Violent Sex and the Matter of Consent

I am a fan of Q and of Jian Ghomeshi and was quite disturbed by the news surrounding his departure from the CBC on grounds of sexual assault of several women, with whom he alleges he engaged in consensual BDSM acts, for the duration of his personal relationship with each of them. As a public figure, his private life is of interest to all and so whether or not criminal charges are called for here, CBC has a reputation to guard and did what they believed they needed to do. However, this incident raises some important issues that are worth pondering.

Does Jian really believe that consent is infinite? It is likely that at the specific point in time, when the individuals consented to rough acts of sex, they were not fully aware of what it is they were consenting to.

Many years ago when I worked at the Crown Attorney’s office, we prosecuted a case of aggravated sexual assault. A conservative Iraqi woman who was married with three kids was sexually assaulted in a park, while on a church picnic, by a member of her own parish. The perpetrator then threatened to reveal the details of this incident to the community if she did not go to his house to engage in sexual acts with him. At that time, the law did not recognise extortion through verbal threats as vitiating consent. In other words, the law said, if she had gone to his house, notwithstanding her fear of reputational damage, she had gone willingly. When she went for the first time, the perpetrator secretly video- taped their sexual acts and threatened to make the tapes public. Given the nature of these new threats, she felt she could not turn to anyone and went to his place several times. Finally, she bucked up the courage to speak to her husband and with his support reported the matter to the Police. That’s how we got to prosecute it. So how did we crack this one? I worked with a brilliant Assistant Crown named Dave Fisher and he argued in court that while she may have gone consensually, at some point that consent had stopped. This was at the precise point when the perpetrator had used violence to overcome her resistance to him. We won and the perpetrator was suitably convicted on grounds of aggravated sexual assault and put away for several years.

In this instance, the women may have stopped consenting to Jian at some point, in which case there are grounds for criminal charges to be brought against him. The women will have to come forward and report the matter to the Police. So potentially, he faces jail time.

If, as Jian alleges, all sexual acts were purely consensual and there were frequent check- ins around the escalating acts of BDSM and this was someone crying foul when he decided to dump them, then we have another issue to ponder. Are these women, who legally consented to the sexual acts, being opportunistic and using the pretext of sexual violence to take revenge? Given my work in the violence against women field for over 25 years now, I fear such a tactic will take away from the credible experiences of all those women who genuinely face abuse and terror every day in the hands of their intimate partners.

Yet another issue that concerns me is if Jian is a victim of racialized stereotypes. As an Iranian Muslim it would be quite easy to isolate him as an outsider, more than if he was a member of mainstream communities. I have a healthy skepticism here, given my ringside view over the years of how folks from some communities are more easily criminalised than others. I love the CBC and do hope this is not a case of presumption of guilt, but a finding of fault, following a rigorous investigation of the facts. Otherwise, I am sad to say the CBC is being both spineless and hypocritical!

Have you faced a disappointment recently? Some thoughts..

Have you faced a disappointment recently? These thoughts that occurred to me might help?

Every time life throws a curve ball we bemoan the unfairness of it all. If only things could have been different? Our constant preoccupation with how things could have/ should have been takes us away from us being in the present. I want something badly. Why do I want it? Well it will give me great sensations, stroke my ego, provide me that perfect symmetry so life can go as I ordered it or just because I want something different from the present. In other words, I want all of those things because I am discontented with things as they are. But that discontent is not inherent in the things but with MY state of being. What if I decided instead that I will be happy in the present and not postpone happiness for when something happens? What would I have to do for this to be true?

