For Alex Who Is Seven

I got this idea from Andie at bluemilk, and I enjoyed her post so much that I decided to do one of my own.

I think it's all too rare that we celebrate and recognise our children for specifically what makes them, them. The infuriating, the great, and everything in between. Of course we all love our children but I know I am sometimes guilty of getting carried away on the abstract emotion and it's good to stop and consider what it is about this little person that's so wonderful. Occasionally the kids will say to me, "What if you had another kid instead of me? Would you love them as much?" - a philosophical doozy if ever there was one. The 'sliding doors' of parenting. Do I love my children for who they  are or simply by virtue of the fact that they are my children and I am biologically designed to love them? I tell them the answer is: both. Of course I am designed to love them, and I do. But I also love what is unique in them. The biologically-driven love is there already. The other things are what I search out and name.

So this is for Alex. I know he is quite private and so am I, but I hope he doesn't mind me sharing this, when he's old enough to understand it.

Ten Things I Love About You

1. The intensity with which you do and feel everything. You won't put a lid on it. You react viscerally to the world. This is not over-sensitivity, you do not need to "suck it up" although the world keeps telling you to. It's okay. Keep expressing yourself. The delight, the rage. It's all truth. I'm not afraid of it. It does make me worry for you sometimes, and I can see so much of myself in you. But I won't look away, or tell you to get over it. On the day before your birthday, you had been moody all afternoon. You walked up to our whiteboard and drew this.

Then looked me in the eye and walked away. I get it.


2.Your empathy and kindness. The way you come and crawl into bed for a cuddle when I have a sleep-in on the weekends, then get up and tuck me in and tell me you'll come back and let me know when Dad has made the tea. What a wonderful way to wake up.
When Maya told me at your birthday party that she was feeling left out, and you were having so much fun with your friends, I pulled you aside and told you what Maya had said, and you went over to comfort her and give her a hug. When you took treats to school to hand out to your classmates, you made sure to take an extra one for  Diego, the school bus driver.

3. Your persistence. This drives me crazy but I am so happy that you stand your ground and don't back down easily. You keep going until you are satisfied, with an answer or an outcome.

4. The way you question everything. Nothing is a given. Sometimes we go down such long paths of questioning that can only lead to both of us pulling our hair out in frustration (often while I am driving on a freeway). Sometimes the only answer I have is "I don't know." Other times it's "let's find out." When you were two you asked me who makes it day and night, when you were three it was what happens when saltwater and fresh water come together in the ocean or sea? And questions of death, theology, human behaviour ("why do kids give me presents that they would like instead of thinking about what I would like?" "why do some grown ups think they know everything more than kids? I bet they don't know as many Star Wars characters as I do"), and of course " would you die if XX happened" (often with demonstration using a teddy or toy as model) continue to come thick and fast. And innumerable questions about thieves, traps, and the Home Alone movies. You make me question and define my position on almost everything. This is a good thing.


5. Your enthusiasm. When you started Grade One you began to write  and illustrate your own books, and asked me how you would go about getting them published. One of your suggestions was to sell them out the front of the house. Pretty soon many of the other kids in your class were making books too. Your enthusiasm is catching. Since developing an interest* in the Trash Pack you find new and inventive ways to play with them. I love how you do this.

*obsession

6. Your perceptiveness. You notice things that pass other people by. Your superb memory helps, but you also have a singular attention to detail. When you were three, I pointed out the sun at dusk and the way it dipped below the horizon. "No mummy," you corrected me, "It's not the sun that moves, it's the Earth." Whilst watching The Wizard of Oz, you asked what the wicked witch drank if water killed her. How did she live without water?
You also didn't like the Pete the Cat book where the cat gets his shoes covered with red strawberries followed by blueberries, and sings about his blue shoes. You felt that it should be purple shoes, since the red was already underneath, and you asked me to substitute the word purple each time blue appeared in the text.
You call me out when I'm distracted. "Mum that was the kind of 'yeah' you say when you're not really listening. Look at me!"

 A detailed rendering of the Trashies.


