We are pleased to announce that The Drawing Board blog has officially surpassed 10,000 readers for the year 2016. As it is only August, we anticipate further growth right until the end of the year as we build our international writing audience.

Thank you for being part of our writing, social justice, feminist and activist communities. Without readers like you, these would just be unread words in cyber space. Instead, your feedback and support have nourished our skills and the home where they are honed.

We hope to find you reading and sharing your thoughts more and more as the year goes on.

In solidarity,

Nakita Valerio

Owner, Editor in Chief

The Drawing Board

In personal solidarity with Alberta’s First Nations and Indigenous communities, The Drawing Board owner, Nakita Valerio, is raising money raising money in support of the Young Indigenous Women’s Circle of Leadership youth camp by getting sponsorship for a 5km run on October 8th, 2016.

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The money will be donated to the YIWCL to be used for basic operational costs of their 8-day intensive, Cree-immersion cultural camp. Recently, this camp lost funding and faces an uncertain future.

This initiative means a lot to me because I have learned that one of the first points of cultural erosion and social disorder is the erasure of a community’s history and culture. In my experience in women’s advocacy, I have also learned that incredible social change comes through the empowerment of women and the creation of safe spaces in which they can learn and grow.

I am doing my very small part to get fundraising kick-started for this very worthwhile cause and would appreciate your support of both my social justice and exercise efforts in the meantime.

Donors will receive social media shout-outs and other perks along the way.

Help spread the word!
IMAGE CREDIT: Artist Aaron Paquette – please visit his blog HERE and support local artists.

 

 

I have some people that I keep at bay on Facebook and other social media outlets. Most people who know me, know that I don’t take lightly to removing people from social media pages because I see it as a loss for potential education on critical issues. I have seen incredible growth and understanding about social justice issues in general and Islam in particular from people I know, and I am regularly thanked for offering this information freely and unceasingly. However, during the last Canadian federal election in 2015, there was such hateful rhetoric being spewed out of the timelines of people I have known my entire life that I had to take what I consider to be drastic action and put them under a privacy setting so that they don’t appear in my newsfeed. I’m torn about this because the flipside is that I no longer appear in theirs; however, I’m not too sad about it because they have continued to engage with certain posts of mine which means that they are, indeed, going out of their way to check up on me without me having to be subjected to the vile poison they put into the world daily.

These people are my dirty little secret because I know exactly how they think and how they will act. I know this because I study the Holocaust for a living. I know exactly what kind of illogical thought processes go through the minds of those who hate, even if they are totally unconscious of their hatred. I have a strange ritual I go through whenever a terrorist attack happens or a shooting or some other equally hideous event: after properly mourning, I go look at the pages of these people to see if my assumptions about their thought processes are correct, to see if they will continue to err on the side of reckless, prejudiced thinking and behaviour. And I’m always right. They have no idea how predictable they are and how much they lack a genuine original thought. Harsh, yeah, but I hardly think pandering to xenophobes and how they feel about anything makes much sense.

It doesn’t matter what has happened in the world, whether an attack against Muslims in a Muslim country somewhere, whether a coup in an increasingly authoritarian country (which they may be hard-pressed to actually find on a map) or whether it is another black person of countless black people gunned down in the streets of America…whatever it is, you will find them blaming all Muslims, saying that not all religions are the same, that some are worse than others, saying that all lives matter, saying that blue lives matter, saying that any life matters unless they are black and brown and Muslim lives. They even go so far as to regurgitate blatantly misogynistic bullshit while often being women themselves, not realizing the violence they are doing to themselves or not realizing the privilege they have if such misogyny doesn’t touch them. They remain silent when the victims are from the LGBTQ community or pretend that, because the shooter in Orlando had Muslim lineage, Christians would never do this to gay people because Christianity is “different”. For the love of God, open a history book. Just once.

