on my niece and how she has yet to learn about "feeling" fat

when i was 18 my eldest sister gave birth to my nephew, ethan.  i was so excited!  i can remember running through the halls of my high school telling anybody who would listen that i had a special little someone on the way.  what a perfect, beautiful child he was, too.  5 weeks premature but he was a fighter and he's grown to be a big, strong boy with golden locks and a desire to know things.  he likes to be given the opportunity to come out of his shell as opposed to being pushed and expected to socialize.  he is eight years old, developing his own personality and figuring it all out.  i sometimes worry the style of teaching/learning at his school will hold him back because he is such an active child. basically, though, i think ethan is going to be just fine.

when i was 24 i rushed to the hospital in the middle of the night with a family friend because my sister was in labour with her second child - olivia.  olivia is now (nearly) two and she is a sweetheart.  she has short hair on the top, long her on the bottom - a perfectly precious baby mullet.  she has a funny walk which is actually quite funny!  she does jokes (including, but not limited to, her funny walk) and likes to learn things (she knew all three things Cinderella's evil step-sisters did to her after only ONE time watching the movie!).  she's brave and fearless and funny with a big personality and a big memory and a big heart.  unfortunately, unlike her brother, i look at my perfect little niece with all her natural strength and intellect and creativity (...seriously, the funny walk is a gem of a joke) and i feel sad because i look at the society around me and i know it's just waiting for strong little girls like her to enter its fold and be crushed.

i know i can be dramatic (i was trained to be a singer, c'mon, of COURSE i am drama), but this time i believe i am being completely down to earth.  i look at my brilliant niece and her brilliant brother and i cannot stop myself thinking - wow, he will just have it SO much easier than she will.

olivia will, despite the fact that she is a perfectly formed human, inevitably learn at some point about this word "fat".  and, as per some other woman who thought of it before me, she will learn to understand the apparent 'feeling' or sensation of 'being fat'.

it is unlikely she will hear it from my sister who is a strong, artistic woman who speaks to my niece and nephew in full sentences and prefers to compliment their intellect instead of their beautiful eyes or other aesthetic appeal.  she won't hear it from my sisters, because they will be busy complimenting their musical inclinations or flare for academics.  actually, the list of people from whom they will not hear that 'fat' or 'beautiful' is a feeling is probably quite impressive.  for that, i take my hat off to my parents - to people who raised me to think i was smart and capable and who raised my siblings to believe the same.
unfortunately, it does not matter.  the small group of wonderfully wonderful strong people you have around you  - people who are dedicated to business, to writing, to the arts, to bettering themselves and society, to contributing, to volunteering, to learning, but not to vanity, to thinness for the sake of thinness, to beauty for the sake of beauty - just does not matter.  we perceive those people as false, as loving us despite our flaws.  because society and magazines and thin girls with nail polish on perfect nails attached to long, skinny hands, attached to long skinny, arms attached to long, skinny bodies will scream that the traits that really matter are the ones that you see.

we may be told that if we just cut our hair or pluck our eyebrows we will look younger/older/prettier/better.  we may be told that we better be careful because we need to fit the dress of the soprano/actress that came before us - so that even if we have cultivated something beyond looks, it simply does not matter, because it matters that we are as skinny, or skinnier, than our predecessor.  we may be told that we look better with bangs/blond hair/layers.  we may be told that if we just curl our hair it would look better.  wear more lipstick, that's the little oomph you need.  try this mascara, that's probably what's lacking in your life.  buy this eye cream/face cream, you're just not taking care of what god gave you.

i have heard this series of things.  we all have.  most of the people that read this are women - you know you've heard these things.  i have had no trouble dealing with these things.  i am a huge proponent of the eye crem endemic.  anything to stop the signs of ageing i'm experience at 26.
but despite the fact that i am willing to buck up and accept that i need to be eternally youthful and find a way to be beautiful and be thin despite my body's natural inclination to be ready to bear children and all that; despite my acceptance that if push came to shove i WOULD fit into the dress of the soprano that came before me, i will roll over in my grave before my perfectly perfect niece is made to feel this way.

