Canada's Money Troubles

The Harper Government (that’s what Dear Leader likes us to call it) promised a balanced budget, and look! Finance Minister Joe Oliver delivered… sort of. We’re supposed to overlook that the government is hardly spending on anything, and it borrowed from the contingency fund to deliver a meagre $1.4 billion surplus. That shouldn’t be hard; Canadians are highly skilled at not paying too much attention to politics, or anything happening in their country, except for maybe the grand opening of the next big box store.

Do I sound harsh? That’s because my people can be rather arrogant. They proudly wave the maple leaf flag and boast that this is the greatest country on earth while ignoring whatever isn’t spoon fed to them in a quick sound bite, and failing to turn up at the polls on Election Day. That’s why we’ve suffered under the Conservatives for NINE long years. Voter turnout in the last federal election, which gave the Conservatives a majority, was 61.1%. While this was an improvement as compared to the previous 58.8% turnout, the big picture is that Canadians have been voting in fewer numbers since the 1990s.

And if Stephen Harper’s terrorism fear mongering continues to achieve results, we could have yet another four years of him as our prime minister. Interestingly, that’s pretty much what the 2015–2016 budget is about: throwing a little money at defence to reassure the Conservative base that our government is serious about getting the bad guys at home, abroad, and on the Internet. The highlights are here.

Terrorism works as a great distraction; I’ll give the Conservatives credit for that. Meanwhile, reports are coming out stating that 42% of first-time home buyers are getting the money for the down payment from their parents! Am I the only one who is alarmed by this? Fortunately, these people’s parents have the money to give; what about the next generation? At this rate, they won’t have access to the “Bank of Mom and Dad” like their parents did.

Canada has a problem, whether Canadians want to acknowledge it or not. Should we be like Joe Oliver and “leave that to Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s granddaughter to solve”?

Talk to Your Kids

When I started writing again, I vowed not to get too personal in this blog. But there are times when there is a reason to open up a bit.

I haven’t written for a while. I could come up with numerous excuses, but the truth is that I’ve been censoring myself—something I promised myself I wouldn’t do. There is never a shortage of topics to grab among all the activity buzzing around my brain.

I’m a fairly open book, but there is something I’ve never discussed before. If my mother was still alive, she would be really upset to hear this, because it happened under her nose without her knowledge. When I was a kid, I really disliked myself. I didn’t really understand why, besides being affected by the constant bullying and the reinforcement that I was ugly and basically inadequate. That stuff stays with you, no matter how strong you are or how well-adjusted you become as an adult.

I used to cry and bang my head against the headboard of my bed and hope that I would knock myself out and not wake up. I remember, I started to get sloppy and would visibly bruise myself. I honestly don’t remember if my mom noticed, but if she enquired, I’m sure I had an excuse that she bought. Fortunately, this was the extent of my threshold for pain; otherwise, I might have inflicted harm on myself in other ways. I would also pray to die in my sleep, so I wouldn’t have to face another day. And then I would wake up in the morning and have to deal with all the same crap and the self-loathing.

We all struggle. Compared to a lot of other kids, I had it easy. But I’m sharing this because I worry that the world in which we’re living isn’t making communication easier. I was an introverted kid, who didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t have a very open line of communication with my elders, so I felt alone, which no one should feel.

It wasn’t until I reached my late 20s that I learned to really accept myself and recognize what I have to offer.

I think adults take a lot for granted. They forget what it was like to be a kid. More importantly, they forget that kids don’t rationalize and understand things the way they do, now, as adults, who have the benefits of experience and knowledge. No one asked me how I was doing, if there was anything I wanted to talk about. That probably would have made a difference to me. I wouldn’t have felt so alone. I wouldn’t have questioned whether anyone cared about me.

Please, spend time with your kids. Listen to them. Let them know that you want to hear what they think and feel.

International

Inhabiting two worlds is a little odd. Every time you leave one for the other, something in you switches off or gets left behind. You may have to speak another language and/or dialect, you may have to hold back where you would otherwise not think about your actions and words, you have to learn to readjust, and most importantly, you have to say goodbye.

I’ve been doing this for more than a decade. As exciting as it can be, and as grateful as I am for having this incredible, enriching life, I am constantly testing my limits and those of the people who care about me the most. Yet I keep reminding myself that what I gain far exceeds any loss that occurs in the process of leaving.

It is always strange, albeit familiar, to wake up in a different bed, in a different house, in a different country for the first time in a while. It can feel like something you’re observing, rather than something you’re experiencing first-hand. It’s like those 24 or more hours of travelling fade away and you’re left wondering what the hell happened, before seamlessly resuming your life in that place. Well, almost seamlessly; there is the unavoidable jet lag that messes with you and reminds you that you were indeed somewhere else yesterday.

I never really had any expectations about my life being easy or difficult. That must help me live like this. There have been times when I’ve envied others, but if this wasn’t my reality, where would I be? What would I be doing? Who would have taken up the position of my extended family? Would I be happy with myself? It’s best to deal with what one has, as opposed to wondering what might have been under different circumstances. There are things in life which we can control and others which we cannot. I have very little to complain about.

