blueAlto

As suggested by a reader, I'm going to make that my new handle! Let me explain....

I'm sure those of you who blog will agree. It's always nice to receive comments on something you write. Especially if they come from someone other than your family! When you have readers who regularly comment, that's even better. But it's the ones who comment for the first time, and who feel so at home they sometimes, with increasing frequency, say anything their vitriolic little hearts desire.

Take for example, blisteringinsite. What a charmer! And evidently, we've met. For some reason, and I can't imagine why, I completely forget meeting this catch. Though if I am to be my usual overly critical self, I would have to say that Mr. Blistering may want to change his handle. As blistering he may be, insightful however, well you decide for yourself....

From his comment on my recent piece Perspective.

I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I think you are missing the point. It seems like you are trying to guilt people into doing as you did. "Ah look at me, I am the all shining moral being who SAVED this child. Now, follow my lead". See I live in Toronto. We have met (though I am not in your league, I doubt you'd have the time of day for me). But more to the point, are you not forgetting where you live? Rosedale! Are you not forgetting that your salary for the job you have. If you have forgot, I will remind. It is high enough top be PUBLICLY LISTED . As like the the salary of anyone who makes over one hundred thousand dollars a year. Oops, sorry.

Then woman above mentioned community. Even though she is wrong in her point, it is a good one. What do you do to support YOUR community. Do you give money to the gay community. If not, WHY? Because you would rather be seen helping a "poor young girl". There are problems within your own community, why look outside of it.How about the gay men who feel they have to keep up with everyone else and spend money on a gym and they feel they have to go to the circuit parties to do drugs and to buy crystal. It's a sick culture, and you aren't helping. Try helping those men out with your money. But no, you'd rather help someone with more "real" problems. And speaking of, I am sorry, your problems are nothing. You are an over paid individual who lives in Toronto's mot expensive area. What do you know about hardship? What do you know about struggle? What problems do you or could you have? PLEASE.

Oh no, the secret is out. What will I ever do? Exposing my publicly listed salary for the world to see. How could he? And of course no one has ever seen it before, since it's publicly listed and all. "Blistering", indeed....

At any rate, blistering seems to enjoy taking me to task on having a background that clearly placed higher on the financial reality than his did. Because of that fact, I will forever be a smug, out of touch, insulated, pampered, and elitist asshole who never gives enough money to charity or social programs, and if I do that at all, well they are the wrong causes. So there.

You know, it would be funny if I had never heard this drama play out before. Unfortunately, like most people who dare to exist after having a background that has shamefully been soiled by wealth, we can write the book. But let me be clear, that is not meant to garner sympathy. Because I will be the first to admit, if I reference my experience growing up, I have little to complain about. But blistering and his ilk seem to think I should go one step further. Apologize loudly and often for the distasteful history I bring to the table.

Since I have no clue about anyone or anything that doesn't brunch with me at Fuzion, or meet for a game of doubles before Saturday Bloody Mary's on the terrace, I probably shouldn't wade into this discussion over "those people" Poor, homeless, smelly, the Ick! people. But, as is my smug, arrogant nature, I'm always up for a challenge....

Oh, where to begin.

I think we can start with the my experience is profoundly worse than yours and always will be until the end of time dismissal. Blistering, honey, there is a reason I don’t hold individual problems up to a comparative checklist. Primarily because they are experienced individually. Meaning that those problems are uniquely realized by one person alone who perceives, understands and reacts in their own specific way. Based on a large number of factors. One reason why a comparison is ill advised. Because what happens then, is that no one, even you, would be able to voice your problems and concerns. Since there will always be poor, homeless, starving, female children of color strewn across the plains of Africa under the hot sun. And what could be more marginalized and disenfranchised than that? Are you seeing the circuitous, insulting and somewhat generalizing loop that line of thinking will draw you into? Good.

How about we move on to his next charge, and I quote, "What do you know about hardship? What do you know about struggle?" Sounds like a 70's disco hit. Though not to dodge your question blistering, what do I know about struggle? If you are talking financial, not a lot, but some. Having paid my own way since I left university. So I know more than many, not as much as most. But once again, your generalities are biting you in the ass.

This may be a shock to you blistering, but struggle does not,  by nature, = authenticity, nor advanced insight into our own condition. Just as privilege, by nature, does not = lack of insight or render one out of touch to issues of struggle. You see blistering, understanding the intersectional dynamics of privilege in a North American cultural mosaic is a tad more involved than waving a pride flag / horse blanket for My Little Pony on a Sunday in June, chanting “celebrate diversity” before you go do Jello shots in the play pool behind the 519.