i was watching tv the other night and i knew, without a doubt, it was not just a possibility, but an inevitability that my darling olivia is going to feel this way.  at the time, the flooding in alberta was at an all-time scary high with properties are damaged beyond repair and fears that the cultural landmark, the stampede, might not be able to go ahead.  the news had to take a brief commercial break and, in the midst of all this rea-life-actual-sadness going on, i had to focus my attention on:
1. hair products;
2. waxing products; and
3. work out products.

as i was watching, i thought to myself - what in the flying fuck does my niece have going up against her?  it's one thing entirely for me to worry about the pith and substance of commercials 1, 2 and 3 , but to think my little olivia has to turn her mind to being thin or blond or shaven enough?

i believe it all resolves back to this sentiment of 'fat as a feeling'.  being 'not blond enough' and 'not perfectly shaven' are 'feelings' - and allegedly important ones at that!  and my niece - a child who is so perfect, who the whole world right now would probably agree is actually perfect - will eventually grow to say to herself "i am not perfect, because i do not "feel' thin" - whatever the hell that means.

i am not trying to say girls have it entirely rougher than boys - i think the set of struggles is different.  but coming from experience, i realized tonight that all those struggles that i have been grinning and bearing are just not fine for my olivia to have to deal with.  the 'feeling' of fat, not blond enough, not shaven enough - well, these are just not "feelings".  how is she going to learn this at the same time as having an awareness of what's happening in society?  if i can't get through a borderline meaningful news broadcast about a devastating natural disaster happening, how will she and her little girlfriends escape it on the regular?

so let me take a moment to talk to my olivia: sweetheart, i've seen you since you were hours old and let me tell you - you are as perfect and flawless as they come.  you are alive, first and foremost.  do you know how special THAT is?  do you know how unlikely it was that YOU would ever exist?  it was basically impossible that YOU would ever exist, and yet here you are - breathing, talking, laughing, doing your funny walk.

and olivia, that funny walk of yours, well that funny walk is funny.  i am not kidding you, kid.  i am not just saying this because i love you all to bits and pieces and go all fuzzy inside when i hear you call us to say goodnight after your bath.  i am saying this because your funny walk actually makes me laugh.  and the reason you have a funny walk in the first place is because you are a funny little child.  you are a child with a personality that is bigger than how pretty or blond or shaven you are - and trust me, it always will be.

your capacity to be bright and sunny and intelligent is not lessened by how physically lovely you may be - and never let that get mixed up in your mind.  never let yourself forget that whether you are lovely or some girl beside you is lovely or some girl across the way is lovely, loveliness simply does not matter in any profound way.  what matters in a profound way is that funny walk of yours.

you have the potential to be great and, as a person who personally has always been more talk than action, i implore you - go on out there and be great.  at the end of the day, that 'feeling' of being fat/not blond enough/not shaven enough - that feeling is a lie.  and you, my sweetest, you just weren't made to be the next generation of girls trying tirelessly to fit into the dress of the soprano that came before you.  do your funny walk and do it with pride.  i saw you when you came out, and you've been too perfect this whole time to ever worry about 'feeling' fat.

and if you ever do, don't worry - you're not alone.  but remind yourself - "fat" is not a 'feeling'.  "fat" is a bunch of molecules clumped together and it can't stop you doing your funny walk.  as long as you've got that funny walk you are your own girl - perfectly shaped, with ten fingers and ten toes, smart, capable and loved.  and who the hell has time for this extra 'feeling' of "fat" when you've got to spend so much time feeling clever, gifted and extraordinary?  i don't mind telling you the answer to that one so you don't need to waste the time learning for yourself: no one, that's who.

the prolonged children generation

i am obsessed with making plans. i have plans on plans on plans. little plans and big plans, plans for tomorrow, plans for next year. i love achieving all these little goals and then having another one. it's my need for gratification i think, that desire to cross things off the check-list of life, that spurs me on to always having the next thing in place.

