This is about dating, domestic violence, and filmmaking. I forewarn you that you may be angry, depressed, or in a bad mood after reading this:
Apr. 17, 2017 The documentary A Better Man: Today I found this article by Julia Cooper and Globe and Mail:
Apr. 17, 2017 The documentary A Better Man: Today I found this article by Julia Cooper and Globe and Mail:
Picture the person whom you are most afraid of in the world. Think for a moment about how that fear feels on the surface of your skin. Consider where that fears goes in your body, from the back of your throat, to the pit of your stomach, or to a hollow ache behind your collarbone.
Now consider reaching out your hand toward that person and asking for help.
That would require a kind of vulnerability that defies our basic survival instincts, and most of us would recoil at just the thought. But in an attempt to escape the lasting effect of violent abuse, Attiya Khan confronted the man who hurt her, and asked that he be a part of her healing process – in public.
He said yes, and the result is A Better Man, the first documentary that asks an abuser’s side of the story. The stakes are incredibly high, and not just for these two – every six days, a woman in Canada dies of intimate partner violence.
Directed by Khan and codirector Larry Jackman (How Does It Feel), and produced by Sarah Polley (Stories We Tell), it’s an unprecedented film that suggests that the abuser is not the enemy, but his silence could be.
Directed by Khan and codirector Larry Jackman (How Does It Feel), and produced by Sarah Polley (Stories We Tell), it’s an unprecedented film that suggests that the abuser is not the enemy, but his silence could be.
As a teen in Ottawa in the mid-1990s, Khan was abused physically, emotionally, and verbally by her ex-boyfriend Steve every day for two years. “Steve had a thousand ways to say how deserving I was of being hit, spit on, made fun of because I was brown,” Khan says in the film. One night while being strangled by Steve, Khan kicked up her heels and quite literally ran for her life and into the truck of a stranger who heard her yelling for help.
Vulnerable and terrorized, she never reported Steve’s abuse.
Vulnerable and terrorized, she never reported Steve’s abuse.
As an adult, Khan began to run into Steve on the streets of Toronto, and each encounter caused a small tailspin of anxiety. During one episode, on a summer day in 2012, time slowed to a thump Khan could feel in her ears.
Standing in the sun two decades after their relationships ended, the two spoke for a few stilted moments before Khan asked a question: Could she interview him for a documentary about their relationship? A few days later – despite the enormous risk of publicly outing himself as a violent abuser – Steve agreed. He wishes, Steve told her, that he could have been a better man.
That said, A Better Man is not Steve’s redemption story. The documentary is a bold intervention into the systematic ways that women are taught to remain silent about domestic violence while abusers are written off as irredeemably evil.
Here’s how that silence manifests. Seventy per cent of domestic abuse assaults are never reported to police, according to a 2014 report from Statistics Canada.
Those that do make it into the criminal-justice system suffer from continuing prejudice that sees women (who make up 85 per cent of victims) who know their abusers as less deserving victims than those assaulted by strangers.
A 2015 report showed that cases of what Statscan terms “intimate partner violence” are less likely to receive a guilty verdict than those where the assailant and victim aren’t dating or married. Offenders convicted of spousal violence are also less likely to be sentenced to prison; those who do go to jail receive shorter sentences than non-partners when they were sent to custody.
A 2015 report showed that cases of what Statscan terms “intimate partner violence” are less likely to receive a guilty verdict than those where the assailant and victim aren’t dating or married. Offenders convicted of spousal violence are also less likely to be sentenced to prison; those who do go to jail receive shorter sentences than non-partners when they were sent to custody.
Put simply, if and when abusers get convicted of their crimes, their punishment is likely to be less severe if they are married or related to their victim. The idea that a woman who knows her abuser is somehow to blame – that domestic violence is shameful, and private – abandons both victims and perpetrators.
Khan believes that understanding why Steve repeatedly used violence and examining how his memories differ from hers is crucial to getting to the root of abusive behaviour. “It’s important to me that people don’t see Steve as a monster. I don’t think it helps,” Khan says.
“If we want to keep women and children safe, we need to figure out ways to help men change their attitude and behaviour towards women.”
“If we want to keep women and children safe, we need to figure out ways to help men change their attitude and behaviour towards women.”
