*JENlightened~

1. Em dashes appear as hyphens on this blog. Whenever you see a hyphen and it doesn’t make sense, it’s probably because I intended it to be a em dash.

2. Internet Explorer sucks. Sometimes it adds weird codes at the top of my posts. Mozilla Firefox is better.

3. Happy Labour Day! Right now, I’m playing school with my little pal–I’m the dad (which is weird because (a) I’m a female, and (b) my dad never came to school with me, but I suppose that’s the beauty of make believe). She keeps asking me why I’m on the computer and I tell her that I’m writing report cards. So far, I’m under the radar. Hope you’re enjoying the weekend. Get some sleep for me!!

“By viewing what I viewed and doing nothing to stop it, I failed as a human being.”

This was a statement from Robert Smith, former Alexander Keith’s pitchman, who was just sentenced to 20 months in jail and three years of probation, after pleading guilty to child porn charges. Though Smith is not a pedophile (doctors called him “hypersexual”) and has not abused either of his two children (ages 4 and 7), he is not allowed to see them without supervision until two years after his probation ends.

I would tend to agree with Robert Smith. He enjoyed watching children get raped, and he made it available to others on the internet. I would say that “failed as a human being” pretty much sums it up.

The crime itself, its existence, its recurrence, the size of its market, is nauseating. And when they catch one of these guys, when society can put a face to the crime, people just lose it. Well, I do, at least. I save up my judgments so I can cast them upon people like this guy. Even prisoners have no use for fellow inmates who exploit children. Granted, Smith did not create the pornography, but he certainly perpetuated it by giving money to those who did.

The Crown prosecutor, Allison Dellandrea, said that Smith’s sentence will help dispel the myth “that those who possess child pornography and child abuse images are somehow not responsible for the abuse committed against children in those exploitative images.”

I agree with her completely. When people buy into something that is so contrary to basic human rights, they have a responsibility for their actions and should have to answer for them.

Sadly, it was in using that same logic that I realized that I am guilty of doing a similar thing. Jen Sorlie, who waves her critical finger at Robert Smith, also has a part in exploiting human rights. I would argue that most of us do.

Somewhere in our households, we probably have items that were made by children in developing countries. If not children, it was probably workers who weren’t given proper working conditions, adequate pay, or protection from abuse. Maybe it’s coffee or sneakers or a rug. The bottom line is that a lot of things that we purchase are a direct result of human exploitation. Other people suffer while we live gratifying, low-priced lives.

I like to think that there’s a difference between Robert Smith and me, that we are not equals on the moral scale.

The distinction, of course, is that most of our infractions are not blatant; we’re not entirely aware that we’re doing it. There are ways of finding out about where and how products are made, but most of us don’t even think that far to link what we buy to its original source.

If this sort of thing was happening here it would be altogether different; it would be a Robert Smith-type response. If our children were forced into labour, we would be a lot more concerned. The picketing would start and law suits would be filed and the constitution would put some people in jail. But a lot of this stuff is happening where we can’t see and to someone else’s kid. Does that make it better? Obviously not. And yet, no one has knocked on my door demanding justice.

What if we were more aware and still purchased irresponsibly? Is it still as bad as enjoying and disseminating child pornography? I have no idea. And thank God that it’s not up to me to judge the world. But let’s agree that negligence is not a good thing.

All I know is that we, as Western consumers, aren’t answering to anyone for our part in the violation of human rights. In our position of power, we decide which other countries are uncivilized and inhumane. Those with the gold, make the rules, right? And as long as it’s not our children whose rights are violated, we live on, not failing, but thriving as human beings.

I’m not trying to make myself out to be a complete Philistine, but while I’m in confession mode I should mention that the TTC incident was not the first time my hastiness has gotten me into trouble. When I worked at Milestone’s as a hostess[i], I accidentally bumped a kid in the aisle while hurrying to seat some customers (or ‘guests’ as they preferred). I didn’t notice that I hurt the kid until his mother wanted me fired.

I remember sitting in my manager’s office assuring her that I had no ill-will towards children, that I love kids[ii]. I had to spend the rest of that family’s meal hidden away in the back because, apparently, the mother actually told her waitress that she wanted to throttle me in the parking lot. She was a big woman too.

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[i] A job I quit by telling them that I had been mugged and couldn’t make it in… ever again. I was going through a weird stage.

[ii]A half-truth.

I take public transit (TTC, in Toronto) every day. Actually, I take it twice a day-to and from work. In any given week I spend at least 10 hours on the bus, subway and/or streetcar. Like most people, I use that time to read, do crosswords, watch other passengers and avoid the crazies. I once bought language CDs to brush up on my French, but they required me to talk aloud, which, believe me, no one appreciates.

