I'VE NEVER BEEN GOOD WITH BOUNDARIES

Today in Journalism class, students engaged in a discussion about content that is, and is not, appropriate to show in the media.

The discussion happened after anti-semitic posters were posted in downtown Winnipeg, and used to target Mayor Sam Katz among other well-known Jews in the city (and some non-Jews, apparently).

I was surprised to learn some of my classmates agreed with the Winnipeg Sun and thought it was appropriate for a clear photograph of one of the posters to be published. That left me burning fuckin’ mad. My heart was racing throughout the discussion, and it took me a while to stop thinking about it when class ended.

One comment - that a reporter’s job is to report - kept repeating itself in my mind.

And I agree with that comment, but I also think reporters, in general, are responsible to report only information that will allow people to be “free and self-governing,” said a handout given to me in first year Journalism class. I suppose I can see how publishing a photograph of one of the posters would allow people to be free to make up their own minds about the content of the poster, but it would also leave others trapped - specifically, the people whose names appeared on the “list” on the poster.

It would leave them trapped by stereotypes and by no other choice but to be portrayed in a negative and racist fashion, even if only for two days (the number of days the Sun has run the photograph so far). And while not directly, it leaves others trapped by that racism too, because publishing the photograph perpetuates the message  - even if that was not the intention of the media outlet.

I am now conflicted about Journalism and truth and boundaries. But I also gained a little bit of clarity, I guess.

For example, I am now thinking differently about the Youth Justice Act in Manitoba.

While interning at the paper (no, not the Sun) over the summer, I used to question why the names of youth who committed criminal acts were not published. Of course I thought I knew the answer, but I did not understand it as I understand it after the discussion today.

After today, I think their names are not published because it would only trap them if people at large knew their identity. They would become trapped by many of the same things the people on that list were temporarily trapped by  - stereotypes, and in some cases, publishing their names could perpetuate ideas rooted in racism that, unfortunately, seems to exist in society already.

The difference is, of course, that the people whose names appeared on the list on the posters have not, to my knowledge, committed criminal acts.

Anyway, this is all to say that I now have a little bit more insight when it comes to forming an opinion on what is appropriate to publish. I still agree with the hand out on journalism I was given last year - that information published should allow people to be free and self-governing. However, it should be non-discriminatory, so to speak: information should, to the best of the media outlets ability, let everyone be free and self-governing.

Obviously there are exceptions to this rule, and no I am not saying that convicted serial killers and child molesters should remain anonymous, but I am saying that all parties should  be considered when content is published, and in the particular case of the anti-semitic posters, one party was targeted, and the media only continued to target them by posting the content.

The end.

TRUE OR FALSE

One thing I learned after working for a paper this summer: there is more room for truth in fiction than there is in writing that is supposedly fact.

I started to think that after one editor in particular began telling me the responses I should be getting from organizations in order to write any particular story, and even the quotes people should be saying. He was deciding the news, not discovering it.

Then I started thinking maybe it was just him, but as I had more hands-on experience I realized that no, it’s truly the nature of the newspaper beast.

Consider when I have to report on a knife fight - the actual knife fight happens somewhere in Winnipeg. Then someone calls the cops, or the cops see it when they are on patrol. They break it up, and people have to file police reports and whatever, so they get a combination of ‘truths‘ and people generally saying what they think will keep them out of trouble. Then police media relations has to summarize the event into something they can report to the media without compromising the image of the cops. That’s when I give them a call and get the ‘story‘ which, at this point, is really just something derived from what might have happened, but who really knows.

And the paper is a business. The bottom line is to sell papers which makes me see journalism, or at least the side of it I saw this summer, as something that defeats it’s own purpose. I was under the impression before I did this internship that the point of reporting information is to provide people with something that would allow them to be ‘self-governing,‘ to make their own choices or at least have options. I feel as though there is an element of it to that, but mostly every media outlet just wants to be the fastest and that kind of gets lost in everything.

And there are a bunch of rules surrounding what you can and cannot say and I believe they all relate to political connotations, perhaps, and things I don’t really understand. And overall they relate to having ‘taste‘ or being politically correct or whatever. Apparently, I know nothing about taste (or so I was told on the fourth time I was talked to about the dress code). Anyway, at least in fiction, because you are making up stuff that is based on maybe your own experiences or someone else's, you can show ugly details and be really honest about the whole thing because in the end it’s just fiction, right?

You can say things that are not tasteful, but that are true. And while I don’t believe in ultimate truth, at least you can tell someone’s truth in a full way than try to partially tell everyones only to tell no ones at all.

That’s why I will be writing movies one day, not articles. 

IDENTITY CRISIS

On the evening of Tuesday, September 4, members and supporters of the Green Party of Manitoba gathered at Triple B’s and ate Bruschetta while awaiting the results of the Fort Whyte byelection.

It seemed as though most people who were speaking about the byelection throughout the day knew the PC candidate, Brian Pallister, was going to win, and he did. The riding has always been conservative, with Hugh McFadyen, PC garnering 5,594 votes in the last provincial election on October 4, 2011. The NDP candidate Sunny Dhaliwal was far behind him with 2,655 votes, and Liberal candidate Chae Tsai only got 710. 