The film humanizes Steve in a way that can feel too generous at certain moments, but it is precisely this uncomfortable intimacy that makes the film radical in its approach, and hopeful in its belief that things can change for the better if we listen to both sides of violence.
There are other documentaries that have addressed domestic abuse with unflinching cameras and to startling effect. In 2012, the National Film Board released Status Quo? The Unfinished Business of Feminism in Canada. There, director Karen Cho revisits the 1967 Royal Commission on the Status of Women and follows up on some of its 167 recommendations.
Status Quo? showed that the rights of Canadian women are unequally distributed across the population, highlighting issues such as the dire lack of access to safe abortion in New Brunswick and the roughly 1,200 Indigenous women who have gone missing or been murdered. The sad finding was that not much has changed in the five decades since the group was established.
Produced for HBO in 2014, Cynthia Hill’s Private Violence examined North American discomfort with discussing intimate partner violence and how that silence creates a dangerous complicity with abusers.
Both documentaries were revealing – and important, forcing the viewer to reckon with the dire emotional and economic straits in which abused women so often find themselves. But both also focused on a seemingly unbreakable cycle, and neither addressed the question of why some men choose to commit violence, multiple times, on someone they purport to care about.
Both documentaries were revealing – and important, forcing the viewer to reckon with the dire emotional and economic straits in which abused women so often find themselves. But both also focused on a seemingly unbreakable cycle, and neither addressed the question of why some men choose to commit violence, multiple times, on someone they purport to care about.
A Better Man looks at the other side of the story. Khan’s confrontation with Steve – her “but why?” – could change how we talk about intimate partner violence, in part because of how simply and frankly she asks the question.
In the fall of 2014, Khan and her team began an Indiegogo campaign to raise funds for production. The fundraiser effort’s launch coincided with the news that former CBC host Jian Ghomeshi was facing numerous abuse allegations from female coworkers and romantic partners.
“Rape culture” now had a smirking face as its poster-child for those who, until now, had been able to brush it off as an overblown feminist complaint. In one month alone, and with only a short interview trailer of Khan and Steve talking, supporters donated $110,765 to the fundraising campaign. (The initial goal had been $75,000).
“Rape culture” now had a smirking face as its poster-child for those who, until now, had been able to brush it off as an overblown feminist complaint. In one month alone, and with only a short interview trailer of Khan and Steve talking, supporters donated $110,765 to the fundraising campaign. (The initial goal had been $75,000).
From that initial conversation to the final day of production, three years and a lot of therapy passed. The crew filmed in Toronto and Ottawa, and returned to the student apartments where the abuse happened. There were some fears that after the attention garnered by the Indiegogo campaign Steve might want to back out of the project, but Khan explains that keeping him out of the spotlight was a necessary part of the process.
“We didn’t want to pressure Steve into speaking with media before he had a chance to undertake the kind of reflection you see us do together in the film,” Khan says. Twenty years after her relationship ended, Khan was surrounded by women – including Polley, cinematographer Iris Ng, producer Christine Kleckner, producer Justine Pimlott and executive producer Anita Lee – and in a place to pose some of the questions that remain unsafe for others to ask.
Aware of the dangers of triggering raw memories, she enlisted the help of Tod Augusta-Scott, a therapist from Halifax who works with men who have used violence, to facilitate their conversations.
Aware of the dangers of triggering raw memories, she enlisted the help of Tod Augusta-Scott, a therapist from Halifax who works with men who have used violence, to facilitate their conversations.
Even though her documentary focuses on Steve’s motivations, Khan wants to be clear that this is her story. “I am not advocating for women to go back and meet with their abusive exes. What I am doing is talking with the man who abused me with the hope that we can all learn from the conversations he and I are having,” Khan says.
A Better Man is a film made by women that opens up a space for its male subject to be vulnerable – to wonder aloud the “why?” of intimate violence. It is collaborative feminism, reparative therapy, and a crucial cultural intervention all in one.
Sept. 17, 2017 "Book examines how grassroots group of women created the shelter system": Today I found this book review by Liane Faulder in the Edmonton Journal:
It was a blue-sky conversation that lead Margo Goodhand to spend a year of her life driving around the country, recording the stories of the strong, scrappy, seat-of-their pants pioneers of the women’s shelter movement.
