Why women in Canada should argue in favour of another woman’s right to wear a Niqab to her Canadian Citizenship ceremony.

1.       We celebrate our multiculturalism until, sadly, we don’t. Traditional dress has long been a celebrated part of the Citizenship Ceremony. And it’s explicitly allowed. This isn’t the Oscars …… people get to dress themselves. http://www.cic.gc.ca/english/resources/tools/cit/ceremony/dress.asp

2.       Defrocking is oppressive. In our long a sad human history of conquering, enslaving, dehumanizing, and exterminating each other (over cultural, ethnic, religious, or geographical differences) women and children usually bear the worst of the humiliations. History is rife with the kidnappings, rapes, and murders of women. Women being used as fodder. Women being used as human shields. And then there’s all the defrocking we do to a conquered woman. Women prisoners are often stripped, and forced out of the familiar and safe comfort of their own garb. Often their hair is cut violently. Both are often done in direct violation of her beliefs and sense of modesty. Some of those humiliations may even make it impossible for her to ever return home. Forcibly defrocking a women is not liberation. It is an entirely new kind of oppression.  

3.       The public humiliation of women as a means to send a message is not ok. Within a culture women are often publically humiliated to send a message about the “norms” of society and noncompliance. Scarlet letters, stonings, town square barracks, public burnings and hangings …. All over things such as affairs, infidelity, pregnancy out of wedlock, abortion. But the man? Nope. Dragging a women out into the public eye and humiliating her for being different is a very effective tool. It’s cruel. It’s unfair. It is misogynistic. It is very very common throughout history and in most cultures. Common but certainly not OK.

4.       There is no “us” without “them”. Canada may have been founded philosophically by the French and the English, but they’ve never ever been the only game in town. The First Nations were here for Millennia before the English and the French. The Norwegians/Vikings too. Slaves were brought. There were Canadian slaves for a long time….. look it up. (And we enslaved First Nations people).  And although they were mostly of African origin, they represented a wide range of peoples. Canada may have been the infamous final stop of the underground railroad (and Canada had laws that no escaped or emancipated slave could be re-enslaved) but slavery wasn’t abolished until 1834 (in the states is was 1827). There is no real way to be sure of the number of people from non- French or non English backgrounds at the time of Canada’s birth in 1867 ……. But there was never an “us” without a “them” who were summarily dismissed and ignored. The notion of speak like us, dress like us, act like us, look like us or you will never belong and never be included is rooted in our history; and it is nothing to be proud of. Canada is full of stories about kids not fitting in because they were brown, because of their accent, because of their beliefs. It was conform or die. Many of them did. A first generation Canadian child growing up in my time was ashamed of their culture, hid their culture, lied about their culture, was called names because of their culture. Do you want to know why there were so many people from so many cultures around my parent’s holiday tables? Because my parents had the infinitely deep wisdom to accept all cultures. To value those differences and have curiosity about people's experiences. My parents felt honoured that they would share all those beautiful differences. How exceptionally lucky I was to grow up in that. How amazingly lucky we all were to meet all those perfectly perfect Canadians. How very simple it truly ended up being to make sure everyone felt safe and accepted. A Muslim friend I grew up with recently reminded me that on the morning of 9/11 my parents stood helplessly watching, just like most of us did. And in the absence of anything they could do to help anyone actually really involved, they did the next best thing. They dropped in on their Muslim friends and neighbours just to make sure they were ok. My parents sensed there would be dark days ahead, baseless assumptions and accusations, and a real tangible erosion in acceptance. So they invited themselves over for tea ……. Just to say “I see you for you. And I like who I see.”

5.       If it cannot be demonstrably proven as harmful then it is harmless. Regardless of how I feel about a Niqab. Regardless of how little I understand. I cannot truly say that it harms me. I cannot truly say that it harms her. So it is harmless. Let’s ALWAYS focus on behaviours and not attributes. We absolutely have a duty to define Canada by a set of corresponding rights and responsibilities. We absolutely have the obligation to support our most vulnerable and uphold equality as our most important value. We absolutely must stop all behaviours which harm others …….. but this is just an outfit. Let’s be really careful not to make the Niqab the visual equivalent of the KKK hood or the Hitler moustache. Because, let’s face it, very few of us understand it enough to cause it to be such an enduring symbol of female oppression.

6.       Old habits die hard. Let’s just simplify things a bit. My childhood neighbour wore a wig every day of her life (despite her being a beautiful person – inside and out) …. Almost to the end. She would have felt naked without it. My Mom permed her hair into the same haircut for over 40 years until her children and her friend who cuts her hair finally said “ENOUGH!!”. She still says it doesn’t feel like “her”. Anytime I ever try to dress up I end up near tears, saying that I’m “turning in my girl card as I fail at being a girl” and stuffing myself into yet another grey pair of slacks. Sometimes we wear what makes us feel comfortable. Sometimes we stick with what we know. It’s not a predictor of our worthiness or compatibility or ability or values. Sometimes it’s just about what makes us feel comfortable.