Regardless of how they frame it: what I continually see is a lack of knowledge and empathy. Half the time, these things aren’t even spelled correctly which only adds to me feeling disheartened. These are the same people calling educated people like me “Libtards” (which is a profoundly offensive term, especially to those who care for and love individuals living with disabilities). These are the same people claiming that I’m not more educated than them because I spend thousands of hours of my life studying in University (sorry, but that’s exactly what it means – I have no more value than you intrinsically, but I’m still more educated than you). These are the same people who pride themselves on calling other people out, not for the sake of justice, but to win an argument, to be “right” even though any half-educated person knows these days that the idea of “right” is nebulous and socially constructed. There is no greater arrogance than this because it causes the harm of others for the sake of satiating an insatiable ego.

So, they never stop.

In the current political climate, all red lines have been obliterated.

Just the other day, I had to remove Holocaust deniers from my pages. Shortly thereafter, I nearly spit my coffee all over my phone when I saw one of these individuals claiming that black people and the Black Lives Matter movement “has become a group of brats who say everything and anything is racist if it involves someone of colour.”

Excuse me for a moment………………. are you f*cking kidding me?

These types of people support Donald Trump. Like, actually support him. Like think he would be a good president kind of support.* In a world full of critics and just regular goddamn people who can’t even believe he has made it this far (because: what an insane, horrible, nightmare-ish joke that just won’t end, am I right?)… there are people out there WHO I KNOW who watched the Republican National Convention and shouted “All Lives Matter” along with these lunatic fascists. Lifelong Republicans who believe in the party of Lincoln no longer recognize this mutated far-right, gun-toting, skin-bleaching zombie that is the GOP. They are committing party suicide left and right, trying to distance themselves from the hateful rhetoric that shitheads like David Goddamn Duke delightfully retweet.

(*Note: my loathing of Donald Trump is in NO WAY indicative of any support for Hillary Clinton.)

Yes, that’s right. I have people I have known my entire life, still in my life, who consciously defend white supremacy and white supremacists. There is no other way to frame it. Their entire identity is enshrouded in their whiteness and they spend their time defending any ill-perceived attack on it from those “darkies” that keep shouting for their own freedom. I’m included in that lot because I’m an educated, veiled “Libtard” with a husband and kid from Africa.

Like many activists, and especially like many historians, and ESPECIALLY like many historians of the Third Reich and Holocaust, I have no clue what to do any longer and am horrified to watch elements of history repeating itself as people get their lesser-educated minds washed and manipulated by dangerous fools with a microphone.

I’m tired.

There is a tidal wave of bitter insanity brewing in these people who barely stop short of shouting “white genocide” from their gentrified neighbourhood rooftops.

I’m so very tired.

How do we continue slogging? How do we, who have taken NEVER AGAIN into the depths of our being, stop a train wreck while it is happening, while the cars collide and screech towards what can only be a supremely violent end? How do we stop a tsunami with what seems to be only a few sandbags?

I don’t know how to put any of this very eloquently despite the fact that writing is my vocation, so I’m just going to list some things we can all do to hopefully avoid political catastrophe in the coming while. I have to believe that we avoided this kind of disaster in Canada by saying “No, absolutely not” to the divisive, xenophobic rhetoric of the Conservatives (regardless about how you feel about ANY other political party in this country) and I have to believe that if it is possible here, it is possible anywhere, anytime and about any issue.

Apologies to those who like things framed positively, but some of these things are direct references to harmful behaviour that people DO so the advice needs to be framed as a DON’T.

