For a good time, follow/subscribe/like...
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1. Elan Morgan's Five Star posts. Seriously. THE BEST weekly curation of posts on the internet.
2. The Gender Avenger newsletter.
3. The #FeministPrincessBride hashtag on Twitter.
4. Farrah Braniff on Instagram for her Monday Inspiration posts
5. My favourite Tumblr blog EVER!
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n~
guest post: her story matters
The Stay at Home Feminist is a safe place for all. And as such, from time to time, I provide this space to fellow writers who need to share pieces that, for various reasons, they can not share elsewhere. I ask you to welcome them here and be gentle, their stories are personal, they matter and I promise you, there is a real person behind these words.
The following post comes with a Trigger Warning and deals with abusive, stalking and terrorizing behaviour.
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We met through a friend. I had just moved across the country to a strange city in a new province. I had left everything I knew behind me in the hopes of starting fresh and I had to prove to myself that I could go it alone and be completely independent. All I owned was my car and whatever I could stuff in it.
The first time I met him, my new friend and I ran into him on the street. She introduced us and we all briefly chatted before going our own way. He didn’t really strike me one way or another, but I was happy to be meeting new people. Over the ensuing weeks, I saw him on occasion at my friend’s house or out at a bar. Eventually, he and I started dating. I’m not even sure “dating” is the right word - we mostly hung out and went out to clubs. It was never an exclusive arrangement and there were no romantic dinner dates, but it was nice to experience my new city through him.
It lasted only a few weeks. I ended it when I realized he just wasn’t for me.
After I broke it off, he called me often – at least daily, but sometimes more. One night, he called to tell me he got a new roommate: a woman. I didn’t care. He’d go into too much detail about their near-sexual encounters before I’d say, “That’s nice.” and hang up the phone. I didn’t care. I never really had.
One night, he called me and said “I saw you with another guy. Are you dating him?” I told him I was and that he needed to stop calling me. I wasn’t interested in him; it was over. It had, in fact, never really begun.
That night, I woke up to a rock breaking my bedroom window. I knew he’d done it.
I called the police because my landlord needed a report for insurance. The officers came, and after inspecting the window, they asked me if I knew who had done it. I gave them his name. They stopped writing and looked up at me. “This guy is known to us for weapons and uttering death threats. If we bring him in for this, he’ll come after you because we can’t hold him.” Then I watched them leave as I gripped my incident report in my hands. My Super told the landlord that some partiers had done it, and it was fixed the next day.
That night he called. “I see they fixed your window. That was fast.” I hung up.
That’s when I became aware that he was stalking me. He didn’t really try to hide it; I think he enjoyed knowing that I knew. He seemed to enjoy knowing that he literally lived on the periphery of my life, affecting my choices and influencing my movements. He knew I saw him standing across the street staring up at my window. Once, he even sat outside my apartment door for three hours when I was inside – every once in awhile saying something to let me know he was still there.
When I was at a club, he’d stand on the edge of the dance floor and smirk when I noticed him. On one occasion, he followed me into the women’s washroom, grasping my arm as I tried to pull away. The women inside scattered, but security rushed in and took him away.
This happened 10 years ago. I was in my 20s, fiercely independent, and maybe a little bit naïve. When he wasn’t physically barring me inside my apartment, I carried on with my life. I walked alone in my neighbourhood, assuming he was there. I went to movies and clubs by myself. I walked to work, or quickly ran to the coffee shop across the street after dark. Some might say my actions were stupid or reckless. In hindsight, they probably were. At the time, though, I refused to let him win. I refused to live in fear. I refused to let him control me. I was always aware, though, and everything I did was calculated. The times I was most afraid was when I was alone in a subway station – I always stood against the wall, far away from the tracks. I was fairly certain that he wouldn’t do anything to me in front of witnesses, but being alone in a public place was scary, especially a place with high-speed trains and open tracks.
I don’t remember telling anyone he was stalking me. I didn’t want anyone to tell me it was my fault. I didn’t want anyone to deter me from living my life. I didn’t want anyone to encourage me to involve the police again. I had figured out a rhythm to my life, which unfortunately, included him.