7.       There are many kinds of masks. The CCTFA (the Canadian Cosmetics, Toiletry, and Fragrance Association) reports that they are a 9.5 billion dollar industry in Canada. 9.5 BILLION. The Canadian Cosmetic and Esthetic surgery industry refuses to keep statistics. But it is unarguably a multi million dollar industry. Hiding the reality of who we are and what we look like is not exclusive of the Niqab. There is a conversation to have here. It’s important. Don’t be afraid to acknowledge it.

8.       People evolve. The beauty (the exquisite undeniable beauty) of a multicultural society is that it is not locked into anything. It has evolution and diversity built into its nature. When we draw some kind of arbitrary line in the sand loudly proclaiming “this far and no farther” it had better be important. It had better be about something that matters. Because if it isn’t important and it can’t be proven to fundamentally protect a person or group in need of protection, it’s going to get trampled over. Greeting the new women of Canada with the message “buckle up and ride hard because we have rights here” is very different from “I have arbitrarily and without understanding chosen this piece of clothing as a symbol of your trampled upon rights as a woman and I demand you give it up”. Let’s focus on the actual actions and subversions of women within a culture, or a family. Those we can define ….. but a hat, a veil, a dress and what those mean, not so much. The bottom line is that it is highly unlikely that the future generations will keep the Niqab. It will fall away as the subsequent generations find their place within a multicultural life that their parents didn’t know. Beautiful. But along the way, is it really so bad if they finally push back and keep the parts they love? The beautiful difference, the fabulous stuff they have to offer ….. or is what a Canadian looks like locked in? We too can evolve to accept more beautiful difference. Remember when the sky was going to fall if a Mounty wore a Turban? Turns out that it looks pretty darn fabulous and not a bit unCanadian. 

9.       Take a step back and see where we’re at, as women, in the here and now. Women don’t exactly have it all figured out here in Canada. Women in Canada earn, at best, 82 cents for every dollar a man earns in the exact same position and with the exact same education and experience; according to 2008 data. Our own official government data says 2008 data paints an even bleaker picture when broken down by position and full time vs. part time. See for yourself: http://www.parl.gc.ca/Content/LOP/ResearchPublications/2010-30-e.htm Many fear we have slipped; some saying even as low as 68 cents on the dollar but our current federal government has assured we can’t know by cancelling detailed census taking. In Canada 80% of sex crime victims are female. 1 in 4 Canadian women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime (5.7 out of every 10 aboriginal women). Women make up roughly 50% of the population but are only 25% of the MPs in federal government (Afghanistan has 28%) http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SG.GEN.PARL.ZS . Studies show that the vast majority of single parent households are headed by women and that at least 21% of them are raising their children in poverty. Women account for 60% of the minimum wage labour force and 70% of the part time work force. Anecdotally any working woman can tell you about the wedge being pounded in between full time vs part time. It’s rarely a choice. The lowest paying jobs only offer part time even if you want more. The better paying work only offers full time even if you’d like to have a little more balance between home and work. Mothers are allowed to the table only if full time; on an increasing basis the story is play with the big boys or go home and Mom … you don’t get to be both. Women with children consistently earn less than women without and have access to far fewer benefits. There are infinitely more measures of gender inequality here in this Nation. I have purposely NOT provided links because I want you to really look …… you won’t have to look long or hard. Just look at the roar of apathy over calls for meaningful inquires into the shocking number of missing and murdered First Nations women. Women aren’t celebrating equality yet in Canada and won’t be any time soon. Immigrants have nothing to do with our unfortunate gender gap and dismal record on the rights of women. Nor does one lady in a Niqab. We have done this all on our own.

10.   It’s just the right thing to do. Because there are far more important issues. Because there are real people really hurting. Because accepting this woman, who has chosen here above everywhere and anywhere else as her home, exactly as she is the right thing to do. And the right thing for her to do is to be the best, kindest Canadian she can be; and that has nothing to do with what she is wearing.

The NOISY neighbours.

To my parent’s neighbour,

Today, Sunday August 9^th, you came over around 5PM to let us know that the sound of our work was disturbing your family dinner. Now, you COULD have said the sound of our blade cutting brick was making it hard to enjoy a special family time and politely asked if we could stop. But that is not what you did. No, what you did was storm out of your family dinner to round the corner and pound on my parent’s front door and ring the bell repeatedly. We are sorry we did not hear you but we were all out back working. My son heard and ran to get the door but was so frightened by your behaviour that he ran back to get a grown up (which was the right thing to do). You then stormed over to the side gate to take a piece out of me.

 “It’s very loud…………”

“There’s a Sunday bylaw…………….”

“You’re disturbing our dinner……………”

I mumbled something about trying to finish my parent’s patio. I let you say your piece. I watched you storm off. And we stopped. We had worked very hard for many days and we were almost, at long last, finished. Many kind neighbours had been by over the days to help. It had become a neighbourhood project, and we were almost done. But of course we stopped. My parents felt bad. Then they, we all, felt hurt. Then angry.

And now? Now I just feel sad for you. You missed one heck of a chance to be a good neighbour, and to meet about the best neighbours a person could have. They ARE loud neighbours. Not just while relaying a backyard patio but all the time. They, my parents, have a big loud noisy life. And YOU could have been invited into it. See, my parents invite everybody IN. Into their home, and into their big LOUD messy busy noisy life. Over their 38 years in that house they have toiled to turn it into the home everyone can go to.

