A few thoughts on the Presidency of Barack Obama

2008 was the first presidential election I remember, if only vaguely. I remember the smear campaign, attacks from both sides and I understood the significance of the moment: America’s first black president. But my observation was made through a lens of juvenile disinterested. I was twelve. Politics meant little to me.

In 2012, at sixteen, I was far more aware of the world around me. I read the news, attempted to engage with it on a meaningful level. Morally, emotionally, and intellectually, I was a rough approximation of the person I am now. The election race between Barack Obama and Mitt Romney was, as all presidential elections inevitably are, an international spectacle, and I observed with interest. I watched the debates, researched the candidates. I cringed as this sleazy middle-aged man talked about having folders full of women, a stark contrast to the eloquent, fatherly figure who’d been leading the free world for the past several years.

I’d known Obama’s election was a precedent setting moment, even from a young age. And, I think, on some level, a part of my burgeoning intellectual brain simply felt that Obama’s relatively successful first term, combined with the historical precedent it set and the obvious appeal he had over Romney, was enough of a reason to think America should elect him again in 2012. I viewed politics, American, Canadian, and all others, through a black and white lens. I bought into general ideas, rhetoric promoted by the media, rather than hard facts.

Fast forward another four years, and I’ve come to view Obama through yet another lens, brought about by brutal personal experiences, wide reading and critical thinking, and a few years of university.

In general, my feelings towards the outgoing president are pretty similar to what they were in 2012. I admire the man. I think he is a genuinely good human being, and I respect the trials he faced to reach the Oval Office. I have a greater understanding of the historical context in which he operates, the cause and effect events that resulted in many of today’s problems. I believe he acts in a genuine and measured attempt to make life better for his country and for humanity. I think, in particular, over the second half of this term he has displayed great skill and dexterity when dealing with both domestic and international issues, from issues with health-care reform and racial tension, to the rise of populist nationalism the world over.

I don’t agree with everything Obama has done. I think, sometimes, he’s played the middle-ground a bit too much, attempting to appease both sides of the political spectrum. Sometimes, he’s done otherwise, acted with too little tact and played into the hands of the opposition. He’s failed to form a coherent approach to dealing with the Middle-East. He made empty threats towards the Assad regime in Syria. This, combined with many other factors, most notably his escalation of American drone strikes in the region, has allowed for a rise in anti-American and anti-western sentiment in the region, directly influencing the conditions that gave rise to the Islamic State.

But, ultimately, I think judging the presidency of Barack Obama as anything other than a relative success is somewhat short-sighted and simplistic. The world is changing. American dominance and Western influence is waning. People are shifting to their roots: fundamentalism, populism, and various other “isms.” No president, Republican or Democrat, black or white, has the capacity to stop this change. They can only weather it.

I think Obama has weathered the past eight years well. The President of the United States faces a unique set of challenges that none of us can truly understand. To my mind, Obama has always attempted to tackle these challenges with morality and compassion. Sometimes he has not succeeded. He has made mistakes, as humans do, but he has also enjoyed great successes given the challenges he’s come up against.

I think that Barack Obama is a genuinely good human being. When one compares him to the man who came before him, and the man who will succeed him, it is hard to argue that he is not both intellectually and – at least in one case – morally superior. The contrast has shone through in his presidency.

There is a storm ahead. Frankly, I’m scared shitless for what is to come in the next few years. The world is becoming more hostile, more closed off. In some ways, this is humanity reverting to its default settings after an unprecedented level of prosperity and cooperation. I hope that we, as a species, can find a way past the coming storm, though I am not entirely confident.

I hope Obama remains politically engaged over the coming years, perhaps following a path similar to that Jimmy Carter took after his time in the White House ended. Obama is a politically astute, compassionate, and confident.

We’re going to need people like that going forward.

My Top Reads of the Year

So, I think most of us can agree that 2016 has been a pretty awful year for the world. On the bright side, I’ve read some good books over the past twelve months. Here are a few of them, in no particular order.