After close to two years of living my silent hell, I had to tell someone. For my own safety, I told my apartment building Super. We weren’t friends and I didn’t particularly like her, but she needed to know. I needed her to know the day I looked out my window and saw her having a friendly conversation with him. When she came inside, I ran downstairs and asked her what he wanted. She said, “Do you know him? He just applied to live in the apartment next to you.” I felt like I was going to throw up. I reminded her about the rock thrown through my window and said “That was him. He’s been following me ever since.” A quick glance at his rental application revealed that he had used an alias. Her response was swift. She picked up the phone and called the police, telling them everything she knew. They asked to speak to me and I gave them a brief history of his behaviour. They told me they couldn’t do anything unless he was still on the property, but gave me some possible options to help me feel safer. I informed them that I was moving back home – across the country – in a month. They said “Good. Leave in the middle of the night.” And that is exactly what I did.
A few years later, after my son was born, he tried to comment on my blog, saying, “The world is lucky you had a boy. It doesn’t need any more women like you in it.” We traced his IP address across the Atlantic, where I hope he’s stayed. I now also have a daughter.
Rarely, does he enter my mind these days. My days are no longer governed by conscious, calculated decisions to keep myself safe from him. I am, however, often reminded of how he continues to affect me – he’s the reason I don’t publicly share my kids’ names or faces online. He’s the reason Facebook continues to ask me where I live, and I refuse to fill it in. He’s the reason my location on Twitter is vague and encompasses a large geographic area. All these years later, I must protect my kids from his prying eyes. I need to be careful because I know he reads my blog and, probably, all my public social media.
Some may wonder why I am sharing this now, or at all. Why, 10 years later, have I decided to write this all down and share it with the world? My private hell. My past. My present. My on-going need to protect those I love from one single man who isn’t even known to them. My answer is this: I am not the only one. There are scores of women who live in constant fear, tormented at this very moment. Women who must protect themselves the best they can because no one else is. Women who are living their own private versions of hell.
I want you to know we are here. I want you to know that the silent ones have stories that deserve to be told, even when we think no one could possibly care. To my fellow quiet women: your stories matter even if no one hears them, even if you think that no one is listening. They are valid. You are valid. You may not know me, but I care. I care about what is happening to you, what has happened to you, and what continues to affect you.
I’ll admit that part of me doesn’t want to share this – to give him, or any man like him, the satisfaction of knowing that his actions had long-term effects. I don’t want him knowing that I think about him, ever. I don’t want him knowing that he factors into any of my decision-making. It offends me on a deep, visceral level that I need to give power to my experiences – to what he put me through. All told, I came out of this relatively unscathed. I actually feel like I’m a lucky one - so many other women have worse stories than this one. Hell, this isn’t even my worst story, but in some ways, I feel like it’s the most important one – the one I share with so many others. This is the story that so many other women could have written, but they suffer in silence… like I did for so long.
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The author of this piece chose to remain anonymous to protect her family. She is unwilling to expose her children to the fire that might reignite in her stalker if she publicly declares that this happened. This fear of repercussions is why stories remain untold, go unreported, and personal, private hells are silently endured every day.
Photo Credit: _namtaf_ on Flickr
Feminist Fare Friday: The #DUH Edition
If it is not clear as bloody day yet that I AM A FEMINIST, then I am so doing this whole blogging and online activism thing very, very poorly!
Sometimes I am an angry feminist, sometimes a happy, lipstick wearing one, sometimes a barefoot-in-my-kitchen-making-dinner-for-my-family one and sometimes a loud, "what the holy heck is wrong with this world!!", activist-y one! But it is always a part of me, a BIG part....
Natasha - Writer, Feminist, Mother, Partner, Advocate, Activist. These are the words that I use to describe myself.
This week TIME magazine published their list of words that should be "banned" in 2015 and included FEMINIST on that list (Time Editor Nancy Gibb has since written an apology for this). It took all my strength on Wednesday to not curl up in a ball on my couch, repeating to myself, "why do I bother? why do I bother? why do I bother?".
And then I remembered why I bother.
BECAUSE (obviously) THE WORK IS NOT DONE YET!
So for today, all I want you to do is watch this video from my friend Jenni Chiu of Mommy Nani Booboo.
Because she too wants more of us say it loud and proud and truly UNDERSTAND what the word means!
