I may sometimes label myself a passive person, but there are moments when aggressive stances are needed.
Animals in the animal kingdom instinctively sense it, know where it lies in another creature and how or if they can derive any sort of benefit from it.
Human beings are creatures too, of habit, while the wild ones wander.
Personalities are coloured and varied shades of what makes us human, alongside the animals in nature.
I could Google the passive writing voice and read for days and days, but when I go ahead and write, may not always recognize what it looks like.
The term “passive agressive”
means one thing, when both words are put together, and another on their own. I guess this is the point, the neat thing about this phrase, if you want to call it that, about language in general as well.
Wow. I haven’t taken this Saturday blogging prompt quite so literally in a while.
I think of my fear (rational or not) of an angry swarm of bees. I think a swan, who appears docile, until you get too close.
The fight face of a country or government, put forth by a world war, by a civil one.
War and peace. Is Canada so well known for one instead of the other. Or warring tribes in Canada’s long lived past.
On another lazy Saturday, I ask myself: What is Russia really up to, with the latest election results?
I do wonder, not as much about their people, but about that government itself.
I need to take my suspicious eye off of the country next to my own and think about other places. People or entire nations, I stream of consciousness ramble my way along, all the while, hoping to avoid the inevitable, those who ooze what it means to be aggressive.
Well, around that time, Hillary Clinton announced her intention to run for President of the United States and we still have months to wait, or how long I don’t know, as the whole process seems insane to me.
Will she win? Should she win, should anyone vote for her, simply because she is female? I suppose not, not if a better candidate exists.
I can’t vote, but I think it’s about time the US elected a woman to lead their country. I know all the scandals surrounding her, her power and influence, but I think she has the experience necessary and, dare I say, is highly capable to do the job.
I just finished watching a documentary with her as one of the main stars, along with Madeleine Albright and Condoleezza Rice.
It’s been twenty years since Clinton spoke in China about women’s rights, a country that doesn’t have the best track record in valuing girls.
“Human rights are women’s rights and women’s rights are human rights…once and for all!” Hillary pronounced with conviction.
Well, since then there has been rape as a war tactic (conflict in Bosnia and Yugoslavia), female oppression in Afghanistan, brutalization and attacks during uprisings in Egypt and Libya, struggle in Iraq and Syria.
A year ago I watched “India’s Daughter”, a documentary about a gang rape of a young woman on a bus in India. I watched it with help deciphering the subtitles. I had planned to write about my thoughts here, but I couldn’t quite put that into words.
More recently I watched “Suffragette”, a film about the fight for women’s rights in the UK, during the early twentieth century. I planned to write a review here, but the words did not come. This time it was fiction, based on true events in history, but all the emotions I felt were so strong they burrowed down deep in my subconscious.
And so even though I said I was cutting back on blogging here during the week, starting on the 1st of March, I couldn’t let this day pass without saying something.
An election was held here in Canada last fall for a new leader for this country, just as they are working toward in the US, and now we have Justin Trudeau as Canada’s Prime Minister.
The question is now more often to become one I think of as it relates to not only being a woman, but for those with disabilities as well: Should a woman be given a place in government or in a job role just to fill a quota?
No, not just. It’s a starting place. It makes a statement. All these things must become laws, policies must be created, legislations drawn, but then action must be taken, these things enforced. Women are just as smart and capable as men, but how do we change the minds of the truly ignorant and arrogant? Is that even possible?
I am proud that, living in Canada, I have a feminist prime minister. Somewhere in the world, however, there are countries with leaders who believe that only men deserve rights, a voice. Even as nothing’s perfect for women, certainly still not even here in Canada, I am proud of the role my own country plays in making things better.
Next comes the decision to put a female on our money. Justin just introduced a commemorative coin for International Women’s Day and it’s about time a woman’s face was shown proudly on our currency.
I have learned a lot about feminism this past year.
I’ve learned it from brilliant and articulate writers:
Some would say that there is no problem, we make it bigger than it is, because just look how far we’ve come.
I know why I care about this. My poor keyboard keys, because I feel like pounding out my intense frustration through them, but then I halt because my brain is working furiously, far out of reach of my fingers.
I care because of what I’ve seen. I know that, for many women, there is no real problem in our day to day lives. I am lucky to say that. I can write what I want, despite the loss for words and the brain fog and overload I’m currently experiencing. I won’t be censored or threatened. I am only one tiny voice online.
That’s the thing though. I feel tiny and insignificant a lot, on a daily basis, and it’s not because I am ungrateful. I just feel like I still get lost, as a female with a disability. I am lucky to have a good life, essentially, but I feel the problem even more consciously.