The journalist and former editor-in-chief of the Edmonton Journal was talking with her sister, Joyce, who had worked with battered women throughout her career, about what the two of them would do if they had clear space, no responsibilities, a mortgage that was paid off.
“I said, ‘I’ve always wanted to write a book.’ And Joyce said, ‘I’ve always wanted someone to research the women’s shelter movement.’ And we looked at each other and said, ‘That’s a good project,’ ” recalls Goodhand.
A good project, but massive. It took six years, and two sabbaticals from work, for Goodhand to complete the result, Runaway Wives and Rogue Feminists: The Origin of the Women’s Shelter Movement in Canada. Goodhand launches the book in Edmonton at Audreys Books on Tuesday, Sept. 19 at 7 p.m.
The result, which looks at five different shelters across the country that sprang up, seemingly in tandem, is both a moving portrayal of the women affected, and a hard-nosed examination of the public policy and relentless hard work that paved the way for today’s 625 shelters that still merely staunch the bleeding, coast to coast.
It’s also a testament to the powerful combination of government money and community drive, because it took both of those things, says Goodhand, to create a shelter community in Canada once viewed as a world leader in the field.
The book opens in 1973 with the story of Lorraine Kuzma, a Saskatoon woman in her early 30s with two little girls. Her husband was Steve, an abusive, unemployed drunk. Even the cops (notoriously hands-off at the time) told her not to return home after Steve twisted her big toe till it broke. But there was nowhere else for her to go.
Eventually, Kuzma joined forces with the Women Alone Society, a new Saskatoon group working with provincial funds to start employment programs for single mothers on welfare.
Around the same time in five cities — Aldergrove, Toronto, Saskatoon, Edmonton and Vancouver — something was percolating. Women, many of them inspired by the burgeoning feminist movement, applied for government community grants (dispensed at the time by the Liberal government of Pierre Trudeau). Virtually without any sort of coordination or communication, a rough system to help battered women emerged.
“The women’s liberation movement — those high-powered women working on gender equity and abortion rights — were running to Parliament and trying to get political representation. That was the more glamorous side,” says Goodhand, who had extensive research support from her sister in writing the book.
“Then the rogue feminists came along and they were a little more practical, a little more down-to-earth. Instead of going to consciousness-raising sessions, they were asking, ‘Why can’t we do something to help women?’ “
The practical ones scrounged furniture, painted derelict rented buildings, cooked, cleaned, wrote staff schedules, went to court with victims, faced down raging husbands, and broke the law, repeatedly, to help women fleeing dangerous situations. Many of them were in their 20s, with nothing but guts and outrage to keep them going.
These women are heroes, and they are nobody you’ve ever heard of. Goodhand tracked down the early pioneers — many still working in the shelter system — and recorded their dogged efforts.
“When you are writing a history that nobody has written, you are almost laying down the tracks for what you hope people will remember,” says Goodhand. “We started with nothing and went through archives and talked to these women and they didn’t even know their place in this history.”
Goodhand devotes a chapter to Edmonton and Calgary and notes that many of the pioneers in this city were “church ladies” — strong-minded Catholics such as the formidable Ardis Beaudry who never took ‘no’ for an answer. Beaudry was one of the founders, in 1970, of the Edmonton Women’s Emergency Overnight Shelter, a precursor to later local shelters for battered women such as WIN House.
Goodhand’s book is an emotional read, not surprising considering the ugly and persistent nature of its subject matter. While the political and social roots of the shelter system are fascinating to note, it’s the stories of the victims, and their advocates, that power the reader through the book’s 158 pages.
One of the best anecdotes recalls a shelter worker, in the days before cellphones, who drove to the home of a battered woman to collect some belongings, only to run into the husband as the worker backed her car into the rutted, icy lane behind the house.
He was coming straight at her in his truck. All the worker could do was back down the alley, and then continue to retreat through several main intersections, going backwards, until she reached refuge. When the man came out of his vehicle and pounded on her windshield, screaming with rage, she turned up the radio, hoping to drown out his threats.
It would be nice if such stories never happened any more. But domestic violence is still a huge problem in Canada.
