Sep 30
On any given Monday out at the jail, anywhere from 25-40 percent of the guys who come out to the chapels are indigenous. Given that they make up around 6-7 percent of the Alberta population, that’s some bad math. Actually, “bad” is not a strong enough word. It’s heartbreaking. And it’s angry making. And it’s frustrating. And it’s demoralizing. And… well, pick your adjective. It’s not good. It is a reality that should not be. Read more
I often tease my wife that she is the least Japanese Japanese person I know. Mostly because she hates seafood and because… um, well, mostly it’s just because she hates seafood. Buried within this playful banter is a whole set of assumptions about what a real Japanese person would do. Sit cross-legged on the floor in a kimono, I suppose. Eat sushi and squid with perfectly poised chopsticks in a general Zen state of tranquility. Be really into kintgsugi. Something like that. My wife usually reminds me, with no small amount of exasperation, that she’s just as German as she is Japanese (her father is Japanese, her mother is German). To which I helpfully respond, “that makes you two thirds of the axis of evil.” After which she usually leaves the room. It’s all very edifying and enlightening, as you can no doubt imagine. Read more
I’ve had a few conversations recently about Ta-Nehisi Coates’s new book The Message. Coates is, of course, massively popular due to books like Between the World and Me, among others. He was a correspondent with The Atlantic and has garnered a large audience due to his writings on social and political issues, specifically on matters of racial injustice and white supremacy.
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So, Harvard president Claudine Gay has resigned. This has felt inevitable pretty much from the moment she and two of her Ivy League colleagues couldn’t bring themselves to offer an unambiguous response to the question of whether or not calling for the genocide of Jews violated Harvard’s rules of bullying and harassment in the wake of October 7. It felt like even more of a foregone conclusion after evidence of multiple instances of plagiarism in her published work began to surface. Read more
I’ll never forget the first time it happened. One of my tasks at the jail is to connect with inmates seeking one-on-one meetings. Sometimes these are people who won’t (or can’t) come to the regular chapels, so I’ve never met them before. When I introduce myself, I always try to very deliberately make eye contact, refer to them by name, and shake their hands. So much of life in jail is impersonal and dehumanizing. Any little gesture to counter this feels worth it to me. And so, I was very consciously looking this man in the eye when we shook hands. But something felt off. I looked down and was shocked to discover that he only had two out of ten fingers. I was shaking a palm and a few stumps. Read more
Last week, I sat through my first diversity training session. My part time chaplaincy role at the provincial jail locates me under the purview of the Government of Alberta, evidently, and the government wanted to ensure that I was diversity certified. My expectations were, well, low (see here). I was expecting ninety-minutes of condescending lectures combined with contrived vignettes, simplistic question-and-answers, and sombre warnings of the importance of morally policing the behaviour of others, all informed by a woefully naïve anthropology. I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised. Just kidding. It was pretty much exactly what I expected. Read more
To live in the post-Christian, postmodern West is to live amidst a rather bewildering confluence of competing identities and pieties. We hear endless talk of the importance of honouring and respecting diversity in the context of pluralism, but we often seem to have no idea how to actually do this well. We’re pretty cool with diversity when it comes to race and sexuality and gender, but not so much when it comes to diversity of thought. This leads to a great deal of confusion and no small amount of incoherence in our public discourse. Read more
Today is the second annual National Day for Truth and Reconciliation in Canada. It’s officially been declared a “federal holiday,” but if/how provinces and private businesses observe it is uneven and inconsistent. Some people get a holiday, some don’t. I’m at work for at least part of today doing the usual things, preparing for Sunday, getting ready for a meeting, taking care of some admin details. Today is also Orange Shirt Day, an informal awareness day that preceded the NDTR (two days for the price of one!). Again, some wear orange, some don’t. Like everything else in our world, if and how we observe these things is relentlessly moralized and politicized and polarized. Read more
So, the pope has been in my home province of Alberta this week. I’m not a Roman Catholic, so this obviously isn’t quite the momentous occasion for me that it might be for some of my Catholic sisters and brothers, but still, it’s a fairly big deal, not least because of one of the main reasons for his visit. He’s here to apologize, on Canadian soil, to indigenous people for the ugly history and legacy of residential schools. It is a “pilgrimage of penance,” in Francis’s own words, a time to unequivocally repent for the sins of the church and for the deep and lasting harm that they have caused. Read more