Females, just like those living with disabilities around the world, we could all say we are treated better and things for us have improved, but many of us still experience feelings of marginalization and feelings of invisibility.
Women who have it good can’t really imagine what other women might be experiencing, right this very moment, somewhere around the world. It could be somewhere in Africa, the Middle East, India, or even North America. The degree is certainly important, but the experiences all still matter.
I am not officially oppressed, not dangerously so. I just feel it in society. Just because things have steadily improved for women, many places around the world in say the last one hundred years, doesn’t mean all of us have reached a place where we feel like we have taken our power back, not yet having discovered the impact through our own unique voices.
I can’t really always detect that ceiling, as see-through as it may be, and some days I feel like it is solid and darkened. I need to feel its clarity and its possibility. I need this, to feel hope for a brighter future.
I want to make an impact, a difference, to have a voice and to stand for something I feel so strongly in my heart.
I am sick of cultural and religious excuses, struggles over politics and money and power and greed, and the fear and the cowardice that is the root of all the battles we’re still fighting. I am sick of the violence and the silence.
And so there’s still a ceiling, made of glass and we can see through to a better tomorrow of blue skies and bright sunshine, but for now I guess we must be glad for the cracks that are forming. It proves we are making progress.
“Watching the news in the evening is a bit like being on an emotional Tilt-aWhirl. “Isis now sets people on fire.” “Harper Lee has a new book out!” “Some oddballs are bringing measles back because they’re scared of autism, which is a bit like saying I’m worried about birthday candles, so let’s start a forest fire.” “It’s going to be gorgeous this weekend!” “Look, a politician being deliberately rude.” “And also, look at these adorable puppies!” My limbic system does not work that fast!”
–JEG
***
From Harper Lee to Stephen Harper.
Another one of these “In The News” posts, two weeks in a row, but this one is a special edition, not my favourite topics, but definitely in the news here.
I read so many awful, nasty comments in the Facebook post from a local college. The question of refugees, Syrian and other, was being debated. It was shockingly sad to hear some of the statements people were making.
What would I do if I had a home no more and had to leave? What would I want?
I did one project, in high school, about the immigration process. I have no clue, being born a Canadian, what it takes to become one.
Is Stephen Harper pushing a cynical agenda, a lot of prejudice against any specific group of people? Could anybody be so wrong as to vilify any whole group of people for the actions of the few? Are there those living here who don’t feel safe, feel wanted, feel accepted?
I knew very little about much when 9/11 happened. I don’t see how bad it’s said to have gotten since. That’s not my experience, but I know how important it is to feel like a part of one’s country, society, treated like a real person who matters.
“It was great to be in London with hundreds of enthusiastic Conservatives last night. People here want lower taxes, balanced budgets, and more good Canadian jobs. They’re voting Conservative on October 19th. Will you be doing the same?”
–Stephen Harper
Canada’s Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, has been leading Canada for, what seems like forever to me now.
Does that mean it is time for a change?
Research. Educate. Check the facts. Pay attention to your gut. What are the facts anyway?
I have felt an unease, a slide, a nagging in the pit of my stomach these last few years. I don’t think I like what’s happened to my country, the direction we’ve been led in, but perhaps I wouldn’t have been happy before that and I just wasn’t paying much attention.
I’m told Harper looks so staged when he speaks. He won’t allow for questions. He won’t answer, won’t address.
What’s going on with the environment? What is our stance on military issues, fighting, peace?
Harper’s talk is always about budgets and other boring things. Okay, so they are necessary for the running of any country, but I know very little about them. I try to educate myself, watch the news, but read a lot, honestly, on Facebook. Articles are posted there and I read about how other Canadians live and the concerns they’re having.
His threats are all fear based. I hate that. The other guys, Trudeau or Mulcair, they will screw our country up, Harper and all Conservatives keep saying.
Vote for him or they will raise taxes. Vote for him or spending will become out of control. We wouldn’t want that, right? What sane person would want that? Of course. No brainer?
I hear this again and again. I never hear him talk about the health of the environment. I never hear any feeling in his voice. Do I truly believe that he cares at all? Would anyone else, anyone, do a worse job than he’s done? Could it get any worse? How bad is it really?
Promises. Promises. Promises. I am tired of broken promises. I don’t want to feel invisible anymore.
The US has the Americans With Disabilities Act. Canada has the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, but I am looking or feeling for more of this. It is a big concern for me, even if many Canadians are more worried about taxes.
The rich, middle-class, poor. Conservative, Liberal, NDP, Green Party…so much to keep up with and keep track of.