“The shelters are still being built and they’re full when they’re built,” says Goodhand. “We’ve found a solution to the symptoms, but haven’t addressed the issue itself. We’ve created a wonderful support network, but, as Michele Landsberg (Toronto journalist) says, ‘We’re teaching women to dodge bullets.’ I am still searching for answers.”
http://edmontonjournal.com/entertainment/books/runaway-wives-and-rogue-feminists-former-edmonton-journalist-creates-compelling-tale-of-womens-shelter-history
http://sachasterling.com/vision-into-2019-video-1/?inf_contact_key=b6bdc59458724621173c8c7a29c526f72ba8d297a0630a9ade4b366eae19a03e
http://sachasterling.com/vision-into-2019-video-2/?inf_contact_key=d529aab3fcdd3cbb522c03585d89f13e699daa57f92c321ea0bde0ca9780ddfb
http://sachasterling.com/vision-into-2019-video-3/?inf_contact_key=7fbdd111dc9158ba7b7334330e5342334edb9e74b77429b74be9489abd819af2
Peter Gabriel donates money:
Peter Gabriel is donating the money he’ll receive for allowing coffee bosses at Nespresso to use one of his tunes for their new TV ad to a leading autism expert.
The rocker’s Solsbury Hill features in the new commercial, which stars Nespresso regular George Clooney and Natalie Dormer, and Gabriel has decided to use the cash windfall to help Dr. Joanne Kurtzberg continue her work.
“My wife and I learned about the amazing work of Dr. Joanne Kurtzberg (who is) treating children with autism spectrum disorder with cord blood stem cells and found it really inspiring,” the former Genesis star writes in a post on his website. “As a Great Uncle to a child with ASD, we looked for a way to bring this pioneering work to the UK.
“When I was offered the Nespresso advert it seemed like a great opportunity to kickstart fund-raising. All the money from this use of my music will be used to help make this happen.”
"Diddy funds charter schools":
Oct. 25, 2018 David Schwimmer's spoofs beer thief lookalike:
A waitress gets $10,000 tip:
The journalist and former editor-in-chief of the Edmonton Journal was talking with her sister, Joyce, who had worked with battered women throughout her career, about what the two of them would do if they had clear space, no responsibilities, a mortgage that was paid off.
“I said, ‘I’ve always wanted to write a book.’ And Joyce said, ‘I’ve always wanted someone to research the women’s shelter movement.’ And we looked at each other and said, ‘That’s a good project,’ ” recalls Goodhand.
A good project, but massive. It took six years, and two sabbaticals from work, for Goodhand to complete the result, Runaway Wives and Rogue Feminists: The Origin of the Women’s Shelter Movement in Canada. Goodhand launches the book in Edmonton at Audreys Books on Tuesday, Sept. 19 at 7 p.m.
The result, which looks at five different shelters across the country that sprang up, seemingly in tandem, is both a moving portrayal of the women affected, and a hard-nosed examination of the public policy and relentless hard work that paved the way for today’s 625 shelters that still merely staunch the bleeding, coast to coast.
It’s also a testament to the powerful combination of government money and community drive, because it took both of those things, says Goodhand, to create a shelter community in Canada once viewed as a world leader in the field.
The book opens in 1973 with the story of Lorraine Kuzma, a Saskatoon woman in her early 30s with two little girls. Her husband was Steve, an abusive, unemployed drunk. Even the cops (notoriously hands-off at the time) told her not to return home after Steve twisted her big toe till it broke. But there was nowhere else for her to go.
Eventually, Kuzma joined forces with the Women Alone Society, a new Saskatoon group working with provincial funds to start employment programs for single mothers on welfare.
Around the same time in five cities — Aldergrove, Toronto, Saskatoon, Edmonton and Vancouver — something was percolating. Women, many of them inspired by the burgeoning feminist movement, applied for government community grants (dispensed at the time by the Liberal government of Pierre Trudeau). Virtually without any sort of coordination or communication, a rough system to help battered women emerged.
“The women’s liberation movement — those high-powered women working on gender equity and abortion rights — were running to Parliament and trying to get political representation. That was the more glamorous side,” says Goodhand, who had extensive research support from her sister in writing the book.
