A sigh of relief

Tonight I smiled at the sight of my school email inbox. It held an offer of employment and an offer to interview for a short-list for another job (to possibly exist later in the summer). I try not to be defined by these moments, but often so much is invested and riding on them. They have been known to stop me dead in my tracks; now I can continue through them, with contingency plans in place. Those are lessons learned. I can smile at that.

A Letter to the Women in My Life

Today we are called upon to acknowledge, for a day, all women everywhere. International Women’s Day offers us a day to celebrate, to pause and reflect on where we’re at. And today I resisted, because when I pause and reflect, politically speaking, I see a huge mountain. We’re a third of the way up looking down on some beautiful progress, but the steep terrain that lies ahead is imposing. There is no path- it is for us to carve. Supported by those who have led us to this point, we are poised with strength, diversity at its core, to climb onwards. With many strategies, our paths up the mountain will vary, but our sights are pointed forward.

I can, with pleasure, reflect on the women in my life, today, and celebrate. I am a privileged, lucky, blessed woman to be able to have had incredible relationships with so many inquiringly brilliant, strong, compassionate, unwaveringly supportive, unconditionally understanding, witty, fun, awesome women. Each one of you has shaped the person I am and the person I will become. You are all generous of your selves. You challenge me, and nurture me. You remind me of my own strengths; those that exist are likely a reflection of your own. You remind me I am human, and you show me how to be a better one. You call me on my missteps and help me up from my failures; you ask the hard questions and are patient with my answers.

You remind me that I am a part of a diverse group. Some of you know me only as I am in another language than my mother tongue. I only know some of you as you are in yours. You live throughout the world. You are teachers and students, of many disciplines. You are artists and articled students. You will be doctors and lawyers; or if you want, barristas, or sometimes unemployed. You will be mothers and partners. You are black and white, Italian and Guatemalan, Canadian and American. You are straight, and gay, bisexual, identify along a spectrum of genders or defy categories. Your abilities are diverse, your talents abundant. You are all kind, with good souls.

You are what I have to celebrate every day. You make my life rich. With pleasure, I will climb with you. For all that each of you are, thank you.

With love and solidarity,

Rachael

Update: It's not 1820 anymore. Women rightfully celebrate Gold Medal Victory with Cigars and Beer

Because the world in which we live is a fucked up place, wrought with deeply rooted social inequalities and insidious violent discrimination, I vent. To remind myself that I am not the unreasonable one, that the world I envision isn't a product of unquestioned youthful naivite, I vent. Here it is.

Despite my strong anti-Olympic stance, I watched parts of the woman's gold medal game before I headed to my evening class. Imagine, then, my suprise when the news coverage this morning centred on the fact that the Canadian woman's hockey team, after all spectator's had left B.C. Place, returned to the ice to celebrate their victory with champagne, beer and cigars. News coverage of the event revealed the IOC and COC's condemnation of their behaviour. The team offered an apology.

Celebrating olympic gold in hockey with cigars and alcohol- has this ever happened before? Was that behaviour condemned by the IOC and the COC? Did it require an apology, or was it broadcast proudly on the front page of newspapers?

Courtesy of Vancouver's Poet Laureate, Brad Cran. http://bradcran.com/vancouver_verse/on-women’s-gold-equality-and-the-ioc/

Sexism in this country is stiffling, suffocating, and infuriating. And unacknowledged. The coverage of the women's gold medal celebrations merits an ENORMOUS "WHAT THE FUCK?!?!" It deserves our rage, and our continued action.

Back in BC

In a way, it's good to be back in BC. Being away from the west coast means that my return is filled with a renewed sense of awe and appreciation for the beauty that only BC can offer. I'm also living in a new area of Victoria, so I have new ocean views to experience.

Last night I ventured down for my first night time stroll. It's bit further and the night is eerily silent and dark. But, armed with my music, etc. I started off down through my quaint, lovely victorian neightbourhood towards to water at the end of Cook St.

