Why Dylan Farrow (and other victims) should be believed

I read today that the chances of being stuck by an asteroid were statistically higher than having false memory syndrome or lying about being sexually assaulted.  This does not surprise me at all.  In recent weeks, there has been considerable virtual ink about the resurfaced allegations by Dylan Farrow that she was sexually molested by her one-time stepfather, Woody Allen. 

These allegations were first made some 20 years ago and resulted in no charges being laid because of the vulnerability (read: presumed lack of reliability) of the child making them.  However, Allen was denied custody of all the children he shared with Mia Farrow, his partner of the time.  Their union ended after she found nude pictures of her daughter, Soon Yi Previn and learned of a relationship between Allen and her oldest child.  Dylan's allegations emerged shortly after this and were brought to light by a paediatrician.  After Allen again refuted the charges, Dylan offered point-by-point rebuttal of Allen's denials.

The public discourse around this case has been distressing, to say the least.  "No charges were ever laid," seems to be the de facto response of many pundits and members of the public.  Surely, we are not all so naive that we believe that the criminal justice system is immune to error.  The basic tenet of the legal systems in the United States and Canada is that it's better to let a guilty man go free than send an innocent one to jail.  The decision not to press charges against Woody Allen was a subjective one, which without question was influenced by Allen's celebrity status. 

I've noticed that people find it easier to compartmentalize Allen's talents as a cinema auteur which is argued has nothing to do with his personal predilections.  Similar stances were also taken with respect to Elia Kazan, who was known to have named names for the McCarthy's blacklist.  In 1999, Kazan was to receive an honourary Academy Award for his body of work.  The argument was that time had passed, the Cold War was over and that his body of work spoke for itself.  However, I would contend as did others, that you cannot separate the artist and his work.  One informs the other.  Kazan's betrayal destroyed countless careers and lives.  Yes, he made some good movies, but he should not have been celebrated in light of his personal acts.  Similarly, Allen, whose receipt of a Lifetime Achievement Golden Globe prompted Dylan Farrow to rearticulate her allegations against him, should not be celebrated.  Would we excuse any of history's most heinous criminals of their crimes had they been virtuosos in some field?  I think not.

Another compartmentalizing approach toward Woody Allen focused with his affair and subsequent marriage to Soon Yi Previn.  The ick factor of a 56 year old man cavorting with a 19 year old woman (barely that) was obvious.  That Woody Allen was not a handsome man heightened the ick factor.  However, disturbing though it was, it was not as morally reprehensible as the alleged sexual abuse was.  It was more comfortable to chide him for craddle robbing than making the obvious linkages to child sexual abuse.  Over time, they became just another celebrity couple.  In Hollywood and elsewhere, memories are short.

The other upsetting aspect of the public response to Farrow's allegations against Allen has been decidedly gendered.  The lens of scrutiny applied to girls and women who make sexual abuse claims is noticeably sharper than those applied to boys and men.  Girls and women are more often accused of False Memory Syndrome than boys and men.  Remember the chances of being hit by an asteroid are higher than someone lying about being sexually abused.  The presupposition is that no male would make up such a claim because it was too humiliating.  Guess what?  It's equally humiliating for females to admit to having been sexually abused. 

The microscopic scrutiny that women are subjected to only exacerbates the humiliation. When male hockey players or football players go public with claims of sexual abuse, public outrage is swift and demanding of punitive measures.  However, invariably when women come forth, the reaction tends to be more guarded.  Her motives and her role in the alleged abuse are questioned.  Further still, the spectre of false memory is suggested, particularly if the victim is a child.  The prevalence of sexual abuse of girls is significantly higher than boys and yet, time and time again, their veracity of their allegations is questioned.

Such a public case is unique with respect to sexual abuse.  Few cases are ever reported upon so widely.  The celebrity attached to this case adds a level of sensationalism that the public and media feed upon.  Having said that, Dylan Farrow already had access to fame via her very famous mother, Mia Farrow.  She is an adult with a family of her own and has changed her name to distance herself from the world of fame.  She has made no financial claims against Woody Allen, so that cannot be the motivation behind her reassertion of these claims.  Her reason for coming forth again is so painfully obvious that many seemed to have missed.  She wants the truth to be know.  A wise friend once said that if it feels wrong and it feels like abuse, it's abuse.  Simple as that.  Clearly, Dylan Farrow felt what Allen did was wrong and it felt like abuse.  Enough said.  Believe her.