7. Your sense of reason. A few days after feeling disturbed by the lack of logic in Pete the Cat, you commented that perhaps they had said blue instead of purple because it fit into the rhythm of the sentence better - blue was only one beat and purple two. So it seems you had made peace with the factual anomaly for the sake of artistic license. Even after a meltdown you're always prepared (once calm) to come back and talk it through, and try to see the other point of view.

8. Your interest in and awareness of issues that affect other people. You ask me why there are not many Chinese or brown people on TV. You tell me your friend is not very lucky because there are not many brown superheroes to choose from. Mace Windu is one of the only ones. You ask about homeless people and how they got to be homeless. When you were four you said to me, "Some people might think $1 isn't much, but if you haven't got $1, then $1 is a lot."

9. Your refusal to be any one except just who you are. You won't be drawn into chit-chat by adults, you refuse eye contact because it makes you uncomfortable. You don't like having attention drawn to yourself.   Since before you wore socks with sandals for an entire term to preschool, you've never been worried about following the crowd. I was wondering whether the usual need to fit in might at some point supersede this individuality. So far it hasn't. When Maya started crying at the mention of getting a hair cut, you told her, "Beautiful is not important. Boys try to be cool, but I'm not cool and I don't care."  Ironically, this lack of concern about being cool, and this ability to be your own self, makes you the coolest kid ever in my book.

10.  The way you execute your rapid-fire karate moves, anytime anywhere. Getting ready for school, getting ready for a bath, whenever the mood strikes.

Can't Hold Us

Coolest song.

Surviving Progress

Watching TV the other night, an ad came on for a car company. The voice over said,

 "Nothing is more valued in Canada than the promise of something new."

The same could be said for any Western country. But what kind of world are we living in when this statement is used to SELL MORE STUFF rather than as a DIRE WARNING about how wrong we have got it?

I understand that it's good to want to  move forward, and that change is exciting. New things are shiny. But when does it stop?

Some may call it an ad campaign, I call it everything that is wrong with capitalism.

The next night I watched a movie called Surviving Progress. Produced by Martin Scorcese, it looks at concepts such as progress traps - ideas and technologies which may seem to be progressing us as a society but are in fact leading us right over the edge of a cliff - and examines the idea of good and bad progress.

In the film Margaret Atwood says: "Nature is not this endless credit card that we can keep drawing on."

Anthropologist Jane Goodall says: "Unlimited economic progress in a world of finite resources is bound to collapse."

I think they should show this in every school.

No I will not take a chill pill

I started to compose this post several weeks ago during the Oscars fiasco and tweeting aftermath. Then I hadn't gotten it quite right so it has languished in the drafts folder. But now all my draft posts are coming out to play, because why not?

This particular incident was a time of rapid education for me. As a white Australian woman fairly newly arrived in Canada, my field of reference on this was very limited. I could immediately see how the Oscars commentary and the ensuing offensive Onion tweet was sexist but I didn't immediately see how it was racist. I have now been exposed to a great many great thinkers and writers on the subject of race and feminist intersectionality via Twitter, and my understanding around this has taken a leap forward. I still have SO much to learn but it was a watershed moment for me.

So here is a wrap-up of as many good posts on the subject as I could find.


Alyssa at thinkprogress had this to say about how we discuss comedy and why it's problematic
Hadley Freeman wrote in the Guardian about the need for offensive comedy to have an underlying point, especially if it's aimed at minorities- otherwise it's just bullying.

Lindy West at Jezebel expressed her 'sexism fatigue' and her frustration at having to constantly explain why and how something is sexist to people who don't actually seem to want to know.

This post at Derora Noo on why she's tired of being a good sport.

Jose Vilson talks here about the inherent racism in the Onion's tweet and how we see our children of colour.

Margaret Lyons at Vulture argues that this kind of sexism does matter.

Here's T.F Charlton explaining why the Onion's tweet was so hurtful.

Laura Hudson says the Onion tweet was well-intentioned, but wrong.

