his views.
I then felt the need to point out that even if Kavanaugh were innocent, he still wasn’t a great choice for this intensely powerful position. After all, the man is against abortion and once you remove this right, slowly, other women’s rights could easily follow. Think the Handmaid’s Tale. To this, he appeared stunned and said that I was being extreme (maybe I’m the ‘extreme feminist’) and that he was ‘pro-life’ and somewhere in the midst of this conversation, religion was brought up and essentially, everything began to unravel from there.
But it was when he told me that Trump wasn’t a racist, he just used ‘unfortunate wording’ when he called Mexican rapists, that I cringed.
Ironically, isn’t it? When Trump says someone is a rapist, it’s unfortunate words. When a woman not only says it but testifies to it and puts everything on the line to stand up against her attacker, she’s just lying.
I close friend of mine was raped at 18. She wasn’t raped at a college party or after a drunken escapade nor did it happen because she was dressed ‘slutty’ or because she hung around the wrong people. It happened because she was always told to trust the police; and so, when an on-duty officer stopped his car to offer her a drive home, she felt safe accepting. As it turns out, this was her first mistake.
After driving her into a secluded area (this was rural NB after all) he raped her. Considering the officer was in the position of power, clearly that put her at an immediate disadvantage. She followed proper procedure, reporting the crime but it was swept under the rug. The cop was shoved off to another community with no charges and as a result, my friend was sent a clear message; you don’t matter.
This is the same message many women have received in various situations over the years. Whether it be the recent case with Dr. Christine Blasey Ford in the US or many other women who’ve reported assaulted only to be abused by not only the perpetrator but also the system;, it’s not a new story. Unfortunately, even though it’s 2018, it still appears that nothing has changed from when my friend was raped 20 years ago. We’re still dealing with the same structure of power and belief system now as we were in the 90s.
Although this isn’t always the case, as a woman, I often feel that if needed, the police won’t be on my side. In fact, if I am victimized, I really have no faith that calling the cops will be productive. They'll show up, ask a few questions and chances are, that’s where everything will end. I’ve heard too many stories from other women that have reassured me of this belief; from women who were in abusive situations to women who were stalked, threatened and one of which, eventually killed, with little or no help from the police. I recently heard one story where the female officer accused the woman involved in a domestic situation of being of fault.
Not to say that women are always innocent victims but it makes me feel that my odds of being taken seriously are slim.
My friend that was raped never was the same after that day. She suffered from self-esteem issues, made irrational and sometimes self-destructive decisions and not surprisingly, had a great deal of distrust for authority. Years later, she was assaulted again by an acquaintance who asked for a drive home. She briefly - very briefly - considered going to the police but finally decided against it. In her mind, it was the people who were supposed to protect her in the first place that lost her trust. The sad part is that when I tell this story to most women, they aren’t surprised.
Thursday, July 5, 2018
Earlier this year, I was planning to move to another province. Although I have since put off this decision so I could focus on my writing adjusting to a new life in a new city, it was pretty stressful. Weighing the pros and cons of every decision is especially difficult if you’re an over-thinker who tends to fixate on one point after another until it’s just one big jumbled mess in your brain.
That aside, I discovered, very quickly, that my somewhat gypsy lifestyle is thought to be weird. Not having a long-term, settled addressed makes people suspicious. Switching jobs, not having a lot of possession (especially a car) seems to disturb people. In fact, many look at me sadly as if I worked my whole life for…what? Nothing? I don’t have a house, a car or family to ‘show’ for my life. I mean, sure, I wrote a few books in a short period but it’s not the kind of tangible stuff that most would consider normal.
It wasn’t always this way. In fact, up until 2010, I actually had a car, possessions like furniture and a job that I had worked at for many years; think double digits. However, when I decided to move to Vancouver, many of these things that I needed became a huge weight tying me down. I wasn’t about to bring everything with me so I had to purge, sell and for the most part, practically give away many of the possessions that I had worked so hard to get in the first place. I was left thinking that it was incredibly ridiculous. Why do we work so hard for this stuff that really just anchors us and makes it difficult to have freedom?
When I left BC a few years later and returned to the east coast, I was content to leave my furnished apartment aside, only having to purge a few items since I kept my possessions limited over the years, allowing me to never get tied down in the same way again.
So back to earlier this year. I’m attempting to move to a furnished apartment however, it’s quickly proven a difficult process because as it turns out, there aren’t many furnished apartments. Many that are out there are quite frankly, fucking dumps with ‘furniture’ resembling the crap you pull off the sidewalk when moving to your first apartment in college. Other places were nice but expensive. It was difficult to find anything in between and for some reason, trying to simplify my life actually became very difficult. Many furnished apartments weren’t all included and if they were, sometimes landlords weren’t getting back to me with images etc. It was frustrating.
I actually had one particularly difficult experience with a landlord while looking in Halifax who apparently thought that part of the interview process involved asking me why I moved so much. Well, why the fuck not? Why do I have to my lifestyle choice? Why does anyone? Clearly, I was a weirdo because this particular guy grew suspicious and said he would only maybe rent to me if I was willing to drive the 3-4 hours to meet him in person and even then he couldn’t guarantee anything. Essentially he was a judgemental dick however, he wasn’t alone.