But more to the point blistering, who the fuck are you to assume what my deeper motivations, insights and priorities are in a moral or ethical sense? And struggle, sir, is relative. Some might say, myself included, that your example of the poor, young gay boy, two mouthfuls of sweet and low away from an eating disorder, sweating it up at the gym so he can go to the White party and shove the same color powder up his nose, who experiences a temporary financial crisis, is the textbook definition of smug, out of touch, elitist, white, male privilege. But then, I could be wrong.

Next time Mr. blisteringinsite, please come prepared. Oh and by the way, you're right, I am way, way out of your league.

Walking north on Yonge St. half an hour ago, I'm guessing my mood showed. Working late this evening, stressed over being back in the grind after time away, a considerable unease over the whole parental health situation, and dealing with what had to be the most vapid person to ever stand behind the counter at the local Wendy's, were not, I imagine, things that would render me approachable.

For reasons that soon became apparent, they obviously weren't the things that would sway the young girl approaching from my right.

"Do you have three dollars"?

"Nope".

And just as fast as it left my lips, I wanted to take it back. Not the word, not my point that was behind it, but the tone. One that was dismissive, too assured, bordering on cocky, and not at all the tone I enjoy hearing in myself when I am addressing a person asking for help. So I actually made it a full two and a half blocks before I stopped, kicked myself in the ass for being an ass, and turned around. I realize at this point many may say I have sucker tattooed on my forehead. But you know what, I'm okay with that. I'll take sucker over complacent any day. At least it's definitive.

But before I get back to the girl on the corner, whom if you recall, I had just dismissed with barely a glance at her face, let me just state: Before anyone invokes the bleeding heart liberal dismissal...Yes, I can make a number of assumptions about this girl based on that exchange alone. My issue with that however, is that while many times I may be accurate, I have no reasonable belief to assume this is one of those times. I really hate when I hear others reduce demonstrable human experience to generalities, but I absolutely loath when I hear myself do it.

So when I got back to the corner, I was immediately struck by two things. One, the wet streaked makeup lines that ran from her eyes. And the second thing I was struck by was the fact that this girl standing on a downtown Toronto street, asking for money at 11 pm, was no more than fifteen. At best.

What I did next was very intentional. I reached into my pocket, gave her the change from the twenty I paid the vapid Wendy's clerk with, and I smiled. Then, watching my tone, I said very clearly, "Sorry I was rude, shitty day".

And it is when she met my eyes, and I realized I was looking at nothing more, and nothing less than a very scared, very cold, and obviously very in trouble kid, did I once again learn a lesson I should not need to learn again. And that is the art of perspective. Because it always applies.

Twenty minutes later, after I hear only a tiny portion of her story, and after I have walked her the six blocks to the crisis center shelter in the old City Hall building, do I start to really consider what the idea of perspective means, in the context of a young girl who has spent the last five nights on the downtown streets of Canada's largest city. And if I had forgotten it in light of my own issues, then I have been reminded in a very visceral way; perspective matters. In some cases, it's the only thing that does.

Two specific things I am NOT saying with this post. One, is that I am not in any way naive enough to think that my actions this evening will be my actions tomorrow, or the next day. They obviously can't be, because if taken to the logical extension, by giving random strangers money whenever it moved us, we would all be in her shoes eventually. Some, much faster than others.

I am also not saying that this girls very real and immediate concerns with the basics of sustaining a safe and healthy life, in any way invalidate my own issues and concerns of the moment. They don't. My issues are still there and they will still be there tomorrow. They will not change in any measurable way until I take action to change them.

However where the comparison becomes germane, is in the murky and meandering concepts of individual access and agency. And if I am going to really look at how those concepts play out in the society in which I live, then I must start with the fact that I am an able bodied white male, in a North American patriarchal culture that will often reward those traits without effort or merit. That must always inform an element of my perspective.

Obviously at this juncture there are several divergent directions where I could go with this. I could no doubt write a sweeping polemic on the disenfranchised and marginalized existence of a significant amount of this countries population. That however, was not my point.

My point was simply the next time I become so wrapped up in my own issues and concerns, and an opportunity to assist another is placed in front of me, I'd do well to get the fuck over myself for a moment, and before I offer a dismissive response, take a second or two and consider perspective.