- Be grateful and happy now
- Be focussed and do my best in the moment
- Know fully well that everything other than the present moment is a projection of my insecurities and desires and NOT the true state of how things would be if they happened – because with my discontented mind I will find reasons to be unhappy then too
- Be forgiving of myself if I am moody or depressed – but observe and allow those feelings to pass
- Do not put off happiness for something to happen – if I had the perfect job or the perfect whatever I will be happy – will I really?
- Be willing to let go. Of material things. Of grudges and dislikes. Of negativity. Of insecurities.
- Be willing to take risks without fearing disappointments, knowing what I do– make the transitions – life will open up a whole new set of possibilities better than I ever imagined. I am greater than my thoughts and my limited mind.
- Above all, Remind yourself - I will not overthink – but will just be, just do and move on to the next experience and the next and allow life to surprise me with its rich bounty. I will be joyful.
- Remind yourself also - I will allow all those sensations of pain to pass. Be present and not be dragged down by the past.
- Be pleasant and kind with everyone no matter what – I can change myself and the world of people, who have disappointed me, with my kindness.

Thanksgiving thoughts

One of my favourite contemporary books is Michael Crichton's Timeline. It is about multiverses and time travel between them. I realise that in Toronto people occupy multiverses in the same era.

This is our Canadian thanksgiving weekend. There are as many events and expressions of thanks, as there are people. I use the radio as my litmus test. Until a few years ago, the week leading up would be replete with tips on cooking turkey. Psychologists would offer advice on gatherings in dysfunctional families, on negotiating relationships and maintaining civility on that one day. There would be tips for those who had no one to spend the day with. Everywhere I turned, talk would be about the joy and travails of cooking that much loved and feared meat. I have never tasted it but have it on good authority that it is fibrous and only as good or as bad as the ingredients that are stuffed into it. Of course the hooch that is imbibed prior to the turkey being eaten, probably takes the edge off.

I do not hear too much of that any more. People love having the Monday off to congregate with family and friends over dim sum or a barbecue, offering prayers at their gurudwaras or temples or spending alone time just driving into the country to enjoy the early fall colours. In my office alone, we have over 20 different cultures represented and they each have their own expression of the holiday and turkey only figures in some. I hear a lot of stories about people opening their doors for a meal to complete strangers, Canada's newcomers, in true pioneering spirit. So the traditional gathering which was somewhat exclusive is now acceptably inclusive. I hark back to a time when our daughter felt odd person out because we did not celebrate traditional thanksgiving at home like the rest of her schoolmates!

I will be enjoying a simple South Indian potluck buffet with close friends, following a study group of a Sanskrit text. But like everyone else, I will turn my mind in gratitude to the bounty that is my life in a wonderful country whose peoples' warmth and good cheer thaws the coldest of days! So turkey or no turkey Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

A suburban life

The suburban life

We were driving in the pouring rain along a treeless highway with pale yellow lights on one side and transmission lines on the other side. The roads were slick and the head lights of the other cars the only evidence of life around us. We came off the highway after what seemed like an infinity within the confines of our vehicle, aware of the bland uniformity of our collective isolation in these cars that transported us from one structured cocoon to another. Everything was orderly and predictable to the point of being dystopic. Then out of the blue in the middle of vast stretches of barren land, tantamount to nothingness, were a rash of structures - soon to be town houses.

Soon they will confine within their flimsy walls and creaking boards families from countries afar who have sought refuge here. From where to where and to what? These folks can ill afford homes closer to the inner city which they will rarely experience. But they will probably also never get to know their neighbours or their local communities as they wake up before dawn to drive down those highways to earn paycheques that will help them keep their homes, so they can come home to defrost a meal cooked over the weekend following mandatory groceries and chores. Between keeping the body fed and the children in classes that they may never appreciate they live with the sole ambition of justifying that journey from afar. Their kids must do better than them. So they will herd their reluctant kids in their cars to structured recreation in an effort to keep them, at least for a few moments, away from the lure of electronic devices. No time for chit chat or conversation. A mechanical life lived with the belief that kids will grow up accomplished. Never mind that they will grow up without a sense of community, of connectedness to a place, a distinct culture or identity - rudderless at best and sociopathic at worst. Is this the society we want? Is this the community we need to nourish our souls?

