The Land of Drew

Urban living has its merits, yet I feel a lost sense of community in a concrete jungle where any form of social interaction is met initially with a sense of trepidation and fear - particularly if you have a Y chromosome.  I can't even begin to imagine how it must feel to be a black man.  

I have a tendency to walk quite fast, given my height and having a long stride.  Generally after dark, if I happen to notice a woman walking alone in front of me and I'm approaching from behind, I tend to cross the street or give her a wide berth when passing.  I hate doing that in many ways but I notice the change in body language and how women grip their purse just a little tighter.  I hate almost not stopping to help someone with directions because I thought they were going to ask for money.  I hate being suspicious of people's intentions. I hate not being able to smile at stranger's child for fear of the glares I may receive.  I hate thinking the exact same thing if a male stranger approaches my niece or nephews. I hate pedophiles.

I hate the loss of innocence. Hate it.

You miss so many positive opportunities living in a constant state of fear.

colouring book from the NY Roman Catholic Archdiocese:

He found her.

Once upon a time, a young, foolish and naive boy would religiously read the "missed connections" section of his local weekly alternative newspaper, secretly hoping he would find himself within its recycled pages.  

Now he is old, bitter, cynical and jaded but deep down within the confines of  his icy cold, walled off heart, he still hopes this guy ends up finding the girl and they live happily ever after.  

The end.

From ny girl of my...

Oprah has told me that I should create a gratitude journal so that I may appreciate all the wonders that life brings, focusing me on the positive rather than all my unfulfilled hopes and dreams that crush the spirit of my daily existence.

Today, I am grateful for being born with a Y chromosome.

All business conventions can be like giant freak shows for the uninitiated outsider. I certainly could share a few stories but this one reminds me of what a fucked up relationship we have with food and the huge disconnect there is between where it comes from, how it gets there and what you throw down your gullet.

Whine all you want about dirty Mexicans hopping your borders to pick your lettuce, the evil Chinese empire poisoning your children and throw a few carbon offsets on your credit card to assuage your guilt, but ultimately the always low prices comes at a cost you'd rather not really think about. Historically, we've reaped all the benefits of unrestrained economic growth, yet choose to assail those taking a similar path with our own version enlightenment from the luxury of our lazyboy chairs, bearing little personal responsibility for our role in the whole mess. Puhleeze.

The Miss Teen contestant from South Carolina should have won that tiara!  Never before have I heard such a concise and eloquent answer from a woman with such beauty and brains.

Recent polls have shown a fifth of Americans can't locate the US on a world map.  Why do you think this is?

My only fault with her answer is the fact that she made no mention of world peace.

Dad has taught me many life lessons, both in endless fatherly lectures and via passive observation of the way he's chosen to live his life. Among these tidbits that have been forever seared into my neuronal fabric are mantras such as rolling stones never gather any moss, respect your mother, you've got to have faith in something, and always back into a parking space. We lived the typical immigrant experience where your parents worked their asses off in shitty jobs in order to make a better life for their offspring. Dad was never a drink a beer in the lazyboy kinda guy while Mom slaved away in the kitchen after working all day herself. He helped equally with cleaning and cooking, even though it was rarely up to my mother's high standards.

My father always instilled in me the concept of respect, both for yourself and towards others. One fundamental principle both my older brother and I were taught at a very young age was that under no circumstances do you ever hit a woman. Period. He demanded his sons respect all women because this world would be surely fucked without them. The reality is, my Dad taught me how to be a man, even if I may not have turned out exactly as he envisioned.

It was one of those increasingly common, sweaty and humid days in the city and I had just finished lunch with a colleague when we hopped back into his car. As I put on my seatbelt and glanced at my phone wondering when the day would be over, I casually looked up to see an attractive woman standing a few feet in front of the car.

She was a slim Asian woman probably in her thirties, dressed in a summery blouse and black, pencil skirt. Something was definitely not right though as she looked slightly disheveled, visibly shaken and on the verge of crying. Before my colleague could even answer my question, a man comes running towards her, shoves her behind a pole and slaps her. He was a thug-like little punk driving a new, silver Lexus parked right beside me. Instinctively, I opened the door on the passenger side where I was sitting, partially stepped out of the car and yelled, Hey asshole, what the fuck is your problem? Not realizing anyone was around, he immediately stopped, but neither answered me as he walked her a few steps to the passenger side of the car and came towards me to get into his vehicle.

