Miranda Frum2013-05-21T23:12:54-04:00Miranda Frumhttp://www.huffingtonpost.ca/author/index.php?author=miranda-frumCopyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc.HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Miranda FrumGood old fashioned elbow grease.Looking for Mr. Right Nowtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.21932792012-11-26T16:56:47-05:002013-01-26T05:12:01-05:00Miranda Frumhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/miranda-frum/National Review Online regarding Lena Dunham's HBO show, Girls. I was surprised because I was truly amazed that a woman of Betsy's youthful age could be so out of touch with the modern feminist. Her column was out of date -- out of reality -- and seemed to be written to cater to the elderly and the bitter. As a young woman myself, I find that Lena Dunham's show is honest and real. And sometimes reality is ugly and involves a truth which not all will be happy to recognize.
First I would like to address Woodruff's point that Girls is about women who refuse to grow up. Women are more responsible than they were 20 years ago. More women are in the workforce, more women are working demanding jobs and more women are entering and succeeding in male dominated fields. However, the problem with today is that the economy that college and post-graduates entered 15 years ago doesn't exist anymore. Unpaid internships are the norm. To have a paid, stable job at 24 is a big deal. Hell, to have a job that pays decently and offers health care benefits is about as common as a unicorn. The opening scene of the Girls pilot is profound: Lena Dunham's character's parents cut her off and tell her she must be self-sufficient. Fifteen years ago the idea that one would still rely on their parents was weird; today, many millennials depend or are moving back in with their parents.
Another point: My generation is growing up in a world without social codes. For the most part, men are no longer "gentlemen" and women are no longer "ladies." Rather we feel more comfortable getting naked and having sex within the first few hours of meeting each other, but coffee and dinner dates are intense and scary. Men have stopped asking women out (not least out of fear). To quote Aziz Ansari, Why won't I go up and talk to a girl at a club? "Because that woman is going to be mean as sh** to me for no reason."
My generation also faces a romantic crisis. We've grown up being told that old-fashioned love and romance is outdated, fanciful, unrealistic -- or simply doesn't exist. Hook up culture is a natural reaction to that idea. Why search for Mr. Right when searching for Mr. Right Now is so much easier? Or, if you are seeking some sort of stability, you end up getting involved in a sudden and intense relationship which usually ends, oh, after about six months. No one is thinking practically; no one is approaching dating as an enjoyable and purposeful way to meet different types of people, and using it to explore the sort of partner he or she wants for a husband or wife. Instead, it's become this terrible, hurtful, lawless world where no one trusts each other anymore.
To say that Girls adds to this problem is ignorant. Society has problems. Lena Dunham is just one of the few honest observers. Unlike Sex in the City, single life isn't just about feminists who want independence and Manolos and a good screw. The modern urban feminist believes that she can control her emotions and that she can have sex like a man -- but that doesn't discount her wanting to meet a Prince Charming. This type of feminist believes she can have it all, even while her own behavior and that of the men she meets is completely at odds with the long-term dream.
Woodruff, for her part, believes that modern women should hearken back to the outdated and disproven ideals of the Second Wave feminism of the 1970s, which taught that women could be -- and would want to be -- completely independent of men.
Second-wave feminists lionized the independent woman who paid her own rent and busted through glass ceilings and ran for Congress. Being totally self-sufficient was the goal. The idea was that women didn't need men, whether those men were their fathers or husbands or boyfriends or presidents. By contrast, Dunham's new vision of women as lady parts with ballots is infantilizing and regressive.
Girls isn't about women who refuse to grow up -- it's about women who are trying to grow up in a world in which economic prospects are dim; a world in which men and women can't seem to connect meaningfully or trustingly with each other at any level. We're jaded and we've seen a lot of love go really, really bad. We're growing up in a hostile world. Lena Dunham -- and all of us -- are just reacting to it.]]>Are Women to Blame for Perpetuating Female Stereotypes?tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.13488462012-03-16T09:57:27-04:002012-05-16T05:12:01-04:00Miranda Frumhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/miranda-frum/
Her description of herself quickly put me off. Since when did being a lover of books mean one had to be awkward around the other sex? Didn't a confidence in one's own mind dispel any form of awkwardness, as self assured confidence is wont to do? This all-too familiar logic underscored the stereotype that beautiful women were destined for a lifetime of stupidity, while "book lovers" were guaranteed a life filled with intellectual stimulation -- but little else. Who came up with these stereotypes?
Many women would be quick to blame men. But in fact, I most often encounter the perpetuation of these stereotypes among other women. Perhaps it's because we feel envy or threatened by women who are different from ourselves, or seem to possess something we don't. Thus women can be cruel to each other, and create ridiculous, arbitrary rules of needing to be one thing or another: You can't be beautiful AND smart. You can't be nerdy AND socially adept or without in need of a makeover. You can't be powerful AND flirt.
Are women who defy these stereotypes just as mystical and mythical as mermaids and unicorns? Or could they possibly walk amongst us mortals?
Actress Natalie Portman is breathtakingly beautiful, with a face not just for the screen but for magazines -- and she has graduated from Harvard. She proves that a woman can think, and her thinking doesn't discount what is on her face. Zelda Fitzgerald was known for her beautiful face, and was loved and admired for her wonderfully original mind. Marilyn Monroe was tormented by her beauty -- for no one took seriously the thinking woman inside. My late grandmother, Barbara Frum, was a brilliant woman who could terrify men and women alike with her questions and insight; but her face was beautiful, and her demeanour always elegant. Beautiful and thinking women clearly exist; those are just a few names. And we could play the same game listing off examples of women who defy the other stereotypes.
