Therapy verses Activism

Last night on TV3, Cameron Slater was once again on the News. This time, it was not because he'd outed someone in a Court case that was granted name suppression. This time it was more personal. The loss of his home following the denial of his Insurance company to keep paying out on his income protection plan. 

In 2004, Cameron was diagnosed with depression and it was this therapist that suggested he start a blog.

According to Cameron's wife, the therapist said "it was just the thing." Only, as we have all come to know and learn, that therapy, that fighting other people's causes, whether you agree with them or not, has landed Cameron in some serious shit. He is due to appear in Court this August to answer to the allegations of him breeching name suppression. No doubt, he will back in the News then as well. 

I will be one of the first people to admit - yes, I have hidden my scared sorry ass behind Cameron in silent support of what he's done. I do think the name suppression Laws in New Zealand need to be changed. I do think, when it comes to victims of sexual abuse, it is the victim's choice NOT the Judges who, in some cases, dish out name suppression because they don't want to add shame to the abuser. Some name suppressions are handed out purely on the basis of protecting the abuser's reputation. I am no legal expert but I'm pretty that's not the purpose of such a Law, and so yes, Cameron has become, like a lot of us, real bloody frustrated by it all, and yes, he's gone put his money where his mouth is, and yes, maybe he will have to pay for that. 

Some of you who have called me a pink haired liberal, I thank you. On a more serious note, it's only those small voices that yell the hardest, the loudest, that make for Law changes in this country - not the pussy voiced people like myself to a certain extent. I admire Cameron's courage. I sympathise with his wife's frustration - seeing her husband mangled by depression and only coming for a breath of fresh air when he's been fighting what she calls "other people's fights." 

But now, now that this TV3 News article has been broadcast saying (what some already knew) that Cameron suffers from a mental illness, some of the power in what he's been saying seems to have lost some of that joie de vie. Now people are saying, oh that's why Cameron went loop-da-loop, he has a mental illness. I don't think for a moment that his mental illness had anything to do with his sudden change of career, so to speak. I just think he's a passionate man who wears his heart on his sleeve, is prepared to take up the flag for causes, and does so, sometimes, in a rather "in ya face" manner, and .. oh yeah, he has a mental illness. 

By the way, when the hell did someone having a mental illness warrant national TV coverage?

And what of those who say that blogging, for example, is just good old fashioned therapy that's just using the latest technology? Well, who doesn't write a blog without some personal input, some personal experience influencing what they write? You don't need a mental illness for that. Some times you just need to be real pissed off with an ex-boyfriend to realise your potential as a voodoo-doll-making-blogger expert. Allegedly. 

So now we have people writing on Cameron's blog, telling him  to just shut the f*ck up and get himself some help? Why can't he be both a blogger and someone with a mental illness? And, when did those two lines (therapy verses activism) become so blurred? 

In writing this, I was reminded of a movie, called July 4th. Tom Cruise, never got therapy for his PTSD as a result of the war but he did alter the way people in general treated their returned service soldiers - and all that from a wheelchair. Sure he is just an actor, playing a part, but that situation and the subsequent movie was a real portrayal of life for a lot of people. He turned therapy over for activism and it worked. Pretty much like some of those submissions being sent into the ACC Clinical Pathway's Review Panel. I know most of those submissions are from people who are being refused therapy and have now decided to become activists in a cause against injustice. 

Some times people, it is in spite of a mental illness that people try to do good - not because of it. 

http://www.3news.co.nz/Slaters-wife-says-depression-fuels-bloggers-erratic-behaviour/tabid/370/articleID/158328/Default.aspx

Getting Home Safe

I can't remember how old I was but the TV newsflash was never forgotten: A woman had leaned into her car, maybe to get something from the front seat. A man came up from behind, kidnapped, raped and killed her. A Journalist then stood before the camera, appealing to the public for information by describing what the victim was wearing. "A tight pink holder-neck top and a very short skirt..." There was no mistaking the innuendo that it was the victim's clothes that "enticed" the attack. There was no mention of her name, where she had parked. The general consensus was she had asked for it. 