  1. Take care of yourself. There are a lot of articles out there about activist burnout and the fact that no one can serve from an empty vessel. These articles and ideas are true. While some people equate occasionally disconnecting for the purposes of self-care with privilege, this is not always the case. In fact, for those of us who have to be traumatized every time we see our brothers and sisters bombed or shot to oblivion in our newsfeeds, this is an important first step in grounding yourself. You can know that there is immeasurable pain in the world, take care of yourself and still be active in mitigating injustice in the best ways you know how. These things are not mutually exclusive. In fact, that knowledge and desire to be active necessitates that you take care of yourself lest you be dragged down into the deep hole of depression. Trust me, I’ve been there. I go there a lot. But people need me and my voice more than that hole can serve me, so I have to care of myself guilt-free. We need you around too. We need your bleeding heart. So turn off, tune out, feel the sunshine on your skin, enjoy coffee with a friend, pamper yourself at the spa – do whatever it is that you need to do to take care of yourself before you get back in the trenches. The rest of us will understand and be waiting.
  2. Have painful conversations, if you can, with everyone you know. Maintain contact. The more these people are isolated, the more warped their worldviews become. This one is tough but necessary if you are able to do it. There is absolutely nothing that works better for immediate social change than inviting people to have a conversation… or many of them. Even if those conversations get heated or uncomfortable. Even if they don’t have the results you hope for – they are helpful. A conversation does not have to be an invitation to tea. It can be as simple as asking someone to clarify what they mean when they make racist jokes. It can be as uneventful as calling someone out for an Islamophobic post and asking them what exactly they meant by that. You will find that after all the brainwashed rhetoric has been spewed and the dust settles, they likely didn’t know what they meant by it (“Why did you shoot me?” “I don’t know”) and at the heart of everything is fear and a genuine lack of knowledge. Even for the craziest, consciously racist white supremacists. Their hatred is born in ignorance and the antidote to ignorance is awareness, then education.
  3. Don’t stop sounding the alarm. The fight against the darkness of ignorance and hatred is unrelenting. People devote their lives and careers to trying to protect themselves and others from harmful rhetoric and violence. You don’t necessarily have to do this on your social media accounts, but you can definitely do it in everyday, real life. Every time someone makes a Judeophobic comment about Jewish world conspiracies or claims that all Muslims are terrorists or make queerphobic comments about transpeople in washrooms, you should say something. Even when other people won’t have your back. This isn’t really something we can do once, for one group even, and then call it a day. I’ve been accused of jumping on every social justice bandwagon out there, of capitalizing on the oppression of others by making myself look good. People who hate you will pull any argument out of the hat to besmirch your image. Continue sounding the alarm anyway because your concern is born out of love, not hatred. For me, if I’m known for standing up for society’s most vulnerable individuals and for sounding the alarm on their oppression again and again, no matter which demographic they belong to, I’m going to wear that with pride.
  4. Don’t shit on activists who are doing more than you. This is a tough one. There are a lot of well meaning, non-racist people out there who take it upon themselves to write stupid posts about how “talking about politics and religion on Facebook lacks taste”. Like, what do you even gain from this? What are you contributing to the conversation? When I hear this stuff, I hear people saying “I don’t see colour” – using their privilege to erase other people raising their voices about things that matter to them. Elsewhere, I have written that the internet has become a vehicle for connecting liminal, minority groups and what we are seeing is a dramatic increase in critical awareness for a variety of minority issues. The result is an influx of posts, videos and pages devoted to the causes of those marginalized in regular society. Almost immediately, people in positions of privilege have criticized these movements as minorities being overly-sensitive, rolling their eyes at the proliferation of trigger warnings, or jumping to defend those who have been brought to justice by bringing their injustices to light online. What these individuals don’t realize is three-fold:
  • These oppressed people have always been around you. They just have a larger collectivity now because of the internet and their voice is much louder because of the heavy use and reliance on this technology today.
  • Oppressed people who cannot find justice in their everyday lives will use every means at their disposal – outside of the collectively prescribed methods – to achieve their justice.
  • If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen. Challenging the arbitrarily-legitimate and hegemonic-heteronormative social order is what the internet does best. If you don’t like the sound of rallying cries from all directions of oppressed society – you’re probably part of the problem.
  1. Read more. And not just articles you find on the internet. We have to keep educating ourselves in history, philosophy and the social sciences. Other pools of knowledge are also critical: anything and everything that engages our critical thinking and analytical skills to keep us on our toes. Reading stuff that confirms your well-intentioned biases does little to stimulate your mind or increase your knowledge base. The more you know is the more you know and that, in itself, is priceless. Since hatred is rooted in ignorance, I have said time and time again, the primary antidote is education. Facts aren’t enough but they are a good start. Seeking out wisdom through critique is the next step too.
  2. Do more stuff. Yeah, it can seem like a full-time job and I know that it is for me too. But you have to actually do things that make a difference in your community. These things do not need to be complicated. It can be a letter to the editor. It can be forming a small reading group to read the TRC or black history. It can be signing a petition. It can be making a donation or helping an agency committed to fighting discrimination. We have to put our beliefs and ideas into practice. You will be shocked how fast change accumulates when we all put a little extra effort in.
  3. Don’t hate on yourself for only making local change. You don’t have to save the world and, more importantly, you can’t. You can, however, change spaces that you move through and communities that you subscribe to. In fact, this is more important than anything else you are likely to do. Change starts locally and builds momentum outwards and it starts with people being committed to get together and strategize ways to make that change from all possible angles. What you are doing is critically important – don’t worry about living on in the pages of history.
  4. Don’t give up. Bailing out a sinking ship is exhausting if you are doing it alone. Banding together with others, learning to swim or building a better ship in the first place might be better strategies. Either way, we can’t give up, no matter how shell-shocked we feel. People can change; people do change. You have changed and learned and grown – so why can’t others? Part of never giving up is recognizing that this isn’t a one-person show to save the world. You do what you do with your strengths and join hands with others who have their own strengths to stand together. Even if, for every step you take forward, you end up taking two steps back, we have to continue stepping forward. Period.
  5. Take solace in the fact that there is no essential human character. Human beings are neither essentially good, nor essentially evil. We are socially constructed and even though this means that goodness and evil are also socially constructed, it also means we can build the society we need to, together, through dutiful and purposeful education and inculcation. I’m prone to saying BAH at the darkness of humanity and writing all of us off, but I exist and you exist – therefore, it is possible for other compassionate, caring and self-reflective activists to also exist and bring change.