Who do I want to run Canada? Who do I vote for and do I only feel as strongly as I do because that is how I was raised? Hmmm.
How do people pick up their beliefs? I wonder all of this as the next federal election is coming in a few short days. I want to vote, make the right choice, and see it make a difference. Is this all possible?
These are some of the questions I have been pondering lately, in the run-up to October 19th.
Re-elect Stephen Harper? Vote Liberal and Justin Trudeau or NDP and Tom Mulcair?
I voted, for the first time, back in the last election. I have done it a few times only. I didn’t exercise my right to vote, as a Canadian citizen, up until recently.
I know why I didn’t vote before that. It’s the same reason many people don’t.
Oh, I can’t possibly make the slightest bit of difference. I hate politics. I don’t know who to vote fore, so why bother, casting a vote for someone I don’t even really like?
I said all of these to myself. It is true that I hate politics.
It’s rhetoric. It’s attack ads. It’s making false promises, only to not come through with them after being elected. I loath it all.
I guess I wish we didn’t have to deal with it, but there are worse things, like not having the ability to vote at all. I tell myself this now, in moments of pure annoyance, and I say to myself that I’m damn lucky to live in Canada, even with the parts I dislike. I should be grateful and thankful and I should vote, just because I can.
So that old question, that I’ve struggled with, has been resolved in my mind. The next question, after the why, is the whom?
“Nice hair though.”
This has been a favourite line of Conservative attack ads against Justin Trudeau, along with the pronouncement that he’s just not ready yet.
I don’t know how anybody could be ready to run a country.
Do I vote for the liberals? NDP?
I ask my dad what he thinks. He tries to explain about the local politician in our area, which has been Conservative for a while. I grow weary of politics, but I must become more informed.
Minority government. Majority government. And my mind begins to drift. Blah blah blah.
I wish I had more interest in these things, but I honestly begin to doze. Politics, I can’t grow up and get away from the feeling of boredom I have always felt at thinking about government and all of its proceedings.
But then I listen to my father’s passion when he speaks of the country his parents came to, all those years ago, to start a new life. They gave him one, made one for him and his brothers. I truly believe hearing the passionate tone of my father, to understand what he cares about seeing for Canada, has been good for me. It’s taught me to figure out what I feel strongly and passionately about too. He’s shown me the importance of paying attention to how I feel and what my heart tells me is right.
I wonder how much family has influenced my thinking, but at some point we must all decide for ourselves what we believe.
I know what I truly think and feel, somewhere deep down, in my gut, I know. So why then do I still question it?
I know I want protection of our resources, our wild life, our oceans. Just the word “oil” has begun to leave a bad, you might even say an oily taste in my mouth.
🙂
I know I want freedom, to remain the welcoming people we Canadians like to think we are…to feel like we are accepting of all races, cultures, and religions.
People are going on about their discomfort with the niqab. It doesn’t affect me. I wonder what it matters to anyone else. I can’t see the coverings Muslims wear. Why do we fear this? We do not understand. It’s a sign of oppression, as we’ve been told, hear about in extreme cases that make the news.
Can we sit down and talk to those people, those women, to find out if they are happy. Do they have good lives? Are they afraid?
Islam and the Muslim religion are the targets in our world today, not only here in Canada, as we all know.
Culture and belief systems are powerful things. I don’t see to judge. Being blind helps me with that.
“This is Canada. If they don’t like it, they can go back to where they came from.”
This is something said repeatedly, at nauseam. I want us all to live our lives how we want, as long as that doesn’t include harming others. Why is that so complicated?
Instead, again there’s only more separation, more division, more one side against another. I want to feel like this isn’t always the case in Canada.
Fear of terrorism is real, but how much? How afraid should I really be that my safe home could ever see the kind of danger other parts of the world see? Do I fear or do I remain rational, find compassion, believing in a just and peaceful world?
Most people are good, only want to be left alone, to live their lives. Why must we make it more than that?
Okay, so after talking about all these things, what answers have I really found? What conclusions have I actually reached? Where do I stand?
I must go now and stop reading the upsetting things being said, the nasty back-and-forth comments on Facebook posts about who should run Canada after Monday, and move no to more important things, things that feel hopeful and positive. This afternoon’s game, the Toronto Blue Jays against the Texas Rangers. It’s all up to Toronto now.
All I know is I feel better when I hear how hyped people around here are. The impassioned back-and-forth of politics giving way to the pride in our only MLB team.
What is it about sports, a baseball team, a game that makes us all feel so energized?
I wonder, as I’m watching. I feel the excited tension in the pit of my stomach, a nervous energy, but a quickening of my pulse, my heartbeat. It’s just a game of course, but the feeling is contagious.