I walked to the cement platform overlooking the ocean and the beach. The sky was full of white lumpy clouds, and the moon, three-quarters full and shinning bright, was reflecting off the ocean. Lights from other parts of Victoria shone in the distance. The ocean streched east and west till the cliffs broke the sandy shore. The waves broke against the shore, at high tide, rhythmic, a bit aggitated, but still peaceful. In the presence of the ocean, I felt grounded, reminded the be open, fluid, yet maintain my own voice in the face of so much new thinking and learning.

Back in BC, back for a final semester, and looking to remain grounded, open, and peaceful throughout.

What if I am just ordinary. Of ordinary everything, except for when I'm less.

Fireworks in Oz

Tonight fireworks lit up the sky over English Bay. For an incredible half hour pyrotechnics of the utmost calibre wowed an audience of thousands on the shores. Tonight the artists took us back to a childhood favourite, and one many know for obvious other reasons, the Wizard of Oz. Oz put to music that was high ptiched and heavy on the munchins. The fireworks were perfectly set to the music, on point with the tone, and spectacular.

Apparently it took three days to set it up. Which makes sense since the next one is Saturday. It makes you think good and hard about what you can blow up in 30 minutes. Thanks to corparate sponsorship, anything is possible. Alls fair in love and business. It was beautiful, but what else is even more beautiful is when no one is laying homeless on the street on the way home. While one exists, so will the other. Capitalism isn't working for thay guy on the street corner. Let there be no more casualties of business. Yet, the fireworks will still happen. Should I not go?

I support businesses that are local, buy organic when I can, buy misuc from artists, attend local shows, my neighbourhood. This summer has been one of comfort and trial, made me feel alive, engaged, and with purpose, peace and balance I have acheived good things. So, should I not go?

I think that I will join the masses that flock for this moment of artistic expression, as costly and wasteful as it is. I will always be the one in the crowd gazing intently, reacting, enjoying the beauty of them for what they are.

Cheers Vancouver, fora unique experience as always.

I'm in for the fight

Vancouver is a battleground. Here lives are won and lost based on government policy decisions, and as long as you've got money, yours won't be one of them. Socio-economic status dictates if you get to live. I live 20 minutes from a gentrocide backed by Canadian and British Columbian governments in the name of democracy and safe streets. It is backed by an International community regarding Canada as a leader in human rights and on Olympic Committee choosing it as a site of the 2010 Winter Games. It is backed by a complacent Canadian population, 90% of whom stated in a recent poll by CTV that Canada is the best country in the world.

The city is a constant site of battle. Recently Oppenhiemer Park was barred with iron gates. In the heart of the downtown eastside it was home to many, refuge to more and a communal space where people were always gathered. What gets ignored in all of this is who lives there and why we are okay as a society with letting this happen.

My perpective as a feminist, activist, law student having just applied for future jobs in a profession where morals sometimes get checked at the door, I feel good about my selections and their potential to shift some of this. It is work that needs to be done, and about which I am passionate. But I am weary when people stop listening. When my passion falls on deaf ears. Where it doesn't matter to the leaders of our world that there are people of their country whose needs are not being met who need action now.

We are reaching a dangerous point in this country where people don't see the hard stuff- Canadians are great at patting themselves on the back. When we dig deeply, when we pay attention, we see that the people evicted from Oppenheimer Park were largely aboriginal, likely homeless, some probably were involved in the sex trade, though men tend to be more visible on the streets, and all were likely addicted to drugs. These are the people who are the subject of my advocacy this summer. These are the women and men who live the consequences of the criminalization of the sex trade, residential schools, the welfare cut-off rates, and the definition of disability in the legislation. This stuff matters.

There is hope in the downtown eastside. Those who don't get a voice of their own very often are beginning to speak. Today I went to a potluck barbeque in the park for Pivot, the Community Legal Society for the downtown eastside. I played botche ball with Emma and her grandmother, and chatted with other supporters and people who worked there. It was a great community buidling afternoon with delicious snacks. An anarchist-festival-disguised-as children's-festival Alice in Wonderland costume party was happening just beyond the bushes a little ways down.

But tonight, as I've sat on my balcony downtown, I'm reminded of where I live. I've heard fights in different languages, vomitting in a language everyone can understand and countless sirens. We live in a battleground, and I'm in for the fight.

Rach,
from an "everynight" kind of Vancouver night