On the College streetcar heading to the people’s procession today, I pass Native Child and Family Services, holding an art sale. They’re raising funds, of course, for the organization, or a specific program. Toronto Police Headquarters is right next door. They aren’t having an art sale or a garage sale. They have all the funds they need.
………
At Queen and University I wait for my friends at the side of a building, crouched in some stingy shade, hiding from the hot sun until the last possible moment. Around me people wear orange. I pull out the flimsy orange, brown and white scarf I bought in Chinatown yesterday. It’s too girly for me to put it in my hair, so I tie it to my purse.
The police are here. On bikes, leaning against patrol cars. I look at them and think “I remember”.
One year and two months ago. I remember.
I jot down badge and car numbers just for the hell of it.
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Part 1 June 2010
What more can I write about it that I didn’t write already?
Maysie on June 12 2010
Maysie on June 26 2010
Maysie on June 26/27 2010
So, what’s still outstanding? Some activists who were preemptively arrested are still in jail. Some of those that have been tried and released are subject to appalling parole terms that severely restrict their legitimate movements in their communities.
It seems the mass violation of the civil rights of over 1000 people was a smokescreen.
Six Metres of Pavement is the second novel written by Farzana Doctor, local writer, therapist and activist.
The story is about Ismail Boxwala, a South Asian man living in downtown west Toronto, who 20 years ago inadvertently caused the death of his young daughter after leaving her in the backseat of his car in her carseat on a hot summer day.
The reader is taken through his life, both present and past, in compassionate and thoughtful ways. He’s reminded of his monumental mistake every day in the judgmental eyes of some neighbours, as well as in his own community. But his biggest and harshest judgement comes from within. He’s a Muslim, he’s an alcoholic, he enjoys sex, he works at the City of Toronto as a bridge inspector. His life is closed, known, emotionally shut down and joyless.
I know, I blogged about this a few years ago.
You would think it wouldn’t be that challenging to do this, and I say this as someone who always has cute and generic blank cards around suitable for all occasions (don’t ever forget I’m a Virgo), and also as someone who used to make cute custom-made cartoon/comic cards for my friends/family. Cards with brightly coloured cats and other creatures saying snarky/political/anti-racist things.
So. It’s my sister’s birthday on Sunday, but she’s here in town and having a celebration today, so yesterday I’m out and about and looking for a card for her.
It’s been mixed-race week recently. Or something.
First, the New York Times had a piece on January 30th entitled “Black? White? Asian? More Young Americans Choose All of the Above”
Then on February 4th, Colorlines, a great magazine from the US that talks about race and racism, resistance and culture, responds with “A ‘Mixed-Race’ Nation Isn’t the Same as a Post-Race One”
If you can, please read both those pieces first.
Oh, and on Feb 14, a book review I wrote, for the book “Other Tongues: Mixed Race Women Speak Out” was published at rabble.ca.
Let’s start at the beginning.