My daughter and I were invited on a podcast a while back where the topic was “reconciliation.” What is it, how do you work for it, what shape ought it to take, etc. Would we be interested? Well sure. But we were both quite clear when the invitation came that we did not see our relationship as some kind of abstract exercise in reconciliation but as a father and a daughter. We were not placeholders for a theory of racial relations. We were family. Read more
It’s been… a year. Another year dominated by Covid, another year where we have vacillated between anxiety and hysteria and confusion and apathy and fear and anger and many other things besides. I cast a quick glance back at last year’s year-end post and read what I wrote: “the general sense seems to be that the next spin around the sun has to be better than the one that’s drawing to a close.” Was it? Well, maybe. I dunno. I guess it depends. Who knows much of anything at this point. I confidently predict 2022 will be better. Or worse. Or the same. Read more
No, not that kind of conversion therapy. Just to disappoint (or assuage) you at the outset. I have no desire to wade into the fraught and stormy waters of sexual identity and public policy on such a lovely summer morning. Also, just in case you were tempted to think too highly of me (an unlikely prospect, I grant), I have just ably demonstrated that I am not above the occasional click-baity headline. Sorry, again, to disappoint. Read more
I have several friends who have recently been through diversity training at their companies. This is not uncommon these days. Many corporations are scrambling to keep up with the ethos of the moment, desperate to demonstrate the appropriate levels of commitment to equality and inclusion, terrified that they might be held liable for a stray comment or inappropriate action by one of their employees in the domains of sexuality, race, or gender. Diversity training is the way to cover their backsides. “Oh, so and so said or did bad thing x? Well, we did what we could. They received diversity training. We can’t really help it if it didn’t take.” Read more
There’s a scene in the opening pages of Marilynne Robinson’s most recent novel, Jack, where the eponymous protagonist has contributed to an unpleasant dinner experience with a certain bishop’s daughter named Della. The walk home is tense and the dialogue is strained. Jack has, evidently, really stepped in it:
She said, “I have never been so embarrassed. Never in my life.”
He said, “Well, you haven’t known me very long.”
My wife got a little heated over breakfast today. Not at me, thanks be to God. No, the object of her displeasure this morning was the story of Dr. Seuss running afoul of the cultural gatekeepers that broke yesterday. Evidently, six books from the well-known author and illustrator will no longer be published due to “racist and insensitive imagery.” Classics like The Cat in the Hat and The Sneetches are safe (for now), but And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street and If I Ran the Zoo did not make the cut. My wife does not normally have much interest in the culture wars, but, like many, she grew up on Dr. Seuss and this was just a bit too far. “I need a platform to protest this!” she said. I reminded her that I had a platform, modest though it may be. She wasn’t interested in writing a guest post, strangely. At any rate, I don’t run the zoo, but if I did, here are three things I might say. Read more
It seems that an external review into complaints from former and current employees at the Canadian Museum for Human Rights in Winnipeg has uncovered “pervasive and systemic racism” and a “toxic culture.” A rather awkward finding for an institution devoted to, well, human rights. One might expect that if any workplace was to be characterized by equality, compassion, dignity, fairness, etc., it would be the CMHR. One’s expectations would, it seems, be rather too optimistic. Read more
Hi kids,
Remember how last year I said I was done writing these rambling birthday letters to you now that you are adults? Well, I lied. You can add this latest transgression to the sad list that I’ve accumulated over nearly two decades as your father. Each year on this day I tend to dissolve into a puddle of sentimental nostalgia mixed in with a generous dose of neurotic longing for your futures and, naturally, this garbled mess has to find expression somewhere, right? You’ll thank me for this later, no doubt. Ahem. Read more
I’ve hesitated to say much in response to the grim spectacle of America ablaze with protests against the racism, police brutality, and appalling murder of George Floyd last week in Minneapolis. My justifications for silence often wander down familiar trails. What can I say that others can’t say or haven’t already said better? I’m not American; what right do I have to say anything about a social reality that is not my own? What good does adding to an amorphous chorus of condemnation/white guilt really do? Isn’t ninety percent of what’s going online today a flailing combination of virtue signalling and emoting out loud? What good is one more wagging white finger against racism? Read more
Rumblings 