Growing up I hardly remember a time we didn’t have "company". Friends, family, even strangers have always found a welcoming roof over their heads, a warm bed, and full bellies when at my parent’s home. Sometimes they stayed a day …….. sometimes a year. They have hosted travelers from all around the world; weary strangers pointed in the direction of my parent’s home have found welcome and left as friends. They have always been a safe refuge for anyone needing a little support. They have a way of making everyone feel safe, supported, and welcome.

I think you really missed out on meeting them. Those noisy neighbours of yours. My parents. If you met them you would know that there is always room for one more at their table. That my Mom can roll out an amazing meal for 50 and make it feel like a small family dinner. That my parents can turn neighbours into family. That my parents have participated actively in the lives of the people of this community for 38 years. That my Dad has every tool and if you need to borrow it he will often follow you back home to help you use it. That my Mom bakes the best banana muffins. That my Dad knows more about the history of popular music than anyone I’ve ever met. That my Dad’s list of organizations he has volunteered his financial expertise for is very very long and still growing. That my Mom has the most beautiful and wild garden. That my Mom takes more people to the hospital than most ambulance drivers, because SHE is who people call first. That their home, for 38 years, is ALWAYS full of children. That dozens and dozens (and probably dozens more) of neighbourhood children have learned to swim in their pool. That my parents have this wonderful weird way of becoming surrogate parents anytime it’s needed. That they get back every good thing they put out and have this wonderful grateful, happy outlook on life. That they have great neighbours all around them. That they always think things can be made better for others and they are willing to help. They have joyfully shared in the ‘growing up’ of so many neighbourhood families and my parents always feel so honoured and blessed by it. That everyone in the neighbourhood knows they can call my parents at 3AM and find help if they need it. That they have been present in the lives of their neighbours through illnesses, births, tragedies, weddings, divorces, and deaths. That my Mom’s nursing background and exceptionally intuitive skills have been called into action, more times than anyone can remember, for everything from cuts to breaks to strokes. That my Mom and Dad have sat by and with neighbours on their death beds. That they have made sure the best care was given and the families felt safe and loved ………… because neighbours can be family too.

You should have come over and just asked ………….. because then you could have MET them. And they could have MET you. They are great neighbours. They are noisy GREAT neighbours.

*And for the record. The local Sunday noise bylaw and construction bylaw both say 7PM. We checked with 3 Police officers and a bylaw expert. One lives across the street from my parents. He’s their neighbour.

Can we just PLEASE stop freaking out over boobies and breastfeeding?

Good for this woman (link to her story below). I love what she did and said. I would only add (and it's not the first time I have said it) ..... CAN. WE. PLEASE. GET. OVER. THIS. Boobs and Babes are natural. If a woman chooses to breastfeed, then we should support her. If she doesn't, we should support her too. But a boob has never, ever, never burned out someones retina. It is not dangerous to look at, it is not Medusa. A boob can not turn you to stone. And NO woman feeding her baby should ever feel ashamed of her booby. If she CHOOSES to cover up, that is fine, but it should not be out of shame. It's just a boob folks, nothing to see here. I saw one in the mirror this morning, in fact I saw 2. Lucky me, to have kept both when some women face such serious health scares that they lose one or both. They were looking a little rough, were looking every bit their 42 years of age, were looking like they'd spent almost 4 years feeding babies, and they were looking pretty fiercely proud of all that. The world has never once failed to spin on her axis when anyone else saw them either.

Seriously, CAN WE JUST GET OVER THIS? I am proud of this woman. I am sorry if she felt even a moment of shame or self doubt because of that man. He had no right to judge her or her booby. I'd LIKE to say that all of this stems from some sort of misogynistic societal bias that boobs are only to be seen when perfect and for the pleasure of others ........... but that's only just a tiny part. It's honestly the, so called, first world's horrifyingly immature attitude about sex and willingness to view prudishness as morality. Somehow we have made sex, intimacy, and our bodies so ridiculously shameful that we think anything remotely related should never be brought out into the light or celebrated or VALUED. It's bad, and disgraceful, and unclean, and should only happen in dark, secret places .......... but bad things can happen and do happen in dark places. Now, I'm not advocating public fornication ......... but can we start evolving into human beings, who embrace their bodies, appreciate beautiful moments of human intimacy (like a Mother Breastfeeding her baby), and make wildly empowered, and respectful decisions about their relationships with their own bodies and the bodies of others - so we can have healthy, enlightened, and happy physical and sexual lives. Full and rich with comfort, and a profound knowledge of the value of touch, physical intimacy, and sexual enjoyment - and the gift of knowing most of the intimacy and love we crave and need (to be fulfilled human beings) isn't actually sexual at all ..... that part is just a bonus.

And in closing, might I simply add that everyone who continues to compare the "natural act" of breastfeeding to the "natural act" of peeing and pooing, as an argument against breastfeeding in public, deserves having someone leave a giant turd in the middle of their dining room table while they are eating ........... you know, to help them see the difference.

https://www.facebook.com/conner.kendall/posts/993428820669198:0

Young Dog and new tricks.