As a young woman growing up, I resented the fact that I "had" to watch what I wore in case I set off one of those signals that only rapists could see and hear, and I was really pissed off that I was being asked to pay the same tax rate as my males counterparts but was not allowed to enjoy the freedom they had to explore a city park after dark. It does seem a little archaic to place the responsibility of a rapist's actions on that of his victim but that's the way things were for a while. 

Things have changed in the decades since my rebellious youth. Media has exposed us to all sorts of hideous crimes we would otherwise never have heard about. Charities are set up to collect victims at the bottom of the cliffs, and legislation is forever trying to cater for the violent changes happening in our society - albeit at a snail pace. 

So, if it's now acceptable for women to wear what they want when they want - pretty much in the same way men do - then why would taxi companies refuse to ensure these "scantly clothed women" get home safe?

In a recent report in the Herald News, one reporter claimed 15 out of 20 taxi drivers refused her fare on the basis that the trip was less than 1km. 

Urgent Cabs was one of the worst at refusing fares. Auckland manager Zakir Yaswen admits he is concerned about staff refusing rides. "It all comes down to one thing, greed. It's a personal issue with the driver. They can make money off short trips, but they aren't thinking like that."

According to the New Zealand Transport Authority a driver cannot refuse a passenger unless they feel threatened or the passenger is intoxicated, consuming food or drink or in a "filthy condition".

Taxi Federation president Tim Reddish acknowledges there is a problem with drivers refusing to take passengers for short distances. "It's an unfortunate practice, it's absolutely illegal and does the industry no good." 

NZTA spokesperson Ewart Barnsley confirms drivers can be fined $400 for refusing a short trip - but he adds there is trouble enforcing the rules in practice...but...that's what they are hired to do." So, next time you're out and about and a cab refuses to take your fare, note the licence plate number and make a complaint to the NZTA. After all, getting you home safe is their job, "that's what they are hired to do.

Sitting on the Fence

I was invited to join two groups on Facebook. I'm always kind of flattered when invites like that pop up cause, like most people, my ego likes to be stroked every now and then too. However, these two groups were vigilante groups. That's not just my opinion by the way - one was actually called that! 

I did take a wee look, as you do, and most of the posts were by one man who, by all accounts, is a bit pissed off the Justice system of New Zealand or, as he likes to refer to them - a bunch of soft cocks. 

I got two things to say about this:

One, why oh why is it that men (generally) fall back on bits of their anatomy to either insight a challenge or/and defend against one? I've seen posts where men tell other men to bring their willies to war (in more graphic terms) as if it's the size of their appendage that matters and not what's between their ears. I know, it might be the latest form of gallant behavior but...I dunno, there's something real non-romantic about that kind of heroism. I wonder how men would react if women started calling each other puny clit or, God forbid, little labia losers. I think I'd piss myself laughing if some chick got so tongue tied they resorted to bodily assaults and I think, so would she. 

The second thing I have to say about these groups is ... I was really tempted to join. I am still thinking about it. I found it hard to argue with any of the points they make. In one posted story, the step-father of a young child who was kidnapped, raped over a 22 hour period, and buried alive while he frantically searched for her body was arrested for threatening to kill the murderer. He may have got a suspended sentence and a lot of sympathy from the general public but he also has a criminal record as a result of that threat. 

I could see myself as one of those "noisy" protesters, outside the Court room, when he was dragged before a real pissed off Judge. If I push the envelope a little more and imagine that was my child, I would be the one standing defiantly in front of the judge with a concealed shotgun ready to take a pop at the murderer myself. But we're not allowed to think that, let alone say it or act out on it, and I'm pretty sure these groups aren't encouraging that...or are they?

That question was the one thing that stopped me from joining the group. I don't want to be seen as a Lawless vigilante but...but...but... if I was the victim of such a crime or the parent of one, would I actually have a choice? Wouldn't I just become one by default, by the course of human nature? 