Silence. It was almost surreal at how loud I was.

I looked over at the woman and asked her if she was okay. Three times. She never responded and only looked towards her feet as she voluntarily got back into his car, nakedly stripped of what little dignity she had remaining with her secrets so publicly exposed. The only reaction I got from her was solely from her body language which oozed a sense of profound shame and humiliation. As the trucker capped punk strutted towards me all yo yo yo, my Dad's voice echoed in my head as I stepped out of the car - It's better to be a live coward than a dead hero.

It was a really dumb, testosterone fueled, macho move on my part, but given that after I stepped out of the car I had about 6 inches on him in both height and likely other physical attributes - I really didn't think much of it. In fact, I was entirely expecting, and wanting, a physical confrontation. Opening up his door between us, the asshole surprisingly muttered, There's no problem. There's no problem. Slamming his car door, he drove off with my hand still on his windshield and me literally foaming at the mouth as I called the police.

All of this happened over a very short period of time and my co-worker was completely and utterly shocked at my reaction to the entire situation. Generally I'm pretty easy going and I rarely get outwardly angry but when I do, it is not a pleasant scene. I've been told that I can be perceived as totally intimidating on the rare occasions when I'm pissed. I will most certainly stand up for myself in situations where warranted, but I am generally good at diffusing tense situations using words rather than my fists. Short of a sixty second fist fight in grade six, I've never been physically violent with anyone. I'd rather walk away from a situation and resolve it at a later time when cooler heads prevail since I know myself well enough that my tongue can often be more damaging than any physical weapon of my choosing. In this situation though, I scared myself at the completely out of control, white hot rage I felt.

I'm not sure why I got so angry in this situation, enough to risk a violent confrontation when I had at least temporarily halted any physical harm through my verbal intervention. Was it a sense of old fashioned, but slightly sexist sense of chivalry in defending a poor helpless woman? Would I have reacted in a similar fashion had it been two men? I don't know. I called 911 and gave a complete and thorough description to the bored operator who seemed to have heard similar stories a million times before. It pissed me off even more that she almost seemed disappointed after I clarified that I was not reporting a kidnapping and it was just another case of a woman getting slapped around by her man.

Never have I been personally exposed to situations of domestic violence. I don't think our parents ever even really spanked us. I still wonder whether his very public emasculation was eventually taken out on this anonymous woman once they were behind closed doors. I wonder if the five-oh ever even paid him a visit. In reality, it's not even a matter of gender disparity that angers me in such situations, but rather those instances where scumbags take advantage of those with less power or those in vulnerable positions. I guess I really shouldn't say I've never been directly affected by domestic violence because I've witnessed the long term damaging effects in some of my personal relationships and even amongst some of my blogging friends. Violence begets violence and its corrosive effects are much longer lasting and pervasive - long after any bruise has healed and the screaming has stopped.

Although this occurred weeks ago, what will be forever seared into my mind was not the act of violence that I bore witness to, but the sheer look of absolute shame, humiliation and utter dejection on that woman's face. I wish I could have had a minute alone with her to try to convince her that she was not alone and did not deserve this. Absolutely no one does. We all deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. There is help out there if you need it. I only wish I could have done more and I hope you're okay.

I'm absolutely fascinated by religion. While I would neither classify myself as devoutly religious nor a worshipper of Darwin's rottweiler, the pervasiveness of one's personal beliefs into society as a whole with respect to politics and power dynamics is an intriguing one and often a topic that is polarizing and controversial. There are growing movements and power plays that I've noticed over the past few years that I find confusing and just don't make any sense to me from an ideological viewpoint. I'm hoping I'll be enlightened on some of these very issues when the highly acclaimed journalist, Christiane Amanpour does an in-depth report on the world's three main monotheistic religions starting tonight at 9pm est.

Regardless of what you believe, and what your mama defined as polite dinner conversation, religion ain't going away and we better start talking about it soon. In my fucked up world, we'd all be holding hands singing kumbaya while aspiring to live by the golden rule.

I feel dirty and violated. Can't ya just use video conferencing or something? Vous n'êtes pas bienvenu ici.