Robin Red Breast

I'm sitting on the back stoop of my house this morning, watching a pair of robins in the fir trees in my back yard. They are so calm and matter-of-fact.

I wonder what life would feel like if I were like the robins? Singing for pleasure, working for food and otherwise just hanging out - relaxed and cheerful? 

I think I might be happier.

It's ambition that gets in the way. Ambition and my compulsion to always be doing something.

I feel like I ought to be somebody. And I have lived most of my life feeling like I have something to prove.

Well, I'm me - Profound, eh? - and I think I'm finally growing up to the point where I can accept that seeking fame and fortune is not going to get me where I want to be.

Better I should seek to be relaxed and cheerful.

Just like the robins.

Sexism and Community Building

At the AGM

I sit on the board of a community group and I participated in their AGM last week. After presentations from the Chair and elections of board members, the group was split up into three groups to brainstorm some ideas for our next steps.

I was working to facilitate one of the groups, standing at the flip chart taking notes. I made a few suggestions myself and tried to help people elaborate some of their ideas and tried to moderate some conflicting opinions, while capturing all the ideas on paper.

I was the only woman in the group and also the youngest person there – there was only one other person under 50 in a group of 8 or 9 people.

I felt that everything went quite well in the group. We elicited some good ideas, heard some interesting feedback and made some connections.

"You fail as a leader."

As the time drew to a close, our Chair stepped over to the group and asked me to wrap up. I told the group we just had about a minute left. It didn't really register with the group. The two other groups in the room were still talking and ours kept going too. A couple of minutes later, the Chair came over again and asked me to wrap up. I apologized to her that I hadn't already gotten the group to finish.

One of the men in my group said, "You fail as a leader."

"What?" I said, shocked.

"You fail as a leader," he repeated.

I froze

I didn't know what to say. The request had been to return to the main part of the room, so we all did. The meeting ended. I chatted with a few people there about some ideas for future plans. I went home and seemed fine. And then I couldn't get to sleep. I was haunted by this seemingly unprovoked hostile comment.

The aftermath

I stewed and fussed. Had I failed as a leader? Had I somehow left this man feeling unheard in the group? Or did he simply hate being in a group that was being facilitated by a woman three decades his junior?

My first reaction was one of self-righteousness and rage. Here I was putting hours of volunteer time into this worthy cause only to be shot down by some jerk who came to one meeting and felt entitled to try to undermine me. Then, I began to doubt myself, my own intentions, my own abilities. Perhaps I had failed in some way and this was this man's way of telling me that I had offended or slighted him. On the other hand, maybe he was just sexist or agist and wanted to put me in back into the place he thought I should be in.

What to do?

I spent a few hours feeling like I never wanted to volunteer or try to lead again. Then I thought, well, I could just work within my own community where there is a lot of trust and love, where I know people and am known and I don't have to deal with sexist strangers.

Then I thought about it some more and realized that that is not realistic. I care about things in my bigger community. I have opinions and energy and I want to make a difference.

And what I really want to do is learn how to un-freeze in the face of sexism – or apparent sexism. I go into shock – partly because I have never been very good at reconciling my Free to Be, You and Me 70s childhood indoctrination with how sexist the world really is. And I freeze partly because the patriarchal nature of our culture has always felt pretty crushing to me. I'm hurt by it and I instinctively try to protect myself.

How to change?

I wish now that I had asked that man what he meant and tried to find out what was behind his comment. If it was intended as a joke, I might have been able to explain to him that it was an unwelcome joke that felt demoralizing to me. If it was meant as a sexist comment, I could have told him how I felt about that. And if his comment was in response to a legitimate grievance, perhaps we could have worked that out and I might have learned something about my facilitation style and how I could have helped shape a better experience for that man.

Help!

What's your advice? Do you have any tactics for dealing with sexism that you'd like to share? Do you meet it head-on? Do you have a snappy comeback at the ready? Do you freeze and stew later, like I did? I'd love to hear your insights about how to be a better leader, volunteer, activist and feminist.

My community hall is my spiritual home

I live in a rural community called West Dublin, Nova Scotia. About five doors away from my home, there's a hall - The Rebekkah Emerald Lodge is its official name, but most of us in the community call it The West Dublin Hall, or just, The Hall.