Silences between the sounds - U. Srinivas

Music plays a very significant role in the social construction of my reality. So I can only imagine what it must have been for the greatest musician of all time, U. Srinivas. Even his dying moments must have been gloriously suffused with the music that emanated from every pore of his being. It must have elevated him from the hopelessness of his physical condition. Hopefully in those moments he had vivid fantasies of creating a lengthy and complex ballad and playing it on the world stage for uproarious commendation. As his life seeped out, he was released from the petty and irrelevant acts that surrounded his life which found him in a bitter divorce battle for over two decades. Such wasted energy that could have been channeled into his glorious music. Given his genius, I know he was not an architect of this acrimony but merely a helpless pawn in the happenings of his life.
As I go about my mundane middle class life trapped in the mediocrity of my thoughts, the question that keeps popping up “is today the day when the music died?” And then in an epiphany it came to me. Mandolin’s greatness was not in the sounds he made with his instrument, but in the silences between those sounds. Today he became that silence, evaporating into the music that he has created and left behind.

America America

America America

As I sojourn in India my true love - I am nostalgic for America the ideal which is no more. Here are my musings!

I remember going to watch a screening of the CLIO awards at the USIS 35 years ago. I could not believe that there actually were awards for films that sold products and how everyone and everything looked so healthy and wholesome in the featured ads! I spent many hours trolling books to fulfill my fascination of this ideal world. I watched ancient sitcoms that came on the one TV channel we had in India, lapped up their rock and roll and, of course, Hollywood! There was an affluent world out there which appeared perfect with its beautiful people, manicured lawns, massive cars. thick cut slices of bread, creamy milk in glass bottles and blood red tomatoes. They made perfect objects that would last forever and promised equality of opportunity for all. A generation of us lapped up all things American and yearned to set foot on her soil.

My first real encounter with all things American was in Singapore when my husband took his blushing bride to Shakey's Pizza. I was fascinated with the menu and the decor but could not bring myself to enjoy the pie with its foul smelling cheese toppings. To my uninitiated nose cheese smelt like milk gone bad. However, I ate it believing that if this was American food it had to be good! Then came the Macdonald's experience, where I first encountered super sizes in food. I could not fathom how anyone could down a barrel of those immensely sweet shakes? I don't know if I relished the French fries and Apple pie because of their taste or because I was officially a participant in the American cultural experience.

My first trip to the US in the late 80s was an "eye popping" experience. I realized that the super size at MacDonalds was not an anomaly. Everything here was simply and incomprehensibly larger than life. I soon realized that the massive cars, houses, roads, buildings and malls embodied the aspirations and vision of America daring to out perform the human mind's ability to dream and conjure up a reality of abundance, invincibility and opportunity. Anything was possible here. Even though I only visited from neighbouring Canada, I bought into that ideal as did immigrants to the country, developing its business houses and it's educational brain trusts culminating in its present culture of innovation.

However, America is a social experiment with a high price. An experiment built upon a racialised society with a history of institutionalised racism. An experiment with high ideals reliant on the capitalist ethic to achieve them. And for a while it seemed like the good times would last forever. Alas, capitalism had a few plans of its own. Simply put, a bottomless hunger for natural resources brought on by a culture of obsolescence where everyday calls for something new and different to enhance the human experience in pursuit of cash, creativity and choice. This meant preserving a lifestyle by interfering in the sovereignty of other nation states which had resources it needed or which felt threatened by its ideology, respectively. It soon developed a dark side. A stratified society meant frustration for those facing barriers to achieve its ideals, while the red carpet went to the Rockfeller home? Drugs, guns, gangs, and attacks by outsiders began to plague this beautiful nation of baseball and apple pie giving birth to many Americas, the good the bad and the ugly! It began falling victim to its own smokescreen of an aspirational lifestyle!

I love America and Americans. I love it's "can do" attitude, it's over the top abundance and everything that attracted me to it in the first place! I am therefore sad to see this wonderful nation a trillion dollars in debt as a result of its arms programs and support of wars that preserve its currency and oil interests. It's sad to see it become the laughing stock as an unsustainable society of excesses. Where there is no credible public transport and gas for SUVs is subsidized. Where food is cheap and obesity associated health problems are driving up per capita spending and lowering productivity. Where the radical right is gaining ground as the salvation to right the wrongs of the state. Where the divide between rich and poor is growing daily.