Jamilah Lemieux at Ebony says the Onion tweet was infuriating but not at all surprising.

Pia Glenn wrote this about why she often pushes the boundary of good taste, and will even defend rape jokes, but not this.

Rania Khalek at Dispatches From the Underclass addresses the arguments about free speech, the intention of the Onion's tweet being irrelevant and the arguments that it wasn't a racist attack. I love the sub-heading of her blog: amplifying the voices of the voiceless. This, to me goes to the heart of the issue. Those with the biggest platform bear the greatest responsibility for using their power and privilege wisely. Women, gay people, people of colour - these are the groups that are so often denied a voice. So when white men say "what's the big deal?" as though it's anywhere near a level playing field, it just shows how blind they are to their own privilege and how much harder they need to work to listen to the voiceless.

And although I am loathe to link to this kind of opposing argument, because I don't think it holds any logical merit, of course you can read for yourself if you are so inclined. (yes this is a completely partisan blog, and I  make no apologies for that!)

Satire is about debasing the status quo - poking fun of something in a knowing way, so that the underlying intent is to skewer the system on which the satire is based. This works well when the satire is directed towards structures, groups or individuals who hold a great deal of influence and power, because it works towards addressing the imbalance. When you make fun of people who already cop it day in , day out, with little redress - it takes the leap from satire into plain nastiness.

When those groups who you are aiming your 'comedy' at have far less ability to reply in kind, when their voices are routinely shut down, devalued and they have far fewer channels to command attention, then all you are doing is contributing to keeping them down. I noticed a distinct lack of jokes aimed at the majority of power players in the room - wealthy white men. The only way Macfarlane poked fun at himself was to acknowledge that people would find his humour crude and offensive - a fact which he seems to take pleasure in, and therefore qualifies as acceptable humour. I didn't say it was funny, but it's fine because in making fun of himself he's not undermining anything or anyone. He clearly holds the power - he has a captive audience of a billion people - so making a self-referential joke about his terrible jokes is not going to put a dent in his confidence.

I'm also curious as to why some people seem so disturbed and frustrated, even angry, about the "outrage". If some one has a right to be offensive, in the name of free speech, as some people claim, then surely others have the right to be offended and to express this? Outrage is often mocked as though people have an obligation to find the same things outrageous. Every one just calm down, goes the argument, find something legitimate to complain about. Usually it's white men writing this, and one has to assume that they appoint themselves judge and juror as to what constitutes a "legitimate" source of outrage.

We all know words are powerful - I hope that's a basic fact that we can agree on. So why, when something is labelled a "joke", does it get a free pass? If something is supposed to be funny, do we let it slide? If any act of racism or sexism is cloaked in a "joke", should we say nothing? Evil prospers when good people do nothing. Words build a climate, an atmosphere. Speeches change minds. Attitudes spread. All of this matters. Every little bit. It's not up to me to argue whether I found something personally funny or not - but if a significant group of people, especially those who are used to being marginalised, speak out and say 'this isn't right' - then it doesn't matter whether I think it's funny or not, there is an obligation as a society to listen.

Intent doesn't make a thing racist/sexist or not -  in some instances it may make some difference to the way a comment is received but often times it makes no difference. Your intent does not equal the outcome. The outcome is based on the audience's perception. Jokes are subjective, I accept that. Harmless? No. Lots of things are subjective, from how we treat each other to whether a particular colour is more blue or more green. But the fact remains, as a society we strive for a general consensus on what's fair and reasonable. And hopefully over time we try to get rid of the rules that are less fair, and move towards equality. And in doing so we have to decide as a group, even on subjective topics, what's fair and reasonable. Think about the history of violence and oppression against women and racial minorities in the 20th century. Many atrocities were considered 'reasonable' by a portion of people in order for them to be accepted. I'm not suggesting that some off-colour jokes are *as bad* as, say, women not being able to vote, but the attitude that comes from one feeds the other. There comes a point at which an individual's right to free speech and liberty butts up against the greater good. So while I defend a person's right to have their opinion, even if it's a badly-formed one, when the pulpit from which he speaks broadcasts to an audience of a billion people? I think it's right to stand up against it and say, subjective or not, I disagree, and my opinion counts. As does the many many others who have voiced their displeasure. It's not right to sit back and brush it off as 'comedy' when such comedy does real damage. It's not a simple matter of 'causing offence' and hurting some one's feelings. These attitudes are ingrained, marginalised people are further marginalised every day as a result of these words. We shouldn't feel pressured into laughing them off at the risk of being labelled uptight, humourless, or thought police.

