The best thing this year so far...

Hi friends. I know, it's been a while. There was a lot going on, and I never found the energy to do much, let alone blog about it.  And I just couldn't bring myself to start a blog series called, "From my couch" so, a took a break.  The truth is, I started a new job, and threw myself into that (as you do) and  and, and.  The break was just what I needed. I feel refreshed, and I came back to look at me blog, and thought to myself , "I like this blog." Which is good. Because it's mine. I'm still not going to have a very active posting schedule, I think mostly on the weekends since that's when I do the fun stuff, so if you stuck with me this long, I hope you won't mind the lighter postings. Yous are good people though, so I think we will be fine.

On with the post!

That's quite a title for the second day of the year. But this twitter hashtag was the best New Years thing I have seen.  It started with this lady:

And soon, I had to get in on the action. Here are some of my most retweeted ones:

Which I think are just hilarious.  Yes, I laugh at my own jokes. Doesn't everybody?

"You see racism where there isn't any..."

Awesome news! Actually, not awesome; annoying news... (there is some swearing in this post.)

I got an email about my post on the George Zimmerman post I wrote.  In this long-winded, ridiculous, and offensive email I was told that "blacks are too sensitive about this case, and about racism in general;" "you see racism in situations where there isn't any;" and "you should be happy about the changes for the better, at least your not a slave now;" along with an explanation about what racism is.

If you sent me this email, first of all you are a coward for not using your real name.  Secondly, you have not bothered to read anything that has been posted to give you a better understanding of racism through the lived experience of black folks. (See Questlove's article about the Trayvon Martin murder.)  Third of all, fuck you.  You think that you are adding an important aspect to this discussion, but you are not. 

Because I believe that people may not understand what I mean when I say "racism," I thought that I would define racism as I see it.

Audre Lorde defined racism as a scourge that pervades every aspect of society; it is the "belief in the inherent superiority of one race (whiteness) over all others and thereby the right to dominance." (Lorde, Sister Outsider, 1984, page 115.)  Stuart Hall adds that racism is an institutional hegemony of white folks over other raced people through economic, political and ideological practices. (Hall, "Race, Articulation and Societies Structured in Dominance," 1980, page 338.)   But trying to define the institutional and complex social relations it encompasses is extremely tricky.  Racism is part of the English language.  People still use the word "minorities" to describe people of color-- who outnumber the white population of planet Earth.  There is a hierarchy inherent in that word that has nothing to do with numbers.  The pervasiveness and institutionalized nature of racism in our society is what makes it so insidious; an endemic feature of society that permeates every aspect of it.  It also makes it seem invisible to white folks who can decry overt examples of racism as crude and uneducated while ignoring or perpetuating underlying institutional racism in their daily interactions (or emails) with non-white folks.

It is the institutionalization of racism that makes it oppressive; but also renders the notion of "reverse-racism" a myth.  Because "white" culture dominates our institutions in our society,  there is no way that non-white races have access to power needed to oppress white folks.  There is definitely prejudice towards white folks, but at the end of the day, white people don't have to worry that their may lose the right to vote, or that the police will assault them.

In short, racism is big.  Really big.  And not fixable over night.  And something that I see EVERYWHERE.

Sci-fi writer Catherine Shaffer wrote on her blog So Shiny a great response to people who ask the question, "why are people calling me a racist?"  See the whole post here.  What I would like to highlight is the list of rules to follow if you truly want to try and fight racism. She writes: 
    

 

Great words of advice for anyone who takes this as seriously as I do. 

That's probably enough angry blogging for now.  Have a great Saturday!

A Few Thoughts on the Zimmerman Case

I have been thinking about what to say about the Zimmerman case.... I mean what is there to say that hasn't been eloquently stated by some writers far more gifted than I am? I was never angry.  I was sad.  But I knew what would happen.  People said I was negative, and cynical. 

I am neither: I just know how entrenched in racism our legal systems are.  There is inequity in the justice systems of the US and Canada (even though, Canadians will say that these systems a very different.) I would note that in terms of racism, they are more similar than you would think.