I invite other ideas for staying active and sane. We are, after all, in this together.

In solidarity,

Nakita

 

In the wake of the Orlando shootings, there has been a major backlash online and in the US Congress against prayers being uttered for the dead and their grieving families. Expressed as frustration for a lack of action, individuals have taken to calling out the “thoughts and prayers” syndrome that keeps the United States in a perpetual state of inaction on gun control and have further argued that the question is particularly being ignored in the case of Orlando because the victims were Latino, members of the LGBTQ community and killed by a so-called “Islamic” “terrorist”.

As a result, individuals who do feel compelled to pray for a variety of reasons have had to confront themselves and their intentions with regards to their status as allies of the LGBTQ movement. Is it possible to pray for the dead and their families to find peace and safety while still remaining active and vigilant in the struggle for the right to life of those in the community? Of course.

After the shootings happened, I started to see these “Policy, not prayer” posts online but they weren’t emerging from the pages of my queer friends. Rather, they came from the pages of militant atheists – the kind who push for secular homogenization at every single inappropriate turn without really realizing its deeply historically Christian origins. In this case, I became outraged. How dare they take the opportunity to push an anti-prayer agenda? Was I beginning to sound like the “War on Christmas” people?!

Well, after some reflection: no, I don’t think that is the case. I wrote a rant about it on my Facebook and came to realize that it was more about accepting one another and how we grieve in the world:

“Can people stop with the passive aggressive posts telling people to stop praying and instead make policy changes for people in Orlando?

First of all, a lot of people who are praying are abroad and have zero capability to influence American domestic policy.

Secondly, who exactly are you speaking to? Politicians who only offer prayers but don’t change policies? That’s fair enough but then that message needs to actually get to them…not be posted on Facebook as yet another aggressive secular campaign on the uselessness of prayer. We get that you don’t think prayer does anything and that’s fine. Don’t tell believers how to grieve and help, especially when many of them are from within the LGBTQ community and this is how they mourn what happened yesterday.