When some one tells me not to over-react, not to make a big hoo-ha about it, you can bet that's pretty much exactly what I am going to do. No I will not take a chill pill.

The greatest nation on earth

Crossing the border from Canada to the United States is an interesting experience. In Australia, which borders no other country, you can't do this. I am reminded of the arbitrary nature of nationalism - over here, you're in Canada, a minute later, the United States. People drive back and forth across the border to do their grocery shopping or fill up their cars with gas (petrol - I mean really, North Americans, there is nothing gas-like about it). And yet the two countries, whilst sharing many traits that could be deemed North American, have quite distinct personalities.

The first thing I notice upon entering the United States is the proliferation of American flags. It's lucky they do that because otherwise I might have forgotten where I was for a minute. We drive past many dilapidated, boarded-up houses. I'm not sure whether they are victims of the Global Financial Crisis or just that the neighbourhood we are in has always been thus. They look like they could have been that way a while.

We stop for coffee and baked goods. An older lady with grey hair is our server. We ask for tea and she somewhat defensively tells us we'll have to wait a few minutes because some one didn't bother to put a fresh pot on when the old one was finished. We say, that's fine, we'll wait. She softens and thanks us. I guess she is used to people reacting badly to having to wait five minutes for a cup of tea. Maybe she's been on her feet all day. Maybe she's had enough. She gives us an extra treat to thank us for our patience. I want to give it back to her.

The gloss and glamour of the image America projects to the world through its movies, TV shows and music is dazzling. When I was a kid, anything American was, by default, coveted. But there is an underbelly of division in opportunity that the world doesn't see. When the President proclaims with conviction (and he is certainly not the first to do so) that America is "the greatest nation on earth" one assumes this is because of the lofty ideals of equal opportunity for all. The idea that is is a place where any one can make it with a bit of hard work and determination. That in a free market, any one with an idea can work their way up to the top. Individual freedom, liberty and opportunity is prized. But it's not a level playing field. And those in greatest need often stay that way. It's interesting to me that it's taken as a given that every one should want to make it big. That every one should want to make their dreams come true. That capitalism is held up as virtuous and somehow the perfect system for perpetual motion. It's that Oprah-style "find out what you were put on the planet to do" ideation that permeates the aspirational classes. But who on earth was put on the earth to be a waitress, or a janitor, or a toll booth collector? And what would happen to those jobs if every one did what they were "supposed" to be doing? If everyone followed their bliss, the world would collapse. There would be no service workers. So in this system, true equality and liberation for all is not actually possible. Capitalism itself encourages competition rather than the sharing of resources. So this notion of egalitarianism is out of step with the reality of what it takes to make it here.

Our waitress greets us with a smile and shows us to our seats. The food is ridiculously cheap. The service is ridiculously friendly. The portions are ridiculously large. Our waitress has one of her front teeth missing. I assume she doesn't have dental coverage. I wonder what her dream is.

Trouble in Trash Pack land

There is trouble in trash pack land.

A few months ago Alex had some spare pocket money and he decided to purchase a packet of toys known as The Trash Pack. If you’re not familiar with them, these tiny squishy characters resemble a motley crew of assorted rubbish. Dirty socks, old computers, there is even an ant holding a piece of what looks like poo. Their appeal to the six-to-seven-year-old demographic is obvious. Small, detailed, and disgusting. And actually somewhat adorable. You can get all sorts of accoutrements such as the garbage truck, street sweeper and affectionately named “scum drum.” There are endless trashies to collect and swap – a marketer’s dream. As a parent, I approve of the non-violent aspect – I’m quite happy to give the existential minefield of Star Wars a miss for now.