Of course the Zimmerman verdict went the way it did.  History has shown that the law simply doesn't value the lives of black folks.  I would add that most other races other than white folks rarely fare well in the legal system.  Think of the Scotsborough boys, Lynch laws, the death of Emmett Till, and the arrests of numerous black panthers and civil rights activists. 

But Stephanie, those examples are from so long ago, surely it has changed for the better now? 

I don't want to think of legal racial equity as on a spectrum anymore.  If I continue to think of it that way, I'll get complacent-- I need to think in terms of right and wrong; working and broken.   Our legal institutions are broken in terms of race and equity.  When it comes right down to it, white folks and folks of other races are not equal in the eyes of the law. So instead of a spectrum of less or more racist, I choose to state that the system is still racist. Stated simply, it will be racist until it is not.  "Almost not racist" has made us lazy.

But even if folks still want to use the shifting spectrum of racism, who says its even that much better? Even with the light skin privilege I carry, I have still felt the sting of the unjust, unequal legal system.

For example:  One night I was standing with my husband (then boyfriend) at a bus stop. Two police officers stopped their car to "talk" to me. My husband thought nothing of it, why would he? He has had a great relationship with police officers. But I knew better, I told my partner that they were coming to bug me.  Of course, my boyfriend didn't believe me. But they did get out, and they did ask me what I was doing, where I was going, if I had ID, what I was carrying in my backpack, why I was out so late, where did I live... All of which I complied with, and answered with a lot of "yessirs," and "no sirs."  My companion asked the officers why they were so interested in me (something I would have never asked myself.) Their answer was because I fit the description of a "drug dealer and prostitute" that was seen in the area.   I knew who they were looking for, we had gone to school together.  I looked nothing like her.  She was tall and thin. The one thing we did have in common was our race.

When I told friends this story, they had many excuses- the cops were doing their job, they were being through, how could I be sure that it was about my race, and my favourite-- I should be happy they were doing their job so well! But that wasn't the last time that happened. I was suspected of a crime I didn't and couldn't have committed.  I've been followed and harassed by cops.  And every time, some of my white friends would tell me I was over reacting.   I couldn't possibly know that my race had anything to do with it.

But I do know that my race has everything to do with my interactions with the police.  Each time I had a problem, there had been reported and documented cases of my local police using racial profiling.  This is what Zimmerman did;  he profiled racially and reacted.  Why would the legal system convict a man for using one of their own practices?   

For North American society, racist inequality is ingrained in all of our institutions.  Law, (as evidenced most recently by the Trayvon Martin case;) education (we need a Black History month to help people remember to add us into the story;) media (that Cheerios commercial debacle, Paula Deen, there's a lot.)  Its everywhere.  Every institution tells me that my life is not worth the same as a white person's life.  And unfortunately, black folks have learned to live with that.  I've learned to live with that.

But I shouldn't live with that.  But the fight for racial equality seems insurmountable when I am constantly being told that its not that bad.  Trayvon Martin is dead.  It is that bad.

What my own fat shame taught me

I've tried to write an intro to this for a while.  I couldn't think of how to introduce this, or what made me write it down; but here it is.

 

In grad school,  I became really close with a boy in one of my classes.  He was smart, funny, interesting.  He was also handsome.  His lithe body would breeze into the classroom late, and no one criticize him for interrupting our session.  A few girls would blush (including the teacher) and he would sit and class would continue.   

Of course, I also thought he was handsome.  But he was also thoughtful; principled;  idealistic; passionate; witty; intelligent and brave.  Very few people got to know him though, he was handsome, and that apparently spoke enough about him.

As a fat girl, I had come to realize that the package one comes in is one fraction of their story.  As someone whose body is commented on, and graded; whose lifestyle apparently can be assumed from what I look like; I knew early on that the book can't actually be judged by its cover-- no matter how pretty the cover is. 

 

I am sad to admit, that it wasn't some grand enlightenment that helped me come to this conclusion.  It was shame.  All-compassing shame about my body, and therefore myself.  It's not hard to internalize fat-shame; we see and hear it every day- almost everywhere.   Some days, I'm strong and fierce.  Others, I hate all my clothes; I hate my hair; I hate everything I see in the mirror.  If I was thin this would all look better, I say to myself.  I skip breakfast, keep my head down and stay quiet- as if I could melt into the backgrounds.  

