Shame is part of our problem.

As the disturbing revelations flow from a trickle to a flood in the Jian Ghomeshi case, I, like many others have not only been horrified by what I have learned but also have just plain learned a lot. I have learned a lot about what victims of sexual assault go through, I have learned why so many choose not report this crime, I have begun to learn a tiny but interesting amount of information about the culture of BDSM and how important consent is to its participants. I have also learned about Canadian law. Most of all, I have learned about myself that I still have so much to learn. In more than one of the articles I’ve read in recent days, the writer has written something to the effect of “you (the reader) should be ashamed for immediately siding with Jian”. I agree it tells us a lot about our collective understanding of sexual assault how readily so many of us wanted to believe his side of things, but subsequently so many of us have learned new things and undoubtedly will be more skeptical of the person speaking and more concerned about who is being silent(silenced) from now on.

Shame does not help us learn anything. We already know that, right? Shame is in fact part of our problem. Let’s not be ashamed. Let’s take collective stock, let's listen with an open heart to anyone who is brave enough to speak up and understand our role in why so many people feel they can't.

We still have so much to learn and start (and continue) learning as much as we can. Shame dooms learning, and we can’t afford shame one minute longer.

Comments

I entered August without you.

I won't visit you this month. You won't call. I will raid your garden and you won't get any of the vegetables. I will make plans without telling you about them. We'll go to the store and not buy you one single thing. Whole books will be read and I will not tell you which ones. I will watch movies and not inform you. The nasturiums will ripen. Last month was different. I changed my schedule and took time off work to be with you. I dropped all kinds of plans for us to be together. You sent me messages, I received them. I picked up food that I thought you would like at the store and sent you pictures of every beautiful thing I saw. I sang with you. We watched the Great Canadian Baking Show. You chose the recipe for the garlic scape pesto and gave me instructions for making the gooseberry jam. I am in August without you. You are in July.

Fists full of lettuce

It is a pot of a variety of lettuce plants. It was planted by my mom. She has been living with Stage 4 bile duct cancer for at least 1.5 years (that we know of, probably a lot longer). Standing and gardening are becoming harder as time goes on. She learned about gardening from her dad as a kid and kept on gardening every year of her adult life. Sometimes the gardens were tiny or rudimentary, but with the help of my dad , they have become major and, at times elaborate, growing projects over the years. Now it is a collection of raised beds and regular beds that hold a host of plants, vegetable and flowers. Something that was clear that first spring with Stage 4 cancer is that gardening would continue in a big way, cancer or no cancer. It was important to order the seeds and start them inside and get them planted outside, no matter what. Spending time together in the summer with cancer now consistently involves gardening and following instructions. Plant...

Keep telling yourself that.

We talk to ourselves everyday, all day (and night) for the whole of our lives. We started talking to ourselves before we knew we were a self, we forget what we said because we forget everything from before...when we were too young and busy developing our brain to remember those early years. There is still lingering residue of long forgotten conversations I have had with myself as a toddler sitting around in the crevices...sloughing off occasionally into words I tell myself still. We talk non-stop, and not just with dialogue. Our goosebumps communicate to us, our tingly feelings, our neurons, our peripheal vision. They are all submitting data into our self and expecting us to react, respond or all to often, expecting what they are sending us will be ignored. After all that talking, you'd think we'd know what we think about most things, but occasionally we are stumped. Unless we stop what we are doing and really concentrate sometimes that voice(s) ...

Growing Versions

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