Best of 2016

Age of Myth by Michael J. Sullivan

I knew from the moment I read it that Michael J. Sullivan’s Age of Myth would be right up there on this list. Though technically a prequel to his other works, Sullivan ensures that the book is understandable and entertaining for all. Case in point, I’ve never read any of the author’s work before, and I absolutely loved it. The book is perfect for fans of fantasy and adventure, Tolkien, or anyone who enjoyed Game of Thrones but was confused by all the characters.

Not Alone by Craig A. Falconer

This is one of the best “first contact” stories I’ve encountered. The book starts off a little cartoonish, but quickly becomes a very realistic depiction of how the world might react to such a scenario. With an endearing cast of characters and a realistic and unpredictable plot, this sci-fi is definitely worth checking out. If you’re a fan of audiobooks, I’d strongly recommend the audiobook narrated by James Patrick Cronin.

The View From the Cheap Seats by Neil Gaiman

In The View From the Cheap Seats, fantasy’s most perceptive author regales us with his opinions on everything from books and comics to current events. At times, part memoir, at times part journalism, and at others somewhere in between, this collection of essays is a must read for any fans of the genre, and indeed anyone looking for a perceptive lens through which to view the world. Gaiman’s greatest strength as a writer has always been his empathy, and that shines through here. This collection of essays illustrates why his fiction is so effective, and how exactly he articulates ideas we all sense even if we don’t understand them. If you’re interested, check out my full review here.

The Bands of Mourning by Brandon Sanderson

There isn’t much I can say about Brandon Sanderson that hasn’t been said already. This book is the third in the Wax and Wayne segment of the Mistborn saga, itself only a portion of the larger Cosmere sequence. If these words confuse you, don’t worry. I’ve read most of Sanderson’s books and still don’t entirely understand what’s going on. If you want to read Bands of Mourning, I’d recommend catching up with the rest of the Mistborn books first. If you’ve already done so and you’ve read Bands of Mourning… HOLY SH!T ENDING??!?!?! Something Sanderson does incredibly well is addressing the macro (the grand happenings of the universe he has created) without forgetting the micro (character interactions and the realistic problems faced by individuals). For anyone who’s a fan original and innovative fantasy, I’d really recommend giving Brandon Sanderson a read.

Other books I read in 2016 (not published this year)

The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison

Another fantasy entry on this list, Katherine Addison’s The Goblin Emperor is detail-heavy. The amount of world-building the author managed to place into a relatively short volume is quite impressive. The plot isn’t always the most exciting, but it’s a slow and meticulous study of a fantasy society that questions the nature of power, race, and the class system. Think Game of Thrones with a few less heads being crushed.

14 by Peter Clines

I stumbled upon Peter Clines a year or so ago while browsing through Audible, and I’m very happy I did. The second of his books I’ve read, 14 introduces an interesting shared universe that mirrors our own. The books each contain their own cast of characters and are loosely connected by interspersed cameos and a growing threat in the background (remember how Marvel slowly introduced us to its Cinematic Universe?). By combining likeable characters with an interesting mystery, 14 is an easy read with something more for those who care to look.

                                      Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

An incredibly timely book given the problems plaguing the United States right now (as though there was a time when race wasn’t an issue in the US). National correspondent for The Atlantic Ta-Nehisi Coates examines the question of a black man’s place in the world in light of recent high profile events. Framing the work as a letter to his son, Coates’ prose has a poetic imperfection that lends to the work’s aching poignancy. Coates’ love for his son lives on the page. The pain he feels at the deaths of so many others, and the fear for his own son’s life, is like a punch to the gut. Between the World and Me is not a fun book to read, but it is an important one.

Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Set in Nigeria during the 1960s, Half of a Yellow Sun follows three major characters as they attempt to deal with the onset of the Biafran War. Steeped in historical details and based on the firsthand accounts of the author’s relatives, the book is a heartbreaking portrayal of the costs of war and the legacies of colonialism. The book provides an intriguing examination of how intellectual ideals and harsh realities often clash. This is a great book for fans of the works of Khaled Hossieni.

