Spaces without balance

The shift has occurred

I came across an article, a commentary on how organisations, establishments, and corporations are lacking in accommodation and inclusiveness. Sadly, given the direction of our public conversation, we are expected to promote and reinforce a particular perspective or risk ostracism.

Having experienced times of political correctness, which evolved into woke culture, and now the topical issues of identity and how diversity can imply exclusion, one might wonder what has changed in our discourse that no-platforming and cancelling have become more common, along with the need to punish those who dare to think differently and voice those thoughts.

The balance has tipped towards an unrelenting intolerance of broader perspectives and dialogue. For instance, my idea of safe spaces used to be forums with a range of viewpoints available for all participants to consider, regardless of their beliefs. However, what currently exists is a safe space not to feel uncomfortable or challenged; rather, it is a space to reinforce biases instead of questioning preconceived notions.

Can we think for ourselves?

The brave space to dissent and debate respectfully without being disagreeable has been lost to a different kind of safe space. It is safe for the timid or entitled, but unsafe for the brave.

Grievance, offence, upset, and outrage often dominate, at the expense of open-mindedness and tolerance of opposing viewpoints. As a result, we fail to step into another's shoes because we believe we are already wearing the most uncomfortable shoes imaginable.

How we arrived at this unidimensional situation involves curating inputs, confirming biases, a lack of curiosity, and perhaps a lazy mind as well. Meanwhile, certain purveyors of extreme perspectives stand to benefit from homogenising and intensifying positions that leave no room for compromise or consensus. We are unwittingly pawns on their vast chessboard of power, profit, and politics.

We must ask ourselves whether we are still thinking for ourselves or have become subsumed into the malign thought processes of others. In voicing these thoughts, we become megaphones for ideas we would have once rejected.

We are not the same

This debate is ongoing in Australia, where those involved have initially faced punishment but then found themselves reprieved through legal actions and protests. It is a debate we should be having across the Western world, as exemplified in this excerpt from the article.

“All right-minded organisations try to make their workforce more diverse. But are we going to accept people from different ethnic and political backgrounds only to the extent that they behave like middle-class white people? That is, those who dominate our culture largely as a result of their luck, and who have not got a family legacy of colonisation, war, trauma and holocaust?

Sometimes, encounters in brave spaces might lead to us changing our minds, or question our own assumptions.” [The Guardian: Opinion: The ABC and Creative Australia panicked in the face of controversy. These vital institutions must not be so timid. - Margaret Simons]

Manchester Pride 2024 - Between disinterest and stewarding

For a parade and a charade

The August Bank Holiday weekend in Manchester is for the Manchester Pride and one those of us who live on the borders of the Gay Village sometimes dread out of inconvenience and frustration. It is a time of endless cacophony that begins from Thursday night through to Monday evening with possibly a vigil in remembrance of those we lost to the AIDS plague.

For those who come the attend the events and many from out of town and even from abroad, it presents the prospect of wanton debauchery and the prescient profiteering of all the hospitality and services establishments that find the footfall irresistible to exploitation, even as punters and patrons submit themselves too willingly to the abuse of their respect and their wallets.

The Pride Parade on the Saturday afternoon is something to look forward to, though I could be inspired to residents’ rage just for the loudspeakers that get put close to my window or on the main street, not so much for the event, but for the testing of equipment that starts early in the morning when we are trying to lie-in and continues almost every quarter of an hour as if suddenly the equipment had given up. Let’s not think of if I were an American with a gun.

Diversity, not as we think it

This time they plonked down a mobile 120-seat grandstand on our street which I found out to be the judges view to rate the floats that passed by towards the end of the parade. I had a guest who had just moved to Manchester and a friend had asked me to chaperone him. Not much to be done, I would have stepped out of my apartment block with a folding chair and some bottles of water. I provided rainproof clothes and umbrellas too, when it rained.

However, I do wonder if the judges as my guest did see the diversity we observed was not as diverse as our community would suggest apart from accounting for the diversity in faces of the same identity group, like say, race? Not to talk of the fact that one float dressed up a black man in full uniform to drive their Bentley. Then the Gay Gordons in full Scottish attire had one of their contingent playing the bagpipes who was noticeably of African descent.

In the probably 250 that participated in the parade, there could not have been 10 that were representative of ethnic minorities, and this is where Manchester still fails to embrace the broader expanse of identity within this diverse community.

It was not helped by one such group removing themselves from the parade because of concerns about sponsorship in relation to the Israel – Gaza conflict. They were invisible when they should have erred on the pragmatic side of things, because there were Palestinian groups represented on the parade.