Women become angry if a man treats a woman as two dimensional -- the old, "Talk to my face, not my chest" problem. And yet we constantly allow ourselves to be pegged into holes by other women. Although we are capable of birthing children, carrying the weight of a family on our backs in addition to whatever demanding jobs we might have, are our egos so fragile and envy-filled that we cannot handle women who defy the "code?"
If we as women are going to rally against men who only see us in two dimensions, then we must also rally against the women who believe it more than men do. A woman who treats another woman in the same two dimensions is just as bad as a sexist man.
As Ghandi said, a person must be the change they wish to see in the world. If a woman demands equality, she must be careful she is not the force holding other women back. Women must boost each other, not passively bicker and cut each other down, so that there is only a weak mess of scraps left for men to take advantage of.
]]>Up in Smoke: The Road Aheadtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.12823132012-02-20T00:36:34-05:002012-04-20T05:12:01-04:00Miranda Frumhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/miranda-frum/
I finally decided to go the cold turkey route. My brother, who so thoughtfully and kindly purchased an e-cigarette for me, was the catalyst in this movement. I tried to use my e-cigarette, but I see the reason why these things have never caught on: they are just the most inconvenient form of nicotine. Charging batteries every couple of hours just for three puffs ? My e-cigarette must have been a lemon, because it never seemed to work when I tried to use it (then again, my brother seemed to have the magic touch and got it to work every time).
When I first mentioned quitting smoking to my grandmother (an ex-smoker herself) and my plan to simply reduce my intake, or to try an e-cigarette, she firmly and adamantly shook her little white head and insisted, "The only way is cold turkey." She was right. Although, it is the hardest thing I have ever done. There are days where I slip up, but for the most part I've been doing well.
I haven't bought a single pack of cigarettes, and I plan on never purchasing them again. Just the notion of how much money I'm saving is enough to keep me from buying any more cigarettes. And this blogging process has been the most therapeutic element of the whole process -- I feel as if my HuffPo readers are my support system, one which I vehemently don't want to let down.
So, wish me luck. Like any addiction my willpower will be tested at every moment of every day. I like to think I'm strong, and so this will only be a welcomed challenge.
Thank you, thank you, for all the support, readers.
]]>Up in Smoke! Week 2: Cold Turkeytag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.12280222012-01-24T11:23:07-05:002012-03-25T05:12:01-04:00Miranda Frumhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/miranda-frum/Two of Huffpost's young contributors, Miranda Frum and Daniel Alexandre Portoraro, have volunteered to quit smoking and keep a weekly journal about it. Readers: Support them! And please share your own struggles about trying to kick an addiction, whether it was cigarettes or anything else. Read their first collective post here. You can read Daniel's previous posts here, and Miranda's here.
"First you will come to the Sirens who enchant all who come near them. If any one unwarily draws in too close and hears the singing of the Sirens, his wife and children will never welcome him home again, for they sit in a green field and warble him to death with the sweetness of their song. There is a great heap of dead men's bones lying all around, with the flesh still rotting off them. Therefore pass these Sirens by, and stop your men's ears with wax that none of them may hear; but if you like you can listen yourself, for you may get the men to bind you as you stand upright on a cross-piece half way up the mast, and they must lash the rope's ends to the mast itself, that you may have the pleasure of listening. If you beg and pray the men to unloose you, then they must bind you faster."
-The Odyssey, Book 12
I have done something I would never have thought possible -- I've gone cold turkey. Pardon the rest of this blog post if it seems incoherent, for I do not feel at all well. I have weird stinging/cramping pains all over my body. I feel light-headed. I have already vomited a couple of times today. Sitting up is taking every ounce of power I have. My thoughts keep drifting. I wonder if I were to crawl under my desk would my coworkers be sympathetic if I said I was fighting an addiction?
I feel as if I have seven years of poison seeping out through my skin (although my skin is already looking better -- but that could be wishful thinking on my part). Every cough hacks up the most disgusting mucus. Heat waves flash through my body. This feels worse than the worst hang over I've ever had (and I've had some doozies).
Despite the physical agony, one thing is making me feel good: the realization that I haven't had any nicotine in 24 hours. I feel so strong and pleased with myself. I accomplished a goal. If you had asked me whether or not I would quit smoking, I would laugh and say that I was born with a cigarette in my mouth and I would go that way to the grave. And here I am, defying myself. As terrible as I feel, I just keep chanting... you are defying yourself, you are defying yourself...
The need for a cigarette is gone (I might be saying that too quickly but at this moment I do not want to smoke ANYTHING let alone a cigarette) -- it has been surpassed by a need for this pain to end.
Wish me luck HuffPo'ers.
]]>Up in Smoke Day 3: Craptastic!tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.12197862012-01-20T15:59:32-05:002012-03-21T05:12:01-04:00Miranda Frumhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/miranda-frum/In recognition of National Quitting Smoking week, two of Huffpost's young contributors, Miranda Frum and Daniel Alexandre Portoraro, have volunteered to quit smoking and keep a journal about it. Readers: Support them! And please share your own struggles about trying to kick an addiction, whether it was cigarettes or anything else. Read their first collective post here. You can read Daniel's previous posts here, and Miranda's here. Their journals will now be posted weekly, every Friday.
I woke up the other morning with a cold -- but the type of cold that makes you nervous (aka, prepare to be bedridden for a couple of days). I tried to fight off any need for a cigarette, which was easier than expected because it's not the best experience in the world to smoke when you feel like crap, let alone have a clogged throat. So far I have had zero cigarettes today. My lungs feel good. But I want to punch every one around me.