The Sculptor by Scott McCloud

This graphic novel is quite unlike anything I’ve ever read. Scott McCloud manages to tap into something all creators, writers, and artists inevitably feel but cannot always articulate. Over a few hundred pages of beautiful and slightly impressionistic artwork, McCloud tells a beautiful story of love, life, and the struggles faced by all those who create. The last hundred pages is quite possibly one of the most powerful things I have ever read. At two in the morning, this story’s conclusion left me in tears yet ultimately hopeful.

A Life With Words by Richard B. Wright

Similar to The Sculptor, Richard B. Wright’s memoir provides us some beautiful insight into the life of a writer. Chronicling his young life and the struggles he faced – both internal and external – while breaking into the Canadian literary scene, A Life With Words speaks to the insecurities felt by all those who think deeply about the world around them. This is a unique memoir in that the author refers to himself in the third person. Some might call this pretentious, but I found this detail spoke to the distance we often feel from the world, something most writers struggle with at some time or another.

For a full list of books I’ve read over the past few years, many of which I’ve reviewed and commented on, check out my Goodreads profile.

Rogue One: A unique Star Wars film

Last year’s The Force Awakens provided us with a nostalgia-driven reincarnation of traditional Star Wars themes and motifs. In an obvious attempt to mirror the tone and structure of the Original Trilogy (sometimes too obviously), the film gave us a new cast of heroes to root for, a new set of destinies to unfold over the next few years. Once again, we saw the fate of the galaxy placed in the hands of a few swashbuckling heroes.

Rogue One is a very different sort of film. I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s a better film than last year’s addition to Star Wars canon, but it certainly succeeds in one aspect that The Force Awakens never could: for the first time, we have a truly unique Star Wars story.

When he began the Original Trilogy back in 1977, George Lucas created something incredible. Not only did he spawn a multimedia franchise that has come to infuse itself into the minds of people the world over. Lucas created a self-contained world in the manner of the greatest fantasy stories, a universe in which there is a constant battle between the forces of good and evil. Star Wars isn’t just science fiction: it’s Tolkien in space.

One of the things I’ve always loved about Star Wars is the depth of the world building. Lucas’ original films created a lived-in universe that science fiction had not seen before. In just a few hours of screen times, the films gave the universe depth and history. The audience knew that there were stories behind the stories they witnessed. This is what has allowed for an expanse of comic books and novels spanning thousands of years.

However, the main film series has always been forced (no pun intended) to focus on central themes of good and evil, fate and destiny. The rest of the universe has necessarily been left to the avid fans, those who purposely seek out the world beyond what we see onscreen. In order to make the main canon accessible to casual and serious fans of all ages, the series has been constricted to broad and romantic themes. To focus on anything else within the main story would have changed the nature of Star Wars.

The Original Trilogy revolved around the fate of the entire galaxy, a battle between the forces of good and evil, and an attempt to bring peace and prosperity to the galaxy. It seems that the Sequel Trilogy will be doing the same, dealing with the revival the lost guardians of peace and hope in order to fight an oppressive and cruel regime.

The oft-maligned Prequel Trilogy also dealt with such themes, though it also attempted to expand the world behind the Original Trilogy. One of the reasons these films are so disliked is because they failed to find a balance between capturing the grandiose themes of the Original Trilogy and providing ultimately implausible outer-space society with an element of reality. In its efforts to explain how the Empire came to be, the Prequel Trilogy lost some of the magical spark necessary that tied it into the main canon.

This is where Rogue One comes in. Free from the constraints of the main storyline, Rogue One has a degree of independence – and thus, originality – that no Star Wars film has had. By following characters who are secondary to the grander storyline, the film gives us a chance to see what life under the Empire is like. We see the realities of fighting a rebellion. Rogue One reminds us that the revolution of the Original Trilogy did not happen without sacrifice. Though Han Solo, Luke Skywalker, and Princess Leia might always walk away unscathed, most members of the Rebellion simply don’t have that luxury. Many are forced to do unspeakable acts, watch their friends and families die in horrific manners. Rogue One gives a previously unseen degree of reality to the Star Wars universe, taking some of the romanticism out of the events of the original films.