Just let me through

I was surprised that I stayed to watch the whole parade that lasted over 3 hours, and it was time to retire and that was for a good long nap. The only other times I ventured through the Gay Village that was gated off for the festivities was for church on Sunday and then the Pride Eucharist in the evening.

At least now, apart from security checks of bags, right-of-way is no longer questioned as it was even refused to people who just wanted to pass through about a decade ago.

Besides, I had on principle decided for years now, that I will not pay the extortionate prices for attending any of the Pride events even as those who find themselves shortchanged denied access to venues quickly at capacity to watch their favourite bands.

My plate did overflow

As a church steward at the Manchester Cathedral, I had offered to be on the rota for duties at the Pride Eucharist which was organised by the leadership of the Village Church that meets on the 2^nd and 4^th Sundays of the month at the LGBT Foundation offices on Sackville Street. [Manchester Cathedral: Pride Eucharist pamphlet (PDF)]

Cover of the Pride Eucharist pamphlet.

The typical activities would have been handing service pamphlets to people who had come to fellowship, doing the collection during the offertory hymn, and ushering the congregation towards the altar for Communion.

Then one of the wardens asked me to take the plate of offerings to the altar for blessing and I had hardly said yes to that when the convenor of Village Church came to ask if I would participate in the intercessory prayer part of the service. She already had my name on the prayer sheet before coming to chat to me. I obliged willingly at the honour.

My part included a 30-second pause for silent prayer, my clock ticked a bit faster than it should in my head, I counted to 10 twice, losing my ways somewhere in the simplicity of the aura of scrutiny as I continued to the end of my contribution.

It’s a wrap until next year

After the service, we remained for tea, coffee, biscuits, and cake, before a young man on army leave who had asked to speak with me earlier requested if he could play the grand piano.

He had such talent but was expecting of rebuke or derision when we so readily praised him. Sadly, some people are subjected to so much criticism that even what they are so good at, they are too unsure of demonstrating.

I guess all that became the highlight of my own Manchester Pride, disinterested, uninvolved, and almost curmudgeonly, except where it mattered more in cheering the parades and serving at the Pride Eucharist, until next year when again, we suffer, or we leave town.

Privacy in a world of extroverts and exhibitionists

When is it too much?

It is interesting when you encounter invasive disclosure requirements that leave you wondering if you have become overexposed and vulnerable.

You meet a fine line and distinction that probably is left to gut instinct as to how you respond and what you are willing to give away. For instance, when over a decade ago the gap in my employment was predicated on the need for cancer treatment and recuperation, I offered to present a medical note from my consultant, but the employer instead requested my medical prescription.

For me, that was egregious and intrusive, I could find no rationale for such a request. Then again, I half appreciated that the request was being processed outside of the boundaries of Europe even as the job was in the UK and I lived in the Netherlands. Much as I could have challenged the request further than I did, I felt that this kind of unwarranted intrusion was not only adverse but that the cultural norms of a certain domain had not cultivated the understanding of elements of privacy we Europeans were accustomed to.

Handling the issues with tact

I soon removed myself from the process and declined the offer because we had reached an impasse beyond which there was no viable future in which I would have felt comfortable.

Indeed, the issues of privacy, secrecy, and confidentiality work together to protect the person we are, having the confidence that you only need to share what is necessary for the sake of meeting a requirement without losing the mechanisation or automation of expediency. I still believe even as a technologist that traditional methods of handling private data have better checks and balances that are less susceptible to unfortunate biases.

At other times, it is being embarrassed by circumstances engendering almost a sense of shame or failure, but these are all part of the story of life if systems are allowed to spare our blushes.

I hope I still have some control

I consciously curate what I am ready to reveal and share, I have faced some challenges that have required inspiration and dare I say of divine provenance to address certain requests. Important in all of this is being open about very significant elements of myself that half a century ago would not have been possible and is still detrimental in some countries and regions around the world.

Where you do not want to be is realising you have lost control of your own narrative in the quest for something you desire, but not at any price.

We have such wide-ranging diversity and have encountered serious adversity at various times, yet we are who we are with all that pertains to who we are and the relationships we hold dear. We understand responsibility and loyalty and appreciate the quality of character while striving for a better world in whatever place we might find ourselves.

I guess I am grateful for understanding and being understood. Even the most interesting and good books need covers, and the most beautiful windows do at times need the curtains drawn. Between the exhibitionist by inclination and the spectacle by duress, neither should be the only choices about how we choose to tell our stories if we are not fully persuaded.