I feel very agitated. Every time I blow my nose, I get angry. However, an e-cigarette has arrived for me in the mail. My younger brother bought it for me after researching every possible type of e-cigarette available on the market (that's what boys do). It's a stainless steel cylinder with a button and a filter attached. It resembles something that a terrorist would pull out of his carry-on on a plane.
This will be an interesting experiment. Maybe my nicotine dependence will be lowered, and maybe I will be filled with less rage. Certainly the latter will helped by not having to step out into the freezing cold to smoke. I can puff indoors!
Who said quitting was easy? Then again, am I really trying to quit? Or am I looking for a healthier alternative to typical smoking? As I hold my brand new e-cigarette in my hand, I can't help but wonder if this is the end of an addiction, or a more societally accepted version of one?
One thing is for sure, my e-cigarette looks like something the Jetsons would use ...
Stay tuned.
]]>Up in Smoke: GUUUUUUUUH!tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.12114632012-01-18T11:58:52-05:002012-03-19T05:12:01-04:00Miranda Frumhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/miranda-frum/In recognition of National Quitting Smoking week, two of Huffpost's young contributors, Miranda Frum and Daniel Alexandre Portoraro, have volunteered to quit smoking and keep a daily journal about it. Readers: Support them! And please share your own struggles about trying to kick an addiction, whether it was cigarettes or anything else. You can read the first entry here.
Day One:
8:30 AM: I measure my time at the office by cigarette breaks. I have my first cigarette break of the day at around 10:30 AM. I have a lunchtime cigarette at about 1 or 1:30 PM. Then, I have an afternoon cigarette at about 2:30 or 3 PM. Depending upon how stressful my work day is, I have a couple more in between those set smoking hours. I love my smoke breaks. Partly because it's a chance to go outside, breath some fresh air, and stretch my legs which have been cooped up under a desk. These smoke breaks also clear my head. Usually when I am stumped for an answer to a question, or have come to a creative thinking block, I take a quick break. When I return, I have an idea or a solution. However, because I live in Toronto, there is only a limited time in which going outside for a cigarette is a pleasant and relaxing ordeal. The moment November hits, going outside suddenly begins to become quite unbearable.
But yet, still I will go outside. Just because going outside for a cigarette is an integral part of my work day. It's so embedded into my work day routine the idea of removing it from said routine suddenly becomes quite scary. Uh oh... my anxiety level is rising... normally, this would be the moment where I would go for a smoke. Today I will try to fight it.
10:15 AM: I need a cigarette. But I won't do it. If Odysseus can ignore the tempting screams of the Sirens, then I can ignore the pulsating migraine thumping against my skull.
10:34 AM: I have already failed. I went for a cigarette. I began to feel cranky and agitated. Now, post-cigarette, I feel guilty and smoke-filled. The benefit of smoking less frequently is that my cigarettes seem stronger. As I stood outside, in the freezing sleeting rain mind you, I noticed the pedestrians rushing by on the street occasionally throwing me, what I hoped were, sympathetic glances.
"Poor smoker. She should quit. It's freezing. And raining. Why the hell is she outside? That cigarette can't be pleasant..." Well, that's what I'm pretending they're thinking at least. DISCLAIMER: I don't actually have mind-reading powers.
The idea of not smoking again today begins to start stressing me out. I've already started eyeing my pens, and imagining what they will look like with all the caps serious teeth marks. I can't help but begin to start really empathizing with Labradors.
NOON: Every thought leads to smoking. The time has come for me to smoke my lunch cigarette. I must resist. Every email which arrives in my inbox is almost a nudge to go and smoke. Deal with this later! After you have a cigarette this will be so much easier to deal with! I must keep chanting, I think I can, I think I can. I remembered reading in Siddhartha of the monks' pure meditative power -- how they were able to resist common needs through meditation. I wonder how creeped out my co-workers would be if I started meditating in my office.
The pen cap chewing begins.
12:08: Just keep typing... just keep typing... just keep typing... and reminding yourself how cold it is outside.
1 PM: A friend congratulates me on my initiative to try and kick the habit. He offers some consoling advice: "We have been brainwashed to believe that we cannot live without them [cigarettes]. Remember, it's our individual choice when we light one. We just have to not make that choice." Sounds easy enough. After all, I'm no corporation-influenced goon! I make my OWN decisions!
And then he reminds me of the inevitable cravings and stomach cramps.
1:05 PM: Something that's starting to annoy me: instead of just not smoking, all I can think about is not smoking. BLEH.
2:04 PM: I caved. I caved! En route to buying a bagel to lunch, out of sheer habit I started smoking. I tossed my half smoked cigarette onto the sidewalk -- hoping that by smoking half of it, it technically wouldn't count as much as a full cigarette.
And honestly, trying not smoke at work (especially when one works in the media) feels near impossible.
2:55 PM: My concentration is down. I feel as if my work performance is not as great as it is when I smoke. I feel easily distracted, agitated, stressed out (all for no real reason). My focus is a shmorgasboard. Every buzz from my Blackberry and every eye catching thing at my desk is an annoying disturbance. Meep.
3:37 PM: Have decided to try Pavlovian experiment. Every time I think of smoking, I have to watch this National Geographic video of people eating live octopi. I am hoping I begin to associating smoking with swallowing writhing tentacles.
4 PM: GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH
Conclusion: I'm in for a rough night. Guess it's time to throw that pack of cigarettes in the toilet and never look back.