One of my greatest pet peeves is being treated like I'm stupid. I don't have all the answers; never have and never will. But I can piece together the fact that supporting a healthy, empowered, respectful, educated population isn't cheap and it isn't easy ........ but in the long term saves money and more importantly saves people. A society that creates broken, disenfranchised people will always COST, in every way. I feel the people of this country are craving a positive change.

So when a Political Party fear mongers and attempts to coerce support from Citizens, they should AT LEAST not assume those people are stupid. It's insulting ..... and shows an obtuse lack of paying attention to what has been going on. For instance, Alberta just voted in a government that (while it makes ME personally insanely pleased) I think they really chose simply because they were so very tired of being treated like they didn't see what was going on.

So now, in advance of the Fall Federal Election, The Federal Conservative Party is running the following ad (link at bottom of blog). In it they cherry pick some of Mr. Trudeau's positions and discuss how meaningless they are, and assume we, the voting public, can't Google Mr. Trudeau to find out his stand on not only these issues but a ton of other more weighty ones. They make comments about his hair, which in this day and age seems like the male equivalent of cleavage shaming a female politician, and they beat around the bush of "he's too young". Now, they don't actually say "he's too young", instead saying "he's not ready" but the impact is the same. And it's a glib attempt to point out Mr. Harper's "experience". But maybe they fail to see that many Canadians aren't loving the "Harper Experience" and just feel ignored ......... many of those Canadians are about the same age as Mr. Trudeau and we don't feel too young to feel sold out by an uncaring government. The Conservatives seem to have forgotten that.

Lastly, I need to point out the fact that Mr. Harper was first elected as Prime Minister at the age of 46 and Mr Trudeau will be 44 (almost 45) at the time of the election. 44 wouldn't even be the youngest Prime Minister in our history. In fact 8 of our 22 Prime Ministers have been under 50, so relative "youth" in politics is not unheard of. Mr Harper's people attacking Mr. Trudeau for his age seems pretty hypocritical and, again, assumes we are too stupid to google these facts. And isn't age just a number, anyways?

So I wish Mr. Trudeau very well and I hope his party doesn't follow suit with a negative campaign. I believe Canadians feel very tired of that. They want a little hope, honour, and kindness to hitch their wagon to. I, personally, tend to lean a little lefter than Mr. Trudeau but am waiting to see what kinds of campaigns are run before I decide. And to the Conservative Party, I'm 43 (a year younger than Mr. Trudeau) and I am old enough to use that wagon colloquialism, old enough to know that Canadians are being marginalized by their own Government, and old enough to know Mr. Harper won't have my vote.

http://www.conservative.ca/cpc/just-not-ready/?mpi=webpost&sig=220b1eb5&vpi=20150527a

Weaving myself into a Mother

I wrote this as a contest entry and it did not win. That's ok. I wrote it for me anyways. So onto the blog it goes.

There is an Indian proverb “The moment the child is born, the mother is also born.” That phrase resonated with me more than any of the others I've heard on the subject. How are we supposed to take these helpless, precious little creatures and weave them into happy, independent, and complete beings when we've just had to become a whole new person ourselves? And there’s no growth curve, it’s just BANG! Someone hands you this new life, fresh from your body or adopted from someone else’s and says “Congratulations Mommy.” For me, it was the happiest and scariest day of my whole life.

Thinking back, I was deliriously happy but very confused about the kind of Mother I would be, could be, or should be. That’s when I felt the first tug on that invisible thread pulling me back to my own childhood. I have always been close to my mother and am so very lucky to have her in my life. I had never felt more connected to her before, nor more in awe. It was as if I had suddenly stepped through the looking glass and could now see a glimpse of the world through her eyes. All those little wisdoms she had tried to pass on before were suddenly translated into ‘Aha!’ This new, deconstructed woman I had just become was so unexpectedly open to hearing it all. I became aware of all the other threads connecting me to other Mother figures, and Mothering Mentors in my life (some here, some gone, some only part of an oral history from my family’s past) grounding me in this work of motherhood too. In those first days of Motherhood all this happened intangibly, yet I began to stitch together myself into a Mother while weaving a bond with my son at the same time. I have anchored him to me through a sort of invisible umbilical because I am, simply, his Mother. I can feel that bond as physically as I feel my smile or heart, and although creating the bond with my second son was different it is just as strong.

The years while they were young felt very hard at times, and I made so many mistakes but my Mother, and all those Mothering threads I am tethered to, kept reassuring me and filling me with innate truths. “Let them see you angry. People get angry.” “Your children shouldn’t think you’re perfect.” “It’s supposed to be that colour.” “He didn’t invent that, you know.” “No one even notices the mess.” “Don’t worry, he won’t go to college in diapers.” “No, he’s not going to die.” “Don’t wish your time away.” So I tried to remember to stop waiting for the ‘hard part’ to be over and take enjoyment as it came, because something in those Mothering threads told me that there was no ‘easy part’ coming.