The characters of Rogue One are not heroes, not in the same sense that Luke and Leia or Finn and Rey are heroes. These characters are criminals and murderers. They’re the people in the background, the fodder for battles that leading heroes always survive.

Occasionally, Rogue One invokes the grandiosity of the main franchise. The Force, and the morality surrounding it, are intrinsic aspects of the Star Wars universe. The difference in this film is that these elements are secondary to the gritty realities of the universe. Rogue One is, perhaps, the most relatable Star Wars film for this very reason. The characters it involves are not perfect. They aren’t black and white, far from it. These people are conflicted and complex, and they are not always good people. The battles they fight are not fun. War is hell, wherever it is fought. Sometimes, Star Wars might forget this. Rogue One does not.

Rogue One manages to maintain a degree of the levity found in the franchise’s other films. The humour is generally grim but often laugh-out-loud. There are enough throwbacks to let us know that this film exists in the same universe, ending just moments before A New Hope. Secondary characters from the Original Trilogy such as Mon Mothma and Grand Moff Tarkin play central roles. R2-D2 and C-3P0 even make a cameo.

Vader's pun game was on point in this film

Another thing Rogue One does well is its treatment of its antagonists. While Orson Krennic might have been a pretty lame flop of a villain (he basically spends the entire movie whining and getting shot down by his superiors), classics such as Wilhuff Tarkin and Darth Vader are given excellent treatment. Though Peter Cushing (the actor who played Tarkin in 1977) is long dead, his character was brought back to life in beautifully rendered (not to mention controversial) CGI that allowed us a new opportunity to examine one of Star Wars’ most interesting villains.

The real villainous spotlight, however, is Darth Vader. Though the infamous Sith Lord only plays a minor role in the film, his two scenes are among the best we’ve ever seen. In keeping with Rogue One’s themes of realism and shades of grey, Vader’s treatment in this film reminds us exactly why his first appearance in A New Hope had the rebel soldiers shaking in their boots. The new film’s final sequence brutally illustrates that, though he might achieve some degree of redemption a few years onwards, Darth Vader is not, at heart, a tragic anti-hero: he is a cold, cruel, and powerful murderer who will cut down anything in his way.

Rogue One is a film that would not have worked if it had been a part of the main series. The deftness with which it handles the complex realities behind this fantasy universe gives me a new hope for this anthology series (pun very much intended). Rogue One is not perfect. At times, one can see the studio’s invisible hand; there are sections of dialogue that I wish had been rewritten. But in its goal of creating a unique atmosphere and realistic tone, Rogue One is most certainly a success.

In the Wake of Tragedy

 Sometimes life throws you a curveball.

Sometimes, the world decides to throw a great big shit in your face.

Obscene? Perhaps. Accurate? Definitely. This past week, the entire world had a massive, spray tan drenched, toupee-wearing shit thrown in its face.

Honestly, it’s taken me this long to actually process the reality of Trump’s victory, and even now I find myself questioning reality. A President Trump is a gut punch to the world. It’s an insult to human dignity. It is, simply put, a travesty.

A vote for Trump was not a vote for any kind of coherent policy. It was not a vote for positive change. It was a vote born of frustration, made by the short sighted, the ignorant, and the downright selfish.

Trump’s election is a tragedy for humanity.

Not all of his supporters are racists, sexists, or homophobes. But most racists, sexists, and homophobes are his supporters.

Those that are not themselves bigots condone, by their actions last Tuesday, every kind of bigotry Trump has promoted. By supporting him, many reasonable and moderate (primarily white) Americans have simply accepted the promotion of so many prejudices that western society has worked to limit over the past century.