Essential Snobbery 101: The waning art of discretion

In view of the setting

It is interesting to review a day in which some settings within which I found myself brought a mix of behaviours, attitudes, prejudices, and indiscretions which, on reflection, just indicated how much we need to be self-aware of how what and how we do things can affect others.

In the first instance, the engagement, which had moved from the necessities and essentials of effective communication last week, was initially an exercise in how the same instructions given to a group can present different results in comprehension and action. Though the core element for the day was the broader subject of diversity, equality, and inclusion.

An undress in address

In a multicultural grouping of diverse and variant abilities, this would bristle against the learned long before the acquired suits you to the environment. My first encounter came with an enthusiastic fashion aficionado who, in my view, probably knows what goes with what for what time of the day but forgot to recognise we were not being groomed for either the catwalk or the red carpet.

As I asked to sit with them, my acknowledgement of compliments on my apparel seemed to open the door to a level of intrusion that should have been invited rather than imposed. However, she took it upon herself to instruct me on what colours and styles should match what I was wearing. I could have brusquely rebuffed her and asked her to mind her own business, but I made the allowances in observation of an intriguing display of the use of discretion.

Absent filters of sharing

As the day progressed, there was something about just giving out too much information, where even as you begin to cultivate familiarity in a grouping, you let down your guard too easily to reveal what probably should be kept to yourself in some eagerness to share something that might yet not be known about you.

Even though I can be quite expressive, I still filter the products I share and consider what a no-need-to-know in consideration of how what one dares to share might affect others. Discretion is an art in and of itself.

Once some secrets of others were shared, there were a few instances where I could have interjected with ‘Me Too’, but I was not so inclined. I learned much and revealed little else, but in the observation of character, you appreciate who to keep in your confidences.

Of prejudice in scowls

Then came the apologies, this was in the aftermath of both discrimination and prejudice that some would have observed as redolent of a stereotype belonging to a certain demographic that, for a matter of discretion again one would think but never voice.

The need not to voice everything that comes to mind, even when there is irresistible prompting, is a discipline in awareness and sometimes necessary not to upset others.

That I found myself in the middle of the exchange whilst offering an example to buttress a point was incidental, but I was only ready to reveal so much about myself without laying myself out to avoidable vulnerability and exposure in sharing information that was not germane to the discussion. It was rattling and eventually resolved; uncomfortable would not fully describe what happened.

Platform pearls before swine

Back at home, I happened upon a tweet that included a clip of a BBC interview with an unctuous ingenue, a Nigerian male YouTuber who, with little urging, seemed to spill the beans on the immigration inclinations of his fellow countryfolk, just at a time the UK government has been looking for a means to reduce net immigration and dependants joining students during their sojourn in the UK.

He, apparently a dependant himself, in his excitement, ingratiated himself with a forwardness lacking self-reflection that could implicate him in immigration fraud when he inferred that he had helped some falsify documentation, apart from painting Nigeria and Nigerians in a very bad light. His quest for notoriety and clout presented more than an opportunity for indiscretion and lascivious boast of questionable ability or prowess. If ever the pearls of a large platform were cast before swine.

We remain, good ambassadors

He no doubt irked many a Nigerian at home and abroad, but I, being a 25-year resident of the UK and another 12 in the Netherlands, and we Nigerians, by birth, heritage, or allyship, are unwittingly ambassadors in the communities wherein we are, and no upstart, regardless of the platform they gain, can rubbish the good and useful contributions we make in our communities.

Honest Nigerians need not fear a backlash in their quest to emigrate; this would blow over, as we have always faced hurdles from as far back as memory would allow and have still made the moves and progress we have desired. Our YouTuber, who would not be granted even basic recognition, would fade into obscurity at just the same speed at which he came to our notice. An irrelevance in the scheme of things.

In the sidebar, I joined a Twitter space to assure Nigerians of continuing our good work, and for all I had to say, one was too distracted to listen, for he had read my profile and all he could glean from it was to ask why I am gay. I could have been exasperated, but when you realise that some can never learn to mind their own business, you make a cursory note and ignore it.

Coronavirus streets in Manchester - LXIX

One could not tell

He, I might have said as I wondered why he was walking in the middle of the lane of a busy road, then as it became clear, she was wearing heels you would expect to see on those modelling womenswear, but her top was hardly masculine, probably feminine and never really coming to terms of whether it should be classed as androgynous left me more confused that you might be left with the pronoun they.

Yes, they were drawing attention to themselves in clothes that could not be ignored once seen and a head shorn of hair quite redolent of male pattern baldness, that drivers in cars contributed to a needless cacophony of car horns get more people to look in the direction of the commotion.

