HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2017-08-17, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, AUGUST 17, 2017. PAGE 5.
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Why can't we see the individuals?
One of the mysteries of the time we live
in is why, when we are more
individualistic than ever before, we
insist on lumping other people together.
If a neighbour's kid or a member of our
extended family rebels and breaks the law,
even kills someone, we will shake our heads
and say how sad it is that this individual has
messed up his potential. If, on the other hand,
a Muslim kid rebels and becomes radicalized,
we often see it as part if a world-wide Muslim
conspiracy.
If someone we know becomes an alcoholic
or a drug addict and ends up living on the
street, we see that person as one broken
individual. If an Indigenous person follows the
same route, he or she often becomes "another
drunken Indian".
Donald Trump made great hay in last year's
U.S. Presidential election by suggesting illegal
Mexican immigrants were rapists and
smuggled drugs. Probably there have been
Mexican migrants who have smuggled drugs
or raped someone — after all there have been
more than a few Americans who have
committed the same crimes. Trump would
never suggest that all Americans were drug
dealers and rapists but somehow thought it was
acceptable to libel the millions of honest,
hardworking Mexican Americans who are
helping make American great, by associating
them with a minority, real or imagined, who
have committed crimes.
This guilt by association comes from
people who would think of themselves as
enlightened, too. When some police officer or
officers go rogue and beat someone or even
kill an innocent person, suddenly it's not
individual officers at fault but "police
violence". Lots of conscientious cops get
tarred with the same brush of violence. Some
Keith
Roulston
From the
cluttered desk
innocent police in the U.S. have been murdered
in revenge for the crimes of their fellow
officers.
Similarly, all white people apparently must
carry the guilt of their forefathers who settled
Canada or who may or may not have been part
of the residential school system that so cruelly
treated Indigenous children for decades. All
men are regarded as potential assailants
because of the minority of men who assault
women physically or sexually.
Why can't we see people, good or bad, as
individuals? Certainly people seem more
aware of themselves as individuals today
than at any time in history. We used to
need to be part of groups, whether working
together to accomplish tasks we couldn't do
ourselves, or coming together find
fellowship, worshipping in churches or
joining clubs from the Women's Institute to
various lodges. Modern prosperity and our
advanced technology has allowed us to be
self-sufficient in providing for our families.
Few people even grow a garden these days,
they just buy food at the store. We have off-
loaded many of the community -building tasks
we used to share to various levels of
government. Both church attendance and
participation in social groups has been in a
steady decline.
People spend more time involved in their
own individual worlds. Often you see people in
the same room — even sharing a table — yet
ignoring each other, absorbed with their smart -
phones. In the social media world, people want
everything tailored to the individual desires.
Many resist the shared experience of watching
network news or reading the newspaper
because they only want to spend their time
doing what they want to see or read, not what
someone else selects for them.
And yet, as individuals themselves, people
like to group people together: "all" Muslims
are somehow alike, "all" blacks, "all"
Indigenous people, "all" white men. Why?
Some psychologists suggest this is a
remnant of our ancient instinct for self-
protection: any stranger was seen as a possible
threat. Certainly, even in a country that has
accepted people from as many parts of the
world as Canada, most people, particularly in
rural areas, seldom have the opportunity to
develop a personal relationship with people
who look different, dress differently and speak
a language we don't understand. Even if we
become friendly with one Muslim or one
Somali, we still don't have bridges built to all
the other ethnic communities that make up
modern Canada.
But at the same time I have to wonder if it's
not our desire to make things easier, the same
urge that makes people want to live a
controlled life through social media, that
attracts us to simplify judgements by grouping
people together. It's not as much work as
seeing the individuals who make up the group.
We must break the habit. We must begin to
judge people as individuals, whether for their
good traits and their bad. If we want to live in
peace and harmony, everyone needs to stop
seeing a group that can be blamed for what
goes wrong and instead see the actual
perpetrator.
Finding the recognition balance
0 ver the weekend Ashleigh and I,
alongside valued friends and family
members, marked a special occasion:
My daughter Mary Jane's first birthday.
It was a bit of a premature celebration as her
actual birthday isn't until next week, but, with
both of our schedules being so hectic, it was
the best day we could find where both of us
could dedicate the time to celebrate her
birthday properly.
Wait, did I say her birthday? Because
apparently that was only part of what we were
celebrating.
Earlier, during the planning practices of the
shindig, Ashleigh had explained to me that the
day is a celebration of Mary Jane's first
birthday but also a celebration of the fact that,
between the two of us, we had kept this little
person alive for an entire year and gotten her
to the point that she was strolling around the
house like she owns the place.
In essence, we were celebrating that, as
parents, we did exactly what was expected of
us.
I could get into the ridiculousness of
recognizing people for the things they are
supposed to do, but, it dawned on me, during
the party, that maybe the problem isn't with
people, but rather with me.
More than one person pointed out that the
celebration was part birthday party, part
marking Ashleigh and I keeping Mary Jane far
enough away from harm that she lived.
It was then that I realized that maybe I've
been looking at this recognition thing the
wrong way. We are always thinking that
someone might fail at the things that, by all
rights, they should succeed at and, because of
that, we celebrate when they don't fail.
It got me thinking about the fact that, often
times, when I discuss these issues, I point at
the upcoming generations as being the source
of the problem.