FINALLY the big game plan is here! it's happening! it's lawyer time! ya!

but going into the world at long last and being a real life grownup with real life responsibilities is well...it's just not what i've been trained for. i have been in school since i was five years old! do you know how old i am now!? 26! that is TWENTY ONE YEARS. i have never taken a break from academia, either. some summers i even did summer school and whatnot! and now i realize i'm meant to have real life responsibilities and stay in the same place and do adult things. and furthermore, i realize that somebody else's dollahbillz instead of mine (and by 'mine', i mean the government of canada and scotiabank's) will be on the line. and the clients will be real, i realize. so like...don't mess it up.

this is, for obvious reasons, a little frightening. i suggest it's probably been a little worrisome for all time. even back in the days when people had a faster and more streamlined ascent to the actual world of work and real-life responsibilities it probably ignited a little trepidation in the hearts of young men and women. i think the trouble here lies in the fact that, as i said before, i am not reared for this. i'm not sure any of us are anymore. not really. we are a generation of young people in this perpetual state of childhood, this drawn out infancy of being cottled and hand-held. we are prolonged children in prolonged childhoods.

first of all, i should note that i don't necessarily think this is bad. we are a generation that has also been told for years that a bachelor degree won't suffice anymore. we need so much more than that. we need bachelor's and master's and professional degrees and performance diplomas and writing credentials and trades and then trade enhancers and we're journeymen three times over with a resume all the way down our legs of the jobs we've worked on. some of us have been thinking PhD before we even left high school! we've been told we gotta get out there and play the game this way and so we have.

i was chatting with a friend not long ago and she told me her dad is also educated up and down several wazoos, has a PhD and all that. but when her papa was getting all this formal education, he was also married and had a job and had a young family. while we get our massive educations, we're on a different trajectory on a day-to-day and week-to-week basis - lots of mini-celebrations with bottles of wine and dinners out. mid afternoon sighs as we struggle against the adversity of having to decipher all the words on the computer screens in front of us. coffees at starbucks while we study, just diving into that line of credit head first.

oh right - the debt. this is another reason why this everlasting state of maturation i'm in will continue. before i can do anything i need to deal with this pile of debt beside me. the prolonged children of this generation see drops in the bucket as we make the most of our youth. we'll deal with our debt just as soon as we graduate college! although, that might mean putting off things like buying a house or starting a family...

oh yes - family. we are a generation obsessed with the pill and fighting against procreation with iron fists and body armour and harsh drugs and chemicals. seemingly fixated on meeting as many people as possible and abandoning the ones who aren't the right fit. what does that even mean anymore? is there some magical relationship out there in which every day you wake up so fulfilled and perfectly content? am i meant to be told i'm smart and pretty and funny every day? am i meant to be perfect and make lunches and call every night at ten? and always be on, kind, helpful, ears wide open? and if we do all these things is it perfect? and if it isn't perfect does that mean it isn't worth it? my friend told me her grandma thinks we are a generation that thinks if it's not perfect now, there's something out there that will be, so we jump ship and run to the next hoping that the perfect thing is coming soon. like love is just an on-the-horizon type thing. perhaps she's right.

history lovers always seem to be saying, we look to our history so we can learn to better our future. maybe we are all striving so much and for so long for education, at the sake of debt, for that perfect love because we look back at the moments before us, at our parents' moments, at our grandparents' moments and we think, well, what have we learned? that there are different routes to the same end? that we are young - forever 21, at least at heart? that there's so much more to learn and to see and to do, so why are we rushing to the finish line?

maybe i'm generalizing too much - perhaps i just observe myself in my own surroundings. i recently moved back home,all tuckered out from a big year at law school, so cecil the great came to ontario to drive home with me - you know, so i could take naps in the car and whatnot. yet i look back on my mom and dad when they were my age - married, with jobs, with kids, running small businesses, writing musicals in their spare time. and here i am. scared to death about starting the job for which i was trained.

so perhaps it is just me. perhaps I am the prolonged child and i just need someone to tell me to puh-leezeeee grow up! get an extra cup of joe and get movin'! for good, for bad, for better, for worse, for older, for younger - my youth will just not seem to end.

I Am Not a Feminist

I am not a feminist.

I have been forced out of feminism.  