When I thought I would see them for much longer, they disappeared into a whiskey bar and the chatter at the al fresco tables would have been given to a surmise or two before we all returned to what we were doing.

It is there to see

Whatever we were doing before a new distraction came along, body adornment in the form of tattoos that usually were discreet, but now they are all over the body down on the fingers with all the skin surfaces covered including on the face, and this is now on the ladies. I catch myself before I begin to question why, I guess they love and they do it, the appreciation of beauty by strangers is beside the point.

People do not moderate themselves into conformity if they can help it, and much as a lot is being accepted at face value and supported by laws to give protections against discrimination, being an outlier can still expose you to unwelcome ostracism. It would seem our prejudices are constantly challenged by changing norms and expressions we cannot avoid.

Our streets of education

We observe and document those observations in memory that what was at first chimeral, with more encounters of such rarities, we are eased to accepting these things are becoming commonplace.

Usually, we would not indulge and be inclined to have these situations are self-expression even as an example might provide guidance, we school ourselves into the knowledge that in all that diversity of expression with its extremes that we have difficulty understanding, there is a belonging we all have to share in learning of each other and becoming better people.

As it seems one pandemic is winding down, though not going away yet, we are presented with monkeypox and a threat that it is spreading fast that those of us in a cohort once stigmatised for infectious diseases are once again appearing more susceptible to it. A public announcement to drop-in by invitation totally failed the plain English test. We just have to be careful. [MEN: Monkeypox fears build as number of cases in Greater Manchester rise]

Mascara on my lips

A bag of brushes

A brush with a cultural setting in celebration of a golden jubilee became the clean sweep of observed notions defined from one’s perspective in need of a broader discussion we rarely get to have much as it is necessary for defining identities cosmetic as they might seem on the surface.

The party gifts got inadvertently split and now there is a mirror before which to make up a story, for I cannot dare an anthropological or sociological study as one is not so qualified.

Cosmetic brushes

(1) Powder brush

Prominent as it is in the cosmetic bag that it could not be ignored for its usefulness, the converse could not be discounted to the purpose of useful advice when it was obvious that circumstance, situation, or necessity agglomerated a coterie of generously plus size ladies outnumbering the others.

The long-term consequences are dire if remedial action is not taken to shed the impactful interactions for gravity. And whilst this presents a cultural attractiveness or what some find as a form of beauty, for reasons one may not fully understand, the avoidable is best prevented than to face afflictions and infirmity resulting from such appearances. Fine adjustments for entrenched attitudes can do a lot.

(2) Blending brush

In the collision of colours, the contrasts need to be invisible to the eye and this is where the blending brush diminishes the checkerboard illusion of disharmony and apparent absence of deftness. As we so easily congregate for similarity and affinity, our communities begin to isolate from predominate host nations, people, customs, and culture.

It baffles that one can meet with people abroad having resided herein for decades who rarely have local friends or acquaintances at their functions except in work and formal settings. Speaking for oneself, it is likely that exposure to broad diversity from childhood has made the idea of separateness alien and probably anathema. To blend is to deign to escape our comfort zones to explore different things and discover new things. Whether it is a thing of courage or daring, one cannot tell.

(3) Lip gloss applicator brush

The deep knowledge of Brian is understanding the use of this brush is only too welcome. It can be messy and so this brush brings a sense of refinement, though not a brush, but more like a mitre-shaped sponge.

Tasty the cake was, compacted without a spongy feel that one opined about Nigerians baking cakes and one could appreciate the beauty of the structures whilst being left without the enthusiasm to invite the baker for one’s function. The icing on the cake was neither of icing sugar nor marzipan. It was a macadamised thick layer of milk chocolate. A first for me and a tradition for them, I suppose.

(4) Pencil brush

This would suggest an artistic touch to the broader application of make-up depending on where the makeup is being applied. Around the eyes, on the eyelids, delicate helps finesse apart from knowing what brush pertains to which function.

Alfresco style as stated on the invitation would have suggested consideration for the weather for which canopies were provided as we were outside, a garden party for us and a bouncy castle for the kids. Yet, the unfortunate faux pas of the shoes worn made mishap after mishap seek comedy timing for which we desperately exercised restraint.

Stiletto heels, no matter how good your shoes are just not it for a garden party, those are meant for firm floors or red carpets, but some came to till and plough the ground for a late planting season. Wedges, platforms or flats, nothing pointed, but that requires a better sense of awareness. In this case, the shoes should match the venue long before they match the event or the dress. You have to see what I saw.

(5) Lash and eyebrow brush

This the battle-axe of eye adornment and presentation and I doubt I saw more than was naturally grown. Surprisingly, no one lashed it one to bring too much to the flicker or the focus of the eye.