I remember watching the movie A Time to Kill where actor, Samuel L. Jackson, plays the father of a rape victim. As the two accused are led into the Courtroom, he opens fire and kills them both. That is pretty much the opening scene. As a viewer, you start watching this movie in support of the legal system. You intellectually know that the two accused were "innocent before proven guilty," but it doesn't take long for your opinion to start wavering when you're asked, what would you do it that happened to your kid? By the way, they were guilty so any PC thoughts you may have had soon get squashed and a sense of justice prevails. 

So, will I join those groups and by doing so, be guilty by association in support of vigilantes or just have really strong viewpoints on our current criminal system and do nothing? Is there really a time to kill? 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Time_to_Kill_(film)

Wise Words

When Passion just won't cut it

A young friend of mine has just experienced what I call - the "too much passion syndrome." He's often in front or behind the camera that provides you and I with New Zealand's news. From all accounts he's done his job and he's done it well. Once "off camera" he is quick to revert back to one of the most "upbeat" people I know and that has become his downfall. I am sure that covering some of the more recent horrific news pieces we've heard of lately can't be an easy job but surely, having someone who can spring back from that and go head on into the next job with an equal amount of passion is what News agencies want. Surely. Whatever their reasons, my dear friend is now out of a job. "I'm apparently, just too god damn happy," he said.

The Media industry wants passionate people. It's not something you can learn at Journalist School. You either have it or you don't. The irony is, whilst they realize passion is imperative in linking emotion to the stories told, they also desperately need to rein it in. In reality, it's the advertisers that deem what News we read and even if that story you have is earth shattering and deemed "in the public interest," it will never see the light of day if the advertising department starts to get nervous.

My first ever article must have set a lot of people on their toes. The good thing about that was I had no idea. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. You see, I was never a "real" journalist. I'd never been to any school and I have no idea about how an article was to be formatted let alone the protocol in presenting something for publication. 

In short, my first journalist job was a mistake.

I was sitting in my lounge in London listening to the outbreak of the 1992 Gulf War. I could not believe the powers that be saw War as their only option. On my TV there was 'this man' trying to say something but the voice-over was drowning him out. I caught his name, Tony Benn MP for Chesterfield, and thought... I'm going to call him tomorrow. 

This was my plan: Ring the House of Commons. Ask to speak to Tony Benn. His super snoop secretary will interrogate me, realise I am a nobody, and tell me to bugger off. That was the plan.

This is what happened: I called the House of Commons. Asked to speak with Tony Benn. The phone rang, he picked up, I freaked out, lied about who I was and he agreed to a face-to-face interview the following Monday. To this day, I can still hear myself saying "I work for the Star Herald Morning Dom." 

In hindsight, Tony Benn knew I was a fraudster. But there was a media gag on any anti-war information. Journalists all over Europe were having their print material confiscated and they ended up taking their protest to the streets, to no avail. Maybe Tony thought I'd be dumb enough to submit an article to a New Zealand paper and, in turn, they'd be naive enough to get it published. Funnily enough, that is exactly what happened. 

Six months after the article was published in the Auckland Star, I decided to return to New Zealand for a holiday. At Heathrow airport, they took my ticket and passport, looked at their computer and then asked me to wait while they "checked something." Within minutes, two guys dressed like the Blues Brothers, approached me and asked for me to follow them for 'questioning.' I pissed myself laughing. I think I even bantered with one of the guys and thumped him on the shoulder. "Yeah whatever dude!" I laughed. I was convinced this was some sort of Bloopers and I was buggered if I was going to look like I'd been caught out. 

Needless to say, my humor was completely lost on the pair. I followed them into an office, sat down, and watched as they brought my suitcase in, unpacked it, and flicked on my little poor laptop. It made a horrendously slow beeping sound, more like a groan really, which made B1 take a step back and look nervously at B2.  

"It's just a flat battery," I reassured.