Previous presidents have made mistakes. Many have been elected on platforms I wholeheartedly disagree with. Yet I cannot think of an instance in recent history where society has so blatantly, not to mention willingly, taken a step backwards.

It is a tragedy of epic proportions.

As in the wake of all tragedies, it will take time for us to adjust. The initial period is about surviving. This is when the heavy drinking happens, as one denies reality. For me, this past week has been about weathering the shock, as denial slowly moves into acceptance.

For many, this period of shock will last longer than a week. For some, unfortunately, it will be shortly forgotten as their lives move on. For many who are unaffected by this tragedy (and many simply too ignorant of how it will affect them), the period of mourning is simply nonexistent.

I no longer feel shock, or denial. I have moved onto the next stage of dealing with tragedy.

I am angry.

I don’t have many words of optimism. I don’t feel very optimistic myself. I’m sure the anger will fade, but I know that the passion that drives it will not subside into dull acceptance.

This tragedy was unnecessary. Donald Trump was not something that had to happen to the world. His election is an injustice.

We may not be able to change this injustice. But we can survive it. We can make it through to the other side, and we can try to make the world a better place for it.

There is my obligatory attempt at some kind of philosophical “the night is always darkest before the day” bullshit.

The only way things are going to change is if we change them.

I am angry, and I have little patience for people telling me to “accept the result.” One can accept something is going to happen without being happy about it. One can accept reality while acknowledging the absurdity of that reality. One can challenge the bigots of the world while knowing they are trying to extinguish a house fire with a water gun.

Those that tell us to simply “accept” the result are those that condone the injustices Trump stands for. These people are the problem.

To everyone who is affected by this both directly and indirectly, to everyone who hurts for the world and for their fellow human beings, to everyone who feels as heartbroken as I do: try not to give up. As hard is it may be, don’t stoop to their level. Don’t let their apathy overcome you. No matter how many times people roll their eyes at you, ignore you, label you, or disdain for your “political talk,” keep on fighting for what you know is right.

Some people have no choice about the battles they fight; it is up to us who have the luxury of choosing to stand up for those who are not so lucky.

It’s the only way we can even come close to stopping the Trumps of the world.

Why this election matters

I was eight when I first learned about racism. A teacher at our school, a Middle-Eastern man whose name I can’t remember, took all of the boys in my class to one area while the girls were taken separately by another teacher. I never found out why we were separated by gender (or if I did I don’t remember) but the memory has stuck with me to this day.

The teacher spoke plainly, with barely concealed disgust in his voice. He told us that something called “racist language and behavior” had been going on at our school, and that if it did not stop then the police would be contacted. The people involved, he said, knew who they were. He refused to answer the questions put forth by those of us who were left confused, and we were quickly sent back to class.

At the time, I had never heard the word “racist.” But if I had, it would have meant nothing to me. I grew up in an area in the southern UK with a lot of racial diversity. There were many “black” and “brown” kids at my school, and even a few “Asians,” but these distinctions meant little to me. Referring to a peer as black was no different than saying my best friend had brown eyes. As far as I was concerned, good people were good people and bad people were bad people, regardless of the colour of their skin. In my youthful naiveté, I was about as close to proverbially colourblind as one could get.

The teacher’s ultimatum shook me deeply. I went home and asked my mum what the teacher had been referring to, fearful that I might be unwittingly engaging in this behaviour. Mum quickly assuaged my fears, but seemed disturbed by the news that our school had a race issue serious enough that the police would potentially be involved.

She explained to me that some people – cruel, ignorant, petty individuals – liked to find excuses for putting down and hurting others. Unfortunately, these people often used differences in appearance, such as skin colour, as just such an excuse for hurting others. Some people, she said, often white people like us, believed themselves better simply because of the colour of their skin.

“Just like the bullies who call people stupid or fat?” I asked.

“Yes,” Mum said, a sad pride in her eyes. “Just like those bullies.”

This is one of the defining moments of my childhood. The memory remains as powerful as the actual experience. My mother provided a rather simplified definition of racism for my young mind, but, as is often the case, simplicity can be poignant.