To one, apart from the company of who attended with and brief chatter with the celebrant, I could well have been invisible, and cliques and claques conversed loudly in imponderables expressing expertise in areas where they obviously had none.

The absence of engagement helped one observe, review, and appreciate why we owe more to helping our offspring find a better footing of self-assurance, self-esteem, and integration is societies that would look more different from the ones we grew up in.

The basics of imbuing them with confidence would not come alone from achievement but by engagement with a broader stratum of society whilst at the same time attempting to venture beyond the cocoons and bubbles that gave us belonging and comfort for so long. 

A WEIRD prism is just one perspective

Influences of significance

When my dad said over a decade ago, “You have always thought like a Westerner.” I feigned ignorance of what he implied, but it got me thinking about things that baffle me daily. How it is that my worldview on many issues and situations are so radically different from many with whom I am supposed to share a heritage.

Then again, I realise that I have also fallen into a trap and a misconception about culture and values needing to converge to a Judeo-Christian Western construct with the view that those who appear to deviate from such might not represent the best of our humanity.

How marriage changed us

Indeed, many of our international laws of trade, of industry, of life, or of diplomacy follow a broadly western model that has become a synonym for modern and civilised, we miss out on understanding other constructs, cultures, civilisations, and customs that makes other members of our diverse humanity uniquely different, interesting, and rich.

This was brought into stark relief when I listened to a podcast The West and the Rest by Matthew Syed on BBC Radio 4 on his Sideways series, which started with the observation of different psychological responses to what was studied and expected in the West to how intriguingly the advent of Christianity changed marital norms like forbidding marriage to cousins, opening clans to strangers and birthed the kind of innovation and mindset that typifies the West today. [BBC Radio 4 Sideways Podcast: 3. The West and the Rest]

Weird as we come

It begs the question about who the weird ones are, we in the west or the non-western cultures. Whilst there is no way I will pass for a WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant), I am most definitely one of the WEIRD (Western Educated Industrialised Rich and Democratic), a psychological term that was defined in the 2000 book, The WEIRDest People in the World: How the West Became Psychologically Peculiar and Particularly Prosperous by Joseph Henrich.

Having an audible copy of this book, it would probably give me an appreciation of why I think differently and why I should make ample accommodation for how other cultures will not converge to my worldview. This would mean we need to negotiate and agree on certain principles, attitudes, and rules for the good of humanity even if implementations will differ.

I come away with the insight that cultural divides will only be bridged with an openness of the mind and the putting away of the western hubris that has led us on spectacularly failed escapades of sowing seeds of our kind of civilisation around the world.

Read or listen

The WEIRDest People in the World: How the West Became Psychologically Peculiar and Particularly Prosperous [Amazon]

 

Come as you are leaving nothing out

Dealing with difference

Whilst I might have been a bit reticent elsewhere, I have been more open at work about who I am, what I am about, what interests me and who is in my life. When it was not even fashionable and the workplace was still trying to implement equal opportunity legislation, my colleagues and bosses found themselves in close proximity to what might be unfamiliar to them.

From the 1990s, they first had a liking for me and then began a process of discovery. I was interested in them beyond the workplace and they reciprocated with a sense of humanity. In those times, I was in relationships and when one broke down, my boss read me like a book, he opined, the only reason I could look and feel the way I did was because of a relationship that had fallen through. So, I confided in him.

Enforcing harmonious environments

In another role, it was my colleagues in a whispering campaign about it, my boss was having none of it. He ordered them to come to my desk to apologise. Much as I tried not to let it affect me, I was grateful for the support I had. Many simply said, they had no issues with who I was, they were happy to have that diversity in their teams and worked to ensure I did not feel uncomfortable or threatened.

With time, I decided there was no point prevaricating, to a direct question I gave a truthful answer. I corrected assumptions before they took root. The subtlety of pronouns and ensuring the right one was used and known to be so. Never she, it is he, it is him, his company and companionship define my life outside work.

Living my own truth

I note that I have thrived in whatever I do when I have been open about these matters. In planning for my holiday this year after almost 11 months apart. I first proposed a holiday from the middle of December to include the whole of January. A negotiation began, stripped down and bargained about until we agreed on 5 weeks including the Christmas break.

I wanted to be with my partner, he and I are planning to get married and that is our normal, we are looking forward to it and planning for it, though the details will be sorted out when we meet in Cape Town. Everyone in my team and my bosses are aware, they know him by name and ask after him by name. To have a very productive Akin includes recognising Brian is his better half. I am grateful for the understanding, the acceptance, and the goodwill I have had through my work life with regards to my relationships.