I'm BACK

Well, I suppose that five years is an unnaturally long sabbatical, but apparently I got waylaid.  I am rebooting this blog, because it feels right.  I still love my chai and need an outlet to share what is my cup of chai and and what is not.   I am facetiously renaming this blog "my (second) cup of chai" to recognize my prolonged absence as well as the second thoughts that various things deserve. 

So without further adieu, I offer my (second) cup of chai!

True Colors - Deer Lake Park, July 2, 2008

Hello Bloggers, my old friends. I have been out of touch for a while, but I think about blogging, so that has to count for something. I meant to return to the blog earlier in the month, but life just got in the way. Oh yeah, and that darned facebook thing. I definitely will have to find a 12-step program soon. It'll probably be virtual and I will likely become addicted to that too.

So July started off with bang for me. While my fellow Canadians may have celebrated our nation's founding (or appropriating, depending on your perspective), I waited until July 2 to celebrate. My sister and I went to see True Colors, Cyndi Lauper's palooza supporting equality for all, particularly the gay, lesbian, bisexual, transsexual communities. We bought the expensive tickets that would allow us to meet Ms. Cyndi and gave us some great seats. The show featured Carson Kressley, Nona Hendryx, Joan Armatrading, Rosie O'Donnell, Sarah Mclachlan, The B52s, and Cyndi Lauper. The venue was Deer Lake Park in Burnaby. It was simply amazing.

While I was excited about meeting Cyndi Lauper, I was really hoping to meet Rosie. You see I have loved Rosie for a very long time. I am an avid reader of her blog and agree with a lot of what she has to stay on the American political situation. I started emailing her asking if she'd meet my sister and me whilst we were visiting with Cyndi. At the time, I didn't realized that our "meeting" with Cyndi was only to take one photo and virtually no chit chat. I know, I am naive. I tried to use the fact that I was turning 40 and my sister just turned 50 and that this would be a great present for both of us to elicit a response, but Rosie never replied. She gets thousands of emails and probably feared me as a stalker.

While waiting to enter the venue, my bodacious friend saw Rosie getting out of her tour bus. My friend yelled "hello Rosie" and Rosie waved back. When I was told this, I admitted my jealousy.

Joan Armatrading was playing as we waited to go backstage for our pix with Cyndi. My sister loves Joan, so I offered to go up close and get a picture. On my way back, I saw her. I did a double-take. Could it really be? Among us mere mortals? Indeed it was: ROSIE! Okay, brain engage. If you don't take the chance, you will regret it for the rest of your life. I walked over, half-expecting some nearby bodyguard to tackle me. I shook her hand and said something I am certain was goofy. I shook her hand again, to make sure that I had done it. I asked if she'd sign my copy of her book. She said she had to go on in a bit, but perhaps later. I thanked her, told her that I was among her bloggers, all the while fearing a 300 lb security guard. I could tell that I was bothering her because I know she loves Joan Armatrading, but she was still very polite to me. And for that I was so grateful! After snapping a few pix, I did my happy dance back to my sister. Famous people are known for disappointing their fans because expectations are so high.
Meeting Cyndi Lauper was cool and I have a picture of it, but the real highlight is that I got to meet Rosie and I was not disappointed.

Rosie's set was also very good. I managed to snag a place right at the stage and took way too many pictures. Her humour was filled with pathos. Rosie's pain was palpable even through all of the laughter. Perhaps because I am on her blog quite frequently, that I was familiar with what she had to say. Nevertheless, sitting there, listening to her talk, was like being with an old friend.

The whole show was amazing. Carson Kressly was a good emcee. I enjoyed his humour, although he may want to expand his repertoire a little. Although I didn't know Nona Hendryx's music, I loved her performance and energy. Joan Armatrading voice was so rich and soothing. Sarah McLachlan just fed off the hometown energy and gave back as much as she received. She was clearly happy to be on stage again. Her voice has become even more beautiful with time. The B52s really cranked up the audience's energy to insane party levels. That band is tight and boy (or girl, if that's your preference) did they sound good!