What America needs to do is to let go of its self delusion and see itself in all its complexity. It needs to take a good hard look and redefine itself as a nation capable of self reflection that names it's issues, defines them and addresses them in its characteristically innovative and systematic way. Go America!

Chennai experiences - Arumugam an everyday hero!

Arumugam's (not his real name) skin is the colour of burnished teak. In the sun it glistens a deep brown and there is a hint of red. He has a mop of grey hair. He carries his compact body with quiet strength in his security uniform. He has a ready gap toothed smile, high cheek bones and even features. All in all unremarkable, put pleasant up close and personal. He minds the doors at the entrance of Ward G. Downstairs are the operating theatres and ICU and upstairs the individual rooms - standard, premium and deluxe. My m in law is recovering here after knee surgery. This is a small hospital in the heart of Chennai, managed by Catholic nuns. It has a reputation for its cleanliness, orderless and good patient care. Several prominent Consultant Physicians have their patients registered here. Also, as private healthcare goes, it is more affordable than most.

Given its location and prominence, and the need to maintain it pristine, the hospital is very strict about visiting hours. It is Arumugam's job to watch the door and to ensure people have an attender or a diet pass. The attender is someone who stays at the hospital with the patient and the diet pass is used by those who deliver food for the patients from their homes. The hospital does have a diet kitchen, however patients are allowed to have food brought in from home.

Arumugam sits on a plastic chair from 1 in the afternoon to 10 pm rising for doctors and other hospital professionals. The heat along the corridor is oppressive . The fan over his head in perpetual motion, gives him limited relief. Orderlies and cleaning staff, ie people at or beneath his station stop by and exchange pleasantries with him. Some folks like my husband press some money into his hands. Not so bad a job except the pay is modest. He is luckier than most.

So what is extraordinary about this human being who sits all day long on a chair policing the entrance? Nothing really - except the effort he has to make everyday to provide for his family. Nothing other than the fact that he is beginning to represent the urban poor.

Call me inquisitive. I have to stop and enquire after people's lives. I choose an opportune moment when he greets me with renewed zeal as I enter the hospital with my sister one evening. Her dental clinic adjoins a medical lab and Arumugam has a part-time job there washing lab equipment containing human effluents and chemicals. A tough job where he could potentially be exposed to virulent infections, given standards in this country.

As he escorts us to my m in law's room up the elevator I have found out part of his life story to have the rest filled in by my sister. He finishes work every week night at 10 pm. He cannot afford public transport and rides his bike for an hour and a half to get to his home in a distant suburban slum, the only place he can afford a place. It's only then that he eats dinner. It is 1 by the time he hits the sack, exhausted. The next morning he is on the road by 9, in peak heat, travelling 2 hours through traffic to put in a couple of hours, at the lab, before start of shift at 1. He gets one day off on which he takes up random cleaning jobs at people's homes.

Arumugam has two grown children. His son thirty is an alcoholic and constantly lying drunk somewhere and his daughter married to a man with alcohol and money problems. He comes home to stories about daily calamities that involve creditors, brawls, police and medical emergencies given the precariousness of his children's lives. Even Polyanna would have struggled to remain optimistic. I would definitely have forgotten to smile, to be gracious and pleasant. But Arumugam is the epitome of dignity, equanimity and cheerfulness.

How do Arumugam and the millions like him whose life is an endless road of abject poverty and desperation, despite all their extraordinary efforts to keep their mind, body and pride intact, sustain day after day? What is it about their spirit that keeps them buoyed up with enthusiasm to face another day of extreme physical and emotional hardship. What is that threshold and how can each of us raise our tolerance to take on a little more everyday. Till I talked to Arumugam, I saw Chennai as a chaotic place characterized by disorder, assymmetry and dirt everywhere. I had this extraordinary urge to shake people up and awaken them to the squalor of their living conditions. That evening everything changed. I see each person here as a hero triumphing under extraordinary odds. I now see the need to accept, be curious, raise the bar for my softened body and to help where I can!