One boss even told me to take as much time as I wanted off to deal with a breakup in 1999 after a 7-year relationship. I guess we appreciate that beneath it all we are all human, with hearts, souls, and minds. Our partners being integral to our sense of purpose and wellbeing. It matters a lot more than we deign to recognise and make all the allowances for.

Thought Picnic: Be a fool, quietly

Abuse is free like air

Now, I have been at the receiving end of all kinds of abuse that it is a waste of mental energy to begin to find categories or classifications for those different types of abuse. What has mattered is how I dealt with abuse, the ones I could to run from, the ones that caused harm, the ones for which I was equipped to withstand, or the ones for which maintaining my counsel was the higher moral ground. Abuse, in the end, will not define me.

However, on reading a story and commenting on it on Twitter, I thought giving my views a bit of flesh on a blog can be useful. Some might say, having seen some of my blogs that I have opinions and many of them. I probably have many more than I have dared express and I hope that is the beginning of wisdom.

Be at home with your thinking

A football player based in Canada decided to go on a homophobic rant on Twitter, reinforcing his views with more deeply held opinions, and don’t we all have the urge to say just what is on our minds without let or hindrance? It is a free world. [Queerty: Football player goes on antigay rant, says he doesn’t care about getting fired, gets fired]

I would have felt that his being on a football team meant that he understood the rules of football and he was a good player. Also, as a Canadian resident, and I do not care to check if he is native or immigrant, this is a matter of knowing where you live. He could not have been unaware of the societal needs to accommodate diversity, no matter how diverse from his worldview.

Know when you’re mouthing away

I was a bit surprised that as a football player, he appeared not to know the difference between playing home and playing away. I would even aver that, in Canada, when expressing homophobia, you're quite dangerously playing away and not at home where your supporters would cheer you on to score a goal.

Basically, as I continued my Twitter thread, I stated, there are certain antics you never get up to when playing away, the consequences of which might be dire and grave for your team and the little troop of supporters that showed up for the away game. Therein is my lesson in football etiquette.

The unerring winds of social backlash

We live in times of the instant consequence for the slightest infractions, not to talk of the gravest sins of commission that would land in the docket of the unforgivable. By all means, you are free to have any opinion, it takes another force of providence, insight, intuition, or just reticence to realise you just need the discipline not to express every opinion you have.

I concluded, speaking more to myself than to others, in terms of expressing views that are discriminatory, exclusionary, or hateful, know the law of the land, the sway of moral outrage, and anticipate the unerring winds of social backlash that can dispossess you of your livelihood and make you a pariah. Be a fool quietly. Be not intrigued, I write first to adjure myself, whether it relates to others can only be an unfortunate coincidence.

Thought Picnic: Amy Cooper and Christian Cooper - A better conversation

In a more decent world

It is very possible that Amy Cooper and Christian Cooper when they met in the Ramble at Central Park could have had a different conversation.

Seeding it with the initial exchanges between them, I do wonder how this whole sordid affair could have ended differently. I have no skill in creating dialogue, but I hope my crude attempt gives some perspective of a kinder and more respectful world.

The original conversation. [From Christian Cooper’s Facebook Page]

How to have a polite and friendly conversation with strangers

Christian: Ma’am, dogs in the Ramble have to be on the leash at all times, The sign is right there.

Amy: The dog runs are closed. He needs his exercise.

Christian: All you have to do is take him to the other side of the drive, outside the Ramble, and you can let him run off leash all you want.

Amy: It’s too dangerous, [How the conversation changes from here.] but I appreciate what you’re saying. I’ll put the leash on. I’m sorry.

Christian: No problem Ma’am, it’s just that dogs run through the Ramble chasing the birds off.

Amy: I’m really sorry. I see you have a fine pair of binoculars there, are you are a birdie [UK: birdwatcher]?

Christian: Yes, I am, Ma’am. The Ramble does have some surprises in the quiet of the day, I am hoping to see an unusual bird.

Amy: I have always been fascinated with birds, I did not realise the Ramble was a sanctuary for birdlife. I’ll be sure not to let my dog run around here again.

Christian: Not to worry, Ma’am.

Amy: Please call me Amy.

Christian: I’m Christian, nice to make your acquaintance.

Amy: My pleasure, it's lovely to meet strangers with fascinating interests like birdwatching.

Christian: It is a good break away from my work at Marvel Comics.

Amy: Wow! What do you do there?

Christian: I am an editor.