Racism, at its core, is not a complex phenomenon. Simply put, it is the act by which petty, ignorant, and insecure people finding an excuse – be that excuse the colour of a person’s skin, their country of origin, or their religion of choice – to relegate others as inferior in their own minds. Racism is just one of countless forms this phenomenon takes.

As I realized at the age of eight, racists are bullies.

Flash forward to 2016, and we are seeing the legitimization of these bullies. This presidential election race has allowed the darkest, cruelest, and pettiest corners of humanity to slink out from their hiding places and find the most dangerous thing one can give a bully: legitimacy.

This election is about more than just Donald Trump. It’s certainly about more than Hillary Clinton and whatever one might think of either candidate’s policies. This election is about the same phenomenon that has allowed for the far right’s rise in Europe, caused riots in Ferguson, Baltimore, and countless other cities, or resulted in seismic geopolitical events such as Brexit.

I think it is too early to define this phenomenon yet. We are living through a moment in history, a turning point precipitated by events like 9/11 and the Great Recession, and this election is merely a piece of a picture we won’t be able to see in its entirety for years to come.

However, it is possible to perceive parts of the picture. Attitudes and moods are clear. People desire change. For many in the United States, this change comes in the form of Donald Trump. He represents an alternative to everything people are frustrated with – everything his competitor stands for. His followers want a revolution, the complete overhaul of a system that seems to have left them behind.

Perhaps such a revolution needs to come. Perhaps we should have allowed Bernie Sanders to carry his own movement forward. Many of his supporters have now turned to Trump, seeing their desire for change as more important than the candidate’s obscene views. These people are so desperate for change that they would be willing to bring it regardless of the costs.

A dam is about to burst. I fear for what is to come, regardless of who sits in the White House come January.

Our world is not a fantasy, yet people seem to view it as such. There seems to be a failure to realize that lasting, widespread change, particularly of the type Trump will bring, cannot happen overnight and without bloodshed. Revolutions come at a human cost, and, indeed, many ultimately fail.

If we allow Trump’s revolution to happen, we legitimize the bullies. Though I am not an American, I include myself in that “we” because tomorrow’s results will ripple throughout the world. Donald Trump represents a discontent that is present across the globe.

I urge people to think about what this election means, what each candidate truly stands for and the kind of people they represent. Every action has consequences, both visible and invisible. Perhaps a President Trump will provide a welcome change in some areas, a man willing to throw out the norms of politics and bring his own change to a broken system. But is it worth all the things he will destroy in order to bring change?

Think of the people he represents. While many of his supporters are reasonable, intelligent people, he also represents the dregs of humanity. It is this minority, the percentage of his supporters who are bullies, those that hear his sickening words and nod in agreement, that will cause the ripples. When people hear their darkest ideas echoed by potentially the most powerful man in the world, those ideas are emboldened and reinforced. Legitimized. Those most extreme in their hatred will inevitably entice the moderate bullies, those simply ignorant and outdate in their mindsets, into extremity, who will in turn induce others.

Donald Trump’s election will be the pebble that causes the landslide.

Such rhetoric might seem extreme, but it is hard to deny its accuracy. When has any other leader so brazenly flaunted the democratic system? When has any other leader openly made comments about rape? When before has a candidate so openly endorsed, and been endorsed by, the worst of humanity, the dictators and extremists of the world?

Donald Trump by himself is not the problem. Does he hate all immigrants? Does he believe women to be inferior? The simple answer is that these things do not matter. The issue is that people believe that he thinks these things. The people who believe these things hear their own convictions echoed in his words.

Whether purposely or through ignorance, Donald Trump empowers the bigots and bullies of the world. He gives weapons to people in schools such as my own, the bullies who use skin colour and other visible distinctions as a mark of superiority.

When I was eight, good teachers stood up for those whose rights were being stepped on. What happens when these people, the people willing to stand up rather than stand idle, are outnumbered by the apathetic? What happens when the apathetic become bigots themselves?