So, I won’t complain.

Unfix Your Labels

Imagine going on a blind date in the dark. You must navigate a blank space, and really listen to your date to get a sense of who he or she is. Imagine the depths that you could reach in your conversation without the interference of superficialities. Imagine having this freedom to open up and allow the other person to interact with the real you.

Could you do it, or would you ask questions, like in a job interview, coaxing your date to label him- or herself as x, y, or z?

We are supposed to choose a finite number of adjectives from an infinite list of possibilities to neatly and concisely define ourselves. Since I work with language for a living, I appreciate the ability to describe oneself using as few or as many words as possible. But why do we attach labels to ourselves? Is it to understand ourselves or to make ourselves understandable to others?

Understanding myself has relied largely on playing with labels and then abandoning them when I find them limiting. Further, allowing others to rely on labels to understand me has always led to misunderstanding. Rigid definitions tend to lure people into a false sense of comprehension without doing the work of probing.

For example…

I’m not particularly patriotic. I like Canada, and I’m happy to have been born in Canada. But do I think it’s “the greatest country in the world”? Well, no, because I don’t believe that such a place exists. We all fit in in different places. Those who feel comfortable in Canada should settle there; if they would rather be elsewhere, they should settle elsewhere. I have lived abroad, and I was happy. I think I can be happy in many different places.

I have no burning desire to alter my relationship status. I am financially independent, and I don’t need to conform to anyone else’s norm.

I eat whatever I feel like eating, whether the ingredients were removed from the ground, plucked from a bush or tree, or came from an animal. Sometimes, I go for long stretches of time where I eat a plant-based diet, and then I might crave a burger or some spicy chicken, so I have it.

I am left-of-centre, but I feel no allegiance to a particular political party. My membership to one of Canada’s main parties lapsed not long ago, and I have no desire to renew it, as I want the freedom to vote any way I please.

I believe that the universe is too amazing to just be an accident, but I embrace no organized religion.

Not so neat and tidy.

Yet non-compliance when asked to define oneself can make the inquisitor uncomfortable, in turn, causing discomfort for the subject. At various stages of my life, labelling myself has made me feel vulnerable or empowered. Today, I feel free—free of needing to define myself, free of worrying about what anyone thinks, free of pressure from others to do or be any particular thing.

It’s fanfreakingtastic!

I recognize how privileged I am to enjoy the freedom to be myself. I am under no pressure from family members or society to do any particular thing with my life.

This isn’t to suggest that I don’t use labels. If you read any prior posts, you will know that I have indeed referred to myself as various things. It’s unavoidable. But these are mere details.

I largely reject the idea that we should categorize ourselves. Perhaps this works for some people, but it has never felt right to me. I am—as we all are—so much more than boxes to tick.

On equality and being a woman

As I wrote in my last post, it was predicted that I would be born male. Had this been the case, my life would undoubtedly have been very different. And admittedly, there was a brief time during my childhood when I wished I was a boy. But that’s another story. I learned as I got older that I could—and should—just be myself.

I was the textbook example of a tomboy until about the time when I hit puberty. My friends were mostly boys, I loathed dresses, I never gave a thought to wearing makeup, I opted to play with action figures and cars, I read superhero comics, and I liked sports. I was fortunate because the society in which I was raised, and my family, accepted this. The fact that the “tomboy” category even exists suggests that girls have more mobility on the gender spectrum than boys do, which is something I appreciate.

Being a woman, thanks to the hard work of feminists, means being whatever I want to be.

But being a woman is not all wonderful. Girls and women are raped by the hour, the minute, or the second, in some cases. In fact, it would be difficult to find a woman anywhere in the world who hasn’t been sexually harassed or assaulted at least once in her life.

Some would have us believe that everything is fair and equal now, so we should just shut up and be happy.

I would like to believe that things are getting better, but I wonder. I wonder because of things like the “Women against Feminism” hashtag campaign. I have known anti-feminists. I would never want to inhabit their tiny worlds, but fortunately for me, I don’t have to—again, thanks to feminism. I also wonder because of the so-called “men’s rights activists” out there. Men’s rights activism is akin to white people claiming that they need to fight for their rights. In other words, it is nonsense used to undermine those who dare to challenge the privilege of the dominant group.

Many men complain about the bumbling dad stereotype represented in advertising, and I wonder who they’re waiting for to change this. Is the advertising industry not still dominated by men? I have also heard complaints about girls receiving greater focus in education, while boys fall through the cracks. The last time I checked, the top decision-makers for school boards continue to be men. So, again, who are these concerned citizens waiting for to change this?