The West Dublin Hall, June 2, 2012

The Hall is simply magic. It's wooden and warm. It has amazing acoustics. It gathers us together as a community and holds us safe and happy.

For the past three summers, we've hosted a farmers' and artisans' market in The Hall. When The Hall is thrumming with activity during a Saturday market, it feels like we are the beating heart at the centre of our community. The Hall is where we distribute our local newspaper, The West Dublin Monitor, on market days.

I only moved to West Dublin about two and a half years ago. I grew up 50 minutes away, in Clearland, Nova Scotia, just outside of Mahone Bay. When I was 18, I moved to Toronto and lived there for many years. When I came back to the east coast, I landed in West Dublin by a happy accident – an old friend happened to have space in his house to rent to me.

I'd only been here a couple of months before I got involved with some people who were interested in starting a festival. That festival, the Pennybrook Festival, ended up being located just down the road from The Hall on Pennybrook Farm. The people I met at those first festival meetings have become a core group of people who work together to create interesting events at The Hall and elsewhere in our community.

Ian Foster and Ashley Condon share a high-five.

Last night, I presented a music show at The Hall. Two wonderful singer-songwriters, Ian Foster and Ashley Condon were touring in Nova Scotia (from Newfoundland and from Prince Edward Island, respectively). It felt so good to be able to welcome them to The Hall and invite them to grace The Hall with their songs. Jude Pelley (of the band, Pennybrook, as well as the farm and festival of the same name) mixed the sound perfectly and The Hall filled and resonated with beautiful music. It was an intimate show; the audience was engaged and appreciative. I'd be willing to bet that I wasn't the only one with chills running up and down my spine when Ian or Ashley sang some of their more poignant songs.

The grand finale, with Ian, and his partner and back-up singer, Nancy, joining Ashley for her song "I'm Coming Home, Amen!" had everyone pitching in with a rousing chorus of Amens.

I think that might have been the moment that I realized that The Hall is my spiritual home. It is where I get to join with people in a spirit of community to sing, chat, buy fresh veggies and art, read the news, share my opinions, hug my friends and neighbours, smile, listen to music, dance and feel completely at home. I landed here by accident, but I will stay with intention.

Alex Hickey is a singer-songwriter who lives in rural Nova Scotia. She tweets at @alexsings and @churchofbanjoy.

She'll make someone a wonderful wife someday...

This blog wasn't up and running in March when this particular news story happened, but I really wanted to comment on it. Better late than never...

Conservative Cabinet Minister Keith Ashfield said to a young woman that she would make a wonderful wife someday because she had baked him something delicious. 

I heard that phrase time and again when I was a kid. Every time I made a batch of cookies and one of the neighbours popped in, I'd hear it (that was 30 years ago, Minister Ashfield, just FYI).

I kind of rolled my eyes, but I also kind of liked the praise. I think it felt nice to be appreciated for being good at something when I was 12, 13, 14 and most things in life felt awkward and nasty.

But here's the kicker – years later, though still an excellent baker – it turns out I was a TERRIBLE wife. 

There was a lot of bru-ha-ha-ha stirred up by Ashfield's comment. People inferred that it meant that at least some Conservatives hold the view that women can only have traditional roles (I admit to being one of those people). It's also a heterosexist comment, which I'm sure has been pointed out and discussed.

But what I really wanted to see – and didn't – were people questioning that anyone's value in an intimate relationship rests in her (or his) good baking skills. Sure it might see you through a couple of years, "Mmmm, honey, this is good. Yum Yum!" but it's not going to be worth a damn when the chips are down.

Being a good partner rests in having good relationship skills: being able to express your feelings, listen, and have empathy for your partner's struggles. Being a good problem-solver can help and a strong and loving heart is a good foundation. It is also essential to know who you are, where you're coming from and what you want. I didn't have any of those things the first time I tried to be someone's long-term partner.

They didn't teach them in Fanny Farmer or the Good Housekeeping Cook Book. I didn't learn them as a kid growing up, either at home or at school.

I learned my relationship skills the hard way. By living, and failing, and spending years in therapy figuring things out. I wonder now if I had a false sense of security built up for me. "Honey, men don't care about nothin' but yer cookin'." "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach." "You're going to make a man a good little wife someday." It's not true. You can get delicious cinnamon rolls at a bakery. What partners need from each other are honest, satisfying connections. And you can't just whip up a batch of those and pop them in the oven until they're gooey and delicious.

