With my new spare time I am going to read some books. I am extra motivated as I have just finished a beautiful novel, and I feel that I have rediscovered the wonder of literature.
The Septembers of Shiraz is about a Jewish family who live in Iran at the time of the revolution. It is simply written. Easily accessible I would say, but rich and vivid all the same. I really feel like I have been on a journey with the family. They keep popping into my head as I go about my daily business. I was reminded of the revolution in Iran. Not that I forgot about it; it just seemed like a historical event that happened, ended, and I suppose my disaffected brain just passively accepted it. A consequentless occurrence.
The book has made the revolution seem incredibly human and close to me. I remember now that it was brought about by people, it was wanted, and that it changed Iran massively for the whole population. Particularly when many of them realised that the change was not what they had expected.
I feel very small and insignificant when I think of all the historical events that have taken place and changed the world into what it is today.
Monday, 23 March 2009
Sunday, 22 March 2009
Time Wast ed/ing
I have too much time on my hands. I can feel my productivity slipping away from me, my brain is slowing down, sleep seems so appealing all of a sudden. Maybe I will spend the next four months just catching up on my sleep; getting my mind and body prepared for the turmoil of employment.
I have spent the last year dreaming about this moment, that my current occupation would stop, and now that it has occurred, I am suddenly panicked by the expanse of time that has just opened out in front of me. Punctuated only by opportunities to spend money that I have not got.
The guilt of time wasting is starting to set in, creeping up from my toes, this sinister lethargy is going to eat me up. Less that 48 hours after commencing my break, I want to go to work!!!!!!!
I have spent the last year dreaming about this moment, that my current occupation would stop, and now that it has occurred, I am suddenly panicked by the expanse of time that has just opened out in front of me. Punctuated only by opportunities to spend money that I have not got.
The guilt of time wasting is starting to set in, creeping up from my toes, this sinister lethargy is going to eat me up. Less that 48 hours after commencing my break, I want to go to work!!!!!!!
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
Dads
I met a really cool Dad today. Not my Dad. In fact not even the Dad of anyone I know. He was just a Dad, who was really enjoying fathering, and doing a fab job as well. He did not have a partner/ co habitee/ wife/ mother to compliment his fatheriness. He was just alone, with his wee son, and they were both clean and well and warm and happy.
The struggle for nice Dads, is that they are rarely perceived to be nice dads. Perception is that Mums are always nice. Dads struggle to be seen as equal to mums. Mums have a divine biological right, as producer, feeder, owner of 'maternal instinct', to parent and be damn good at it. Dads must be weird, because they are men, and they should be out drinking stout and watching football, not pottering about the house and making up bottles of milk.
I think of myself as a pretty open minded, unprejudiced, and liberal person. I am pretty willing to give anyone a chance at doing anything. So, believing myself to be like this, I was horrified to find myself stunned at encountering this great Dad. These old values of mine, that appear to be held against my will, were simply not at ease with this unconventional successful little set up. Try as I might to be the all accepting lefty that I aspire to be, I was surprised at this unsuspecting young man's brilliant ability to manage this child and keep a good home.
Take heed good self, it is not enough to mouth off about challenging discrimination. I am pleased to announce that I held a discriminatory perspective today. I acknowledge this, and hope that I have proved to myself that Dads can be maternal and loving. I hope those god damn sneaky values just bloody well take heed. . . . and get back to whatever fathom of my subconscious they came from.
The struggle for nice Dads, is that they are rarely perceived to be nice dads. Perception is that Mums are always nice. Dads struggle to be seen as equal to mums. Mums have a divine biological right, as producer, feeder, owner of 'maternal instinct', to parent and be damn good at it. Dads must be weird, because they are men, and they should be out drinking stout and watching football, not pottering about the house and making up bottles of milk.
I think of myself as a pretty open minded, unprejudiced, and liberal person. I am pretty willing to give anyone a chance at doing anything. So, believing myself to be like this, I was horrified to find myself stunned at encountering this great Dad. These old values of mine, that appear to be held against my will, were simply not at ease with this unconventional successful little set up. Try as I might to be the all accepting lefty that I aspire to be, I was surprised at this unsuspecting young man's brilliant ability to manage this child and keep a good home.
Take heed good self, it is not enough to mouth off about challenging discrimination. I am pleased to announce that I held a discriminatory perspective today. I acknowledge this, and hope that I have proved to myself that Dads can be maternal and loving. I hope those god damn sneaky values just bloody well take heed. . . . and get back to whatever fathom of my subconscious they came from.