]]>Up in Smoke! Saying Adios to Cigarettestag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.12102822012-01-17T09:42:49-05:002012-03-18T05:12:01-04:00Miranda Frumhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/miranda-frum/In recognition of National Quitting Smoking week, two of Huffpost's young contributors, Miranda Frum and Daniel Alexandre Portoraro, have volunteered to quit smoking and keep a daily journal about it. Readers: Support them! And please share your own struggles about trying to kick an addiction, whether it was cigarettes or anything else.
Miranda
I have been a smoker for seven years. I'm 20 years old. I started quite young. Not so much out of peer pressure, but out of a desire to be thin. I have attempted to quit smoking numerous times -- the first couple of times I tried to quit were because my grandmother was upset by my smoking, but not because I really especially wanted to. I quit again in March of 2011, but due to a large group of friends who were mostly smokers, and lots of drinking (as the late Christopher Hitchens said: a cocktail and a cigarette go hand in hand with the other), I failed. I do however now desperately want to quit smoking. The habit is getting expensive (depending on the brand, some $9-13 dollars a pack!), and my family members are saddened every time I light up. My grandmother, who used to be an avid smoker, told me she quit smoking at 25 (she looks fabulous now, you would never know she ever smoked cigarettes); she said if I wanted to have any beauty left as an old lady I should quit before then. My goal is to be completely off cigarettes by the time I'm 23 (AT THE LATEST). But as it's National Non-Smoking week I thought, why the hell not give it a try? Today, so far I've had five cigarettes, an unusually low amount for me (normally a pack a day smoker). I figured by smoking less frequently, I might have a better shot at going cold turkey. Let's see how this goes...
Daniel
I lit my first cigarette when I was sixteen which isn't so much a long time ago as it was a long time to finally do it. You see, I've wanted to smoke since I was a child; the ideal consumer who bought into all the Hollywood-manufactured fanfare, and the mystique of the Marlboro Man. Of course, like every young person, I thought "cancer won't happen to me" using the logic that it's well, me.
But now it's National Non-Smoking Week, and as Miranda says, the habit is getting expensive (something that's easier to appreciate for young people than the c-word). And besides, there's a litany of other health risks that go hand in hand with those coffin nails that "taste good, just like a cigarette should," so why not try quitting? There are countless reasons to, least of all one self and the fears of loved ones that would be assuaged. Besides, isn't it also a sign of maturity to forgo a habit in favour of prolonging one's time of maturity?
So this week, I'm going to kick the habit. But I mean kick it, because there's one thing to say one's quitting and write a series about it, and a completely different thing to write that series knowing that "No, even when this is done, you still won't be able to light that celebratory smoke at the end of it."
However, unlike Miranda, I'm not doing this gradually, day by day; I'm going to attempt to quit the habit cold turkey. I imagine this will be unpleasant for me; but far moreso for those I'm surrounded by. So in the interminable words of All About Eve's Margo Channing: "Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night". If only it were going to be a single night...
]]>The Other Culprits in the Shafia Deathstag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.11996712012-01-11T14:00:42-05:002012-01-12T09:58:37-05:00Miranda Frumhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/miranda-frum/
Yahya, 42, Shafia, 58, and their son Hamed, 21, are accused of killing three teenage Shafia sisters and Shafia's first wife in a polygamous marriage. Zainab, Sahar, Geeti, 13, and Rona Amir Mohammad, 52, were found in a car at the bottom of a canal in Kingston on June 30, 2009, when the Montreal family was heading home after a trip to Niagara Falls, Ont.
Yahya, Shafia and Hamed have each pleaded not guilty to four counts of first-degree murder.
The Crown alleges the killings were precipitated by family anger, in particular from patriarch Mohammad Shafia, that daughters Zainab, 19, and Sahar, 17, had boyfriends. But the family has said that Zainab had been forgiven and Shafia didn't even know Sahar had a boyfriend until after her death.
When a woman is in a violent relationship, her brain shifts into a primitive survivor mode. She doesn't always necessarily think of how she should do the right thing (regardless if that means talking to someone, or being honest with the law about her relationship); instead she is consumed with fear, and desperately avoids the violent reaction which could jeopardize her, or any of her family members.
All violent relationships are equally terrible, but some are more violent than others. Many women won't ever come forward, not because they have an interest in protecting their abuser, but rather because the fear of the abuser discovering this moment of her courage, or her plea for help, could potentially kill her. Outsiders might believe she is overreacting, but they do not see the entire picture. In fact, very rarely do they ever get a picture at all.
A close friend of mine was in an abusive relationship a couple of years ago. She realized about three months into the relationship how trapped she was. When I asked her why she couldn't just leave, call her parents, or simply run away, she responded with, "He'd find me, or he'd find my friend and somehow then find me. There's no point. He wouldn't leave me alone." Three months after this conversation, the relationship escalated dramatically and the police became involved.
The abusive boyfriend was given a temporary restraining order, and my friend went to live with her family members. Her fear didn't disappear. My friend's family laid charges of assault; the police visited the abusive boyfriend on the same day the charges were laid to inform him who had charged him and with what, but they did not take him into custody, even while he was still leaving threatening messages on my friend's voicemail.
My friend went off the radar for the next month, desperate to throw him off her scent and disappear from all who had known both of them together. She had a bodyguard follow her to part-time work, to her university classes. She changed her phone number, moved into a new apartment. The threat died down, the abusive boyfriend disappeared into her memory and left her reality. The only evidence of his existence is a single cigarette burn on her wrist.
What stunned me about my friend's story was the lack of action taken. Yes, her family had rushed to her aid and did everything in their power to punish her abuser, but the police did not take him into custody. Instead, they allowed him to run (dangerously) free until his court appearance some months later (to which he showed up, pled guilty, and was immediately let go on probation). Thankfully her story ended well: She moved on, lives happily and safely, and is in a strong, healthy relationship free of violence. But not all victims have stories with such an ending.