Amy: That’s nice. A friend of mine who loves Marvel Comics told me of a recent change in characters and depictions. Like it has taken on the zeitgeist with queer characters.

Christian: Yeah! We thought our storylines should be more representative of our broader community.

Amy: I can understand, diversity and inclusion is something I have tried much to spearhead in our company. I have felt there is an amazing pool of talent we have not yet begun to tap effectively to make a difference in our company and to our clientele.

Christian: Interesting, what do you work as?

Amy: I am a VP at Franklin Templeton.

Christian: I have heard of the firm. Look, let me not keep you, your dog is straining for a run.

Amy: That’s alright. Here’s my card, it was really nice chatting to you.

Christian: [Looking at the business card.] Cooper? What a coincidence, I am Christian Copper.

Amy: How uncanny. I’m sure our paths would cross again. Have a good evening.

Christian: Thank you, have a good one too. [They smile at each other and go their different ways.]

Christian returns home to write about the chance encounter with an amiable and pleasant lady in the Ramble. Sadly, they both found out they shared the Cooper surname as a consequence of the malignant cancer of racism. Knowing what we do now of Amy and Christian, they were capable of considerably intelligent conversation. It never happened.

Background blogs

Blog - Thought Picnic: Black Lives Should Matter Always

Blog - Thought Picnic: Can we pass the test of character and virtue at a chance encounter?

Thought Picnic: Levitating on the confusion some have about me

This is who I am

On the public pages of my Facebook profile, I wrestle with the urge for an outburst whilst exercising considerable restraint. To be honest, I don’t do much on Facebook, the greater traffic of material comes from Instagram.

I take pictures and write long captions to them and post on Instagram, with the option for the same posting to go to Twitter and Facebook. Before Facebook severed the automatic posting facility from Twitter, the bulk of traffic to Facebook came from Twitter.

Other activities on Facebook involves posting reactions to comments, I find I can get involved in several discussions, debates or disputes, it is all good for engagement.

I am not taking that

However, the issues on Facebook are some questions that get posted to inputs from Instagram. I was kissing my boyfriend and someone I hadn’t had any interactive contact with for over 3 decades came round with the question – What am I seeing? I didn’t bother answering the person, I deleted the question and eventually removed him as a friend.

Nothing is as annoying as people who have lived abroad for decades but have not escaped the myopic frame of reference that limited their vision of a diverse humanity since they were in Nigeria. It is no secret lest there be the surfeit of assumption, my normality is different and probably does not fit in the concept of the normality of others. I am different, not abnormal. Difference is a function of diversity, not one of abnormality.

I owe no explanation

There are realities about myself that I know, and I do not need to explain to others, just as I do not intrude in the affairs of the busybodies who cannot hold their counsel. All the conclusions you probably want to draw have been drawn, I am not conventionally married, I have no children in or out of wedlock and fundamentally, I have never been attracted to the opposite sex.

It is something not understood in some societies, yet it is fully understood in others from a scientific, medical, logical, psychological and physiological perspective that we not only have the abrogation of Victorian-era laws but the promulgation and enforcement of laws and rights for protection and acceptance of the somewhat minorities who need not fear to be themselves and in that thrive as worthy and celebrated members of their communities, little and large.

My life is not a lifestyle

Then let’s disabuse ourselves of that misconception, lifestyles are about choices you can make when there are options available to you. Sometimes, a lifestyle is an adoption of a persona, a façade, a veneer behind which you hide, hoping no one would find out who you are. A lifestyle is usually looking for a sort of conformity, a pretension to normality you do not have, and you are constantly looking for a mask when you’re not looking in the mirror.

Living your own life is a long way from living a lifestyle, it is the point where you have become true to yourself regardless of what others think. It is where your individuality is expressed, and uniqueness is what you choose to be. It is where your heart beats, your soul rests, your mind sings, and your happiness begins to glow. Life is where you are becoming the best of who you are not caring about pleasing anyone, but if anyone is pleased, it is a bonus.

Life is where you have accepted who you are and know you do not need a cure for who you are. It is also where you can travel with those who accept you and jettison those reject you. It is where you soar like an eagle and find the champion in life that you are. I would marry who I choose to love and marry, and we would together decide what we want to make of our own family. Those choices would not be made for me by anyone else other than with whom I have chosen to live my life.

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Orlando!

He hated himself that much

My thoughts are many, many for the innocent who in the midst of the celebration of life were snuffed out by someone who might well have wanted to have the freedoms he saw, but through possible self-loathing and self-hatred decided what he could not have should be destroyed in others.

Much as he pledged allegiance to a hateful pox of a group that is antithetical to our common humanity to give some validation to his cause, it is very likely that it was a cloak for some inner turmoil that he never found the will or the courage to deal with.