Now my boys are 12 and 9 years old respectively. I am learning, slowly, that I now have to start cutting the threads of their umbilicals. Knowing which strands to cut, and when, is difficult and fraught with misstep and worry; so much worry. Helping them take steps into responsibility, independence, and self-sufficiency is full of so much drama and plentiful assertions of: “you’re the worst Mom ever!”. I suspect 'giving birth' to kind, peaceful, happy men will be as painful as delivering them into the world as babies. I feel the ache of every cut thread and worry the ones I’ll leave intact won’t be strong enough to hold.

My Mother always says “healthy birds leave the nest.” I don’t know what that means as much as I feel what that means. So I try to weave that wisdom into every day and into every thread I let loose between my sons and myself. If I don’t mess it up too badly, I think they will fly.

Alberta Elections - is it time for a REAL change?

It’s April 7^th, 2015 here in Alberta. It’s a steel grey day and snowing lightly. And today, an early Provincial Election will likely be announced. A surprise to no one.

The last provincial election, in 2012, cost the people of Alberta 13.6 Million dollars and only 54.4% of eligible voters showed up to participate (and that was the highest Provincial voter turnout in 19 years). This seems like an astonishing amount of money to spend on a process that almost half of our citizens have lost faith in. The truth is, we should go into every election and select the individual we feel will best represent us for the upcoming term in office, but instead we choose the person who is flying the flag of a Political party we kinda/sorta identify with. We buy into the smoke and mirrors of a Party’s Political Platform even though we innately know they have no idea, which of their supposed “promises” they will be able to get passed through the assembly as they don’t know what the balance of power will be. They serve up a fictional budget which they have absolutely no obligation to follow even if they end up holding a strong majority. We essentially choose from a small selection of glossy promotional packets and once we buy, there’s no money back guarantee ………. And we almost never get what was promised in the brochure.

How do we get away from this? They always say “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em”. But what if we just all refused to play? No, I don’t mean not voting; we’re already not voting and all that’s accomplishing is maintaining the status quo. I’m thinking something even more radical. What if for the next Election (I suspect it’s too late for this election) we ensure we have at least one “Independent” running in each Riding? Now, I know you’re thinking “but aren’t independent candidates just radicals, outcasts, the disgruntled, and the disgraced?” Well, sometimes. But what if from now on they were just active, engaged citizens interested in governing? What if we had a healthy selection of Party-less People to choose from each election and could select the person we thought most shared our vision and, more importantly, showed the best cooperative/collaborative/consensus building skills? What if we actually voted in a majority of people who we believed could work TOGETHER for our best interests? What would that government look like?

Oh, I know the fly in the ointment is leadership. How can we vote when we don’t know who will be Premier? Well, unless you happen to be a member of the governing party and vote at the leadership convention, it’s not like we get to vote for who the Premier is anyways. I think I’ve got the solution. IF “independents” held more seats than any other party then there is no reason why they should not be the “Governing” group in the Assembly; the MLAS from the other parties would, technically, form the opposition. However the first act by the Ruling “Independents” would be to divide all the MLAS equitably (by number and by affiliation) between all the Portfolios. Each Portfolio would then choose a Leader (who would become Minister of that Portfolio) and the entire Assembly would reconvene and choose the new Premier from among the Ministers. The whole process at each stage could happen through vote or consensus and could easily happen inside of a week, and it’s not as if we get to vote for our Premier anyways. From that moment on, we would have a Government built for action and service. There would be no extra pay for committee work, as everyone would be doing committee work, and committees would be expected to create fair and reasonable bills and budgets, etc, to present to the assembly at regular intervals. Think of what could be accomplished quickly, cheaply, effectively, if we actually made MLAS work together for the people. Cooperatively built, cooperatively run, and ready to face the realities of Alberta’s current situation, not an imaginary one that glorified advertisers have created for an Election Campaign.

So I guess the question is, can we lead this Electoral Revolt? Are we brave enough to take a stand and reject the boxed prepackaged governments we’re being handed? More importantly are we finally ready to REQUIRE that we be led by people who will strive for success by working together? It is important to have good leadership, but that leadership should be thoughtful, creative, flexible, and meet the needs of the people; and that kind of leadership does not come out of a box.

What if we are getting exactly the "democracy" we deserve?

What if Jim Prentice was right? OK, just simmer down, I don’t mean right for the reasons HE likely meant ……. But what if he was right all the same? What if we the people, are being governed by exactly the government we allow, and deserve? What if it IS our fault?

On March 4th, 2015, Alberta Premier Jim Prentice said (during a phone interview with CBC radio) said “in terms of who is responsible, we need only look in the mirror. Basically, all of us have had the best of everything and have not had to pay for what it costs.” Albertans didn't take it well. It felt a little, erm A LOT, like he said “Let them eat cake”. Many Albertans were flabbergasted that he could suggest WE were in charge of how Government money was raised or spent, more were hurt that he thought we’d all had it so good up to that point; It’s that same old ‘how dare citizens demand a liveable wage, quality education, and accessible healthcare’ drivel we seem so perpetually surrounded by. Albertans exploded into a public discourse that, while entertaining with all the clever internet memes and all, was largely useless. It was a flash-point for change and we wasted it by NOT changing. So I’m asking: What if our government IS our fault?