Of course there are those little funny things that make the game extra fun.
Not such a big deal. He didn’t know. He didn’t know I spent more time, as a child, not playing baseball because of my visual impairment, but playing around a baseball diamond. My sister, my brother, my parents all played. He didn’t know. Made a silly comment and suddenly Twitter was buzzing.
I focus on the positivity I get from my mom. They can win this. It’s possible.
As Scarlet O’Hara mused, in Gone with the Wind: I will go back to thinking about politics and the important issues of the day, in the news, tomorrow.
Indeed Sheryl, indeed.
Oh no! Will she sue me for using this song in my post, if she doesn’t agree with my political views? Hope she doesn’t see this.
This time, when it comes to disability, I write about my own perceptions.
But perceptions are reality to each of us, individually. Of course, all of this is my own perception.
Have you been following me?
🙂
Yep. Confusing circle of endless perceptions, isn’t it?
How many times can I use the word “perception”? Nope. That is not the question for today.
***
Q: How has your perception of disability changed in your lifetime?
A: I’m an over thinker. Yep, I am. It’s what I do.
The one thing about my particular disability, compared to some others possibly, is that I am unable to focus on my visual surroundings and the sighted world.
This has me stuck with my own mind, as what’s going on visually around me, on a daily basis, is less of a helpful distraction.
Now, that’s not to say I’m not perfectly willing to concede that this can get me into trouble sometimes. I need to make sure I am interacting with others, using my other sences enough, so that I can get out of the endless loop of thoughts and perception inside my brain.
IT’S A TRAP!
🙂
My perceptions, as a child, were obviously much different than those I carry as an adult. Having disability from birth makes a transition, over the years and the stages of my life, hard to follow sometimes, difficult to pin down.
I try to get back there, as I miss that childlike view of the world, as I see it in the little people in my life now.
I was thinking about it as I spent a few solo hours with my now three-year-old nephew last week, since I last spoke to public perception of disability for RDAC.
He still does not know. I can say that fairly safely. He does not yet understand what disability or blindness means. It isn’t really a factor so far, in his sheltered little world.
I like this time spent with only him. It brings me a sense of peace and reflection, free from the sometimes exhausting loop I refer to above.
He holds something, a toy out toward me, and I don’t react. Maybe, for a moment or two, he wonders what that might mean.
I lived it. I’m still living it.
I want to be that child that lives in a child’s world. I don’t want disability to matter. I don’t want to have to constantly perceive what disability means. I envy him.
It’s a nice thought, to be able to get on with the business of living, but I have this filter in my mind and I can’t stop the loop from circling round.
And round, and round, and round it goes.
I no longer have the luxury of a three-year-old’s perception. I am stuck with my thirty-one-year-old’s perceptions. I want to be three again.
My perception and my reality are stuck up there, lost in the loop. If they would ever slow down enough, maybe I could make them known.
I must perceive what my country’s election might mean for me. I want to retreat to my loop.
I must leave my own perceptions and study what the public ones are. Again, I want to return to the loop.
I am an adult, but with all the added and the extra worries about where I fit, or don’t fit, in that adult world. My perceptions are my own, which matter of course, but I must find a way to meld that with the outside world, if I ever want to get out of my own head and find a way to join the living.
I perceive disability as my own personal reality, but at the same time I see it and how it really must be for so many other people with it.
It changes, like everything else in life, as the years and my experiences stack up.
Change is inevitable. Perception is reality.
Hmmm. Just what other cliches can I add to that?
Okay, so perhaps this question has gone completely off the rails this week. Just maybe.
I just want to get back to the lessons a three-year-old can teach.
I want to hold up my ideas and my perceptions to the light, not keep them always hidden on that wacky loop-dee-loop in my head, even if they are met with blank stares or questioning eyes.
I want to live it and stop perceiving and pondering. I want to answer this question, to participate in this blogging challenge, and to help other people understand, but yet I don’t know if I can do all that. Don’t know if it’s possible. I am perceiving, even as I write this. I don’t know where I’m going with it, like life. I am letting my weekend stream of consciousness writing spill over into my week I suppose because I can’t possibly hope to make any sense here today, as I write on a Monday that is actually a Wednesday.
***
I can’t hope to make much sense here, but I try anyway. I answered these questions about perception, relating to disability, because I don’t like leaving any unanswered. I did my best, but to fully follow my answer, you’d need to be inside my head where my own perceptions reside. I am not sure if perception is all too easily explained with words.
Do you agree with me at all? Were you able to follow what I said, my answer to this week’s question whatsoever?
Her Headache 