Alex had recognised these toys from a packet he had from Australia, most of which, admittedly, were now lost. His interest was renewed with a vengeance, however, and he became duly obsessed, as is his wont. It seemed his fervour was contagious, and quite quickly the trash pack became the latest craze in Grade One. Kids (including Alex) were hosting trash pack themed birthday parties left and right. All was well with the world.

Then, yesterday, it became clear that the honeymoon was over. Out of the blue, an email was sent to the entire school containing this picture.

That says it all really. Trashies are now persona non grata at the elementary school. Apparently they were causing too many arguments and distractions. 

My first thought was, uh oh, this is all because of the toy Alex introduced to the school. 

My second thought was, if this was all because of the toy Alex brought to the school, couldn’t they have just sent a note home to Grade One? I guess they wanted to make sure every one got the message, without singling any one out. 

My third thought was, oh well, I can understand their viewpoint. Maybe some kids haven’t got as many trashies and are feeling left out.

My fourth thought was, hang on, if they ban trashies, something else will just pop up to take its place. Last year it was Bey Blades and before that Pokemon cards. If they ban trashies then they really should issue a blanket ban on any and all toys being brought from home. That would be more consistent.

Alex took it pretty well. He had been worded up by the teacher at school. He did ask me, however, why the school would ban them when any kid could just buy a packed of 5 from the shop for $6 and then be included in the game. And he would have lent his trashies out to play with until the end of recess if some one didn’t have any.

I have since found out that Trashies were invented by an Aussie company (clearly intended for the American market since no self-respecting Australian would use the word “trash”). Typically, the Aussies are using an Aussie product to create trouble in Pleasantville.

My final thoughts are this. If something takes the place of the trashies and Alex wants in, and I have to either say no or go and buy more expensive toys, I’ll have to suggest to the principal that maybe it would be better to just ban all toys at school. Also, although I can see the school’s reasoning, the rule still seems a little fascist to me. Surely there are lots of ups and downs in school life, and negotiating being a part of a group, leaving your toys in your bag during class, etc, are part of the deal.

Have the trashies been made into scapegoats?

A plain person

Recently I've had a few conversations with various people about work ethic, ambition and identity. 

How much should we care about what other people think of us? When it comes to work, how many people work harder because they want external approval, recognition and reward? And how much of it is internally driven? Is this a good or bad thing for society?

A lot of people put a lot of their identity into their job. When you can name what you do in a few words and it gives you a socially admired status, often that is a feeling that people want to replicate. So we find ways to explain our identity in terms of what we do for a living. 

For some people, work is their life. They love it, it's their passion. I admire these people. For others, particularly those in the caring professions, it's like a calling - they want to use their talents and skills to help others in a meaningful way. For some, it's just a means to an end, a way to pay the bills in order to get on with the real business of living. I don't think any of these represent the right or wrong way of doing things. But when people use their jobs as a way of exerting power, claiming superiority, or flashing the trappings of their "success" - no. And sometimes I think putting undue pressure on kids (especially from parents) to know what they want to be can cause them to think they have to go for something that others will approve of, rather than what they really want to do. I also acknowledge that it takes a certain privilege to assume that you will be able to follow your passion and still support yourself, and that sometimes the source of parental pressure is an underlying anxiety about poverty. But sometimes, it is about living up to social expectations. 

Of course I want my kids to develop a love of learning, and to be contributing members of society. But more than that, I want them to feel fulfilled by their own personal definition of success. I don't want them to worry about having to explain their occupation to people. For me, what you do is interesting only in so far as you think it is, and it doesn't matter whether you are the CEO or the janitor, if you treat people well and have the courage of your convictions. 

When I asked my kids what they would like to be when they grow up, Ms 4 ran through a list of options, and finally said, "I think I just want to be a plain person." In a world where so much of our validation still rests on what we do, I reckon being a plain person is a great thing to aim for.