“Then the rogue feminists came along and they were a little more practical, a little more down-to-earth. Instead of going to consciousness-raising sessions, they were asking, ‘Why can’t we do something to help women?’ “
The practical ones scrounged furniture, painted derelict rented buildings, cooked, cleaned, wrote staff schedules, went to court with victims, faced down raging husbands, and broke the law, repeatedly, to help women fleeing dangerous situations. Many of them were in their 20s, with nothing but guts and outrage to keep them going.
These women are heroes, and they are nobody you’ve ever heard of. Goodhand tracked down the early pioneers — many still working in the shelter system — and recorded their dogged efforts.
“When you are writing a history that nobody has written, you are almost laying down the tracks for what you hope people will remember,” says Goodhand. “We started with nothing and went through archives and talked to these women and they didn’t even know their place in this history.”
Goodhand devotes a chapter to Edmonton and Calgary and notes that many of the pioneers in this city were “church ladies” — strong-minded Catholics such as the formidable Ardis Beaudry who never took ‘no’ for an answer. Beaudry was one of the founders, in 1970, of the Edmonton Women’s Emergency Overnight Shelter, a precursor to later local shelters for battered women such as WIN House.
Goodhand’s book is an emotional read, not surprising considering the ugly and persistent nature of its subject matter. While the political and social roots of the shelter system are fascinating to note, it’s the stories of the victims, and their advocates, that power the reader through the book’s 158 pages.
One of the best anecdotes recalls a shelter worker, in the days before cellphones, who drove to the home of a battered woman to collect some belongings, only to run into the husband as the worker backed her car into the rutted, icy lane behind the house.
He was coming straight at her in his truck. All the worker could do was back down the alley, and then continue to retreat through several main intersections, going backwards, until she reached refuge. When the man came out of his vehicle and pounded on her windshield, screaming with rage, she turned up the radio, hoping to drown out his threats.
It would be nice if such stories never happened any more. But domestic violence is still a huge problem in Canada.
“The shelters are still being built and they’re full when they’re built,” says Goodhand. “We’ve found a solution to the symptoms, but haven’t addressed the issue itself. We’ve created a wonderful support network, but, as Michele Landsberg (Toronto journalist) says, ‘We’re teaching women to dodge bullets.’ I am still searching for answers.”
http://edmontonjournal.com/entertainment/books/runaway-wives-and-rogue-feminists-former-edmonton-journalist-creates-compelling-tale-of-womens-shelter-history
My week:
Oct. 23, 2018 Driver license price list: I researched this in 2017.
In 2009 I learned how to drive for the first time. I was 23 yrs old. I was an average driver after 10 lessons/ hrs. If I were to assess myself I would say average.
In 2016 I learned how to drive again. I tried the driver's license test and didn't pass. I had 14 hrs of lessons at the time. I finished my other lessons. In total, 20 lessons/ hrs in 2016.
In 2009 I learned how to drive for the first time. I was 23 yrs old. I was an average driver after 10 lessons/ hrs. If I were to assess myself I would say average.
In 2016 I learned how to drive again. I tried the driver's license test and didn't pass. I had 14 hrs of lessons at the time. I finished my other lessons. In total, 20 lessons/ hrs in 2016.
Sacha Sterling Vision into 2019:
What we cover in today’s training:
What does it mean to be a Vision Led Woman? HINT: Being hooked into a purpose that is bigger than your fear!
What we cover in today’s video:
- Separate from your roles and responsibilities, who are you and what do you want
- Connect with possibility and get excited about your life again
- Expand your identity so you get to have it all – on your terms
- Know that the desire in your heart is there for a reason
- Allowing your vision to expand with you as you take action and build confidence
- Feel safe to let your true self shine
- Radical permission to be all of who you are
- and so much more…
http://sachasterling.com/vision-into-2019-video-1/?inf_contact_key=b6bdc59458724621173c8c7a29c526f72ba8d297a0630a9ade4b366eae19a03e
What we cover in today’s training:
What we cover in today’s video:
- The importance of plan to make your vision a reality
- Permission to focus on the top priorities for you now
- Choose the areas you are called to most to live a life of joy
- Take the next step and the miracles will show themselves to you
- and so much more…
http://sachasterling.com/vision-into-2019-video-2/?inf_contact_key=d529aab3fcdd3cbb522c03585d89f13e699daa57f92c321ea0bde0ca9780ddfb
What we cover in today’s training:
We don’t know what we don’t know. It’s time for a Hand UP!