[youtube]http://youtu.be/rXR9bPwCGKY[/youtube]
Feminist Fare Friday: The Day 7 of NaBloPoMo Edition.
It is Friday, I have read some really, really good shit on the web this week.
And you know how I like to share...
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In response to the now viral Hollaback catcalling video, Elon James White, the CEO of This Week in Blackness responded in the best way... By creating the #DudesGreetingDudes Twitter hashtag. And even with some of the absolute hilarity of some of the tweets, there was a strong point to be made about the very nature of catcalling and street harassment...
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And speaking of that catcalling video... The eye gymnastics that Amanda Seales had to perform in her CNN interview with her fellow "mansplaining" guest was seriously Olympic status worthy! She recalls that particularly trying routine for us at XOJane this week...
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Also this week, excerpts from Lena Dunham's new memoir have thrown everyone for another really, REALLY, uncomfortable loop. I have an upcoming post that will address some of the issues arising from this in more depth, but for now, I want you all to read what Elan Morgan had to say about it. Because it is powerful and made me really take a step back and think. AS WE ALL SHOULD in these situations.
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There is a conversation that needs to be happening more in the parenting world and it is one that goes far beyond normalizing breastfeeding and breastfeeding in public. It is one about mothering and race. Because as this past week has shown, a white woman breastfeeding in her cap and gown is "adorable", while a few months ago, a black women breastfeeding in her cap and gown is "ratchett and ghetto". Yup, we really are such an enlightened bunch. LE GRAND SIGH... come on people, we can do so much better than this!
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And finally, this video.
Because, OH MY GO....
[youtube]http://youtu.be/hR3ctoLrOHk[/youtube]
Happy Friday Everyone!
n~
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I believe you... But it is still not enough.
A few months ago I was at the Mom 2.0 Summit in Atlanta, Georgia. It was wonderful and I am going back again next year, because... MY TRIBE is there! On the first day of the conference, one of the speakers at the Keynote Expert Sessions was a man called Josh Levs. I'd never heard of him (Canadian blogger-fish out of water and all that), but Josh is kind of a big deal CNN reporter, a father of three and had just filed a complaint against his employer, Time Warner, for denying him 10 weeks of paid parental leave (what new mothers and adopted parents get from Time Warner, but not dads.) Josh was an engaging and passionate speaker and I appreciated that he was addressing the issue of shared parental responsibilities, but what I didn't understand was why this man was getting so much air time (literally) about an issue that women have been talking about and fighting for for years, not to mention one that places the US at the very bottom of the charts in terms of paid parental leave in the developed world.
It felt like, once again, an issue that affects primarily women is not really that big of a deal until it becomes detrimental to a man or a man starts talking about it.
This has been the case time and time again and it is something that I am so very, very tired of.
Case in point. Carla Ciccone wrote a post over a year ago about her VERY BAD DATE with a Canadian radio show host, which, I think we can all admit at this point, was with Jian Ghomeshi. The vitriol and internet hate-storm that was heaped on her after she wrote that post was appalling and I don't even want to revisit any of it (the comments on her post have picked up again given recent developments and are just as awful this time around). And now, after months of investigating and interviewing, Kevin Donovan and Jesse Brown - yes, two men - broke the story via the Toronto Star about Ghomeshi's disturbing and abusive behaviour and more than 10 people have now come forward with similar allegations of violence and abuse at the hands of Jian Ghomeshi. And NOW, it's a problem. Now that it's not just one woman who had at least that little bit of courage to write about her VERY BAD DATE, even though, if you cared to ask around, EVERYBODY KNEW ABOUT HIM! Now it's a big deal and must be dealt with.
Or, look at the new United Nations #HEforSHE campaign. God love her, Emma Watson is a shining beacon for young women everywhere, and I applaud her for stepping up to the plate and literally donning her baby feminist White Coat, but the whole premise of the campaign is that women's voices are simply not enough. That we need the HEs to speak up for the SHEs. That it is not enough for women to be seen and heard and treated as human beings in and of themselves. That we are only valued and validated in this world by virtue of our relationships to and with men as their mothers, daughters, sisters, and wives. Now, don't get me wrong, I too want men to speak up for feminism and for gender equality in our world, but not because they have a mom or a sister or a daughter, and not because they feel the need to be a hero and save the world's collective damsels in distress. I want them to do it because we are all in this place together, because one person's life is not more or less valuable than any other simple because we are not the same gender or colour or sexual orientation. I want them to do it because it is the right thing to do.