Lastly, praying and public policy change are not mutually exclusive actions. And I think I am the living embodiment of that principle so it’s fair for me to put that on the line. If you want me to stop praying, you will definitely have me stop public policy work as well. And I’m doing a lot of it, alhamdulilah. Prayer gives me hope that the actions I engage in will be acceptable and successful.

Not everyone exists in this world in the same way you do. As I think Orlando fully exemplifies. If there is a lesson to take from the bloodbath of hatred, it’s that homogenizing narratives of how people should be and what they should do are always harmful and violent.

And I have to say, that given how much of the religious establishment has been cursing the LGBTQ community, well, forever… it is a little refreshing to see people praying for this long-oppressed community many of whose members consider themselves believers too or might have been if they hadn’t been so harshly outcast and demonized. And even if not, it’s still a necessary change in the dynamic between these 2 communities where many individuals live on the ambiguous faultlines between them.

Let’s all engage in some deep acceptance of one another. Division serves no one except those who thrive on hegemony and are served by it.

‪#‎prayersANDchange
‪#‎orjustprayers
‪#‎orjustchange
‪#‎orlandoshooting

I’m done now.”

Immediately after I posted this, a gay friend of mine shared a “Policy, not prayers” image. I felt sick to my stomach and realized that while I had been addressing the militant atheists, I had failed to think about it from the LGBTQ perspective. He later removed it after he saw my rant; however, the conversation that followed was very eye-opening for me and helped me remember that prayers, however well-meaning, may be uncalled for by individuals in the LGBTQ community and may even be received with revulsion as they conjure up remembrances of “pray the gay away” and other traumatic interactions between queers and especially Christian far-right groups. Ultimately, you do not need to make your prayers public.

What you do need to make public, however, is your action. And after Orlando, there is no longer action and inaction. There is only action and tacit acceptance of the systemic oppression and violence against minority groups. If you are against social injustice for some groups, you have to be against social injustice for all. Period. Full stop.

In checking in with my friends in the LGBTQ community, I learned some very important lessons about being an ally and how to make your action meaningful (however local it has to be):

  1. You need to be quiet and listen. This might be hard for you. I will admit it is hard for me because I’m used to talking a lot. But you have to do it. The best way to learn something about a group that you do not belong to is to listen to the people who do belong to it. You might be surprised to find that they actually belong to your group and to the other group – something you may not have conceived of before. Being quiet means quieting your mind too: don’t be waiting to respond. Don’t be editing what they say. Hear them out. Hear their perspective. You don’t have a right to tell them if their experience with oppression is genuine or not. If you haven’t changed by the end of the conversation(s), you aren’t doing it right.
  2. You need to recognize your privilege. That’s right. Have you felt like shutting off your Facebook and telling the evil world to go away? Must be nice to just shut it all off without having to live the reality of discrimination every day of your life. Yup, I said it. While I’m all for self-preservation and activists taking periodic breaks from action and social media to replenish themselves, you can’t totally tune out. People who are discriminated against do not have the luxury of just turning the violence in the media off – they live it. Also: if you are a religious person and you are thinking, “Well, I’m not gay and I don’t know anyone who is, so I’m really lucky I don’t even have to think about what I would do or how I would deal with this” then you seriously have an entitlement problem. Since when is the fact that something “doesn’t affect you” a justified reason for not giving af while people are suffering? Eat your privilege. Eat every last bite of it and get to work.
  3. You can share ways that you understand their pain, but know that you do not fully understand their struggle. In a conversation with a trans friend of mine, I was giving examples of ways that Islamophobia and Queerphobia are similar: people hate us so much they want to kill us, we never know when we will be the victims of verbal or physical assault, our oppression is compounded by factors like what socio-economic strata we live in, our declared gender, what we wear and the colour of our skin. While this relatability brings us closer together, these experiences do not dovetail perfectly. Recognize that their experience is unique. If you add the fact that a queer person is also a Muslim or Christian, you have an intersection of possible discrimination which makes them far more likely to be lashed out at.
  4. This is not about you (at least not right now). Similar to number 3, remember that it is not.about.you. Way too many Muslims I know were crying foul at the media trying to portray the Orlando shooter as an “Islamic” “terrorist.” This includes hundreds of prominent Islamic scholars who took the time to issue a formal statement on the shootings but spent more than half of it defending the fact that this lunatic idiot didn’t represent Islam. Why in the hell are we pandering to Islamophobes when anyone with half a brain in their heads knows that OF COURSE HE DOESN’T REPRESENT ISLAM. This happens every single time a shooter has an Arab-sounding name. Every. Single. Time. And while that sucks and is worthy of both future action in the form of education initiatives and some condemnation (especially when so-called “political hopefuls” stand to capitalize on it to the detriment of everyone else), recognize that your condolences for the lives lost should come first. Yes, even if you are Muslim. Especially if you are Muslim. As a colleague of mine put it: the life of a child is like a universe to its family and on that horrible Sunday in Orlando, 49 of those universes were extinguished. If the first thought in your mind is to be defensive about how the media portrays Islam, you are not doing this step correctly.
  5. You need to speak the hell up. This is the final step and the most important. To illustrate how important this is, I first need to tell an anecdotal and seemingly unrelated story. Back in December, just after the height of the Islamophobia of the Conservative Party federal election campaign died down with their total decimation at the polls, I organized a Women’s Safety Class at a local mosque to give Muslim women the tools they need to de-escalate violence and remain safe. Rachael Heffernan – a four stripe black belt – taught the class and among many memorable things everyone came away with was a very important point about what your job is as a victim of harassment and possible violence.

