Category Archives: International

44 Emails

I received a text message from a lovely young lady I know today that said: “Obama!” Indeed, he was the reason I did not sleep at 9 pm last night. That, and I was cramming Old English grammatical paradigms into my head.

But I did indeed receive over forty emails on Monday, not including newsletters, subscriptions and spam, mostly work or co-curricular-oriented ones requiring replies. Of those forty-plus emails, one was an acceptance into the Co-op program.

I’m happy.

A post on rape? That’s so gay.

To be raped: To lose all control and have part of another person’s body thrust violently against your will, several times, into you, for a seemingly indefinite period of time, under circumstances where crying for help is either futile or brings even more damaging and painful consequences than what is already inhuman.

To be a survivor of rape: To live with this.

This is one survivor.

Your exam did not rape you.

 

That’s so gay, gay, gay.

You’re so gay, gay, gay.

 

And what if I am?

 

It doesn’t stop me laughing with you
if we don’t look and walk into a wall,

or pulling you back up when you fall
skating too soon on an ice-smooth rink.

I still listen through the latest hours of the night
when you call with tears falling through the phone;

I’ll paint and sing and write and make
with all the passion my heart can give;

I weep when I let go of one I still want to hold.

 

I’m sorry you didn’t realize how much it hurt.

Nor did I.

I know what you meant: it’s so stupid, not
I’m so happy—the last time someone used that was 1962.

What Who do you mock in denying?

 

Being gay doesn’t mean I’m in love with you. Thank god.

 

Nor does saying all this mean I am, you know.

The Sin of Not Voting

I’ve just been wandering through various comments and discussions online about the lack of voter turn-out in Canada’s recent federal elections (51%, if I remember that statistic correctly).

Enlighten me. These clues have I gathered in recent weeks (and months) about Canadian university students and staff members’ opinions regarding voting and democracy:

  • “Are you voting? Have you voted?”
    The persistent question that was asked all around campus in the weeks leading up to the election, particularly on the day. Or more tellingly, not asking at all, but saying something that simply assumed people would (and should) be voting.
  • The look of horror on someone’s face when I suggested no.
    I realized, though I was not entirely sure why, that I was being a Bad Citizen. Regardless of the fact that I still don’t identify myself as Canadian at all. Come to that, I don’t think I identify myself anywhere in particular at the moment. Another identity crisis in store.
  • That UBC-wide email sent out on the day of the elections telling us “VOTE TODAY! WITHOUT YOUR VOTE, THERE CAN BE NO DEMOCRACY!”
    OK, I admit it, even if this means I am going to be a Morally Reprehensible Citizen: the first thing that came to mind was how sickeningly alike that wording is to the various propaganda posters we used to study in GCSE and IB history. The implication that democracy is unquestionably the highest form of political systems and that every other one is somehow inferior; that the right to vote is not a choice to vote, but an imperative to vote or else.
  • People’s reactions when the words “democracy” or “communism” appear in a sentence, particularly in conjunction with one another. Wow, and we pride ourselves on being tolerant? The unfailing praise of democracy and general condemnation of communism while not seeming to have any genuine recognition of the possible flaws of democracy or the very real attraction of communism; that it may be possible for people to desire another form of political system without being written off as “wrong, just plain wrong”, in terms of their intellectual and/or political maturity. The best I have heard are people quoting ad nauseum what their teachers, the media or authorities have clearly passed on to them, and I am left with no clear sense that they really understood it themselves. Think what you like, but are these your thoughts or someone else’s? If communism is really so apparently idiotic, why did millions of people turn to it? Why did we not invent democracy millenia ago if that were so naturally the right way to go? And is someone more stupid than you because they think differently?

Actually, that last point is really quite another issue and a discussion unto itself. Before I return to the question of not voting within a democratic system, I just want to make the final disclaimer that I spent half my high school life arguing against a “communist” in one of my classes and am now busier criticizing democracy (or, I suppose, the unquestioning acceptance of it and the unempathic intolerance of other ideas). “What am I then?”