I don’t know what racism went on at my school when I was eight, but I know it was stopped. With Donald Trump as president, it will not be stopped the next time. In countless towns and cities across America and across the world, racism, sexism, and various other cruelties will be allowed to run unchecked, because the most powerful man in the world provides a voice for those that prey upon cruelty.

That is why this election is important. Perhaps our system is broken. Perhaps Hillary Clinton represents that broken system.

But at least in this system we’ve always told the bullies they are bullies.

Writer's Block and Depression

I’ve been struggling to write recently.

This happens sometimes, bouts of writer’s block that can last weeks or months.

I’ve had a couple of people ask me why I haven’t posted anything in a while. Surely the presidential debates are prime subject for me to write about, aren’t they?

It’s true: the debacle that is the current presidential race provides a lot of juicy material, from Trump’s comments about sexual assault to the fact that people somehow still manage to bitch about Hillary Clinton. I have many thoughts on this subject and others.

Why don’t I write them?

People assume I have not tried. I’ve articulated many of my thoughts to friends and family, and I’ve started if not finished several pieces on various topics.

But then, that’s the problem with writer’s block, as anyone who practices writing or other creative exploits: it’s often not the lack of ideas that hinders the process, rather a difficulty in transmitting those ideas onto the page.

The mental stymie extends beyond my writing. My schoolwork has suffered, and I’ve been finding it harder and harder to motivate myself to do simple tasks such as exercise or do my laundry. I find myself questioning the purpose in a lot of my actions. What’s the point in reading this book? Why do I need to go to class today? It’s like a constant existential crisis. Why? Why put any effort into anything? I haven’t been sleeping well. Somehow my late night thoughts consistently wander until I find myself contemplating the inevitable heat death of the universe.

A short while back, Mary Robinette Kowal wrote a really good piece on the relation between writer’s block and depression. I highly recommend everyone give it a read. I don’t often talk about my struggles with depression, but I did write about it in a piece for Beautiful Minds Magazine a while back, and those closest to me are familiar with my situation.

Intellectually speaking, I find the situation quite interesting. Is the writer’s block a product of how I’ve been feeling the last few weeks, or is this bout of depression a product of the creative wall I’ve struck?

I don’t want this blog to get stuck on lengthy ruminations about my state of mind. I have a journal for that. I want the pieces I post here to be productive, stimulating conversation on meaningful and interesting topics.

However, I feel that a bit of an explanation as to why I’ve been quiet the last few weeks is in order. I appreciate the people that read my posts and who stick by me. To those of you reading this right now, you have no idea how much your support means.

Sometimes, the act of self-reflection and confession can be cathartic. I’m hoping I’ll get out of this slump soon. Until then, I really do appreciate everyone’s support and encouragement.

The Hat Incident: the issue that never should have been

By now I’m sure everyone has heard of the notorious hat incident that occurred on the Mount Royal Campus a few days ago. If you haven’t, it basically went like this: a student (Matt) wearing a “Make America Great Again” hat around campus was confronted by another student (Zoe) for promoting “hate speech.” The two got into a conflict, the argument escalated, and someone placed a video of the incident on Facebook to go viral.

From there, it spiralled rapidly out of control, with coverage on a local, national, and international level. The scale of the conflict has escalated exponentially with the video going viral and anger being stirred up on both sides. The relatively innocuous incident has resulted in bad blood and vicious attacks on both sides. Zoe, in particular, has received a lot of backlash (up to the point of violent threats) for an action she was arguably justified in taking.

The issue being pedalled by the media is the debate about free speech this video prompts. In a supposedly safe space like a university campus, can the slogan of a racist political candidate be called “hate speech?” I’m not going to get bogged down in that argument, as I know smarter people than me are already doing that.

What strikes me as the biggest issue is the polarized reactions to the video. People don’t seem to be considering why each person acted as they did, only how they did it. Little of the media coverage considers the individuals in question beyond the small scope of the video posted.