The Fort Whyte Green Party candidate, Donnie Benham, said he was not nervous, even when results were going to be in any minute. I believed that he was not afraid at all as I watched him casually walk over to the ATM to pull out some cash while some of the other people there, including party members, student journalists, and supporters waited in anticipation.

I started to think about why he would not be nervous and aside from what seemed to be the obvious near fact that he was not going to be elected, it occurred to me that being elected may never have been his goal in the first place. I suppose I started giving this more thought after James Beddome, the Leader of the Green Party of Manitoba, began speaking about awareness as the party’s central focus in the byelection.

“We want to make sure they know the Green Party is out there,” he said. 

The Green Party, I started to think, holds the convictions and values of its members and supporters, and it sounded as though Beddome, and Benham, want to see the party’s identity bloom.

The idea of identity started going around in my mind even more when I found out, minutes later, that Pauline Marois of the PQ had been elected as Premier of Quebec.

I had gotten back from Montreal two days before and each time I walked by a sign of Marois’ face, I listened to my pal Erik, who is an Anglo, talk about Marois as the would-be worst thing to ever happen to Quebec. He spoke of coexistance and expressed disapproval at the prospect of separating from the rest of Canada, saying it would leave him no choice but to leave Montreal.

But then at night I would listen to Mado, my favorite Franco (and all time) drag queen discourage spectators from voting for Charest while performing her show, and denying her status as a Canadian citizen, claiming she is “Quebecois, and Quebecois only,” or something along the lines of that.

“Who here does not speak French?” she asked in her thick and very sexy accent. “Oh, it’s okay to be retarded” she said when people raised their hands.    

And that, too, is all about identity. Because while the Green Party of Manitoba was trying to bring theirs to life, the PQ and their supporters are trying to keep theirs from dying. 

I was sad that Marois won, I guess, because even though it’s unlikely, I don’t want Montreal to leave from Canada. I love how it is now. But I guess I kind of get it because I’ve been to Israel so that gave me a sense of how it feels to really belong. When I got there, I was told a million times that I was home - simply because I’m a Jew. It was cool to see people from my ‘tribe‘ with their own land and their own language and their own way of life, and it was even more cool to know that my blood - my identity - entitles me to be a part of that. So I started thinking that, if I was a Franco, and I lived in a sweet place like Montreal, or Quebec in general, hell yeah I’d want to claim it for my own. 

Anyway, I was also sad to see the official results of the Manitoba Fort Whyte byelection, which were the following:

Brian Pallister, PC got 3,626 votes
Bob Axworthy, Lib. got 2,069 votes
Brandy Schmidt, NDP got 739 votes
Donnie Benham, Green Party got 113 votes
Darrell Ackman, Independent got 19 votes

That means that NDP has 37 seats, the PCs have 19 seats, and the Liberals have 1 seat.

I was sad to see this because I will soon be at a place where I am going to want to build my own identity and it is hard to imagine that even if you believe your values are valuable and your perspectives give perspective, not everyone else will see that in you. Not everyone sees it in the Green Party, I guess. 

“Every vote for the Green Party is a victory,” said Benham, after he saw the results. “I am really happy with the turnout; 100 votes, that’s 100 people that want a more accountable government and a greener future for Manitoba.”

Those things that he said made me understand it definitely was not about winning or losing, and that’s something I will remember about the identity of the Green Party.

A RAT'Z LAFF

I saw Dionysus in Stony Mountain at the Rachel Browne Theatre on April 3. The play was complex and some reviews have referred to it as intellectual. It features a Stony Mountain inmate named James (Ross McMillan), who questions his psychiatrist's (Sarah Constible) role in the justice system. The play, which was written by Steven Ratzlaff, happens in two acts.

I left the theatre thinking it was a good thing it accommodates only a small audience because I don’t believe Dionysus in Stony Mountain will ever see a sold out performance. The language was complicated, and the sentences (sometimes passages) were lengthy. Many times James simply quoted Friedrich Nietzsche, a 19th century German philosopher who became of interest to James when he stopped taking his medication. I study playwriting at Prairie Theatre Exchange and I have learned it is unwise to make your audience feel stupid. While I did not necessarily feel stupid when I left, I did not feel like I understood the play.

I read that Ratzlaff is personally interested in Nietzsche’s work and I feel as though he used the play as a medium to expand on his own interests, theories, and ideas. When I try to see it from his perspective, it occurs to me that he may believe that theatre goers will significantly benefit from learning Nietzsche’s work, and some of his own ideas. Unfortunately, a playwright must write for an audience, not for oneself. I mean, I would love to write a play about my cat Dusty and the way she lets me hold her foot when she goes to sleep, and how I use Carbon by MAC to pencil in my eyebrows, and the gap between my two front teeth. Hell, I could even throw in some passages from Fran Lebowitz's Metropolitan Life, but those things are not interesting to everyone. Maybe cats, makeup, dentistry, and New York City generally interest people, but not my own personal thoughts on each one.