On an even more serious note, the following billboard was erected in Toronto this week:

Of course, some men face abuse in their relationships, but this ambiguously worded statistic seems to have come from someone’s ass. What exactly is the purpose of this statement, besides portraying men as victims? On the subject of abused women, people are always asking, “Why doesn’t/didn’t she leave?” So, let’s be fair and give abused men the same treatment: “Why don’t/didn’t you leave?” I suspect, just as in the case of the former, the answers in the latter case are many, and the issue is highly nuanced.

It’s bad enough when the privileged deny that they have privilege, but when they blame the under-privileged for their struggles and distort reality as an insidious way to reassert themselves and maintain the system that promotes their dominance, this is unacceptable.

I don’t know any woman—straight or queer—who hates men. Yet feminists still have a reputation for being man-haters, and I see animosity and resentment toward women in such anti-feminist movements. I’ve also occasionally heard this antipathy in conversation with even the kindest and most seemingly liberal men.

Then, how can we hope to achieve equality? I wish I had the answer. I wish people could just understand and accept each other, and value our differences.

Originally, I was going to write about how much I love being a woman, but when I reflected on the reasons why this is so, I realized that I don’t have any. I just love being me. And part of being me is being a woman. We are all so much more than a biological sex or gender identity.

For my mother

As International Women’s Day approaches, I want to write about a great woman who inspired me, and whom I loved very much.

When my mother was pregnant with me, the doctor told her that she was going to have a boy. I have been told that she didn’t believe him. She wanted a girl and felt deeply that she was going to give birth to a girl. And lo and behold, my mother was right.

My mom and I didn’t talk much about feminism. Any time I would start on one of my rants about anything, she would tune me out, anyway. She was highly skilled at not listening when she chose not to. I don’t think she necessarily identified as a feminist, but she certainly set a magnificent example.

She left a bad marriage when she was quite young, she eventually took on single parenthood and did a superb job, she struggled to complete her degree and various other certifications while working full-time and raising me, she fought to break through the glass ceiling in her career, and she ignored all the narrow-minded people who whispered and spread rumours about her because she chose to share a home with a friend (because there is no other way to comprehend why two single women would live in the same house, without a man *gasp*).

My mom was my first feminist icon. I often wish I could tell her how amazing I thought she was, and how much I appreciated everything she did, and sacrificed, for me. That’s the thing when a parent dies suddenly at a fairly young age. I was a smart-mouthed little shit for much of my youth, but I grew into a decent adult. I didn’t really feel like an adult until I was in my late twenties, and that was when my mom died. And since I was living abroad at the time, she only caught glimpses of how I was maturing and really coming into my own. She wasn’t the communicative type, but I’ve been told by others that she was proud of me. Making her proud was always one of my ambitions. The only thing about me that I know displeased her was my lack of desire to have children. This is where I think I might have influenced her. I suspect I taught her how to be more accepting.

From my mother, I learned the importance of being self-sufficient (emotionally, financially, etc.) and hard-working. I am incredibly grateful to her for that.

It's not just about beef

There has been much uproar in my circle of friends over the beef ban in Maharashtra. But this is about much more than just taking away a preferred meat. The different levels of government are interfering in citizens’ lives. It is happening all over the world, but in India, the tentacles of the government appear to be reaching farther.

Although this law snuck up on people, we should not forget that it was actually introduced by the BJP the last time they were in power at the centre, 20 years ago. Yes, the BJP-led NDA was in power in the past; I know the popular narrative is that the Congress has ruled this country since independence, but that is a manipulation which many Indians fell for in the election last year. Humans often need to relearn the same lesson again and again before it sticks. Besides, “The Congress has ruled India for the last 60 years” rolls off the tongue much better than “The Congress has ruled India for the majority of the last 60 years.”

To give the devil his due, the Congress initiated fascism and laid the groundwork for the BJP. This should have been clear in late 2012 after the police were let loose on the protesters in Delhi and the Metro was shut down to prevent larger crowds from gathering to demand that greater action be taken against Jyoti Singh’s rapists/murderers and others like them.

The current government has been in power for less than a year, and already the Delhi High Court’s declaration of Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code as unconstitutional has been reversed, once again deeming homosexuality a crime; the Censor Board, which was already uptight, has been replaced with seemingly more socially conservative members; there has been monitoring of Facebook and WhatsApp, and control of what appears on YouTube; and now you can be imprisoned for selling or possessing beef. And this is just a sample. For those who voted for the right-wingers on the basis of their promise of development, I suggest you reflect on what the government’s priorities seem to be.

On top of this are the comments and initiatives on the part of the ideologues, who really control the present government, about Hindus needing to have at least four children, the so-called Love Jihad, and Ghar Wapsi.

Let’s break it down. The powers that be wish to control what you say, what you watch, who you love, what you do in private with the person you love, which religion you follow, whether and how much you reproduce, and what you eat.

A political party that is supposedly pro-business is putting hard-working people out of business. Where is the logic in that? Is this law going to extend to India’s huge leather industry? If not, then this isn’t about cow slaughter; it’s about control.

Where does government control end? For those who are sitting quietly because you haven’t been affected yet, your turn will come, and there will be no one to stand up for you.