Back to the problem of not voting, though: why is it a problem? Instead of asking why not, it seems that outrage, shock and horror are the more common reactions and I get the dread sensation of having commited a great wrong. (While I’m at it, why do people not ask why someone is voting for so-and-so? People ask who you’re voting for, then never ask why, giving me the uncanny feeling they’re assuming they know why or how that person is thinking.)

I can understand why it might be a problem if someone just can’t be bothered enough to care — extended to everyone, that would be a lot of people who simply don’t care.

But not voting doesn’t necessarily translate into an attitude of not caring. At least, when I was reading about 2004 US presidential elections, there seemed to be morally acceptable reasons for not voting too. (Not having heard anyone beside myself ‘fess up to not voting, I can’t quote those reasons.)

What if you make the conscious choice not to vote? What if you don’t like any of the candidates and didn’t want to be responsible for voting someone you hate into power? What if you realize you’ve made a sickening mistake and have voted in a Hitler? And I am not being entirely glib here, because how do you live with yourself after that — how did people live with themselves after voting for Hitler and realizing what he did? Now, arguably, you might vote for the lesser of two evils if you sincerely believe that one of them is truly that much of a bad idea — but what if you think that both of them are so bad it’s going to go to hell and you don’t want to pave the way for them? Are none of these reasons for not voting good enough to at least make one a Decent Citizen?

As for myself, I didn’t have any of those reasons. I simply didn’t vote because I don’t know exactly how Canada’s political system works. “Isn’t voting the same everywhere?” someone scoffed at me. No, I don’t believe so… Perhaps I’m mistaken, but I’m a little doubtful about whether Canada’s voting system is identical to the US? And I am pretty sure it differs from place to place. When I left HK, there was this wrangle over having proportional representation or universal suffrage. Some survey found that most citizens didn’t really know how the political structure and system of the current voting method or government works. So really, people were making a lot of fuss over words that sound good but which they may not necessarily know why it sounds so good, except they’re coupled up there with “democracy” and “freedom”. I don’t want to be one of those people, I’m afraid, even if that makes me a somewhat Bad Citizen for being ignorant. I don’t know how the system works, much less know the details about who was running. I certainly didn’t know what I thought about them — I’ve heard all anti-Harper comments rather than pro-anyone-in-particular, so I wouldn’t really know who to vote for, besides which, I don’t want to be voting someone else’s opinons in. If/when I vote, it will be for someone I think is right, not what anyone else tells me.

So I chose not to vote. Even if that does make me bad. Though I would like to understand why I am so bad, because I thought it wasn’t such a bad idea to do things this way for this reason. Perhaps my political apathy isn’t so inconceivable when I remember I come from an ex-colony next to a supposedly-communist, ex-Maoist country and from a culture which views political activism with a great deal of skepticism, actually. How difficult to encounter the opposite. (Not saying it’s bad. Just hard.)

And yes, I do agree that I should borrow someone’s textbook on Canadian government and work that out if I really intend on staying in the country for any length of time, particularly since I am so busy taking advantage of the cheaper university fees (it’s only fair to be engaged with the other aspects, no?). I don’t know what the heck I am supposed to be doing or what is expected of me as a Canadian citizen.

Lastly, I want to point out that criticism and reasoning doesn’t necessarily force a person to care; people do things when they care, and they begin to care when they are ready for it. I don’t know how to encourage that possibility — perhaps by example? That is not to say we should stop speaking our point of view because it’s not necessarily life-changing, not by any means. Don’t we speak because we need to?

Terry Love

Thanks to the wonderful Terry project, I now have my hands on a shiny free ticket to James Orbinski’s talk on November 7th at the Chan, entitled “Creating the Space to Be Human”. He was the president of Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders) when it received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1999. MSF is possibly the NGO I most respect in the world and I am unexpressibly eager for the day to arrive. I’m a little afraid of expecting too much and being disappointed, as is so often the case in life — but on the other hand, I have had reality surpass my highest hopes too. Maybe this will be one of them.