Monday, 2 February 2009
Musings on BME
Ta da! I am writing my first blog. How exciting. There are a few things that I want to talk about, and I just have this aching knowing feeling in my heart, that you are the person to hear it.
A few days ago I met someone who was working in a refuge for Black Minority Ethnic women. Let us call it Palm Tree House. She told me confidently that obviously other agencies can work with BME women, but that their 'cultural' needs would be more suitably met in Palm Tree House. I was quite astounded by this. Such a simple comment, that seems to make so much sense, in fact makes no sense at all, and just promotes a bit of a wishy washy sentiment about concepts of race.
It seems incredibly naive of Palm Tree House to think that they can meet the 'cultural' needs of BME women. I have spent many a wistful bus journey contemplating what we can mean by culture. It seems to mean anything from halal meat to art galleries and jazz music.
An asylum seeker from the Democratic Republic of Congo, and a second generation British Pakistani, surely have dramatically different ways of life, perspectives, food, music, religions, languages, customs, ways of dressing, etiquette, and preference in art galleries. So how can the staff at Palm Tree House know so much about the world that these two women can both feel culturally satiated? I just do not believe it.
So that led me to think that perhaps culture in this case, is simply the shared experience of not being white in a predominantly white country. The common cultural needs of these women are not met by Palm Tree House, more it seems that Palm Tree House allows people to practice whatever they want to, free from any overarching dominant values.
So that got me thinking even more, yes I had quite a significant bus journey that day, if someone were to set up a refuge for white British women in the heart of Africa, or India, or China, what would they need to know to suitably accommodate the 'cultural needs' of these women? I asked a couple of friends about this, who promptly replied, "err, binge drinking?"
Great.
THEN I began to wonder why white British women appear to have very little insight into what makes up their culture. I think it could be because many other cultures are made up of limitations, and respect for certain rules, and societal features. In the UK, white people are so free to wear what they want, drink, do and say what they want, to who they want, that it is impossible to define culture (it seems impossible to define anyway) because it is just so limitless. The rules are so flimsy, that each and every person can make their own mind up about how they want to express themselves, and what normative behaviour they wish to endorse.
So, perhaps the real common cultural feature of white British women, is the fact that there are no common cultural features. And, maybe their is a strong cultural heartbeat here in the UK after all. I certainly hope so.
A few days ago I met someone who was working in a refuge for Black Minority Ethnic women. Let us call it Palm Tree House. She told me confidently that obviously other agencies can work with BME women, but that their 'cultural' needs would be more suitably met in Palm Tree House. I was quite astounded by this. Such a simple comment, that seems to make so much sense, in fact makes no sense at all, and just promotes a bit of a wishy washy sentiment about concepts of race.
It seems incredibly naive of Palm Tree House to think that they can meet the 'cultural' needs of BME women. I have spent many a wistful bus journey contemplating what we can mean by culture. It seems to mean anything from halal meat to art galleries and jazz music.
An asylum seeker from the Democratic Republic of Congo, and a second generation British Pakistani, surely have dramatically different ways of life, perspectives, food, music, religions, languages, customs, ways of dressing, etiquette, and preference in art galleries. So how can the staff at Palm Tree House know so much about the world that these two women can both feel culturally satiated? I just do not believe it.
So that led me to think that perhaps culture in this case, is simply the shared experience of not being white in a predominantly white country. The common cultural needs of these women are not met by Palm Tree House, more it seems that Palm Tree House allows people to practice whatever they want to, free from any overarching dominant values.
So that got me thinking even more, yes I had quite a significant bus journey that day, if someone were to set up a refuge for white British women in the heart of Africa, or India, or China, what would they need to know to suitably accommodate the 'cultural needs' of these women? I asked a couple of friends about this, who promptly replied, "err, binge drinking?"
Great.
THEN I began to wonder why white British women appear to have very little insight into what makes up their culture. I think it could be because many other cultures are made up of limitations, and respect for certain rules, and societal features. In the UK, white people are so free to wear what they want, drink, do and say what they want, to who they want, that it is impossible to define culture (it seems impossible to define anyway) because it is just so limitless. The rules are so flimsy, that each and every person can make their own mind up about how they want to express themselves, and what normative behaviour they wish to endorse.
So, perhaps the real common cultural feature of white British women, is the fact that there are no common cultural features. And, maybe their is a strong cultural heartbeat here in the UK after all. I certainly hope so.
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