What we cover in today’s video:
- The importance of structured support systems
- Surround yourself with people who believe in you
- We are the sum of the top 5 people we spend time with
- The Crab Bucket Effect
- Make 2019 your best year yet by implementing the 30-30-30 rule
- Customize your unique plan to ensure your desired results
- and so much more…
http://sachasterling.com/vision-into-2019-video-3/?inf_contact_key=7fbdd111dc9158ba7b7334330e5342334edb9e74b77429b74be9489abd819af2
Peter Gabriel donates money:
Peter Gabriel is donating the money he’ll receive for allowing coffee bosses at Nespresso to use one of his tunes for their new TV ad to a leading autism expert.
The rocker’s Solsbury Hill features in the new commercial, which stars Nespresso regular George Clooney and Natalie Dormer, and Gabriel has decided to use the cash windfall to help Dr. Joanne Kurtzberg continue her work.
“My wife and I learned about the amazing work of Dr. Joanne Kurtzberg (who is) treating children with autism spectrum disorder with cord blood stem cells and found it really inspiring,” the former Genesis star writes in a post on his website. “As a Great Uncle to a child with ASD, we looked for a way to bring this pioneering work to the UK.
“When I was offered the Nespresso advert it seemed like a great opportunity to kickstart fund-raising. All the money from this use of my music will be used to help make this happen.”
"Diddy funds charter schools":
NEW YORK—Sean “Diddy” Combs has pledged $1 million to a network of charter schools for a new location in the Bronx.
Capital Preparatory Schools has been approved to open the school in September with 160 children in grades 6 and 7. The goal is to expand to 650 students in grades 6 through 11 over five years, according to an announcement Tuesday.
The music mogul and Harlem native is a longtime education advocate. He worked closely with Capital Prep founder Steve Perry to expand the network that already has schools in Harlem and Bridgeport, Conn.
Diddy says he knows firsthand the importance of quality education.
“I came from the same environment these kids live in every day,” he said in a statement. “I understand the importance of access to a great education, and the critical role it plays in a child’s future. Our school provides historically disadvantaged students with the college and career skills needed to become responsible and engaged citizens for social justice.”
Oct. 25, 2018 David Schwimmer's spoofs beer thief lookalike:
David Schwimmer has responded after social media users drew attention to an alleged thief who bears a resemblance to his character in the sitcom Friends.
Police in Blackpool had posted on Facebook asking for witnesses to identify a suspect pictured leaving a restaurant carrying what appeared to be a carton of cans.
Facebook users quickly piled into the comments section, pointing out the suspect's likeness to Schwimmer's character Ross Geller in the well-loved US show.
The alleged theft happened on September 20, the post said.
https://uk.news.yahoo.com/david-schwimmer-spoofs-beer-thief-091157297.htmlA waitress gets $10,000 tip:
A waitress in North Carolina got a $10,000 tip, and all she did was deliver two waters.
Alaina Custer arrived at work at 4 p.m. this past Friday when her boss, Bret Oliverio, owner of the Sup Dogs restaurant in Greenville, N.C., assigned her a table that would change her life. “The two guys at the table started sipping their waters and looking at the menu, and then kind of just walked away,” Oliverio tells Yahoo Lifestyle.
He then sent Custer over to see what had happened. “So I went over there and I wasn’t paying attention, looking down at the ground, and I’m like, ‘They’re not even here,’” Custer tells Yahoo Lifestyle. “And then I looked at the table.” That’s when she hit the jackpot. “There was a note on the table that said, ‘Thanks for the waters,’ and a stack 3 or 4 inches high of $100 bills,” Oliverio recalls.
The two guys at the next table had the answer to her question. “I saw them taking pictures of me and asked if they knew what was going on, and they said, ‘You just got tipped for the waters.’ And I was like, ‘OK, I do not need that much money for waters — you guys are crazy.’ And they told me that they were with Mr. Beast and they do YouTube videos.”
Turns out, this was the work of a very popular YouTuber, one who’s known for handing out cash. Mr. Beast (his YouTube name is MrBeast) has almost 9 million subscribers and lives in Greenville. His videos frequently revolve around spending money, whether it’s handing hundreds to strangers or buying $50,000 worth of lottery tickets.