I am disappointed because the Canadian justice system and offenders are interests that I pursue outside of learning about them at school or in the news. Before seeing the play, I expected that there was a chance for theatre about this topic to provoke thought and maybe even action on behalf of the audience. 

For me, it provoked regret that I did not stay home and watch Monster for the 31st time.  

I should have stayed home with you, babe.

photo taken from google

MY THOUGHTS ARE EVERYWHERE

Mike McIntyre and Wilma Derksen, the mother of murder victim Candace Derksen, visited Red River College to talk about McIntyre’s book, Journey for Justice: How“Project Angel” Cracked The Candace Derksen Case. 

I have thought about this visit, the book, and crime in general way too much over the last few weeks and I apologize in advance because my thoughts are all over the place.

The book was written concisely, and that worked because it made the read a quick one. The content sounded like fiction, however; particularly when McIntyre drew quotes from conversations Candace’s parents, Wilma and Cliff Derksen, supposedly had in bed. To me, that did not work because it did not sound believable.  

When I ask what makes excellent journalism, I question if what was written was a worthwhile allocation of resources. In my opinion, Journey for Justice: How“Project Angel” Cracked The Candace Derksen Case, was not a worthwhile allocation of McIntyre’s resources as a crime reporter. The Candace Derksen case has received extensive media coverage and Have you seen Candace?, a book about Candace’s disappearance by Wilma Derksen, was published in 1992 and again in 2002. Journey for Justice provoked the same thoughts I had before: What happened to Candace Derksen and her family is a damn shame. Mark Grant is a freak. 

The book covered the overwhelming amount of support the Derksens received following Candace’s disappearance. This is another reason I found it to be a poor allocation of McIntyre’s resources as a crime reporter. Knowing so many people dedicated their efforts to the search for Candace and continued to support the Derksens afterwards did not make me think I should be doing my part to help out, because so many people were helping already.  

On the contrary, I think Nick Broomfield allocated his resources effectively when he made Aileen: Life and Death of a Serial Killer. It is a documentary film that follows Aileen Wuornos, a hitchhiking prostitute who killed seven men in Florida, in her final months on death row. If I merely read about Wuornos in the news, I would likely find her to be a crazy and terrible person. Watching the documentary provoked me to think about Wuornos as a victim, not a killer. It provoked me to think about why she did what she did (specifically the part where she tried her hardest to describe her family as good people and finally broke down and said if she would have had love and “something decent” in terms of a family, she could have been an “outstanding American.”) Finally, it provoked me to think about what I can do to change things for women like Aileen.   

Journalists can learn the importance of allocating their resources wisely from McIntyre’s book and the Candace Derksen case in general.

My reaction to the book and the presentation at first involved questioning how fulfilling a career as a crime reporter would be to me. I continued to think how reading that book provoked very few new thoughts and no desire to do anything to help find missing children, since so many people, it seemed, already are. It provoked zero desire to help a woman-hating heartless, soulless killer like Mark Grant.  

Yet I want to tell (“crime report”) Wuornos’s story to the whole world after seeing the documentary, and I will never stop believing that she has a heart and soul. But why?

 Candace Derksen asked her mother to pick her up from school on the day she was abducted. When I asked about the value of crime reporting when McIntyre and Derksen came to Red River College, Wilma said reporting on crime can take the blame off the victim. 

Mike McIntyre was only a few years younger than Candace when she was abducted, they lived not too far from each other, and her body was found on his birthday. 

My mother was a victim of domestic abuse and Aileen Wuornos was provoked to kill because she was abused by men all her life.  

The personal is political, right?

GROCERY LIST

When Beverly Rowbotham was murdered, she was wearing an undershirt.

Pathologist Dr. John MacDonald said it in court on Feb. 21. He said her feet were bare, 

and her jean jacket was buttoned at the wrists, and not the front. 

A young and beautiful Bev Rowbotham.  
Probs around my age here.

photo taken from Winnipeg Sun

But the undershirt, to me, is the most painful detail. She must have put it on that day because in October it gets cold. And if Bev Rowbotham could sense a breeze on her back, she could feel the blade on her fingers when she raised a hand to protect her face. 

Thinking about that makes her real to me, despite that I did not know her. It makes what happened to her possible. 

I watched her husband, Mark Stobbe, in the courtroom. He pleaded not guilty, by the way.

Hours later, I was feeling sad and I put on my television. On Golden Girls, Blanche was at a comedy club with Rose and Sophia, and Dorothy performed at amateur night.

Trying comedy was on the do-before-you-die list Dorothy made when she was young. Beverly’s wristwatch washed up on the riverbank. Those things made me think of time. And I am young, so I made a list of my own. 

At the top, I wrote about living in Manhattan and drinking Coke out of a glass bottle. By the bottom I scribbled something about feeling God at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, even though I did that last summer.

Four lines down, I wrote that I want to help free women from violence.

YIKES

I might be fucked for IPPs.