The Shafia case is an example of horrific abuse gone awry due to a lack of qualified professionals acting as a community and helping those who were murdered. As the court has heard, the victims, especially Shafia's daughters, had attempted to secure help from outside services numerous times. Some of the professionals involved attempted to help and were frustrated by what they couldn't accomplish; but others only ended up contributing to keeping the girls in a violent relationship which inevitably consumed them.
Geeti Shafia, 13, was the youngest of the victims and was also the most vocal about her problems at home. The Crown presented to the court that police officers as well as school staff knew that Geeti had a persistent desire to be removed from the Shafia home. Geeti had made plans with her older sister, Sahar, to run away from home, but the plan was stopped with school authorities insisting that "a 13 year old belongs at home with her parents," according to court documents. Geeti had no issue vocalizing the violence she had seen and had been inflicted upon her, unlike her older sister Sahar. Geeti had spoken with the police, various staff at her school, and even youth protection workers. Still, nothing was done and Geeti remained in the custody of her parents, despite her continuous pleas for living in a foster care arrangement, the court was told.
Meanwhile, Sahar Shafia, 17, was gripped constantly with fear. The Crown said that she was vocal about her complaints at home and of her family, but when it came time to complain to social workers or the police she became silent, fearing what they would tell her parents she said, and fearing her own safety. However, she had no problem speaking to teachers at her school. She had reported that her older brother, Hamed, had assaulted her. She said she was afraid of her father. She was spied on by her younger siblings who also attended her school. She missed large chunks of school because her parents wouldn't let her leave the house. All this she explained to school staff, and the school called a social worker. As the court heard, Sahar went silent when she discovered that because she was a minor, the social worker would repeat everything she said to her parents. She had no confidentiality agreement, and thus feared what her parents would do if they found out she had spoken to someone.
The police had even been sent to the Shafia house, due to concern from a social worker who spoke with Geeti. The case was closed, but the police had noticed bruising on the girls. They also noticed how the children's behavior radically shifted from talkative and upset to fearful and quiet when their father entered the house. Although the Crown said that the police saw clear evidence of abuse, the girls were left with their family. Nothing happened and now they are dead.
It's moments like these which make you wonder, WTF? How many more women and girls have to suffer and even die until it's too late?
-- with files from CP
]]>May We Offer You a Crack Pipe Instead?tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.11841792012-01-04T15:12:44-05:002012-03-05T05:12:02-05:00Miranda Frumhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/miranda-frum/
Who are these people? Lawyers, shop clerks, and janitors; the everyday people. They are law-abiding and they pay their taxes; they might have kids and they might even go to church/synagogue/mosque once a week. They're all very different, but there's one thing that unites them all: an addiction to nicotine. And it is because of this addiction that they are punished. The addiction they have is unpleasant for those who are not smokers. Because of this, they are shunned. They are shunned from any heating and warmth, and forced to endure the cold Canadian winter. But that's their choice. Or, is it?
The lack of Canadian sympathy to the plight of smokers isn't unusual, nor is it something to rally around. But what is unforgivable is the complete double standard Canadians inflict on their fellow law-abiding citizens and their less law-abiding counterparts.
Health Canada has banned the use of e-cigarettes. Or rather, e-cigarettes "have not been granted market authorization in Canada" -- since 2009. I can't help but wonder why.
E-cigarettes were invented in 2003 by a Chinese pharmacist named Hon Lik. E-cigarettes contain a heating device which uses two common food additives (in a liquid form) into a water vapor which simulate the act of smoking, as well as delivering a nicotine fix to the body.
Not only are e-cigarettes less toxic and poisonous, they are a safe alternative to those who wish to kill the dreadful habit (including this blogger). This technology has the potential to save millions of lives, and break millions of addictions -- in addition to reducing the frostbite rates I'm sure, and increasing employee productivity (fewer smoke breaks).
But yet, Health Canada remains firm on its in-limbo policy.
Now compare this to the maddening decision of behalf of the Vancouver's Coastal Health Authority -- which has begun to give out free crack pipes. So, as a law-breaking citizen who is taking a drug which not only causes harm to one's self, but to one's community as well, the government has decided to help you out.
No longer will crackheads have to stand outside and brave the elements! They have a cozy home in Vancouver, complete with free crack pipes. But wait, it gets better: The VCHA has decided to give crackheads access to entire crack kits, complete with mouthpieces, filters, alcohol swabs, and screens! According to Trudi Beutel, a spokesperson for the health authority, this will prevent diseases and stop the clogging of emergency rooms. Ask anyone besides Beutel and they'll say it will also help crackheads save their money so they can buy more crack.
I can't help but wonder why then Health Canada is punishing its law-abiding tobacco smoking citizens, and endorsing government supported crack dens in Vancouver.
Looks like this winter, I should switch one addiction for the other. At least then, I can smoke inside.
]]>Which Is More Useless: Limbaugh or a Classics Major?tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.10714342011-11-02T12:49:56-04:002012-01-02T05:12:01-05:00Miranda Frumhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/miranda-frum/
I see you have let your own educational insecurities shine through in your latest rant in which you "bravely" attempted to decipher the "sad-sack story" of a Classical Studies scholar. Bravo. If only you had taken a philosophy course about the Sophists, you might have been better at debating your point. Unfortunately, your rhetoric fails you and you blunder through your argument, proving the limited grasp you have on the concept of higher thinking.