While it's true, the lower -end of the
millennial scale (which I still protest being on)
and the generation that is following us do
seem to be getting participation ribbons for
everything from graduating Kindergarten to
getting out of bed in the morning, I can't help
but feel, after the number of jokes about Mary
Jane surviving the year under my care, that
we're all getting recognition for things that we
should be doing anyway.
It's a defensive mechanism, I guess, so we
don't have to face the reality that we might
have failed.
By joking about these potential failures, by
making light of the fact that people are doing
what is expected, we are distancing ourselves
from the idea that we might fail.
I don't expect recognition and, for the most
part, it makes me uncomfortable. Ask my
wife — she thanks me for doing things around
the house and that's just her way of showing
that she appreciates me recognizing something
needs to be done.
I appreciate her appreciation, but I've
always felt that things like cleaning the
kitchen, doing the dishes, cutting the lawn and
picking up Mary Jane's toys are something
that we should just do. Receiving recognition
for them usually causes me to respond with,
"Don't thank me for doing what I should be
doing anyway."
I'm working on not responding that way
because Ashleigh says she isn't thanking me
because she expected me not to notice the
things needed doing. She says she is thanking
me because it means she doesn't have to do it
and it's just her way of being supportive.
Between that weekly experience at home
and the recent realization that a lot of people I
admire and respect were congratulating me on
keeping my daughter alive, it got me to
thinking that I may be looking at this whole
recognition thing the wrong way.
Maybe, and be sure to tell me if I'm going
soft here, we should be recognizing people for
doing things not because their actions are
particularly deserving of outside recognition,
but because they may not realize they've done
something that deserves recognition.
I'm not about to miss my daughter's
birthday any day soon, but surviving that first
year, in hindsight, hasn't always been easy. I
know I tell everyone who will listen how well-
behaved Mary Jane is, but even the best baby
goes through teething pains, gets bad diaper
rashes and can't be calmed down some days.
Getting through all that and not despising
the person you share the responsibility with
may be deserving of a brief pat on the back
and a bit of a celebration.
I guess my fault in this entire realization is
that I haven't said that to Ashleigh and I likely
wouldn't even think of it if it weren't for the
fact that we threw this party for Mary Jane
who, aside from the copious amount of
attention she received, didn't know the
difference between her birthday party and any
other day of her life.
Maybe that recognition is there to remind us
to recognize the growth we all go through,
even if we don't want to recognize it
ourselves.
I have a few friends getting to the finish line
of their first year as parents and, with this
newly discovered knowledge, I'm ready to
celebrate with them as well and bring their
child a gift along with one for them as well.
The stories we tell
For the last decade, I have been paid to
tell people's stories. None of these
stories, with the exception of the few
times I get personal in this column space, are
mine. They are always somebody else's.
That is the nature of journalism and being a
reporter. News has been called "the first rough
draft of history", first by Alan Barth, a long-
time reporter and then in a speech by Phil
Graham, both of The Washington Post.
It is against this backdrop that I wanted to
talk about storytelling. People have been doing
it for many years and I feel like I have been
doing it every day for the last 10 years.
Cultural appropriation has been a hot topic
in the news as of late. At the heart of the debate
is the question of who can tell the stories of
others and when it is appropriate to do so.
In Canada the discussion around cultural
appropriate exploded around the telling of
First Nations stories and a suggestion that an
"appropriation prize" should be created for
writers who cross cultural lines to tell a story
that isn't theirs to tell.
Great care has gone into this season of the
Blyth Festival in which two First Nations -
centric stories have been told. First it was
Drew Hayden Taylor with The Berlin Blues,
which tackles cultural appropriation head-on,
and now with Jessica Carmichael and Falen
Johnston with Ipperwash.
Taylor threw his hat into the ring of debate
earlier this year when he wrote a special piece
for The Globe and Mail on the dangers of
cultural appropriation and Carmichael and
Johnston have spent months with the people of
the Kettle and Stony Point First Nations
communities. Both playwrights are members
of First Nations communities and they have
worked diligently to ensure the story being
told is the one the community wants to tell. On
top of that, Ipperwash will feature an cast
entirely comprised of First Nations actors.
The cultural appropriation debate rages on
in the United States as well, as the white
screenwriter/director team of Mark Boal and
Kathryn Bigelow produced Detroit — a film
about the Detroit riots of 1967 and the
infamous Algiers Hotel incident — which
absolutely bombed at the box office amidst
controversy about cultural appropriation.
Of course, with racial strife in the air since
the election of Donald Trump earlier this year
and the recent events in Charlottesville,
Virginia, perhaps Americans simply don't
want to watch this movie, but it does seem like
there's something bigger at play here.
As a writer of other people's stories my
whole life, I have always struggled to find a
point of view when I have been forced (and I
do mean forced) to write fiction.
I wrote a short story in college for a course
once. It was a semester -long project and I
wrote it in first -person and I wrote it from my
own perspective. It was about a man driving
his car during increasingly long periods of
closing his eyes, just to see if he could do it —
and what would happen if he couldn't.
At the time, I remember talking to my
teacher about it, telling him that I didn't know
how to write as anyone but myself. To even
reach to the simplest of alternative
perspectives — say, a woman or an older man,
neither of which I've ever been — seemed
impossible to me at the time.
From my perspective, writing from within
someone else's skin seems impossible, but
people do it all the time. Anyone who's ever
written anything, unless it's only about
themselves, has done it. But along with it
comes definitive rights and wrongs.