Sunday, July 26, 2009

VALUES


I was sitting at a sidewalk cafe. Imagine! A difficult job, yes...

A tent walked by.

A beige stiff and starched draped tent.

Only a slit for the eyes.

A woman's eyes, I had to guess.

I do have a brain. And that brain not only offers the power of reason, it is all the repository of much stored information.

So, later, after my initial shock and horror and disgust wore off, I was able to put my book down on the table and think about how people have a right to practice their religion, I guess...

But there is no question that my gut reaction was shock and horror and disgust and a deep anger about subjecting women to the roles and rituals that define them as chattels.

It is also the right and privilege and yes, even duty, of people who immigrate to Canada to maintain their homeland virtues while adopting to what likes to think of itself as a modern democracy.

My family did just that. Coming from Russia at the turn of the last Century, we spoke English on the street, mostly Yiddish in the house, went to both public schools and synagogue and somehow straddled the old and the new, making subtle shifts and compromises of one kind or another as we went along. Canadians, but Jews. Jews and Canadians. Nowhere did we identify ourselves as "Russian-Jewish Canadians." Who knew from hyphens?

All of this has come to mind now that the mother, father and brother of a family in Kingston have been charged with the murder of three of their daughters and their "auntie," who it turns out is actually the first barren wife of the accused father.

The more you read about this case - and it is in all your newspapers and websites - and the more you realize that there is a very strong chance that this is about ancient religious beliefs and practices, the more you ask yourself about our immigration processes.

Do we really ask anything of anyone? Do we point out that killing your daughter because she is dating some drip about whom you don't approve just isn't a "go" in this neck of the woods. That no young women would get past the age of 14 if we succumbed to these sentiments and rationalized dreadful behaviour with holy writ?

I suppose people have the right to sail down Broadway on a hot summer day disguised as a drifting tent or anything else they fancy.

But that doesn't mean I have to like it.

4 comments:

islamaphobe said...

Couldn't agree more. Wish this could be published in one our local rags. I can only imagine the cries of racism from our wonderful muslim community...temper tantrums would be sure to follow along with death threats....oh right, muslims aren't violent it's just a mere few who are...

Anonymous said...

And maybe the fellow the daughter was dating wasn't even a 'drip.' Maybe he was an industrious, courteous, funny, lovely young man. The family said they didn't want her to marry him, which is also proof that they are guilty of jumping to conclusions. Marriage was probably not even discussed at that early stage. How come they were allowed in the country and Mr. Lennikov is being sent home? Don't get me started, David! Sorry for changing your subject, but speaking of the Lennikovs, I know folks from Russia, I've lived with a man from Russia, I've been to Russia and read about Russia and I'd like to know how come the Canadian government can't realize that when you are a communist and the KGB wants you to join...you do!

Anonymous said...

As a white woman of rape in Canada, I dress to suit myself.I don't dress to please anyone else.Get it! Maybe, foreign woman want to dress covered up from head to toe, so 'men' won't look at them as if they were put here on earth to please their perverted selves!Ask women why they dress the way they choose to dress. I'll bet, it's for themselves...for their safety! Freedom of chose.

Anonymous said...

A tent? Shock? Horror? Disgust?

Did you ever stop to think that maybe there was a human under that tent. Possibly with feelings, personality, a sense of humour?

I Guess not.

Somebody once wrote "complaining about the present is the summit of idleness.", a sentiment that your blog relentlessly enshrines.