Let’s start with voting rates. In the past 22 years, Alberta’s voter turnout for Provincial elections ranged from a high of 60.2% to a low of 40.6%. http://www.elections.ab.ca/public%20website/927.htm (The pattern is strikingly and embarrassingly similar for Federal elections). We are NOT engaged. If we passed a law prohibiting 40 to 60 percent of currently eligible voters from voting in the next election, it’s safe to say that we’d have half the free world pointing WMDs at us, but when the same number of people just don’t bother to show up no one even bats an eye. I've heard it said a million times “if you don’t vote then you don’t deserve to complain about what the elected do” but I prefer to think about it as “if you don’t vote will your wishes about how we run society be considered?” I’m sure people don’t vote for many reasons, but deep down I suspect it’s mostly because non-voters truly believe it won’t make any difference. And that’s not OK. When did we give away our faith in such a basic democratic philosophy? True, the notion of a perfect democracy is about as real as a Fairy, but if we don’t try to believe then that Fairy is going to lose her wings. 

Maybe people feel their vote won’t make a difference because our Party system has created a competitive game within what ideally should be a cooperative Parliamentary Democracy. Political parties were conceived, I’m sure, as way to collect people together into their like minded affiliations, to organize and categorize people into boxes which made it easier for the electorate to discern where they fell on the political spectrum. It would have been possibly relevant at a time, when issues were simpler, governments provided little in the way of social or public services, a ruling class was assumed, and voting wasn’t a universal right. But today, it’s just plain polarizing. We choose our party allegiances on largely imaginary constructs, and then vote knowing we will never be able to measure how true they stayed to their own philosophies because we support a political system which pits the winning party against the runner up party/parties and expects them to cobble together public policy. Then we’re surprised when they present solutions based not on public service nor reasonable compromise but on strategic concession. It’s a game; and we willingly elect players.

And who are the pool of “players” we choose from when we vote? Does our current political climate encourage ordinary, smart, committed people to step forward into the arena and serve the public? Or does it largely favour ambitious, extremely confident, highly motivated individuals to run for leadership? And while I must acquiesce neither set of qualities is inherently good nor bad, I hope you’ll agree that one archetype seems more vulnerable to losing sight of the greater good somewhere along the way. Even if I can’t convince you of that, please consider that politicians must, within their parties, navigate a storm of conflicting ideologies and competing interests and are financially “supported” by a huge variety of outside individuals, businesses, industries, and special interests, and realistically must have enough financial backing to sell themselves to the voting public and win. Which type of person is more likely to get caught up in the need to win over the need to stay true to his/her principles? Which type of person is more willing to buy YOU with your own money? Which type of person has more tolerance for that game? Which type of person is more likely to even play? I truly believe most people get into politics for the right reasons, but we have allowed the behind the scenes process to become so competitive, so “sponsor” driven, and so non transparent, that we might as well just let the candidates settle it gladiator style in an arena with hammers ……….. it would likely be less bloody and far less confusing.

Lastly, we still only really invite the gladiators to the table. We've left no room for the unsure and the unresolved. We know when we pick a jury that they must be deemed suitably impartial, and unfettered by pre-drawn conclusions. We innately understand that justice cannot be served if every defendant and plaintiff isn't given that gift. The jury decides together what is right and is guided by law. It’s a process they give their full self to, and gain nothing particularly from. They serve. We hold that as the ideal for the Judicial branch of our government, but not for our Executive or Legislative branches of Government; it makes no sense.  We've sold ourselves a bill of goods about what a good leader is like, but we make the call with our gut, and not our head OR heart. We assess them like celebrities: looks, confidence, charisma, financial success, how they dress, and how fiercely they debate. But how often do we, The People, give due consideration to a candidates skill set for serving The People? Do we consider how well they listen, their knack for building consensus or achieving fair compromise? Do we ask ourselves if we feel they are genuine and sincere in their willingness to serve? Do we celebrate their compassion and wisdom? Do we ask about their greater vision and ideals, or do we pester for specific and impossible plans and promises (when we logically know that the candidates could not possibly know yet how things will go because they don’t yet know the future problems nor the team they will be working with to fix them)? Do we leave room for the beautiful “I don’t know” and the creative “there are many possibilities” or do we only consider rigid black-and-white thinkers for leadership and end up overvaluing decisiveness and undervaluing thoughtfulness and sense of responsibility? In democracy as we know it, we’re very fond of saying we value every voice, but we don’t seem to mean it; at least it’s not apparent by the way we vote.