My shame taught me to listen the "advice" given to me by adults in my young life.  If I didn't have the looks, I should have the personality.  If you have to be fat, you might as well be smart, or funny, or artistic.  I never did my hair, put on makeup.  I took that precious time, and developed my personality and skills-- that's all I had to work with apparently.  I was a champion public-speaker and debater.  I sang.  I did theatre.  I was good at these things, but that was never enough.  When jokes about "the fat lady singing" made me cry, I was admonished, why would I choose something so public to do?  

My own shame taught me to ignore my body, and by extension other people's bodies too.  If I didn't comment on their body, then maybe they wouldn't comment on mine.  It was a tactic of self-preservation in a way.  Silence on the subject kept my tears at bay.  If I didn't bring up what people looked like, maybe my friends wouldn't tell me about the "new diet" they used that worked so well.  Maybe they wouldn't send me website about how successful others have been after gastric-bypass surgery.  Maybe, just maybe, they would see past my shell to what I thought was lurking beneath it.  

My shame taught me to talk to pretty boys like they were people.  Why shame?  I couldn't get giggly and silly like other girls did.  There was no way that a pretty boy would like my body.  He would never kiss me, so I would be their friend.  My shame taught me I was undesirable-- but my mind taught me that I was smart, charming, funny, interesting.  At least, I was worth talking to.

And this is how I came to know the handsome boy.  We studied together, and hung out like friends do.  Apparently, he flirted with me often.  My shame wouldn't let me see that.  He told me I was pretty.  My shame told me he was just being nice.  He invited me to events he organized.  My shame told me that he couldn't find anyone else to go. 

Before class, he walked over to my group, and asked if I wanted to go and have coffee that night.  I said sure.  The surprised thin, blond girl beside me asked if I was dating handsome boy.  My shame made me laugh and reply that we were "just friends" of course.  And her relief at the news was visible.  Handsome boy turned around and told her that it was a date.  That he had just asked me on a date.  Then he asked me if that was alright.  My shame made me feel confused.  Why was this a date?  Was he trying to make a statement?  Was he making fun of me?  I had trained myself so well to not trust any advances.  It had to be a trick.  I could not understand why someone would want my body.  I settled with the idea that he was going to try to see past my fatness.  

The surprise returned to my classmate's face, "why would he want to go out with you instead of m--." Her expression mirrored what I felt about my body.  But this time, instead of shame, I felt anger.  How dare someone utter that thought out loud.  We were all thinking it, but to say it? 

But it was exactly what I needed to hear.  

Once it was out there, I couldn't bury it deep within me anymore.  I had to face the unspoken understanding and relationship of my body in that space with those people.  I knew what they thought-- because my shame made me feel it too.   But my anger at that comment, and the gentle encouragement of my boy friend made me push that shame aside to comment on my own worthiness.  

I needed to hear my own self love out loud.  

I would love to say that I stood and delivered a triumphant speech that changed everyone's ideas about bodies and fatness.  Really what came out of me that day were tears and a muffled, "I am worth a date.  I am a good choice."  Followed by my leaving class and hiding out in the women's bathroom until he got fed up and came in there.  I told you he was brave.

I wish I could say that my shame never affected me again.  But that wouldn't be true.  I never went on that date.  I never confronted that classmate who I thought was my friend.  I graduated and tried to leave it behind me.   I wish I could say that I don't look for acceptance from other people.  But the fact is, I do.  I don't think I will ever be able to completely stop looking for it there.  But I'm wiser now.  So I only look for the acceptance I crave from people I love; like-minded fatties who understand the politics of their existence.  

And even though I have been able to work on keeping my fat shame away, some days it rears its ugly head.  Sometimes, I am confident mini-skirt wearing beauty, flirting and being my charming self.    Other times, I am that baggy sweatshirt wearing wallflower, who would do anything to fade into the background.   So when those shameful moments happens, I try and write it down and read it.  I have to hear it out loud-- otherwise I won't try to fight it.    

 

I'm a teacher, here is what I think.