Other things that potential landlords found weird included wanting everything included in the rent; heat lights, along with furniture. Why? Well, here’s an interesting fact. It’s nice to know exactly what your expenses are each month with no crazy surprises in January. Why is that strange? Landlords also thought that it was strange I didn’t have work lined up in the potential cities I was looking to move. Have you ever tried to get a job in a city that you don’t already live in? They pretty much toss your résumé aside because it just seems like a fucking hassle. There are too many concerns that you might not actually move or find a place in time to start the job. I had money in the bank but that seemed kind of irrelevant. The fact that I have a long resume of jobs, skills, and experience moving somewhere new and finding work right away also seemed irrelevant.
The point is that we are encouraged to simplify our lives but try it; people will think you are a freak too. Get rid of all your possessions other than the things you really need and the world shakes their head. A minimalist? What the fuck is that? Why do you want to pretend you’re poor? They don’t understand how you stuff. happy in life without a lot of Also, as I expressed, the world doesn’t exactly support this kind of lifestyle. Try finding a furnished apartment. Try trying to explain why you don’t have or want a car. Try to giving away stuff you feel you down. People will treat you as if you have a psychological disorder. I promise.
It’s not fair. Why must I how I choose to live? Why am I required to toe the line and do what everyone else does? Why must I explain my decision to live differently?
It almost seems as if society has ideas about how we all must live and feels the need to put tremendous pressure and shame on those who don’t fit into their beliefs.
There's a very unconventional guy that I see around and when I do, we chat. He has two homes. One doesn’t have electricity. He’s eccentric, an artist who very much marches to the beat of his own drum. He talks about how these two environments spark his creativity for various reasons. I find that fascinating. I know that some people think he’s strange and when I stand in the middle of a coffee shop talking to him, I can sense people looking at us strangely but it’s because I like him. He doesn’t feel the need like everyone else. He is living on his own terms. He doesn’t care what others think. To me, that takes courage.
I actually feel like when I do set out to move again and start looking for a new apartment, I might have to lie. Apparently being someone who just likes to move a lot is suspicious and weird so I will have to say something socially acceptable. Maybe I’m the side girlfriend of a rich politician who is paying my way and wants me closer by or maybe I’m an abused wife starting over. Oddly enough, these reasons seem like they would pass clearance faster than the truth. Sad, isn’t it?
Saturday, June 16, 2018
Originally posted on Fighting Words - Stanley Bridge, PEI
She went to her doctor about a concerning lump and he wrote it off as nothing; probably busy, maybe he didn’t care but regardless, the doctor brushed off her concerns as being irrelevant. He didn’t bother to take the necessary test to assure her that the lump was harmless but instead, assured the woman she was fine.
It was cancer. Unfortunately, she didn’t know this fact until a year later when it was too late.
However, this isn’t a story to rip apart the healthcare system or the doctor who made this error in judgment but it’s actually a story about how we treat each other. For example, had the doctor looked into the eyes of a scared woman in the office on the original visit, maybe things could’ve potentially turned out much, much differently. He didn’t.
Unfortunately, it isn’t just an overworked doctor who makes this kind of mistake; granted, in this specific case it was a matter of life and death but in general, many of us, every day, overlook people. We forget that these people may not always be here to overlook. That’s just an unfortunate reality that we all must face.
Months before this woman’s illness was revealed, we exchanged Christmas cards. She had a habit of bringing one to many of her coworkers each year although that particular year, she revealed to me that she had cut down on her Christmas card list. She confided that after seeing some of her cards tossed in the trash previously, she decided it that her gesture wasn’t appreciated by some.
Although I was pretty young and naive at the time, I still recognized what an incredibly rude and hurtful action this was and immediately agreed that those people, were simply not worthy of her kindness. After all, it takes time to fill out that many cards but I guess they thought she had all the time left in the world.
This is a story that I would recall after her death when a stream of coworkers met and entered the funeral home together, some fiercely proud of themselves to show their unity while others, actually there for the right reasons and I wondered to myself which of those people thoughtlessly tossed her Christmas cards away the previous years.
And let’s be honest. None of us want that kind of person at our funeral. I think almost everyone would agree that if you weren’t there for them in life, don’t bother showing up for the funeral either. And if you do, don’t cry and make a huge production cause you haven’t earned it.
The point is that we need to start treating each other better and we have to do so now. The news proves that we, as human beings are failing. We attack each other online, we judge, we hate and yet, rather than to change these behaviors, we choose instead to justify them. We don’t have to look much further than world leaders to see this every day. The rule of the jungle is if someone is a dick to you, you got the right to lash out.
I’m not suggesting that we should save the world. I’m not even suggesting that you talk to your ex or start saying nice things about repulsive world leaders, what I mean is to just be kind to one another. Smile. Open doors. Listen, really listen, when people talk and hear them. You may not have the solutions to the world’s problems but you have two ears, don’t you? Let’s try to take this fucked up mess of a world we live in and make it just a little easier for each other, shall we?
And if someone gives you a card, even if you don’t want it, smile, be gracious and just say, ‘Thank you’.