The Summer of Jos: Reflections

At the outset of May, I declared to my friends and family that the Summer of 2015 was to be the Summer of Jos. A confluence of truly unique circumstances have allowed me to do something that I have not been able or willing to do since I was in my mid-teens: to live in the present.

For the first time since Grade 8, I’m not losing sleep about an uncertain future. I’m here, in the moment of where I am, using this time to take stock of the incredible, almost unbelievable series of events that have influenced my life, to reconnect with parts of myself with which I’d become somewhat estranged, and gain some new insight as to who I am and what makes me that person.

I’m going to share some of those reflections.

Four years ago, I began reading Homestuck, a webcomic story whose current length (>1.2 million words) is estimated to be longer than every novel ever written save one. For four years, I have steadfastly read every new page as soon as it was available to me. For four years, this story has been single-handedly sustaining my not-so-inner fangirl.

Also four years ago, I stood on the precipice of the single largest and most significant change in my life. I know that young people tend to overemphasize the importance of the things that happen to them relative to what happens to them for the remainder of their lives, but I think that the benefit of hindsight allows me to be justified in such an appraisal. In all but the most literal ways, the summer of 2011 shaped whom I was, whom I would become, and whom I would continue to be. It was at this time that I made the choice that would allow me to take agency in my life, rather than simply be carried along for the ride.

The four years since have been, without question, the most transformative years of my life. And through the whirlwind of all of those changes, for the first time in a long time it feels as though the end is in sight. Fittingly, for the first time in a long time, it feels as if the end of Homestuck is finally looming on the horizon.

Homestuck is, in many ways, a coming-of-age story about finding one’s place and becoming the person you’re meant to be. How appropriate, then, that the story has been a constant companion for me as I’ve been finding my place and becoming the person I was meant to be. I look forward to the resolution, look forward to seeing how it all works out, for both Homestuck and for myself. And when it’s finally over, it will feel like a bittersweet goodbye to a friend that helped me through the most trying times of my life.

A counselor I was seeing at the University recently told me that it was evident to her that I was a generally happy person. This surprised me, because for the bulk of my life people have always been telling me that I seem sad, that I have unresolved anger, that I’m really anything but happy. But, taking inventory of myself and all that I’ve done, I can see that she’s right. And this is the ultimate result of this transformative time in my life; I’ve become happy. Truly, honestly, unreservedly happy, and at peace with myself.

Not that it’s all been positive, of course. Finding confidence and conviction in my beliefs has brought about something wholly unexpected, but in retrospect, fully inevitable: I’ve made enemies. Back in my days of trying to be aggressively inoffensive, the idea of people actually having it in for me seemed….improbable.  I have never been universally liked, of course, but the people who didn’t like me never really moved beyond a passive, “eh” sort of attitude. Not so anymore; this past year I learned the truth of that old Churchill quote, how having enemies means that at one point in your life, you stood for something. People I once called friend have chosen to no longer speak with me, and complete strangers whom I’ve never met in person have expended considerable effort to my professional and academic sabotage. And still I find myself facing situations where I feel I must choose between a friend and a desire to stand up for what I believe in. In the past, I’d have almost universally chosen friend. Now, the choice is less obvious.

In the wake of it all, however, I’ve also found new friends, strengthened existing relationships, and found support and compassion in places both likely and unlikely. Seasons change, times change, and I change. And as I change, I find that people willing to help me are in no short supply. 

The summer’s not over yet. There is still plenty of time remaining to explore, to discover, and to embrace the present. Thank you, dear reader, for sharing this journey with me in your own way.

Oh, Canada…

Canada Day used to be my favourite holiday.

Where I’m from, there was only really one party on Canada Day; the fireworks display at the reservoir park. If you’re out and about on the eve of Canada Day, that’s where you are, because that’s where everyone is. Stretching out the entire perimeter of the 1100 acre park are families and friends with lawn chairs and picnic blankets, strewn about anywhere there’s space, thousands and thousands of people in attendance. And for me, this was better than Christmas. I’d always spend the evening walking around, in search of anyone and everyone that I knew. I’d find them, say hello, catch up briefly, perhaps make an empty plan to “get coffee one of these days”, and continue my search. That was the thing about these fireworks: they brought the whole county to one location, and for some one born and raised in that county, old friends and acquaintances were easy to come by, and it’d be a different batch every year.

