HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2015-08-20, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, AUGUST 20, 2015. PAGE 5.
Have you met my friend Roy? Roy G.
Biv? If you’re a visual artist you
probably know what I’m talking
about. Mister Biv is not an actual person, he’s
a mnemonic – a memory device to help artists
remember the primary colours: Red, Orange,
Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo and Violet. All the
colours of the rainbow. (They’re lined up in
order of decreasing radio wavelengths if you
want to get technical about it.)
There are other ways of remembering the
series. British art students with a sense of
history memorized ‘Richard Of York Gave
Battle In Vain’.
That works. But so does ‘Rinse Out Your
Granny’s Boots in Vinegar’.
Anyway you slice it, colour – and the way
we view it – cuts to the very quick of our exis-
tence. Ask Rachel Dolezal. She’s an American
civil rights activist and former African Studies
instructor. She’s also president of the Spokane
chapter of the National Association for the
Advancement of Coloured People.
Or was. She stepped down last month (just
ahead of getting canned) because her cover
was blown. For most of her adult life Rachel
Dolezai has been pretending she was black.
She coloured her skin and wore her hair in a
succession of afros, dreadlocks and other
funky formats. She even used her Facebook
page to identify a black man, Alfred
Wickerson junior, as her father.
That was disturbing news to Mister
Wickerson, who’d only met Rachel Dolezal a
few months earlier. Her real father and mother,
both white, ‘outed’ their daughter to the media
as a black wannabe.
Ms. Dolezai is unrepentant. “It’s taken my
whole life to negotiate how to identify” she
told a reporter. “I wouldn’t say I’m African-
American but I would say that I’m black.”
Except um...you’re not, Rachel.
Race is not a matter of how one wishes to
‘identify’. A person can’t choose to be black
just as one can’t choose to be white. Or
Japanese or Maori or Woodland Cree or Innu.
Me? I’d like to identify as a guy with hair like
Jeff Bridges. Except I’m bald as an onion.
It’s genetic. You is or you ain’t.
As for being authentically black – even that
gets complicated. When I was a kid the term
used was ‘Negro’. That gave way to the expres-
sion ‘coloured people’. Which morphed into
‘black’ which blossomed into ‘people of colour’.
Nowadays, to use the term ‘coloured people’ is
to reveal yourself as an uncultured hick with
the social graces of a Mississippi redneck.
Unless of course you’re talking about the
N Double-A CP. The “CP” in the title stands
for, yes, coloured people.
As I said, it’s complicated.
Personally, I think the cartoonist and poet
Shel Silverstein (not Negro or coloured or ‘of
colour’ or black) summed it up rather well:
“My skin is kind of sort of brownish pinkish
yellowish white” said Mister Silverstein. “My
eyes are greyish blueish green, but I’m told
they look orange in the night. My hair is
reddish blondish brown, but it’s silver when
it’s wet, and all the colours I am inside have
not been invented yet.”
Amen to that. As for me, I was bright pink at
birth but that soon faded to ivory (except kind
of dark beige in the summer). I have been
known to turn green with envy, yellow with
fear and red with anger. On a bad day I can get
browned off or even downright blue. When
bruised, I usually turn purple.
I don’t have firsthand knowledge of my
complexion following my demise but I have it
on good authority that it will be an unpleasant
grey. And I definitely identify with Black –
every time I see my driver’s licence.
If you want to talk about a person of colour,
you’re reading his words right now.
Hey, we’re all people of colour and I’m
happy about that. Orange you?
Arthur
Black
Shawn
Loughlin
Shawn’s Sense
Many members of my generation may
never get the opportunity to say the
following words so, I guess, while I
still can, I better enjoy it: I’m retiring.
I’m not retiring from my job as a reporter
here at The Citizen, I’m retiring from most of
my involvement with North Huron Minor
Soccer and Blyth Minor Soccer.
This year I found myself donning the
mantles of league convenor for the U18
(Under-18) Boys league, referee co-ordinator
for Blyth and coach of Blyth’s U18 Girls team,
while refereeing games myself when I could
fit them in.
I’m not complaining here, just admitting,
that I’m 30 years old and having to worry
about soccer every night when I literally have
no skin in the game has gotten exhausting.
Originally, I was just a referee. As a matter
of fact, for 10 years, I was just a referee. Then
I decided to take on the referee co-ordinator
position here in Blyth. Then, this year,
everything doubled and tripled.
With a functioning executive of two,
there was a lot of work and not many hands to
manage it and it’s just not in me anymore.
I’m not saying I’m completely done – I’ll
likely still referee much to the chagrin of some
local coaches – but coaching and executive
positions are best left to the people who have a
reason to keep coming back to it.
Me? Well every time another call came in
about someone not being able to referee,
putting me in the position of giving up my own
time to either referee the game or try and find
a replacement, I wondered why I keep
doing it.
At first, it was because I thought things
would be different. I thought I would schedule
things, people would be glad to do it because
(in all honesty) for the amount of work, the
pay is pretty good, but that isn’t the case.
People cancel, people don’t show up and,
when that happens, it falls to me to fix it.
If I had a 9-5 job (and don’t call those
bankers’ hours, because I can tell you, bankers
work longer hours than those now-a-days), I
wouldn’t have a problem refereeing the
occasional cancellation.
Having the full-time job I have, however,
requires me to be available on nights to take
pictures, cover council meetings and attend
events and, in all likelihood, if I’m not already
refereeing a game, I’m likely otherwise
occupied.