 
Bill 115 passed in Ontario yesterday.  What is interesting about this bill, is that it limits that freedom of teachers to strike.  I'm a teacher.  Here is what I want to respond (but the website won't let me right now) to people (ahem.) who are commenting that:

"Teachers are the spoiled brats of the working class" - "Financegal" 

And:

"Maybe so, but you also lose your dignity when you protest this bill by taking it out on the kids by cancelling extra curricular activities.  Far as I am concern, ever teach that does this proves to me they are not there for the kids and they should not be teachers.  No matter what issues there are between teachers, the union and the board, there is never a time you use the kids as a bargaining tool, that has to stop. That is what makes many teachers a disgrace."   - "Cael"

And my favourite:

"If we just gave the teachers what they want, they wouldn't throw a tantrum. That's NOT what we need to teach our children." - "RightofCenter"

I'm Stephanie Bass.  I teach French.  I'm new to teaching; this is my second career.  I don't get any of the "benefits" that teachers who are not new get.  I should.  Also, I don't know who said that the teacher's were not fighting about money.  Of course its about money.  It costs money to educate.  More money if you want children educated well.  

But I will concede.  I will stop being selfish and give up everything if I can negotiate my pay (instead of a faceless board determining my pay by my credentials alone) and be paid an hourly wage that takes into account my education and experience.  I have an M.A.  I was once a social worker, which is a handy skill-set working in an inner city school.  I have experience teaching at two top Canadian Universities (York and McMaster).  I speak English and French.  Also, I'm pretty charming so I feel comfortable asking and confident I could talk my way into the $20-30/ hour I would make in the private sector in a professional capacity.  I work from 7:30 in the morning until about 6:00 at night with my extra-curricular activities, marking and preparation.  Of course, this is a conservative estimate.  All of this means I should be getting a base salary of $60-70 000/year.

I pay for all my resources, office supplies and additional training, for which I would like to be reimbursed.  This year I have spent $3000 on training, and $2000 on office and school supplies for students who can't afford their own.  I would need to be reimbursed for the $300 I spent printing my own resources, as well as the $500 I spent on educator resources.  $67 300 for those of you playing along at home.

I also need to travel for meetings, conferences and training, for which I also pay.  That is another $1000 this year (but could be more).  $68 300.  Can I put in for mileage too?

What about the "extras" I pay for because I work in a poor area?  I buy birthday presents for kids that would get none.  I buy extra snacks for kids that don't get lunches.  I buy coats and clothing in the winter, shoes all year round, bathing suits, toiletries. Once, I had to buy a set of socket wrenches to help fix a students' bike.  Can I have an expense account for that?

Right now the total for me, without benefits, without sick days is almost $70 200/ year.  This is significantly more than I currently make as a teacher.  You wouldn't gripe about $30 000/year? 

But there is more: the government legislated that I can't strike?  Something that is written into the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms?  I am not allowed to express my frustration about my employment, my pay, or benefits?  In response, we will take the one thing we have to work with and stop it- no volunteering at the school where we also work.  Seems reasonable.  This is 10-15 hours a week in free labour that I will stop performing.  Although my volunteering is not mandatory, it is important.  And hopefully, people will see its value and come back to the table to discuss this conflict.

I am frustrated that I am not running my extra-curricular activities; emotionally torn really, because in my school, its all many students get in terms of music lessons, and sports teams.  My students deserve it, and need it.  And I get to feel terrible about it.  I get to look my students in the eyes and tell them that Glee club and Rock band are cancelled until further notice. So I get the sleepless nights and guilt about stopping these things.  But, what else can I do?  I need people to listen to my concerns.  Discussion hasn't worked.

One lesson that I teach my students is to stand up for yourself, even when people don't understand or agree with you.  I'm just standing up for myself.  I deserve some credit and some answers.  There are many who don't understand "what the deal with teachers are." This is my deal, one in thousands of "deals."  I hope it sheds some light.

I love a good boycott...

I read an interesting debate on my cousin's page via Facebook today.   I participated, but I really didn't have a horse in the race as the other folks were deeply religious and arguing about that mainly.  One thing they mentioned was this Chik Fil-A fiasco.  In Canada, we don't have this restaurant;  which is good, because then I would have to help lead a boycott of this chain of fast food places, because of a statement released by their big-mouthed bigot CEO. 