The internet is full of meme's and videos of men speaking for women. We've got Feminist Ryan Gosling Hey Girl-ing all over the place, we've got speech after speech from Joss Whedon about why he writes strong female characters and then one where he thinks we should get rid of the word Feminism. Harry Styles tweets a picture of himself supporting #heforshe and it gets retweeted over 282,000 times. Aziz Ansari sits across from David Letterman and tells us he is a feminist and we share that shit all over the place and praise all our wonderful male allies for saying all the exact same things women have been saying for eons!
On the other hand. A woman speaks up and makes a video about her experience with catcalling and street harassment and you know what happens? Sure the thing goes viral and has some serious issues that have been dissected elsewhere, but she also gets death and rape threats. Or how about this one. A woman is not the perfect girlfriend and what does her pissed off ex-boyfriend do when things end badly? He writes a 5000 word manifesto outlining why she is a terrible person, tries to ruin her publicly and professionally and rallies the collective troops of #nogirlsallowed land into a thing called Gamergate. If the situation was reversed, she would just be the crazy, vindictive, bitch of an ex-girlfriend who was out for revenge for being jilted and no one would have taken her the teensiest bit seriously. But we have this WHOLE THING now, because one dude got his heart and ego crushed BY A GIRL. Really. Boil it all down and that is what it is.
I've read multiple essays and posts this past week about why women don't speak up more, why they don't report the violence and abuse and assaults that have happened to them. Denise Balkissoon wrote just today in the Globe and Mail that no, we have not reached some kind of "watershed" moment in the face of violence against women. She goes on to say,
I’m not swayed by the newly enlightened, standing with outstretched, protective arms, advising victims of violence that there’s no longer a need to be ashamed or afraid of coming forward. Let me tell you what too many have heard, and will continue to hear, perhaps forever.
I don’t believe you.
I don’t believe you.
I don’t believe you.
And I don't disagree with her at all. I would also add that not only are women overwhelmingly hearing "I don't believe you." over and over again, even in cases with ridiculous amounts of evidence (see: death of raped and bullied Canadian girl who can not be named because of court mandated publication ban), in this world we live in, it's also a case of ....
We don't really care, because YOU DON'T REALLY MATTER. Your voice is not the one we listen to.
You are not a famous media/radio celebrity and will not have your 20+ year career ripped out from under you.
You are not an elite athlete who brings in millions to sports club owners and helps win championships.
You are not a Hollywood Icon whose brilliance can not be tarnished in our minds, because... BRILLIANT!
You are not a beloved TV character we all grew up with and thought of as our collective DAD.
You are not one of BillBoards most successful R&B/Hip Hop artists of the past 25 years.
You are not some promising young man whose life will now be ruined because you got drunk, he raped you, you reported him and now he has to go to jail.
And this is what kills me every time something like this happens. The voices of the women affected are not heard or are silenced. It's as if women's voices are some kind of background noise that people just want to turn down until a man in a nice suit tells you what to think or who to believe.
Until such a time exists when a woman can say, this is what happened to me and the automatic response from the general public isn't, "well, you should have known better" or "what do you have to gain from this?", we aren't making any progress in the plight of violence against and oppression of women. Until we can take a woman's word for it - whatever IT may be, and not have to wait for that word to be validated by a man, we are never going to get any further ahead in making this world a level playing field for all who live on it.
I gotta tell you...
I dream of that time. Every single day and every damn night.
And I have to believe it will come.
I have to.
n~
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This is Day 5 of #nablopomo. I am writing a blog post a day for the month of November. So are a lot of other people. You can find them here.
Feminist Fare Friday: The Justice Edition
There is a theme and perhaps a lesson in today's selection of posts from the femisphere. For some reason, this concept depicted above has always made sense to me when it comes to child-rearing. It has been especially driven home this week in regards to feminism and racism and the concept of true social justice versus the constant 'equality for all' rhetoric. So, go grab your afternoon latte and have a read.