You reference a picture you came across on the Internet (I believe, sir, that is called a 'meme'). The picture shows a letter written by a Classics student, whom you assume is a woman (thus also managing to offend feminists and male Classical scholars worldwide), detailing the lack of prospects "she" has, even though this person has a degree and understands Latin. This is heartbreaking, but it's not necessarily news. Nor does "she" speak for the numerous individuals currently studying Classics. These students know there is no money guaranteed from obtaining a degree in Classical Studies. They study Classics because they want to understand the roots of Western thinking (quite patriotic of them, isn't is Mr. Limbaugh?), or they love the stories and works of great thinkers (works conservatives used to encourage others to read). They take Classical Studies for the same reasons other students study history or political philosophy -- to widen and inform their thinking, and to better understand they world they live in.
"What the hell is Classical studies? What classics are studied? Or, is it learning how to study in a classical way? Or is it learning how to study in a classy way as opposed to an unclassy way? And what about unClassical studies?"
All right Mr. Limbaugh, I'll tell you. I was a Classical Studies student; I'm no expert, but I took the courses. Classics is a branch of the humanities that examines language, literature, philosophy, history, art, culture, and archaeology of the ancient Mediterranean world. You know, the Greeks. The Romans. The guys who the Founding Fathers were crazy about. The guys who inspired... democracy. THOSE GUYS. The students who dream of having a Classics-based job understand that most of them will be in school for a majority of their lives and will have to be professors; others will take this knowledge into other fields with them -- politics, physics, archaeology, medicine (it's less socialist than you think Mr. Limbaugh), they can extend their education in terms of modern politics, writing, physics, and medicine. Those who believe in instant wealth if they study Classics are idiots -- the exact same idiots in other classes who fully expect that a job and a $500,000 a year paycheque are in their immediate future.
Indeed, there are uses for Classical Studies in all aspects of life. Workplace politics are much less stressful if you can think to yourself, "Well, at least this isn't the Roman Senate, and the jerk who steals my lunch from the communal fridge isn't plotting my assassination! Whew!" Or, if you are wondering "Why on earth did the United States choose democracy over a monarchy?" Classical Studies has your answer. Classical Studies explains the basic concepts of math (I'm assuming then the Pythagorean theorem wasn't easy for you, Mr. Limbaugh, just as you assumed the Classical Studies student was a woman. It hurts, doesn't it?) as well as science.
You pointed out that there will be no degree to change a useless person into a useful person. This is true. There are hundreds of useless engineers, writers, politicians, historians, and mechanics. There is also at least one too many useless broadcasters.
]]>War on Mexican Drugs Not Fast and Furious Enoughtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.10088952011-10-13T15:53:17-04:002011-12-13T05:12:01-05:00Miranda Frumhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/miranda-frum/deaths of 15,000 people in the last year alone should be enough of a neighbourly reason to get involved.
The drug war in Mexico is an American war, the only difference being those fighting and those who are dying happen to almost be exclusively Mexican. So what's the link? Aside from the obvious fact of Americans using and abusing drugs controlled by Mexican cartels, Americans also happen to be arming these same cartels. And not just with petty firearms, but now AK-47s and AR-15s. That's some serious weaponry.
Most recently, there has been the "Fast and Furious" disaster which involved the transfer of some 2,020 firearms to the Sinaloa Drug Cartel (which is also partnered with the ruthless Los Zetas cartel, responsible for a majority of the most violent murders) from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF) beginning as early as 2009. The ATF, amongst other liaising agencies, never had a practical plan to track any of the weapons. As soon as the guns fell into the hands of the Sinaloa cartel members, they were deemed lost. A number of those guns have reappeared in violent crime scenes.
Even before Fast and Furious, this past September, American customs agents in Texas seized 30 high powered assault rifles when they searched a car heading into Mexico. This was said to be the largest gun bust at the American-Mexican border this year. This news is significant. But it shouldn't be surprising.
In 2009 the U.S. Government Accountability Office made a report to congress: over 90 per cent of firearms seized in Mexico and traced over the past three years have come from the U.S.. 40 per cent of those firearms are coming from Texas. The government is aware that American guns are travelling into the hands of very dangerous people, however nothing is really done. Rick Perry has spoken of a potential American involvement in Mexico, complete with sending troops over the border and maintaining order. But is this effective? Basic firearms are smuggled in a very unique way. Law abiding American citizens with clean criminal records are buying weapons from U.S. gun stores on behalf of Mexican cartel members. These Americans are called "straw purchasers." The cartel rewards the "straw purchaser" with cash after they have safely smuggled the firearms over the border.
But "straw purchasers" only are able to buy basic firearms from gun stores. One cannot buy serious militia machinery at a local Walmart. In 2008, an M26A2 fragmentation grenade was used against a U.S. consulate in Mexico. Automatic weapons, including a U.S.-made M16 was found at a cartel crime scene in May of 2009. So where are these weapons coming from?
According to leaked diplomatic cables uncovered by Fox News, there are three sources. First, the U.S. Defense Department's shipments to Latin America were known and tracked by the U.S. State Department as "foreign military sales." Seems fishy. Second, weapons were ordered by the Mexican government and tracked by the State Department as "direct commercial sales". Getting fishier. And finally, there are arsenals of military weapon stores in Honduras, Guatemala and Nicaragua. What's really incredible is despite the measures the US government will take against the selling of drugs, they won't limit or respond to the selling of high grade American weapons to a group of international criminal murderers.