Pharis and Jason Romero – West Coast Canadian Banjoy

Last week I had the privilege of hearing Pharis and Jason Romero in concert at the West Dublin Hall, around the corner from my home.

Pharis and Jason live in Horsefly, BC, but they were on their way to perform in Gros Morne, Newfoundland and they stopped in to play for us because they are friends of my wonderful neighbour, Jude Pelley (a stunning musician in his own right, Jude forms the duo Pennybrook with Charlie Wilson).

Pennybrook opened the evening in fine style, playing a scant handful of songs, including a couple that Pharis wrote when she was with the band Outlaw Social. Then, Pharis and Jason took the stage for an amazing show with banjo, guitar and resonator guitar. Their voices are perfect for the bluegrass songs they sing and they harmonize seamlessly together. There is not much that I love more than hearing our old wooden hall ring with the talents of genius musicians. I was a very happy soul last Thursday night.

Here's a little sample of Pharis and Jason from YouTube:

I bought both their CDs and have been listening to them non-stop in the car. I think my favourite song is "It Just Suits Me".

Check 'em out. Oh, and they make banjos, too. My heroes.

The 24-Hour Non-Sectarian Church of Banjoy Manifesto

1. Banjo music makes everything better. Need to wash the dishes, scrub the tub, feed the cat, dance, make love? Say. No. More. You need BanJOY.

2. Kindness is a way of life. One of my Mom's friends has a saying: "Be kinder than necessary." That means to everyone. As much and as often as you possibly can.

3. Like Michael Franti says, Nobody Right, Nobody Wrong. "One man got a jet fighter, the other got a song. Nobody right, nobody wrong." (I think this is the hardest one for me, as I am prone to be a leeeeetle bit judgy. I struggle with it - and it's worth struggling with).

4. Love with all your heart. When you give your heart to someone, do your best to do so fully. Love them with all their flaws and imperfections, and do yourself the same favour. 

5. Tread lightly on this earth. Limit your environmental impact. Try to avoid airplanes and cars, maintain a compost pile (or worm composter), sh*t in a bucket, shop local, avoid single-use containers, reduce, reuse and recycle.

6. The love of money is the root of all evil. Exercise caution and restraint when longing for the next toy or gadget. Is it really going to make you happy? Aren't there independent artists or rainforests somewhere who need that money more? Be generous. Let money flow. Think about the things you can live without and live without them.

7. The impossibility of purity is not a reason not to try. Yes, I still drive my car to see my boyfriend who lives a couple of hours away. Whaddayagunnado, I'm in love with him (see #4) and we don't have public transit out here. It doesn't mean I'm not still trying to be an eco-warrior. Remember Harold and Maude: "Consistency is not really a human trait." Just do your best.

8. Embrace Life. Put your TV out for Heavy Pick-up and spend your time creating. Sing. Dance. Write. Talk. Paint. Draw. Sculpt. Cook. Invent. Build. Love.

9. Make a lot of noise. Let everyone know what you care about, and that you aren't cynical or defeated, because the world needs people who hope and care. To quote Shane Koyczan "You've got to care about the world, because it doesn't care about you." And, as Billy Bragg said on Q a couple of weeks ago, "The antidote of cynicism is activism." 

10. Take personal responsibility. Not for all the problems of the world, or anything, but wherever you can. There's a lot of talk about what is wrong with the world today. And a lot of theories about how to change it. There are also a lot of actions that people skip. Think the banking world is corrupt and awful? Switch to a credit union, or invest your money directly in a local business. Think the government is corrupt and awful? Run for office, if that's in your skillset. Or support someone good to run. Or, at least write a letter to them, telling them what you would prefer to see them to do. And don't forget to vote next time.

11. The world is full. If you don't have a desperate longing to have kids, don't have them. If you feel an intense calling to have kids, I'm not going to argue with that, but if you're just having kids because that's what people do, or because everybody's doing it, or because "Whoops!", please don't. Having children is optional. Support charities that distribute birth control and birth control education throughout the world. Believe me, all of our scary problems would be way less scary if there were only 4 billion of us on the planet, not 7 billion going on 12 billion.

12. We're all going to die. Yes, all of us. Even you. And even me. Try not to be in denial about death: other people's or your own. Live your life as a celebration and make a point of coming to terms with death before you have to.