And Cyndi, well, what can I say? That girl can sing. It's really hard to reconcile her speaking voice which is uneven, squeaky-pitched with a distinct Brooklyn accent, with her singing voice which is simultaneously robust and ethereal. She more than held her own with Mclachlan's powerhouse voice when two did a haunting duet of Time After Time. You can feel the passion she has for her music, her cause and most of all, her audience. Because I was seated in an exclusive area, I got to watch all the professional photographers desperately try to capture Cyndi as she moved closer and closer to her audience and out of their clear lens view. I was happy to see that her priorities were clearly in order.

When Cyndi broke into Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, the audience, including me, went nuts. This was the theme song of my teen years. It was the song with which we won our air band competition. I told Cyndi this backstage. I am sure she just thought I was a weirdo. Rosie played the timbales and Margaret Cho appeared on stage out of nowhere. Wish she had performed.

The light was fading into darkness. Fireflies came out to enjoy the show, all sparkling and popping. You could tell that even they were having a great time. Cyndi and the rest of the performers, minus Joan Armatrading, closed the show singing Sly and the Family Stone's Everyday People and Cyndi's own True Colors. Big Giant coloured balls were released into the audience. The fireflies swayed to the music. A warm summer breeze shimmered through the weeping willows. And for those moments, the message of True Colors was our lived reality. Hope existed. It was possible to live united, without prejudice.


Thank you Cyndi Lauper for letting your true colours shine through.

Now if only one of them had a limp...

I have been wanting to weigh in on the US democratic and presidential races for quite some time, but feel like it's all been said. Interestingly, the last few weeks have raised the issue of race in a more meaningful way than it has been thus far. Mostly, the discussion around racism has been simplistic -- black and white, if you will. However, more recently, some footage of Barack Obama's pastor-cum-mentor, Jeremiah Wright, emerged in which he gave a sermon castigating the Clintons and the rich, white elites of that country for their systemic perpetuation of racism. A week prior, Geraldine Ferraro, a member of Hilary Clinton's campaign, said that Obama would not be where he was politically had he not been black. Her suggestion was more to say that just as she had benefitted by being a woman on the political scene when Walter Mondale chose her as his vice-presidential running mate, his blackness too was benefitting him at this point in history.

Both Ferraro and Wright have stepped down as advisors to Clinton and Obama. In their wake, the pundits have had a field day and each candidate has been left to pick up the pieces. Clinton distanced herself from Ferraro's comments, saying that these were not views she shared. She was attacked by the media and her opponents for not being stronger in her disavowal of Ferraro's comments as well as the woman herself. Obama held a press conference where he gave a speech denouncing Wright's sermons, but defiantly refusing to disavow the man himself. In doing so, he raised the level of the national dialogue which was stuck in a simple racial binary to a point where the complexities and nuances of race were finally named. From what I have read so far, the pundits are lauding this speech and are deeming it to be on par with Martin Luther King's "I have a dream" speech. Cynic that I am, I suspect that this attempt at a critical discussion about race will not go anywhere. More than likely, the blacks and the whites will just go to their separate corners. And of course, all the other races will have to share in the more pigmented corner.

I first saw Barack Obama on the Oprah Winfrey show a couple of years back. I was very impressed. I knew that he would be a great leader if he ever chose to run for president. I continued to support him until a few months ago, when I realized that despite his eloquence, the substance of his political views was far more right wing than my own. Coupled with that have been the horribly sexist attacks against Hilary Clinton. Apparently, sexism is still an acceptable practise in politics and the media. While I continue to be upset by Clinton's support of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, her political views are much closer to mine than Obama's. So with a heavy heart, I switched camps (bearing in mind that as a Canadian, I am not able to vote in the States). I believe that what I experienced is similar to what many US democrats have felt. However, it seems more have gone from Clinton to Obama, swayed largely by his eloquent unifying messages.

On the more divisive front, we have Republican nominee and former P.O.W., John McCain whose recent turnabout and support of the torture of prisoners is indicative what his governing style will look like. And it doesn't look good. The ghosts of Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld linger all too closely. McCain has said that the war in Iraq could go on for a hundred years. This suggests no evidence of an exit strategy. Nobody wants this. This offers no hope.

Hope and change are the cornerstones of Obama's campaign message. They suggest a very sexy prospect, but can they be realized? I cannot say definitively. Clinton also calls for change, but for most, she seems to be lacking in the hope department. Her ties to former President Clinton and the old boys network of politics hinders her. As do, poorly tailored clothes, thick ankles, bad hair and any other entirely shallow and irrelevant attacks that would never be hurled against a male candidate.