Again, this isn’t complaining, this is just
saying that doing the things I’ve listed
(running a league, organizing referees,
refereeing or coaching teams) are not horrible
experiences, they are just experiences that are
better suited to someone who has a steady
schedule, someone who can be home between
5 p.m. and 6 p.m. and occasionally handle
putting out a fire on a weeknight (like once a
week, or so). It’s nothing to be scared of,
really, because nothing is going to happen a
person can’t handle, provided they have the
time to dedicate to it.
Those positions are also things that should
be handled by someone who has a reason to do
them: someone who is supporting one of the
athletes.
I’m not saying parents here, it could be
anyone: a family member like an uncle or aunt,
a friend of the family, a member of a church,
anyone really. Me? I just don’t really have any
connections like that. I happened to be the
oldest referee in town when I moved here and
handling the other referees sort of fell into my
lap.
Like I said, it’s not a tough job, just one for
someone with a little more free time than your
friendly neighbourhood reporter. Also one for
someone who doesn’t mind being called in the
middle of the day to try and resolve issues.
Also someone who has time in the middle of
the day to go through dozens of e-mails and
make sure that none of them require their
attention.
Okay, so it is a bit of a taxing thing to be
involved with, but, in the end, it’s probably
going to be worthwhile.
So, next year, when it’s time for soccer sign-
ups, drop by the registration table and say
you’re willing to lend a hand. Judging by the
number of people who criticize referees from
the sideline during Blyth games, there must be
at least a dozen people with enough time on
their hands to actually get involved.
Or, if you’re going to get involved, don’t
disappear right after the season starts.
If you say you’re going to help, do it.
Volunteer burnout is a real thing and the
number one cause of it, in my experience, is
the handful of dedicated people saying they
will help alongside a bunch more who
disappear as soon as they have signed their
names. That’s why many service groups and
community groups in the area end up being
pushed by two or three people year after year.
As for me, I might referee a game or two a
week and help out with whatever final
tournament does get held in Blyth, but, as my
final, last-ditch effort to help out Blyth Minor
Soccer, I’m putting a challenge out there.
It shouldn’t fall to people already involved to
take on more responsibilities. If someone you
know is playing soccer and you are going to
take the time to go out and watch them
anyway, be a coach.
It’s usually not a problem with the younger
teams and, to be honest, with the older teams,
the players have spent a lot of time with each
other and know the strengths and weaknesses
of their teammates. They don’t need a lot of
guidance, just someone to help keep them on
track.
The last part of the challenge is to pick up a
whistle. If you think you can do a better job
refereeing than any of the people who go out
and put up with the nonsense that referees
face, grab a whistle and prove it.
If you decide that refereeing isn’t for you,
however, please keep your opinions to yourself
because the worst thing about finding referees
is the turnover rate. So many are scared away
by overzealous coaches and parents that it
typically falls to a core group to referee almost
every game in a community.
So, it is with no reservations whatsoever that
I finally say, I’m retired.
Denny
Scott
Denny’s Den
Predictable sexism
Some things in this world are so painfully
predictable it’s scary. And usually when
someone says something like that, it’s
something bad, so let’s get to it.
In this day and age, when so many things
have been accomplished by so many different
types of people, I think it’s conveniently
forgotten sometimes what it takes to be a
trailblazer.
I believe I’ve written about this before, but to
be in Cooperstown, New York at the National
Baseball Hall of Fame and to see handwritten
letters sent to the likes of Hank Aaron and
Jackie Robinson full of hate and death threats,
it really hits the point home about how hard it
would have been decades ago to simply have
the courage to play baseball in a league that
hadn’t, until then, welcomed your people.
As I’ve said, so many walls have been
broken down since then, it’s easy to remember
that many walls remain up, until someone is
brave enough or talented enough to break them
down.
This has happened twice in the National
Football League (NFL) in recent memory.
There is the case of the Sarah Thomas, who is
the league’s first full-time female referee and
now with Jen Welter, who is, albeit in a limited
capacity, the NFL’s first female coach.
There was a meeting of these two strong
women the other night as the league’s Arizona
Cardinals, the team Welter coaches, took on
the Kansas City Chiefs in a preseason game
refereed by Thomas.
Back to the predictability... there were plenty
of people who weren’t quite as thrilled about
the whole thing as the two women no doubt
were.
A picture shared by American sports
network ESPN of the two women shaking
hands was met with all types of sexism on
Twitter, which has become a haven for these
kinds of things.
One user disgustingly suggested that the two
were “probably talking about feminism” while
another suggested that the University of
Phoenix Stadium, where the game was played
was a “weird kitchen” for the two women to be
in.
One man suggested that the meeting of the
two women would result in the world of
professional sports being ruined before his
very eyes, while another said where was
disgraced former NFL running back and wife
beater Ray Rice when you needed him?
Disgusting. But again, no one is likely
surprised. It’s just unfortunate that such an
important moment for women in sports, as
well as in these two women’s lives, has to be
marred by closed-minded people attempting to
stifle progress in the world.
Just when you think that humans have
explored every sea and scaled every mountain,
you have to remember that there are still
people out there who are doing things that no
one before them, in years and years of
civilization, has done before – and that can’t be
diminished simply because there are fewer and
fewer of these milestones to mark.
People are still making news and breaking
records every day and it isn’t any easier for
them. So perhaps the onus is on us to celebrate
these trailblazers and do our best to drown out
the sexist and the racist so their voice is
reduced to a whisper.
The unfortunate thing, though, is that bigots
will always be there. Negativity will always be
a part of moments such as these. It’s too bad,
but it’s a part of life that I think many of us
have grown to begrudgingly accept.
Other Views
It’s not black and white
You are never too young to retire