I have often thought of running for politics, because I like following public policy, I believe in democracy, and I feel government exists (or at least should exist) for The People. But I am no gladiator. I am a Mom, with a fiercely humanist bent, who works as a playschool teacher because I love it so much and feel it is very important (even though as a society we treat the people who raise, teach, and care for children as if they have very little value *). Remember Alison Redford, who (though my polar opposite in political philosophy) is a Mother just like me? She succumbed to the court of Public opinion, not because of her political positions and decisions, and not even really because of her self-entitled personal spending while public services were being cut and public service jobs eliminated, but ultimately it seems to me the public turned on her because she was bringing her daughter with her on trips. I fully agree that using a government plane to move family, lo HAVING a government plane, is an abuse of privilege and out of touch with what real working parents are facing, but the criticisms from the public, The People, kept taking on this ugly anti parent slant. There was this intangible undercurrent of accusing her of playing the “Mommy card”, and worse yet, somehow playing it wrong. ARGHHHH! Did we really just go there? Women, especially Mothers, are little tired of the ‘where are you today on the spectrum of feminism?’ game. Like we can be a professional at work, a change maker in the boardroom, but at home we’re just a Mom. Um, I carry my Mom hood everywhere I go; it’s like a Victoria Cross but it probably has some snot and throw up on it. And my ideas are worthy, my voice is just as valid as anyone else’s ……. whether I shout it from the boardroom or the kitchen. We have to stop doing this to public servants. Family members should be putting families first, this doesn't make them better or worse at work, but it makes them better at life. Regardless of gender, or family makeup, whether you’re a family with children or without, whether you parent alone or as part of a big messy blended mix, however you as a family define and fulfill your roles, family should come first. The fact that we criticized a public servant for doing this raised a lot of questions for me. Shouldn't government be setting the bar and then cultivating the standard to The People in their workplaces also? Wouldn't that actually improve quality of life for everyone? Are we as committed as we say to the concept of diversity in Politics when we can’t even accept that a parent might want to have his\her child with him\her when he\she travels? I’ll say it again, no one has the right to abuse their power or take advantage of public resources, but if we want to attract more people who truly see Political involvement as Public Service and would hold themselves to a high ethical standard then we might need to embrace some change. We can never write enough laws, nor make them iron clad enough to make people be honest, forthright, and ethical; the trick is voting people who are honest, forthright, and ethical. Food for thought I hope.

*As an important aside, my playschool pays me as well as they can and are very good to me but cannot afford provide benefits, or offer a pension – it’s symptom of our societies priorities and values likely not corresponding with governmental priorities and values and The Peoples compete apathy towards changing it, but I digress.

Nothing says 'I love you' like chocolate assholes.

Sometime before Valentines Day a meme started going around about chocolate anuses available for purchase and there was a high resolution, close up photo of 3 said chocolates in their artisan chocolate box .......... just ready for sale and consumption. Now, google it if you must ...... CAREFULLY ....... But I know you saw it because you are on FB ....... I know you did ......... and now you can't unsee it.
So began my search for something to say, but there was nothing, I was rendered speechless .......... I know, right?!?!?!
But thanks to the power of insomnia and my extremely immature mind, I have found the words. And I am going to say asshole, like, 2 million times so don't read this around your kids ....... and don't google these chocolates around kids. DON'T, seriously, don't. But, yes, they are real and apparently have been available for purchase for a decade from the company in England which makes them.
This.
"Say it with chocolate", as a slogan, now has a whole new meaning.
This.
Nothing says 'I love you' like 3 chocolate assholes.
This.
At some point well paid people in suits sat around a table and discussed just how many assholes should go in each box of chocolate assholes.
This.
How exactly do you choose the person to make the mold for your asshole chocolates ....... what are those auditions like, exactly? And how many people dialed 911 right at the start of that job interview?
This.
What exactly happens to the mood of your gathering when you bring out the apres dinner chocolates and offer "Pot of Gold? Asshole?"
This.
Being a connoisseur of all things chocolate, I am wondering about the flavour road map which all good chocolatiers include with their selections, and I am wondering about fillings and how they were chosen. Was there discussion around this? Were some flavours just RIGHT OFF THE TABLE? How much laughing was there during this conversation and were the people in the suits invited? Who did their flavour testing? Can you invite friends over to quality test your new assholes? And how exactly does all this change the typical family's "if you eat all the lemon cream assholes before I get one I'll be really angry" dynamic?
This.
I'm Celiac so it is now completely possible, nay necessary, that I could one day find myself calling a company's 1 800 number and asking "are your assholes gluten free?"
This.
It is also now possible to string together words, never reasonably or realistically strung together before. "Hurry home, my assholes are melting" and "Check the best before date, those assholes may be expired" and "Mom is coming over so put out the assholes she gave us for Christmas" and "You kids better not have eaten all those assholes, they were for the guests!" spring immediately to mind. It's not quite going to the moon but in literary terms it's exciting.
This.
Men may find this gift and think themselves a little naughty and adventurous in the giving, but the female recipient of these will feel the same way about these as she does about most lingerie ........... those perfect little puckered assholes just don't represent a woman who has had children .......... gals, I'll give you a moment to explain this to your man. Perhaps share that you didn't even know that Preparation H was a real thing before pregnancy. Perhaps go on a rant about what his offspring have done to your body. Perhaps remind him that he should kiss those children and appreciate the beautiful changes that your body has undergone to get them here and then suggest he buy you something nice like chocolates that don't remind you of those changes. But I digress.
This.
Chocolate assholes are probably a really bad sign. Like, we probably don't deserve opposable thumbs now. I think de-evolution begins now and millions and billions of years from this moment in time, a bunch of monkeys will be sitting around saying "those assholes ruined everything."
This.
My inner germaphobe is shattered. She's still rocking and pacing. It may never stop.
This.
The beautifully philosophical line from Forrest Gump, "Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." has now been smarmily answered by the cosmos ........ and it was inevitable. "Yes you do Forrest. You do hon. It will give you assholes."