Someone in the crowd mentioned that when someone harasses them, they are worried about freaking out because they don’t want to portray Islam improperly and they don’t want to incite the other person to violence against them. Throughout the class, Rachael had been pointing out that more often than not, acting crazy (“like a cat in a pillowcase”) or being unafraid to scream GET AWAY FROM ME as loud as possible usually does the trick against perpetrators because they are looking for passive individuals to bully. Now, if you are concerned about doing that and then having that person extrapolate your self-preserving behaviour to mean that all 1.7 billion Muslims act like cats in a pillowcase…well, as Rachael put it: you can’t cure stupid.

A harasser is a harasser. They are going out of their way to make life difficult and uncomfortable and even hurt you. You owe them absolutely nothing. In this instance, your only job is to GET HOME SAFE. That might mean being the cat in the pillowcase or it might mean remaining silent. Whatever you have to do, do it guilt-free: Just get home. Throughout the rest of the safety class, Rachael shared inspirational stories with us (like the one about a woman who beat her attacker while shouting “I have three kids and I am going home!”) as we continued to chant I’M GOING HOME as our safety mantra.

The same idea can easily be applied to members of the LGBTQ community who face harassment, discrimination and violence with alarming frequency. Just get home. Lobby and be an activist when violence is not a very real possibility. But getting home? That’s your only job when facing an attacker.

But that’s not the job of the people around you, your allies. Their silence is not permissible in my view. Collectively, they have no right to just stand on by. It doesn’t even have to be a situation in which they witness violence against you. It can be (and should be) standing up to everyday micro-aggressions like calling someone a faggot or making gay jokes or using gay as an insult – whether or not an LGBTQ person is even in the room. If you aren’t doing this, you are not an ally. It doesn’t matter if conversations at work or at home become uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter if you lose friends. Who wants to be friends with someone who hates and condones aggression against oppressed minority groups anyway?

You don’t have to attend Pride to support your friends, just like they don’t have to come to the mosque or wear hijab to support you. You don’t even have to agree with each other on anything but you do have to respect each other’s dignity and right to safety. It says a lot about the ally-status LGBTQ community that my gay and trans friends have been the biggest supporters of Muslims as we continue to be scapegoated in Canadian and American elections and, most poignantly, that one of the first things to come out of the Orlando shootings was the “Queers against Islamophobia” campaign. They stood up for you. Will you stand up for them?