He ended the lives of 49 people, harmed many more and blighted a community, a nation, and humanity, but in his hatred, he also expired in a hale of the atrocity he meted out on others.

He will not be remembered as the souls of the departed will be remembered, he will not be celebrated as the memories of families, friends, lovers, acquaintances or the good of our humanity and kindness will be celebrated.

He is of the ignoble, the unexplained evil, the heinous and the demonic, leaving us with a deep repugnant feeling that we will not visit for any longer than is necessary, for the remembrance of a terrorist is of the accursed and the worthless, the unloved and the unlovable, that if there were a hell, its jaws would open to its widest girth to receive him into the bowels of suffering unprintable.

Our common humanity loves

At this loss, we gather, we hold hands, we embrace, we mourn, we reflect, and we determine that no person in the expression of their lost cause, the hatred for happiness and the good things of life will take away our laughter, and if we shed tears it would be for those we love and we care for.

Much as life goes on, it will with a unity of purpose that those with whom we shared the joy of living will not have died in vain. Was it the sight of men kissing that disgusted him so much to kill? Then let us kiss the more that it becomes as commonplace as it should be – the expression of love, latching onto hope, living our dreams and holding hands fearless and bold to face the storms of life. Are you reviled by this? Deal with it.

Everyone needs love, who they choose to love is immaterial as long as they are adults and it is with consent. It brings to mind the many other places that use religion, traditions, culture and laws to persecute and prosecute difference, minorities, the poor, the powerless, the infirm or any other distinguishing thing that can be used to accentuate division when there is a greater call on our human spirit to celebrate our unity in diversity.

We have the greatest love within us

The fight must continue to serve the cause of our humanity and elevate that to one where our common cause should be the respect for each other with the freedom to be ourselves and to love ourselves in the expression of the greatest love of all.

Where some talked, the ones that mattered were the people invested themselves, the first responders, the first aiders, the hospital staff, the many who queued up to give blood not concerned about who it is going to, the people who gathered to remember and the many more who contributed to causes to help the victims and communities that suffered loss. That is our shared humanity and long may we continue to see that goodness amongst us.

We are all Orlando!

Manchester Pride: Love is not a crime

Pride against prejudice

From the 1990s, I have attended quite a few gay prides, people of difference and diversity united in common purpose of living and letting live.

This celebration of our humanity and acceptance has always attracted me because it speaks to the kind of thinking I have, that all can live in peace together if we accept and respect each other.

In London, Amsterdam, Berlin, Paris, Playa del Ingles, Vienna, Zurich, Antwerp, Brussels, Cologne, Hamburg and many other places I cannot remember, I have watched streets fill up with crowds young and old, of all races, of all sexualities and of all beliefs to watch the spectacle, cheer on and have a lovely day.

All out for fun

Never have I seen or witnessed a counter protest, but an engagement of fun that almost forgets the seriousness of what is being celebrated.

The stranglehold of religion and Victorian values on our society with regards to what we consider moral or immoral has been lifted in most cases, many battles for equality won, but the war still rages in many lands where difference and diversity on the grounds of sexuality is criminalised.

Today, the Manchester Pride march/parade passed right in front of my house, at first, I watch from a window, then stepped out unto the front porch of my building to watch and take pictures.

We are many and one

The participants marching past as I stepped out was first the Suffolk Police and then the Greater Manchester Police, in full uniform and with a marching band, they were as involved as anyone else and at the same time I thought about the countries where the police is the enemy, the instrument of the state to persecute and prosecute difference on the basis of sexuality.

Organisations, institutions, political parties, unions, companies, sports teams, hospitals, civil service groups, activities groups and many others marches past as certain even held up placards not forgetting where persecution persists, especially in Nigeria.

Pride in my country

For the very first time of attending a Pride march, I suddenly felt emotional and even shed a tear, to think of the country I live in, the freedom of expression, the celebration of diversity and the fighting for rights of others, it dawned on me the great privilege we have along with the need to keep speaking up for those who have no voice.

More pertinently, the best message to my reading was on a placard, it read, “Love is not a crime”, who we choose to love, the partner being adult and with the choice and opportunity should never ever be the business of anyone else apart from those involved in that relationship.

The ultimate pursuit of happiness is in finding love and celebrating it, and that is what I think the gay Prides are all about. Indeed, I would want more representation of ethnic communities and minorities, my surprise and happiness at seeing ladies wearing hijabs on the march, shows we are getting there.

The Manchester Pride would run for 4 days and we are just on the second day.