Dear Mommy Body. I Heart YOU.

Approximately one nanosecond after we passed a motion to book WEM waterpark as a BG fundraiser/activity, the maternal physical self-loathing began. The BG Mom’s started trash talking their own bodies ……… and it hasn’t stopped since.
“Oh, the kids will love it, but I’m not going in.”
“Hahaha, I’ll help sell the tickets out front, the kids can go in with their Dad/Uncle/Grandpa.”
“Gahhhhh! Do WE have to go in with... them?”
Moms of Brander, lets promise ourselves something. Let’s promise to be kind to ourselves. Let’s be REALLY wild and crazy and just go swimming with our kids. Let’s break with tradition and leave the body hating at the door.
Now don’t get me wrong, by January 25 I have lost any sign that the sun has ever touched my body; ever. My pigmentation will have retreated back to my natural state of white (and I don’t mean like Caucasian, I mean white …… practically translucent. You can practically see my liver through my skin if the light is right, but I digress). By January 25, shaving will have become largely optional (as time allows), and I will have put on my annual layer of winter insulation (aka “yes, I’ll have another cookie”). By January 25 my pants will all still be tight so when I arrive at the pool and change, you will be able to see the imprint of the seam of my Mom-jeans on my inner thigh (for at least 45 minutes). By January 25 I will have not yet begun my 2015 resolution to ‘start working out’ and will be having a full on panic attack about the ravages of time on my, then, 503 month old body ……….. and saying it in months won’t be helping.
But I’m going in the pools anyways, and so should you. It is said ‘Time is a Thief’, so let’s not give any of our precious time with our kids away because we didn’t like the way we looked in a bathing suit. I am proposing something radical: let’s just accept our selves for the beautiful and amazing mothers we are and go swimming with our kids. Many of us bore these beautiful children into this world, and all of us use these bodies to love and care for them. We use these bodies to nurture and dote on them, nourish and clean up after them, praise and admonish them, raise and mother them. And that makes a Mother’s body, every Mother’s body, beautiful and amazing. Shouldn’t we give these bodies the love and respect they deserve?
So please, on January 25th, let’s go swimming. It will be the gift we give ourselves but also a gift to the kids, especially to the girls around us. Let’s teach them that our bodies are exactly what they need to be to go swimming and have fun, because they don’t need to look a certain way to do that. Let’s go ‘Mom’ the place up!

‘Twas the Night Before the Waterpark ~ with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

‘Twas the night before the waterpark and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The swimsuits were hung by the front door with care,
In hopes that they weren’t too worn out to wear.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of waterslides swooshed through their heads;
And my spouse is contentedly snoring, asleep in a snap,
While I obsess over cover-ups, still far from a nap.

The image in my mirror is nothing to flatter,
I weepily moaned “could I be ANY fatter?”
Away to the kitchen I flew like a flash,
Tore open the cupboard for my chocolate stash.

The moon shines on the foil wrapping below,
Illuminating the fact there was just one bite to go.
When, what to my self-loathing eyes does appear?
But a full length mirror and I’m standing quite near.

There I see a lady, a bit curvy and thick,
Her worst feature? I just couldn’t pick.
More rapid than Eagles the criticisms came,
She glared back at me daring each one to name.

“There jowly, there flabby, too many spots to list’em,
And is that a C-section scar that needs fixin’?
A Hobbit in height, you’re chubby and small!”
Then that face in the mirror, she started to bawl.

But I didn’t relent once I made her cry,
No, I added something about her “jiggly thigh”.
“Rolls! Cellulite! Saddle Bags!” The insults, they flew!
“Vericose Veins! Muffin Top, no matter what ab work you do!”

“Stop!” she screamed. “I need no more proof.”
“You see all those things, but I know the truth.”
And then her face softened but she held her ground,
She just wiped away tears, not making a sound.

And I took her all in, from her head to her foot.
Maybe, it’s ok that a Mom looks like she has kids afoot.
After all, she spends every moment picking up the slack,
She toils day and night to keep her family on track.

Her eyes …. How they glistened with love, warm and merry.
She has strong arms from hugging and each load she must carry.
She has strong, patient legs for walking, sometimes ever so slow,
When a bug or a rock is more urgent than where she must go.

Those rolls cuddled in children when they cut all their teeth.
Those knees bent to check beds for monsters underneath.
All those crow’s feet are because she laughs from her belly,
From every fun time, even when they get dirty and smelly.

Sure, she’s chubby and plump, but she tries to be her best self.
For her children make her feel she has an infinite wealth,
Of wisdom to bestow and kind words to be said,
Of adventures to share, and bedtime stories to be read.

And her kids don’t care about each physical flaw and quirk,
So she decided to go swimming, and to not be a jerk
To that Mom in the mirror because, goodness knows,
Her kids don’t care what she looks like as long as she goes.

She crept back up the stairs, heart light as the down on a thistle,
And promised to end self-defeating thoughts which make her bristle.
She peered in at her children, feelings of love taking flight,
They love her just as she is, and tonight … tonight that feels right.