As a child, there was nothing I believed in more than a strictly feminist ideology.  I played hockey with boys because I was reared to believe it was the same as playing anything with anyone.  I grew up in a neighbourhood devoid of little girls and so had only boy-friends as a little girl and that too was the same as playing with anyone.

As a child, on top of being unable to perceive a marked difference between boys and girls outside of the obvious, I also couldn’t notice the difference between my Asian best friend and I.  I didn’t understand why having a gay uncle might be a weird thing.  I was fascinated by other religions and often wished I was Hindu so I could go to big, outlandish weddings with bangles and brightly coloured dresses. 

And this is why I have been forced out of feminism. 

You see, feminism, insofar as I can tell, has never just been a story about women.  It has always been firmly tethered to an overall umbrella of equality and normative rights.  The body of thought employs the prefix “femin-”but its ambit is so much wider than an appreciation of rights strictly “designed” for women.  Feminism is meant to be a spectrum of equality rights and issues.  Questions in regards feminism are not isolated to discussions of women’s rights.  Instead, the feminist discourse is a much wider body of thought igniting issues surrounding gender, sexual orientation, nationality, economic status, social status, and religious orientation among others.  Feminism has always had roots in fighting for equality in these many issues.  Does this not seem like such an accessible theory?  That for any person who might have ever faced any adversity, their cause is likely entwined and engulfed somewhere in the matrix of “feminism”?

The trouble is, there are still too many people who don’t see that.  Feminism is somehow STILL equated with burning bras and man-hating and unshaven legs, causing many people to feel unable to identify as being a “feminist” – including both men and women I know who believe in equality to the core of their very being.  If feminism cannot do what it’s meant to do but instead simply creates a bigger gap between “feminists” and “non-feminists” then we are in this pathetic losing battle in which we hold this word “feminism” feverishly between our legs because we don’t want to forget our history, or abandon our fore-mothers, or some other similar pointless but fairly romantic and nostalgic idea of what is important.  Yet, as long as women are expected to change their routes home after getting raped, and as long as Obama says we need to think about our “own” women in order to feel compassion for rape victims we still need feminism.  However, it’s not just for those issues that feminism has ever existed.

Feminism is about equality.  And equality is not rooted in protection through paternalistic and self-gratifying methodology.  Rape is a remarkably good example of this.  A man as well as a woman can be the victim of sexual assault and rape – so tell me then, what good does all my compassion for my sister do me when a man I know has been raped?  We have marginalized and transformed an act of sexual violence into a female-only problem, with convoluted and corrupted protective mechanisms attached.  And, in doing so, we have pushed the goals of feminism further and further beyond our reach, rendering its good and valuable elements without merit and strength.

It is this corruption and misunderstanding that has forced me out of feminism.  I am not a feminist.  I am an equalist.  There is no burning bras in here.  There is no man-hating.  My legs are shaven.  I wear dresses and I went to law school and I deserve pay equity over the course of my life.  I deserve to be raped as little as my male counterpart.  And, if I am raped, I deserve to have your compassion in and of itself, not because you analogize me to your sister or an aunt or a girlfriend for whom you would feel true compassion for if they were raped.

Equalism means that we can fight for women’s right at the same time as black rights at the same time as LGBT rights.  This is what we’ve been doing and calling “feminism” all along yet at some point, this fundamental element of broad-reaching equality-seeking theory was misstated and misinterpreted until it was no longer easily accessible.   Yes, somewhere in the world of academia, wise but disgruntled scholars with feather plumes and dusty books grabbed hold of equality and wrote papers after treatises after anthologies about “feminism” and the word became so confused that it lost some of its value.  For those who do not inherently understand or believe in “feminism”, the convoluted discourse and associated stereotypes struck out the import of the word.  “Feminism” is not seen as this body of equality seeking struggles.  Instead, the unshaven legs and man-bashing image often prevails. 

It is because I believe so fervently, so passionately, obsessively for the tenets of feminism that I write this today.  For these same reasons I have bowed out of this comfortable school of thought which has been present with me through all of my life.  I am not a feminist.