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By now you've probably seen the video of Emma Watson's compelling UN speech launching the new #HeforShe campaign. It's pretty good. A young woman, using her voice, her fame, and her privilege, to bring light to the oppression of women all over the world, to bring feminism into more of the mainstream conversation. This is all good. There was something missing though... I did share the video on my social media sites and applaud Ms. Watson's efforts, but it wasn't until I read this article from Mia McKenzie of Black Girl Dangerous that I was finally able to put my finger on what that missing piece was. Emma invites men of the world to "to take up this mantle. So their daughters, sisters, and mothers can be free from prejudice…", and Mia points out why this is a flawed way of looking at the issues of equality.
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As a white, cis-gendered, middle-class feminist woman, I have quite a few innate privileges in my world. And I am not going to lie, when I get told that I am doing feminism wrong, when I hear that I am just another white feminist spouting off from her position of privilege, I sometimes get defensive. My instinct is to scream my ally-ship to the four corners of the world, and say the dreaded words, #notallwhitefeminists!
But I don't.
Because of people like Brittney Cooper and her ability to take a complex topic like the future of feminism, break it down, and make me almost spit out my morning tea while reading her words. Words that somewhat mirror what I have said before about changing the game/playing field, but in a much more succinct and eloquent way. There is a reason her Twitter handle is @ProfessorCrunk, this woman is a capital E educator and I am the white girl geek sitting in the front row, mouth shut, ears wide open!
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Ever feel like you have the same conversation with people, over and over and over again? OK, I have a 5 and a 7-year old, so this happens daily in my life, and it is less of a conversation, and more of me reminding them of the basics like socks and teeth brushing and please don't put [insert disgusting thing here] in your mouth or on your sister/brother. In all seriousness though, how would you feel if every day you had to be the one to explain to people the basics of human decency? Anne Thériault of The Belle Jar and Lily Tsui of Scantilly Clad, two Canadian feminists (yes, Toronto Star, they do exist!), have come together to bring you a compelling post looking at the parallels between the oftentimes explanatory conversations about feminism and racism.
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That is some pretty heavy material for today, so I will leave you with your thoughts. Or you can share them with me in the comments too.
Have a great weekend!
N~
If you build her....
Where are all the feminists?
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What was it that Kevin Costner heard whispered to him in that baseball movie? Oh, right. "If you build it, they will come."*
Well, apparently, according to Heather Mallick at the Toronto Star; Canada needs to get on with building itself a better, more prominent/famous** feminist. Because apparently, there are none, NONE, in this vast country of ours.
Now granted, earlier this week Heather sat in a sold out crowd, watching PROMINENT British humourist and feminist, Cailtin Moran, do her schtick and promote her new book, How to Build a Girl, hot on the heels of the best-selling success of her 2011 book, How to be a Woman. Heather's enthusiasm and desire for a loud, in your face, this is the best time to be a woman, empowerment for all, ra-rah feminist is not surprising, Moran's wit and humour can be very infectious. I myself have had a bad case of Moran-itis in the past and thankfully, so very, very thankfully, have developed an immunity to it. So, I am going to give Heather a bit of a break, due to a possible fever and some delirium post-Moran, so to speak.
Because Canada does indeed have some very effective, and somewhat famous, feminists living and working and doing the hard job of actually BEING a feminist in our country and I have the great honour of being friends with some of them!
We have feminists like Annie from Phd in Parenting being asked to write for the NY Times. We have feminists like Lyndsay Kirkham, with her giant head, and outing of the continued misogynist culture in the tech world, being featured on The View. There is Danielle Paradis, whose a regular contributor at Policy Mic and whose writing has been published, well, pretty much everywhere (but, hmmm... not so much by many Canadian media outlets). We have feminists working to end violence against women, we have feminists working hard to pressure our government into making formal inquiries into missing and murdered indigenous women in our country, we have feminists who are raising the bar for everyone in the fight against street harassment.
What we don't have is a token "rock star" feminist. We don't have a Caitlin Moran telling/yelling at everyone, "If you have a vagina and want to be in charge of it, you are a feminist!" We don't have a Beyoncé with her glowing giant proclamation of FEMINIST behind her at the VMAs, we don't have an distinctively Canadian iconic feminist similar to Gloria Steinem, passing the torch to the younger generation and the next wave of feminism.