I like to think of myself as a seasoned TTC professional, the best of the best. In the Top Gun that is public transit, I am Ice Man. I fly cold, with no emotion. I think in terms of time and space: how much I have and how much I need to get ahead. I know the quickest routes, all the transit etiquette, and when to give up and hail a cab. I know how much time it takes me to get to my destination, depending on the time of day and how fast I walk.

Because the TTC does not revolve around my convenience, I have a pretty unforgiving transportation schedule. Missing the bus could mean walking in the rain, being late for work or just raising my already-too-high-for-a-twenty-something blood pressure. I REALLY don’t like to be slowed down. And this is where my story begins.

It was another end of day. I walked (briskly) to catch the streetcar, got onto the sweaty vehicle of disease and waited for my stop. Ironically[i], I spent some time thinking about blogging on transit etiquette because some kid and his mother butted in front of me when I was getting off, which was a mild irritation. I don’t mind ruthless “rocketeers”[ii], but I expect that, when I get cut off, it’s because the person is travelling faster than I am and will hurry out of my way.  Skippy and his mother had no such urgency. They forced me to make an abrupt stop and I wasn’t pleased. Without being too dramatic, it’s important that you understand how much every second matters.

I let it go when I went underground. I was walking down the stairs to the train when I heard it coming. And I knew it was my train because I have come to learn TTC noises as one learns how each of their family members walks down the hall. Anyway, I knew I had to pick it up if I had any chance of making it.

Naturally, everyone in front of me was sauntering down the stairs. They were scattered in such a pattern that I couldn’t really pass anyone. I heard the train stop. I was getting desperate. I started manoeuvring around people until the last stair came and the chimes (to indicate the doors are closing) started ringing. “This is it,” I told myself. I pushed the last person out of the way, while yelling sorry and squeezing on just as the doors were closing.

VICTORY!!!!!

Except, not really. But here’s what you need to know before you judge me. The pregnant woman that I pushed was in no way injured, making me *less* of a bad person. She didn’t fall or bump into any walls. She did, however, have quite a mouth on her and showed no restraint yelling how unimpressed she was with me.

Yep, I pushed a pregnant woman. And everyone on and off the subway saw me. If they didn’t see me, they heard her swearing at me. I don’t know how Jesus Christ was implicated, but she seemed to be mad at him too. No matter what way you slice it, I am a monster.

As the train started moving and I came to realize what I had just done, I tried to apologize to her through the glass with my facial expression and a mouthed ‘sorry.’ But she glared at me through the glass and pointed to her stomach, reinforcing how much of a heartless weasel I am.

Needless to say, I was really embarrassed. My fellow passengers were visibly disgusted with my actions and it was one long ride home. I could imagine them thinking to themselves, “Was she in that much of a hurry that she had to shove this poor woman with child?” The answer is no. And yes.

Objectively, pushing pregnant women is sinful. It’s one of those things that really gets to people. You can watch a movie with the most horrifying, gruesome stuff, but if someone is violent towards an expecting mother, the gloves are off.

On the other hand, it was 5:30pm on King St.  High volumes of people have to get home. It’s not the time for tourists, mothers with toddlers and, in this case, pregnant women to be doddling around the subway. They’re not the ones who have the daily, burdensome commute[iii] .  My bus comes at 6:02pm and if I miss it, I’m walking.

You can rest assured that when I get pregnant, I will likely be eating my words. And even now, I regret what I did. The question now is: had I known she was pregnant would I have done it again? I would like to think I wouldn’t. That said, I did catch my bus, and just barely too.

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[i] The irony comes a little later

[ii] This name, the rocketeers, is what their brilliant marketers came up with. I don’t know what agency the TTC has hired, but my suspicion is that the creative director used to be a kindergarten teacher. I’m surprised I’m not awarded a cookie every time I get on the bus. It’s bad enough that we have to ride the damned thing, but the daily patronizing is that little extra that will send someone over the edge.

[iii]And yes, I respect that they have burdens of their own to carry. But it’s not like I’m in their territories, stomping around during nap time.

It’s not just women; apparently crocodiles are also having a hard time with aging these days.

Designed by a former dermatologist, Zagliani–the handbag company–is selling snakeskin and crocodile purses injected with Botox. Apparently, Botox lends more of a luxurious finish that is softer to the touch than cashmere. Who knew?