I am pro same-sex marriage.  In fact, in Canada, GLBTQ marriage is legal.  As it should be. I was never torn as to whether or not it should be legal.  I remember the controversy when the Civil Marriage Act was being debated in 2005.  Pundits had the most outrageous arguments!  I remember one proponent against gay marriage claiming that this type of marriage would open the door for people to marry their pets which is an argument being used in the South still.  People cannot actually believe this, can they?  The slippery slope argument does not apply, because we are talking about people.  To talk about GLBTQ people as less than persons is hate speech, clear and simple.  And hate speech is illegal.  In Canada it is anyway.  My point is, you cannot be anti-same-sex marriage, and supportive of any GBLTQ persons in your life at the same time.  Believing that GLBT couples should not have access to the same civil rights as a heterosexual couple is a huge injustice, and heterosexist (which is not a good thing to be.)  It wasn't that long ago, that my marriage to D would have been considered illegal too. 

Former Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau once said, that "the government has no business in the bedrooms of the people."  I wholeheartedly agree; it is not the concern of any government office what happens between two consenting adults.   It is funny how American politics attempt to be laissez-faire in business and economic practice, but not in sex.  That is an interesting political irony.

Where am I going with all this?  Well, please consider boycotting Chik Fil-A if you live in the vicinity of a restaurant.  Yeah, Chik Fil-A is a company that can support any organization it wants to, but so can you.  This corporation supports groups that want to deny some people their civil rights.   You can choose whether or not your dollars feed hatred, or equality.   Please choose equality. 

http://other98.com/

The Code of Kindness

The other day, I had a great conversation with a Mormon Elder who was visiting the city.  He stopped me in a park, with the disarming gesture of his hands up in front of him.  I told him I appreciated that he was trying to make me feel safe.  He then asked me if I wanted to talk about religion.  I said sure.  So we did.  Our dialogue made me think about what I believed in, and how I should express those beliefs.  I am not a Christian.  I don't believe in a god.  But this doesn't mean I don't have faith.  My faith lies in people.

Let me explain.

I do think we should treat each other how we want to be treated.  This is a great philosophy by which to live.  The Elder said, "sounds like you're a Christian to me." I said, but there is one very important thing missing, I don't believe Jesus was magical, or a "god."  I always thought this idea was, well, unbelievable.

Now, I don't hate Christianity, or any religion.  I think that there are good ideas in most Faiths. For example,  I think that the Christian bible has some great ideas.  I think that Jesus was an important historical figure, a revolutionary really, who tried to make his world a little better.  But I don't think he was miraculous; just a guy trying to change the world.

And that notion is more compelling to me;  Jesus as just a guy trying to do good, is more compelling than a mystical figure who was sent with a mission from a holy being.

And that is my point, I think people can work to make the world better, but we have competing motivations that cause us to act selfishly instead of for the common good.  When we push aside those selfish motivations, we can change the world.

Then the Elder asked me a very important question: "Was I a good person?   If I don't believe in God, what motivates me to be a good person?"

I told him that I subscribed to something I called, "The Code of Kindness."  It was a directive I wrote in a journal once.  Since then, it has served as a guide for how I treat other people.

The "Code of Kindness" is pretty simple really.  And it's an acrostic poem, so it's easy to memorize:

I think that my code is a truer working of trying to be a "good" person.  It also shows my strong belief in the goodwill of humanity.  I try to be a caring and helpful person not because I will be rewarded someday by a paternalistic figure that is proud of me.  Conversely, I am not giving and empathetic out of fear of retribution from a deity watching my every move.   I act the way I do, because I think that humanity will be best served, if I am caring, kind, and helpful.  And I believe that all people have the capacity to be this way.  I don't even think that there are "good" and "evil" people really, just that our personal motivations are sometimes skewed and selfish.  If we can consider each others well being more in our thoughts and actions, the world would be a beautiful place. 

So my faith lies in hope for other people.  

And when humanity's back is up against the metaphoric wall, I believe that people will step up and do what is right for other people.  In that is what I believe.

Our conversation ended as it was getting dark.  He hadn't converted me, but he did make me think.  And that is a nice gift.