Zoe’s argument rested on the fact that the hat’s slogan supports the campaign of a sexist, sociopathic narcissist who regularly stokes the fires of racial tension while obliviously inciting violence. Her motivation came from the desire to ensure that the campus is a place in which everyone can feel safe and secure. She was standing up for those who might justifiably feel uncomfortable at the sight of a politician like Trump being promoted.

Zoe’s actions were largely selfless, which is something few people seem to be considering. The creation of safe spaces is an incredibly important endeavour, and all individuals should feel free to express themselves in whatever manner they wish. She is now facing continual backlash for attempting to support this ideal.

But don’t Trump supporters get the same privilege, many would argue?

I don’t know Matt personally, but we are in the same program and have shared some classes. Having seen him both with and without the hat, before and after the incident, I can’t say I have ever seen any indication of prejudices along the lines that Trump espouses. My understanding is that Matt supports Mr. Trump’s economic policies rather than his social ones.

This raises the question: when a politician so actively promotes the marginalization of specific religious and ethnic groups, is it possible to promote that politician without promoting those prejudices?

As this incident illustrates, there are no clear answers.

Because of this, it is all the more important that level heads prevail. People need to think rationally about the incident and try to understand the motivations of both sides: one was standing up for marginalized minorities while the other was idly promoting a candidate with specific policies he supports. Neither of them did anything terribly wrong. Zoe’s confrontational method was not the correct way of addressing the issue, yet the concerns themselves were completely valid. Likewise, it is completely fair for Matt to promote a political candidate he supports, but it was unreasonable of him not to expect some kind of backlash.

These “mistakes” do not define either of these individuals.

Once the media picked up on the story, anger spread like wildfire, with Zoe generally portrayed as the villain. To me, this is a big problem.

While the media is happy to highlight Zoe’s insistence that Matt remove his hat, there seems to be little mention of her background as a leading member of the Students’ Association of Mount Royal University (SAMRU). As a member of SAMRU, it is her job to act as a leader among students and protect the interests of everyone on campus. Naturally, it would be fair for her to take the responsibility of standing up for those who have an issue with the hat in question.

Whether or not the slogan counts as hate speech, people feel uncomfortable at the presence of Matt’s hat. Given Trump’s background, this seems reasonable. Did Zoe go about the right way in bringing up these concerns? No. Was she justified in attempting to address them? Absolutely.

Zoe’s actions came from a good place. Her role as student leader makes her the natural voice for expressing concerns. The fact that she has been continually vilified for doing this is pathetic and ignorant. Zoe is not the villain here any more than Matt is for wearing his hat. Remember Zoe’s background and motivation the next time the media labels her a “bully”, accuses her of “attacking” anyone, or mocks her for being “frightened.”

If you find yourself agreeing with these terms, you are part of the problem.

Consider the fact that without online exposure the incident would have received little to no attention. If any blame is to be placed, it should be placed upon the idiot who decided to post a video of the conflict online. In the digital age such hot topic videos are not ignored, and the cameraman was incredibly irresponsible (if not plain stupid) to think it would go unnoticed. Indeed, the fact that he posted the video on a community page as well as his personal one suggests he was specifically going out of his way to defame Zoe.

Even so, sharing the video could easily have been a simple lapse in judgement. My point is that the amount of controversy this video has caused is unnecessary, and the amount of anger it has stirred up is neither fair nor warranted. Nobody involved should be attacked so viciously for their actions. Relatively minor mistakes have been blown out of proportion, and it sickens me to see the sort of threats and attacks Zoe has received in the wake of this video.

I don’t know Zoe, but I wish I did. I can’t imagine what she’s going through right now. Whatever her actions and whatever opinion people may have about those actions, there is no excuse for the derogatory, threatening, and sexist response the video has received.

I hope Zoe understands that for every asshole on the internet hailing abuse, there are a dozen people who understand that her actions came from the best of places. The world needs more people like her who are willing to stand up for the rights of others.