If it was discovered that the U.S. government was turning a blind eye to sales of weapons to Hamas, or Somali militants, this would be a much more serious issue with much more public attention and would result in a call for action. So why is this happening undetected? The Sinaloa cartel has strong connections within the Mexican government, and thus is able to influence and control Mexican policy. It also doesn't help that some cartels pretend to be individual militant groups attempting to rid their neighbourhoods of gang influence and control. The Mata Zeta group at first glance seemed romantic -- a group of concerned and fed up civilians taking justice into their own hands and defending their families. In reality, the Mata Zetas are ruthless killers using a very old and very good rule of PR: if you pretend that you are doing it for the people, those who are less informed will automatically give you the sympathy vote. There is a reason why the Mexican government has arrested numerous amounts of the group's members. However, the selling of detrimental weapons to small militant Latin American groups isn't unusual in American policy making, remember selling of weapons to the Contras in Nicaragua.
The recent leaks of information regarding these weapon sales leads to some difficult decision making. Ideally and unrealistically, the solution is isolationist. Americans stop buying Mexican drugs, stop selling weapons and smuggling said weapons and then stop aiding the government and completely recluse into an isolationist relationship, allowing the Mexican government to freely take the steps they need to take to fight the cartels.
Mexican President Felipe Calderon has blamed America for the drug related problems now facing Mexico. Here he is wrong. Although there is shady American involvement within this drug war, the reality is that this is an unfortunate situation of Mexicans slaughtering Mexicans. The cartels are controlled by Mexican citizens, who, regardless of American ties, are still choosing to inflict this war and this violence on their own fellow citizens and neighbours. Although these cartels have expanded into Chicago, New York, Boston and Miami, they are based in Acapulco, Tijuana, and Mexico City. The violence really happens in Mexico, after all when was the last time a bunch of mutilated corpses were found in a garbage can in Boston? Or left on a highway in DC?
This drug war shouldn't exclusively be fighting the distribution and selling of drugs. The focus should shift to the elimination of these active cartel thugs. The current war on drugs is fighting for an intangible utopia of a world without drugs. Fighting a tangible enemy is much more effective, and much easier. Fighting the cartels puts a face to the evil. After all, worrying about a shipment of cocaine seems like a waste of time when murder, exploitation and kidnapping are running rampant and turning the current government, who is bravely attempting to thwart these cartels, into an unfunny joke. Attorney General Eric Holder seems unsympathetic to the cause, after all, his government only helped to arm the Sinaloa cartel, it's not like he bought coke from them.
]]>Canada's Walk of Shametag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.9927572011-10-03T16:24:35-04:002011-12-03T05:12:02-05:00Miranda Frumhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/miranda-frum/
The red carpet was filled with publicists, interns and security. A few fans assembled outside the theatre on Yonge Street, hoping for a quick glimpse of the inductees: Roberta Bondar, Burton Cummings, Daniel Nestor, Russell Peters, Drake, and the aforementioned Sandra Oh and Ryan Reynolds. Guests were ushered from the red carpet into the theater for the live broadcast of the show. I settled into my seat in the orchestra section. Seated in my area was famed Argonauts coach Michael "Pinball" Clemons, and ex-Argo Damon Allen. The Elgin Theatre was an inspired location for the show; it was once a Vaudeville theatre, therefore it would be the perfect location for putting up with Howie Mandel's antics.
Canada's Walk of Fame awards opened with a video attempting to create a feeling of patriotism amongst the attendees. After the film, Chantal Kreviazuk took over the stage. Wearing an awkward black and red vertically striped dress which shouted Avril Lavigne rather than Canadian nationalism, Chantal belted out her newest song. Mandel rewarded Chantal's performance with a mispronunciation of her name. The pair exchanged an awkward back and forth about the mistake, lasting about five excruciating minutes. The tone for the show had been set: it was less about Canada and the triumphs of Canadian citizens; it was a show celebrating Howie Mandel, his shameless name-dropping, self-promotion and awkward antics, which left the audience beyond uncomfortable.
Midway through the ceremony, I realized that I had not yet seen Ryan Reynolds, or heard any tribute to him (as had been done for the others). He was a no-show, and his attendance was not commented on at all by the host or any of the other inductees. It seemed as if Drake had been thrown in at the last minute, and given some sort of award to legitimize his presence. Roberta Bondar, Burton Cummings and Sandra Oh all made heartfelt and carefully short acceptance speeches. Russell Peters was perfectly hilarious. Drake was charming, and there was a feeling that the women in the room paid slightly more attention to his speech than the others.
It seemed as if the evening would pick up; a level of gracious humility had been restored every moment Howie Mandel left the stage. However, disaster struck in the form of Eric McCormack. McCormack, the actor who played gay funny man Will on the hit TV series Will and Grace, led a group of aged rock 'n rollers on stage to sing a tribute to Burton Cummings. The performance was terrible. I was amazed by the fact Burton Cummings was touched by such an awkward tribute, performed by men clearly grappling with the reality of their age. Eric leapt and frolicked around the stage, he evoked an image of a drunk leprechaun rather than a studly rockstar.
The show ended with a promised Justin Bieber performance. The minor detail -- not mentioned -- was that the audience would not see J. Biebs LIVE, but rather via tape. And for a painful three minutes, the audience was forced to endure Mr. Bieber moaning and groaning an incoherent cover of a Drake song, on a screen within a stage (boom, Inception).
The party continued on much like the show had. While Jamie Kennedy had prepared the menu, the food was worthy of a two-star hotel banquet hall. Guests were treated to a drunk auction (which had some poor fool bidding $8,000 for Justin Bieber concert tickets -- I hope his kids are really big fans) and an awkward performance by Steppenwolf. Every balding, overweight man in the room started grooving to "Born to be Wild."