The thing is, I don't think we should have just one go-to feminist. That in and of itself is problematic. No one person can encompass all of the differences and intersections and individuals that make up modern day feminism. I can hear the critics now, "But Natasha, why not? Feminism just means equality for all and if we are all on the same team, why can't we have a team captain?" Because. We can't. No one person will experience and practice feminism exactly the same as the next. My white, cis-gendered, middle class feminism, is not the same as that of a person of colour or indigenous woman, it is not the same as a new immigrant's feminism and it is not the same as a LGBTQ person's feminism. It would be selfish, extremely self-centered, and irresponsible of me or any one feminist to claim to speak for or represent all feminists in Canada. What we can do though, is speak of our experiences and create a feminist collective. What I can do is speak about my life experiences, give my opinions within my frame of reference and when I can, amplify the stories of others to the audience I have and on the platforms that I have built for myself.
And that right there is the round about long way of coming by the simple answer to the question that Heather Mallick originally asked. "Why can't Canada build a prominent/famous** feminist?" Because Heather, most of the mainstream media in Canadian, does not really care to bother themselves with us. Canadian feminists for the most part are doing their work, being advocates and activists, and getting the message out via personal blogs and Facebook groups and grass-roots, non-profit, academic and non-academic organizations. They are doing their feminist work by being an example for and influencing, either directly or indirectly, people in their families and in their communities (online and IRL), their groups of friends, their children and their children's friends too. And that kind of feminism is just not that flashy and in-your-face, it is not the firebrand-rock-star-famous-making kind of feminism and therefore not usually deemed worthy of any kind of serious media attention.
Just like there is no one way to be a feminist, even though many will try to tell you otherwise, there is no one Canadian feminist that can lead us to the great land of milk and equality. Collectively though, we are a force, we may not be a nationally or internationally recognized one, we many not have best-selling books and go around telling folks that "I literally couldn't give a shit about it" and have an I'll be as crude and ableist and transphobic as I please attitude about one's feminism, we choose the more polite, inclusive and distinctively Canadian way. We pick ourselves up by our bootstraps (we all have boots) and get to doing the work that needs doing in whatever way we can. Not for the glory and the fame...
Because it is the right thing to do. And because as this GoodReads reviewer puts it in her analysis of How to Be a Woman,
Feminism doesn't need to be rock and roll, it's much better than that.
Cheers,
A not very famous Canadian Feminist doing her part.
(AND who would definitely consider a nationally syndicated column in which I could feature and profile our collective Canadian feminist voices. I'm just saying...)
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What do you think?
Who are your favourite Canadian Feminists?
Please share your answers here and on Twitter with the hashtags #canfem and #BraveCanadianFeminist
*The actual quote from Field of Dreams is "If you build it, HE will come."
**The original title of the Toronto Star article was "Why can't Canada build a feminist?" and after much backlash online, the editors changed it to read, "Why can't Canada build a famous feminist?"
Under the bridge
When you combine a voice like sweet honey and words that, without fail, reach deep, deep into your soul, you get the incomparable, spoken word poet, Shane Koyczan. His latest release is heart-stirring, beautiful, haunting and so utterly true. Especially for those of us who live parts of our lives online.
Here it is. "Trolls" by Shane Koyczan...
[youtube width="650" height="400"]http://youtu.be/670if6Etx0o[/youtube]
In Shane's words and on the power of our words:
“It's sad to think that we live in a world where so many are careless with their words, or still do not realize that the things they say have weight. Hiding behind invented identities doesn't free anyone to behave inhumanly... any more than wearing a mask grants someone the right to impose physical abuse on another. I've received thousands of letters asking me to address this issue, and have been very reluctant to speak up because I didn't want to draw the attention to myself. I then remembered being in school, and the pattern of silence that gave others quiet permission to continue torturing myself and others. We live in a society that asks us to keep quiet... to allow the world to spin unimpeded. Our silence is a commercial for a peace that will never be achieved unless we do speak up... unless we stand in the way of fear and hate showing others that there is a path that leads away from tyranny. We choose who we allow into our lives... we can choose who to evict.”
To find out more about Shane and when he may be performing in a city near you, check out his website!
n~