But my favourite part of this favourite holiday of mine was the drive home. With so many people crammed into this park, traffic on the way out was, predictably, painfully slow. Bumper-to-bumper as far as the eye can see. Every intersection becoming a four-way-stop simply out of courtesy, minute-long stops punctuating any forward movement. Then, gradually, as each car gets further from the park, traffic begins to thin ever so slightly. With every intersection, a group of cars all head in different directions, making my path less crowded. By the time I get close to my home, there’s only one or two other cars left heading my way. Such an evident metaphor for the branching paths of life! Such a beautiful microcosm of how celebrations like this bring us together from such varying points of origin! Such a third literary device so as to complete the quintessential ‘rule of three’!

I don’t live there anymore. And, Gautama willing, I never will again. And no matter how long I stay where I am, it is unlikely that I will ever experience Canada Day in this way ever again. Such is the way of things; there are times in our lives where it becomes necessary to move forward from antiquated, romanticized memories of what something may once have represented for us, and into an exciting new perspective in our lives.

And so, with that thought in mind:

This isn’t an easy thing for me to say. I’ve lived in Canada my whole life, and like most Canadians, I’ve been inundated with the romantic notion of how wonderful and perfect Canada is. Canadians are so polite. Canadians love to apologize to each other. Canadian soldiers are known around the world as “Peacekeepers”. Canadian police officers will drive you 20 minutes out of town and leave you stranded on the side of the road if you’re First Nations, just because they can.

Wait, what?

Yeah, that last one doesn’t exactly fit in with our squeaky-clean international reputation. It follows a long and storied history of human rights violations committed in the name of Canada. Canadian politicians set up internment camps to break up Japanese-Canadian families following Pearl Harbor. Working conditions, accidents, and unsafe practices claimed the lives of thousands of Chinese immigrant workers, who were paid less than their white counterparts for the same labour. Sir John A MacDonald, the first prime minister of Canada and face of our 10-dollar bill, supported the Confederacy in the U.S. Civil War, and was allegedly very much a supporter of slavery. The list of atrocities goes on. And on. And on. AND ON.

Now, granted, some of this is history. And, granted, our list certainly doesn’t compare, in length, to some nation states existing in the world today, and in its history. But I can tell you right now, things are not trending well for human rights of Canadians. Much wailing and gnashing of teeth has been had over Bill C-51, hailed by many as “Canada’s PATRIOT Act”, with full support of Harper’s cons and Trudeau’s libs, but what you may not know is that another, similarly terrifying bill, BIll C-24 also passed thanks to our ruling majority party. Under Bill C-24, immigrants, dual-citizens, and those eligible for dual-nationality (such as family/spouses of immigrants) are re-classified as second-class citizens, subject to having their citizenship revoked, even if they were born in this country.

I want you, reading this right now, to really stop and think about this. In the days of Jim Crow and “separate but equal” legislation, the term “second class citizen” was used colloquially, addressing that while the legal system guaranteed equal rights to all citizens, divisions between groups of people left many of those groups distinctly less privileged than others, effectively making them “second class” citizens. It was never intended to refer to something that was official in any legal capacity. Now, in the year 2015 anno-fucking-Domini, we actually have “second class citizen” codified into law.

And, as the youngest daughter of a fully naturalized British immigrant, I am one of those second class citizens. Of course, I am not so naive as to be ignorant of the true intention of this law; to make it easier to deport “potential terror threats”, which in the minds of many, is a distinction afforded exclusively to people with dark skin. Again, in the 21st century, we are passing laws to justify racial paranoia on a national level.

Listen. I want to love this country. I want Canada to be a nation I can be proud to call my home. I want us to do better. Sadly, everything Stephen Harper has done since taking office has made this already Herculean task so much more difficult with every passing day.

But, I am pleased to say, I am hopeful. This May saw one of the most surprising provincial elections in this country’s history, with Alberta’s New Democrat Party taking its first-ever government, and a majority government, no less. This, after 44 years of consistent, undisputed, and largely uncontested majority Conservative Party governments, breaking a dynasty that had lasted so long that the party’s ruler believed his re-election was fait accompli before he even called the election. On that day, Alberta proved to the country that change is possible, and that we don’t have to stand the cons’ dehumanizing policies for one more term. Albertans, by and large, proved themselves ready for change. And maybe, just maybe, the rest of the country is ready to see that same change.

Please, Canada, prove that my hope isn’t unfounded. Let’s band together and make this country something worth being proud of.

Until then, enjoy your fireworks.

~Joselyn