It wasn't a glamorous evening, nor was it a wild one. Overall, Canada's Walk of Fame awards seemed like an annoying chore for the inductees to deal with and a party where the only happy guests seemed to be the 14-year-old crowd that finally had a chance to wear that special dress Mom bought them from Holt's just for the occasion.
Thank God for open bars. ]]>New York Fashion Week: Why Is the Fashion Industry Still Pushing Size 0?tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.9646112011-09-15T14:45:21-04:002011-11-15T05:12:01-05:00Miranda Frumhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/miranda-frum/
Earlier this year, the Council of Fashion Designers revisited their health guidelines, and decided to raise awareness about eating disorders, in addition to stopping girls younger than 16 from walking on the runway. As progressive as this is, a ban on young runway models or raising awareness about eating disorders will not solve the problem. The problem doesn't stem from "weak" young women, or pre-teen models. The evil lies in modeling agencies, determined to sell a product, not a person.
When I was 13-years-old, I decided I wanted to be a model. I was tall and lanky: 5'8" and 115 pounds on a good day. I had often been asked if I was a model, or told I should model. And, after becoming addicted to America's Next Top Model, I decided I wanted to give it a go. I persuaded my mother I was serious, and she reluctantly agreed to accompany me on a round of the agencies in Manhattan. I had a portfolio, a list of all the major agencies in New York, and unabashed confidence. I was ready.
The very first agency I went to was Wilhelmina Models. I was told to leave my photos with the receptionist and then wait in a sitting area with six or seven other girls, also all with their mothers. We waited. We waited. We waited. After what seemed like forever, two women came out of the office.
"Thank you for coming to Wilhelmina. If we call your name, please come and collect your photos. We are not interested." Every girl anxiously stared forward, hoping that they would not hear their names called. The agents began calling names, and soon almost all the girls had left the agency. My mom gripped my hand; it looked like I might get an interview and an offer! My heart was pounding.
Finally my name was called. I walked up to the agents and smiled, holding my hand out to grab my portfolio. I didn't expect to hear what they would say next.
"You're quite pretty," Agent #1 said. I thanked her.
"Have you ever considered plus size modeling?" asked Agent #2. I was humiliated.
Thankfully the only people to witness this defeat were me, the agents, and my mom. I shook my head no, and took my photos. When we got outside, my Mom was in a rage. "That's how eating disorders are CAUSED," she fumed, as I pleaded with her not to go back into the agency to tell the agents what she thought about their weight.
A few years later, after spending my time doing odd modeling jobs here and there, I decided to try my luck with an agency again. This time I was 15, and I had won a national modeling competition for Seventeen Magazine. The prize was a photo spread of me modeling back-to-school fashions in the fall issue. My confidence had been restored. I went alone to Elite Models, despite my mother's protests that someone come with me for "moral support."
I arrived at Elite's offices, handed in my photos, and waited. Soon enough an agent appeared, with my photos and a "sorry to break the bad news" kind of speech. At least this time around, I had been expecting that. This agent told me that I needed to lose some weight off my face. I inquired how I could best do that. He told me "dieting and the gym." I thanked him for his time and left, once again disappointed.
Agencies are the culprits of furthering the evils of body image. A picture of an outrageously thin girl in a magazine is certainly in part to blame, but, nothing is as horribly influential as an agent telling a tall, skinny girl that she needs to lose weight. Will the skinny girl in the magazine make me feel fat, or will the booker of skinny girls telling me I'm fat make me feel fat?
Why not book the girl who is two inches too short? After all, Kate Moss is a mere 5'7. Why not book a model who is a size 4 or 6 instead of a 0?
If the fashion industry really is moved by innovation and change, why can't agencies be trend setters instead of trend followers?]]>Canadians vs. Americans: The Final Showdown of Mannerstag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.9342202011-08-23T15:10:56-04:002011-10-24T05:12:01-04:00Miranda Frumhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/miranda-frum/
In my travels, however, I've found that Canadians seem to be the only people obsessed with not being mistaken for Americans. If I tell a French person or an Italian I am American, no acid is thrown in my face; he or she does not begin berating me over America's foreign policy, or even blame me for Europe's economic woes. More often, I find Europeans usually will immediately want to talk about their love of America -- and end up telling me about their first trip to New York or Miami or LA.
Yes, Canadians are famously polite. But as I have found as an American living in Canada, this may just be a very convenient stereotype. Politeness does not automatically mean you are also kinder, or more generous, or a generally better person than another. Although Americans, generally speaking, may seem loud when out in public, or unapologetic when they run into you in the street, I've found they are more likely to say good morning to you in the elevator, or come more quickly to your aid when you are in some sort of trouble. Manners are better than no manners, of course; but manners are something that can be taught. Actions speak louder than "please."
Recently, I was on a flight departing from Washington D.C. to Toronto. Sitting behind me were two businessmen; from their conversation I gathered that one was American and the other was Canadian. The Canadian asked the American if he had been to Canada before. The American replied that he had not yet had the pleasure of visiting Canada, however, he was very excited to visit Toronto as his Canadian business partners had been so polite and wonderful. The Canadian businessman laughed (in my opinion, rather nastily) and informed the American to "be careful" as Canadians saw Americans as "extremely rude." The American took this insulting generalization good-naturedly, and even chuckled.
But to me this exchange struck me as a perfect example of Canadian rudeness. It is the very opposite of politeness to keep pointing out to others how polite you are and how inferior are their manners. Now that I have spent so much time away from the States, I notice not the "rudeness" or "loudness" of my compatriots, but in fact their extraordinary graciousness in the face of total strangers who keep telling them how unpleasant they are.
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