What sealed the deal for me was in a New York Times Op. Ed. piece Gloria Steinem pointed out, among many things, that if Barack Obama was a woman, he never would have advanced politically as he had. Shirley Chisholm, the first Black woman to ever attempt to become a presidential nominee, noted that gender was always a far greater barrier to her career than her skin colour. Were she still alive, I am sure that everyone would want to know who she would support.

As a feminist, it would give me great joy if Hilary Clinton wins the democratic race. However, as a woman of colour I will not be too disappointed if Obama wins either. My concern is whether these two can come together at the end of it all and present a unified front. My greatest worry is that the divisiveness of this contest (for that is really what it is), will give way to another four to eight years of Republican chaos, not just in the US, but for the rest of the world. Things are getting a bit ugly between the Clinton and Obama camps. Politics are like that. However, will the victor (or victoria, as the case may be) have the resources (and I'm not talking money here because there's been enough money spent/wasted on these campaigns to feed and give health care to a whole lot of people) to unify their party and gather the national support necessary to avoid another four to eight years of Bush-Cheney-Rumsfeld type insanity.

For the sake of all of us, I hope so.

They tried to make me give up sulfites, I said "no, no, no"

So on February 1st, I had this major allergic reaction. My lips swelled up to about five times their normal size. I called my sister the pharmacist who suggested Benadryl. I only had the kids' version. She figured out an appropriate dose for me. About a half hour later the swelling had spread. Long story short, she took me to Emergency. The result was about three hours of observation, a shot of epi, and some prednisone. I may have had the beginnings of an anaphylactic reaction (who knew it could happen so slowly?) or what's known as an angioedema, unexplained swelling. The only thing I could assume that triggered the reaction was a bottle of French wine, one of the Nouveu Beaujolais. Further deduction led me to believe that it may have contained a high quantity of sulfites.

Now, anyone who knows me knows I enjoy my wine. The thought that I might be allergic to them was fairly traumatic. A few days later I tried some of our u-vin wine. No reaction. However, sporadically throughout the month of February, I'd break out in hives. They were very hot and itchy. Clearly, my body was reacting to something.

I had already been scheduled for allergy testing for other reasons and the plan was to have this appointment moved up. Managed to visit the allergist last week and I told him my tale. He gave me a standard allergy test, which included many pokes and exposure to various potential allergens. My arm turned beet red. I had bumps for every poke, the most significant being for cats. He said that because I had been getting hives so frequently, that this test wasn't going to work for me and that I'd have to have a blood test. I told him about my sulfite theory and he agreed that this may be the case. He recommended a daily dose of Reactine to see if the hives would calm down. I told him that I had tickets to the wine festival, he laughed. He said that I definitely should take Reactine beforehand.

Flash forward to Saturday night to the Vancouver Wine Festival . Indeed, I took the antihistamine. It worked. I was fairly tentative in my wine-tasting at first, but during the course of the night, I was thrilled that I was having no reaction to the wines. I was able to relax (I'm sure the wine helped here) and had a thoroughly enjoyable time. Side note: I have not seen so many people with red complexions (including my many trips down South) as I did that night. Clearly, I am not the only person to be affected by the wine!

I have started to research sulfite allergies and am learnig that they tend to affect the respiratory system more than the skin. So now, I am not sure that sulfites are the culprit. Nonetheless, I will continue my course of Reactine for the next little while and see what happens. Between my husband's gluten allergy and my potential sulfite sensitivity, the journey to 40 is turning out to be more challenging than I had expected.

And the winner is...

Well, the Oscars are on tonight. As per the last several years, a few friends will come over for our annual Oscar "party". The idea of us having an Oscar party is quite bizarre really. Originally, we started doing this because we used to go to the movies a lot (pre-child) as did our friends (who now don't go to movies for reasons I can't quite figure out). Now, we see very few movies, but the ritual is still there. Watching the Oscars is more fun when you're eating (as most of my friends are not real drinkers) and gabbing with friends.

On the menu tonight is steak. Seems fitting for an Oscar soiree. I will accompany them with fingerling potatoes and some sort of veggie side dish. Because of the gluten free thing, I will be attempting to make a flourless chocolate cake. If that doesn't work out, there's always fruit and ice cream. These are the advantages of having a reasonably well-stocked home.

