If the reports are to be believed, Women’s Studies programs are disappearing at many Canadian universities. Forgive us for being skeptical. We would wave good-bye without shedding a tear, but we are pretty sure these angry, divisive and dubious programs are simply being renamed to make them appear less controversial.
The radical feminism behind these courses has done untold damage to families, our court systems, labour laws, constitutional freedoms and even the ordinary relations between men and women…
Basically, a woman was raped in broad day light on a busy city street and no one stopped to help. She suffered from Aspberger’s and the rapist was a minor. You’d think this would generate some press. Interested to see how other media would cover this, I googled it.
Note how vanishingly short it is, how sparse on details. A women, with a disability, was raped in public. End of story.
Anyone else noticing how little attention this crime is getting? Anyone surprised by that?
Here’s the thing. Had this crime been, “Terrorist attempts to attack, fails” it would have made world news. Had the story been, “Kraft buys Cadbury” same deal. Hell, had it been “man finds hilarious puppy” it would have made regional news, and maybe been a YouTube hit.
Violence against women, unless it’s a massacre, gets no media attention. This was a broad daylight, violent rape in a crowded street. By a minor. Against a women with a disability. It meets the classic formula for news: Violent offence committed by marginalized youth against sympathetic victim. Yet, no press. Because, I’m guessing, it was “just a rape.”
“It’s very hard—no matter how much we hear about it—to believe in our own death. Many spiritual practices try to encourage us to take our own death seriously, but it’s amazing how difficult it is to allow it to hit home. The one thing in life that we can really count on is incredibly remote for all of us. We don’t go so far as to say, ‘No way, I’m not going to die,’ because of course we know that we are. But it definitely will be later. That’s the biggest hope.”—Pema Chodron, When Things Fall Apart (via nightmarebrunette) [autoreblog]
I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out. And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I’m all over that action. But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating. I may be evil incarnate, but I’m no welcher.
The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves folks desperate and impoverished. Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth — glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle. Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake. Haven’t you seen “Crossroads”? Or “Damn Yankees”? If I had a thing going with Haiti, there’d be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night clubs, Botox — that kind of thing. An 80 percent poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it — I’m just saying: Not how I roll.
You’re doing great work, Pat, and I don’t want to clip your wings — just, come on, you’re making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad. Keep blaming God. That’s working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract.
Sometimes life feels very small. I have done no great things. Perhaps I will never do great things. But I am living, now, really living in a way perhaps I did not before. And I have loved and I love and I will love again. Maybe that is a small great thing. Maybe that is enough.
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