Funnily enough, these bags cost around $4,000. Compare that with the facial procedure ($200-400 per area) and it makes more sense to inject one of your old bags yourself.

Personally, I like my handbags looking natural. I won’t subscribe to society’s unreasonable demands on these poor purses. I’ve said it to my mom and I’ll say it to the crocs: you’re beautiful just the way you are.

I find the phrase ‘go green’ or ‘going green’ loathsome[i]. It’s like the new song that plays on the radio over and over again until absolutely everyone abhors it. The only difference is that I never liked it to begin with; there was never that period when I thought, “ooh, turn it up!”

Oddly enough, I find it way less annoying when people say ‘green’ as an adjective (e.g. green wedding, a green alternative). But this is not an ‘enjoy-pickles-but-hate-relish’ scenario. Replacing ‘environmentally sustainable’ with ‘green’ is practical –a nine-syllable gain for us lazy conversationalists.

It’s not that I don’t want our language to evolve. I think that slang is usually organic, useful and telling of the times. But, unlike the new(ish) verb ‘to google,’ which is fun to say, ‘to go green’ sounds unnatural, sluggish and offensive to my ears. Besides, it’s only considered slang when people actually say it. You’ll notice that not too many people say ‘go green.’ It’s a phrase that is mostly read, appearing in press releases, on cloth shopping bags and free water bottles.

Journalists, marketers and anyone else who writes for a living have become lazy, and it’s a problem. You see, there’s a big difference in being a lazy talker versus a lazy writer. In speaking, you say what comes to mind. It’s organic and permanent; once you say something you can’t unsay it (you can only apologize). As writers, however, you likely have the time to edit, to think, to rewrite. So, writing something stupid is much worse than saying it, because you’ve had the opportunity to come up with something better.

And yet, here we are with ‘go green.’

I might be more forgiving if I only saw it in an article or two. I can understand that writers can’t always be on the ball, and sometimes you just have to produce. But I’ve read this phrase everywhere. We have just accepted it–‘go green’ has become a standard line. My next issue, then, is that good writers aren’t even supposed to use clichés[ii] and everyone knows it. Sometimes we fall back on them because they’re easy and because most readers will let them slip by, undetected. But in the writing community, you don’t get any points for knowing how to write what thousands have written before you.

I don’t want you to think that I’m a snobby writer, because it not true. I’m not one of those people who discounts someone’s entire opinion based on a spelling or grammatical error (because that’s just unreasonable). But the lumpish alliteration and phony pep of ‘go green’ is enough to…to… to make me write a strongly worded blog post.

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[i] I say ‘loathsome’ because I really want to emphasize how much I hate this phrase-look, I’ve even written a footnote about it. I couldn’t be more serious about this.

[ii] An indicator how “good” of a writer I am. My problem is that I write how I talk. I’m working on it, okay?

There are people in this world whose looks are worth talking about; models, designers, actors, pop musicians and hotel heiresses make the list of said people. They are, after all, the ones who drive the fashion, make-up and anorexia-rehab industries. If anyone should be reduced to what they are wearing or weighing, it’s pop icons.

Other professionals, with a few exceptions (i.e. Donald Trump), are off limits.

With the upcoming US election, I’ve been seeing a trend in the headlines whereby the candidate’s wives are getting rated on an aesthetic scale before we hear what they’re about. This sort of thing is by no means new. We’ve reading been about blonde politicians (think Stronach) and adorable gymnasts and sleek business women for years. I was just hoping we’d be done with it by now.

Michelle Obama, in particular, has appeared in several style magazines, praised for her regal beauty and labeled as the next Jackie Onassis. Vanity Fair listed her among “10 of the World’s Best Dressed People” and Tyra Banks posed as “one hot mama” Obama in Harper’s Bazaar. While that’s all well and fabulous, there’s more to Michelle Obama than her pearl earrings and Vogue fashion spread.

What we’re not hearing (at least not enough) is that she is a lawyer who graduated from Princeton University and Harvard Law School. During her school years, Obama spent her spare time running a literacy program for kids from local neighborhoods and recruiting black undergrads to Harvard. At the moment, she is traveling around the States, campaigning to help her husband win the election.

I’m not trying to wave Michelle Obama’s flag. I’m not American and I don’t know much about politics. My point is that we’re still seeing women—intense, successful, intelligent women—first, for their appearances and then for their accomplishments.

It seems like such a small thing, but that’s the nature of hegemony, isn’t it? When we dwell on a professional woman’s physicality—even if it’s a few descriptors—we’re reinforcing that looks are the basis of a woman’s merit and reducing the value of her real successes.