That was the last time I saw my laptop. All my poetry, letters to my mum, and even period due dates, were gone, off to Lala land. It didn't help that my daytime job was at a computer company called KGB Micros (KGB being the initials of the three Directors). It didn't help that I had business cards in my handbag that they siphoned through. And it certainly didn't help that I told them they were from my Russian Spy headquarters.

You see, I was still expecting the camera to come out and for someone to wave a white flag and announce me as one of the hardest people they've tried to pull a prank on. I still believed that when they handcuffed me to board my flight but I must admit, the joke was starting to wear a little thin when B1 accompanied me all the way to San Fransisco. Another seven hours of "talking" there and I was about to admit to any heinous crime. 

"Are you a Saddam sympathiser?"

"I don't think so,"

"What's your business here in the States?"

"Um, it's a stop-over mate, you know, so we don't run out of fuel before New Zealand!"

"Are you trying to be smart?"

B1 accompanied me on the second leg of my journey to New Zealand, by which time I was not only jet-lagged big time but I was real pissed off as well. I'd become annoyed with passengers looking at me as if I was a dangerous criminal in transit and I was still to make the connection that this had anything to do with my article. As the plane came to a stop at Auckland airport, B1 unlocked my handcuffs. I guess he figured I wasn't about to make a run for it - unlike when I was, you know, in mid-air. Where the hell did he expect me to run to?

Passengers started to stand, collect their overhead luggage, and jostle for positioning in the aisle before the inevitable announcement was made: "Would passenger Burns please remain seated." I avoided eye contact with a sweet looking granny who gave me one of those "poor wee thing" expressions, and before I knew it, two of the most handsome New Zealand Customs Officers was standing over my chair.

"Yeah right, look we'll take it from here."

B1 didn't take too kindly to being stripped of his duty."But I have to ensure she sets foot on NZ soil."

The Customs leaned it. "Well what do you think this plane is sitting on, a fucking cloud?"

That was the first and last time I wrote anything remotely connected to politics. Tony Benn did write to me after the article was published. He thanked me for a well written piece which I thought ironic considering I'd merely put quote marks around things he said. He also let me know that his offices are bugged and that he'd learned of my 'little encounter.' Twelve years later, I looked at that article and realised it could be republished and without a single change to the text. Just the headline: History Repeats Itself. Except this time, I don't think New Zealand would be naive enough to publish an article that goes so against the norm. New Zealand's media has evolved, unfortunately, and having an opinion, even a controversial one is a big "no no," as is having passion for the job. 

Who am I, really?

Only I know who I am. I am my best researcher. I lived the walk and walked the talk - I am an expert in being me.

Other's profess to know me. Certain family members think they know me better than I know myself, which, at the risk of sounding real uptight, is kinda wrong, insanely wrong. It can "play" with your head when close relatives say that sort of stuff (especially if you rely on their judgement) and, if you're anything like me (God forbid) you could spent near a life time trying to prove them wrong.

And it's not like what they say is really that bad. It's just that 'ownership' thing I have a problem with. Should I (we) not have the right to the last word on 'who we are?" People can have their opinion but that's all it is just an opinion, a perception, their perception. It's not written in stone, surely!

But what happens when people "insist" they are right and you are wrong - we're not talking about who makes the best muffins here. That I could deal with. I'm talking about people who "insist" you're something you really don't think you are?

I've spent the majority of my life trying to understand other people's motives for certain things. Sometimes, I go as far as laying facts down on paper, things they have said, and then, I look at them. I know they're being unreasonable and yet, I sit and try to figure out why. Do other people do that?

This is what I have come to realise: People's intentions generate from their own need to self preserve, first and foremost. If your friend appears to have gone cold on you, good chance is, what you're going through is too close to home for that person to deal with. As cold as it is, she/he will ditch you like there was no tomorrow. That is human nature. There in lies your first clue as to what your friend is "really" going through in their own lives.

Ironically, it has nothing to do with you - you are but a spark that flamed something in their lives that maybe, they might like to look at and heal from.

Sadly, because we're all so busy maintaining that public facade of happiness, no one gets to know ....who we really are.

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