Tickets can be obtained for free from the Chan Centre Monday to Saturday from 12 noon to 5 pm (I think), two per person.

Another event I have just signed up to attend are the Terry talks. Unlike most people who talk about this event, I have never heard of the TED talks so…

Sometimes I’m not sure if it’s just my general knowledge that is severely lacking or if what little general knowledge I do have also happens to belong to the other side of the world. (Unfortunately, not being there anymore means my knowledge in that place is also dying out.) If I didn’t go to school, would I learn anything at all? I really wonder what it is I do in my spare time when other people are reading the paper or YouTubing. I don’t even YouTube, actually. How sad. Oh well — I have given up being ashamed; shame is apparently not a very effective catalyst for change with me. I comfort myself instead with saying that I am indeed utterly ill-informed and I am always happy to learn something new.

Ignoring that digression, however, I fully intend to plug getting a free ticket to the Terry talks as well. While I am almost certain I have nothing of import to add to the discussion, I am entirely greedy to hear what my other more inspirational peers have to say.

Unfortunately, I can’t make National Geographic explorer Wade Davis’s free talk next Monday (27th October). “Can’t” being a word that means “I could choose to skip class but I personally refuse to under any non-life-threatening circumstances”. But if you can make it, why not? National Geographic may be my favourite magazine in the world — unfortunately, like my lack of knowledge in general, I have a lack of exposure to magazines (my secondary school did have copies of BBC’s Good Food that I’d flip through on rare occasions because they looked yummy), so that may not be a very well-informed comment. But at the moment(!) it is my favourite magazine within my limited experience.

(No, seriously. Do I know anything at all? I think I foresee a little crisis coming on.)

Holidays => Happy

I know I am not the only one who is really looking forward to the long weekend. A break!

Also Thanksgiving, of course. I didn’t know how big Thanksgiving is until this Friday last year when I returned to Vanier to see floods of students being picked up by their parents in cars. Prior to this the most frequently asked question on my floor was, “Are you going home for the weekend?” Well… no. Even though I hadn’t expected Thanksgiving to affect me, given that I’ve never celebrated it, it still hit hard.

Fortunately, I was knocked out with a fever on Thanksgiving itself so didn’t have enough energy to be homesick. And then I want dancing in the evening.

This year I am far more prepared for the possibility of homesickness, but I think I should be fine. I have essays and other things due on Tuesday so I’ll probably be doing those on Thanksgiving Day instead of eating turkey and stuffing (which I first tried this Easter, by the way; I always imagined stuffing was something you put in the turkey).

But the whole point of my post, ignoring my digression on Thanksgiving, is to ask:

Where on earth can we go to suggest some form of Reading Week in Term 1 as well as Term 2?

Because a week’s break is exactly what I need right about now to take a step back, breathe, and catch up on everything without feeling overwhelemed. I’m not panicking, but it is hard to keep on top of things, and talking to a friend in New York University the other day has made me royally jealous of their fall break — apparently, they have a new, one-week fall break, courtesy of students complaining about having none before. Why, I want one of those!

While I have not counted the actual number of days, I don’t think that there is a huge difference between September to November and January to March (actual teaching days we are in class for). Psychologically, at least, I feel like we are in school for longer in the first term than the second. Maybe it’s not that way at all once I actually juggle the figures, but that’s what it feels like.

I have resigned myself to the fact that my non-Canadian friends have huge holidays. The US and the UK give three to four weeks for the winter break. They have reading weeks and/or fall and spring breaks. Some old classmates of mine had not only Reading Week in February, but then six weeks off for Easter too (admittedly, that was a little insane, since other UK folks only get four off). Granted, they only have three months’ summer as opposed to our four to make up for their larger holidays in between, and I realize that people can use four months to do a lot of things, like work and study and travel.

Though I suppose that if people had a month off for winter break, they could also work quite a bit then if in need of cash.

But the point is, while I’m not sure that everyone is willing to have one less month of summer in order to have longer and more holidays in between September 1st and April 31st, I don’t think an autumn Reading Week would hurt.

So can we pretty please have one?