I have seen three of the Oscar nominated films. Juno is my pick for many awards, because really, who ever thought a movie about teenage pregnancy could be the feel-good picture of the year. I have also seen Ratatouille and just assume that will win best animated. I also saw Away From Her more than a year ago at the Vancouver International Film Festival. Julie Christie was very good in this film, but I really feel that Gordan Pinset has been robbed of the acclaim he so rightly deserves for this performance. Problem is, everyone has heard of Christie, while Pinset remains one of Canada's best kept secrets.

I am finding that I am feeling oddly nationalistic about the Oscars, hoping for wins for Sarah Polley for her adaptation of Alice Munro's work for Away From Her. I also wouldn't mind Juno, which was filmed here in Vancouver, starring Halifax's Ellen Page and directed by Canadian born Jason Reitman to pick up some hardware. Needless to say, one of the Canadian short films better win the Oscar as well. I tend to get nationalistic whenever we are in a competition with America for whatever reason. With respect to the Oscars, it's such a celebration of excess, I like to believe that Canadian victories will temper the rah-rah-ness of it all.

Oh who am I kidding. I am happy that the writer's strike is over and I can be a spectator in all the pomp and circumstance that is the Oscars. It's Oscar's 80th year, so I am hoping that they will doing something interesting by way of tribute for all of us old-school film buffs.

In the meantime, happy viewing, eating and imbibing everyone.

Gluten is the new blog

I've been away from my own blogging for some time.  Put my foot in the water and it got wet.  Go figure.  Lots of stuff happening in my life (lives).  On the eating front, hubby has been diagnosed with Celiac disease.  This means that his body cannot absorb gluten, a protein found in wheat, rye, barley and other flours.  His intestine has been damaged, but a life-long, gluten-free diet will restore.  Or at least this is what we are led to believe.

The problem -- is and you know that there is always a problem -- gluten can be found in just about everything.  Flour is the great food binder.  Apart from the usual cakes, cookies, breads and other yummy treats, wheat and its derivatives can be found in all kinds of things, including, but not limited to soya sauce, deli meats, worcestershire sauce, pasta, and  most fast foods.  

The good news,  and yes one can always find some, is that we live in a city where gluten-friendly food can be found.  My favourite place so far is Choices, a local market chain that has really tapped into the niche market of GF grocery items.  Additionally, they have their own bakery, which generates some relatively palatable  baked goods.  They also mark their grocery shelves with a blue label to indicate whether or not a food item is gluten free.  It is important to read the ingredients anyway, but this blue label system certainly helps gear us neophyte GF shoppers in the right direction.

So this is all well and good, as long as you are doing your own cooking (and I haven't even begun to talk about cross-contamination issues yet), however (and you knew that there would be a "however") going out to eat is a far more daunting task.  The conventional wisdom is that the better (i.e. the more expensive) the restaurant, the more likely that your meal will be made to your specifications.  We tried this during Dine Out Vancouver at the Savory Coast restaurant.  I emailed them in advance, my husband spoke with them before we went and our server seemed to know about gluten.  We both had the steak, which we have been told is a safe GF bet, and were delighted that flourless chocolate cake was among the dessert options.  Nevertheless, the food did not agree with my husband.  Somewhere, somehow gluten had found its way in to his food.

Needless to say, the restaurant thing is a work in process.  He's had better luck with sushi as long has he uses his own GF tamari and even at Red Robin, which he says were very accommodating.  On a recent visit to White Spot, I asked about GF options, they let me have a look at their allergy binder.  Unfortunately, my husband will not be able to eat about 95 per cent of the food on the menu; however, the manager said that they would be willing to accommodate his special needs.  We will have to test this one out. 

My daughter and I have not gone completely gluten-free.  My daughter is a very fussy eater, so we already don't always eat the same things.  As a result, cross-contamination is a big issue in our house.  I am forever washing my hands between handling his food and her food.  I throw any cloths that have been used to wipe down counters or wash dishes which may have any gluten residue.  This is also a work in process.  I am keenly aware that even a microscopic amount of gluten can affect my husband adversely. 

I am certain that I will continue to chronicle our new GF lifestyle in this blog.  BTW, the masala tin up top is completely gluten free!That's not why I included it.  I just liked the picture.