On being ... relatable

By Ingrid Sapona 

More than I care to admit, I find myself in conversations or situations where I feel that I’m just different from everyone else. Sometimes it has to do with “shared experiences” that I’ve not shared. For example, I’ve never been married – so I’ve never had a wedding. It’s not the being single part that makes me feel removed. It’s the way so many women go on-and-on about weddings, starting with descriptions of their hunt for their dream dress. (How else do you explain shows like Say Yes to the Dress.) The fact is, I never dreamt about my wedding or envisioned myself in a certain kind of gown (mermaid or otherwise). 

Then there are the assumptions about what girls read growing up. No Little Women or Pride and Prejudice for me. My passing knowledge of such stories came from movies. And, even after becoming familiar with them, I never saw myself in any of the characters, much less the stodgy manners of the day. 

The same with the topic of kids. When it comes up (and it does throughout one’s life – not just during the child bearing years) all I can say is that I really never gave it a thought. I wasn’t passionately in favour OR opposed – I just figured I’d see what happens. The response I get when I speak about what must sound to others as a laissez-faire outlook has definitely made me feel I’m out of step with the mainstream. Doesn’t bother me, mind you, but it often seems to provoke skepticism. 

And then there are the conversations where someone says, “Well, we’ve all been there before…” and then others around are all nodding their heads in agreement. Honestly, even when I’m with a group of people I have something in common with – say we’ve all practiced law or are all sailors, or whatever – I often find myself silently thinking, “Um, no, I can’t relate to that.” Maybe I’m not alone in thinking that, but it sure feels that way. 

Conclusions media types often draw regarding events is another area where I often find myself scratching my head thinking, “That’s not how I see it”. The very first example of this that I remember goes back to the 2004 U.S. presidential race. That year Dr. Howard Dean, who was the governor of Vermont, was seeking the Democratic nomination. Initially he was a long-shot, but he became the top fundraiser and a front-runner. He finished in third place in the Iowa caucus, however, which was clearly a disappointment to him and his supporters. But what ended up costing him the most that night was a very hoarse “Yeah!” he shouted at the end of a speech. I remembered seeing that and thinking, “Oh, the poor guy sounds so hoarse and looks so tired”. Well, the next day the media buzz was far more negative. The media branded it “the Dean scream” and it became the “gaffe” that some think cost him the election. I didn’t see the incident that way at all! 

Indeed, the flip side of feeling so different is that I am loath to generalize. For example, from time-to-time one of my sisters will ask me, “So how do Canadians feel about [fill in the blank]?” I’m always stymied by such queries. The best I can offer is a vague response. I explain some of the different viewpoints that I’ve heard, rather than assuming my fellow Canadians’ reactions are all similar. 

Since few weeks go by without my coming across something that makes me shake my head at how little I feel I have common with others, I’m accustomed to it. But the other day I experienced just the opposite – I read something that I could totally relate to. It was among a batch of funnies a friend emailed me. Though there were lots of jokes and cartoons in the email that made me laugh, one hit squarely on a behaviour of mine that I’ve never thought others might relate to. Here’s the humorous statement that took me aback: 

"One thing no one ever talks about when it comes to being an adult is how much time we debate keeping a carboard box because it’s, you know … a really good box." 

I so saw myself in that, as I have long known I’ve got a box fetish. But, it’s not something that comes up often in conversation, so I’ve always assumed it’s not a common attraction. Anyway, reading that joke made me realize there must be others out there that are at least a little like me, which was a delight! 

Though it may sound like a leap, this revelation made me think about trying to focus a bit more on things I might have in common with others, rather than just noticing the differences. Who knows, if we all tried that, the effort might be a small step toward combating polarization. Certainly couldn’t hurt, I figure… 

© 2024 Ingrid Sapona

On being … collateral damage

By Ingrid Sapona 

With On being… I aim to write about feelings and reactions to an incident or event that I think others might also feel or be able to relate to in some way. I try not to write about politics because the column isn’t meant as a wider social commentary. Avoiding writing about politics has been especially challenging this year, as there’s been an extraordinary amount of turmoil around the world. 

That said, it’s impossible to ignore the overwhelming sadness – and anger – that I’ve felt the past few years as millions of people have become collateral damage in political battles they have no direct control over. Pictures and stories about the plight of innocents literally caught in the crossfire in the middle east, in Ukraine, in Sudan, and other war-torn regions are the most obvious – and heinous – examples of collateral damage. (Not to mention the fact that those surviving such conflicts have no place to call home any more.) 

For those of us lucky enough to not live in fear of a bomb dropping on us or our loved ones at any moment, it’s important to have perspective and to not catastrophize over the results of an election. But just the same, damage to economic interests and rights that result from political decisions others take is very definitely a form of collateral damage. Indeed, a recent article about what might happen if Trump’s planned tariffs trigger a trade war noted that Ontario’s premier fears the people of Ontario would be collateral damage. Sadly, taking a page out of Trump’s handbook, the Ontario premier’s response is to urge the Canadian government to seek a bilateral trade deal with the U.S., rather than worry about a trilateral trade deal that includes Mexico. (Maybe the premier figures Mexico will be collateral damage under the incoming U.S. administration’s trade policy anyway, so elbows up – let’s only look out for Ontarians.) 

The title on a recent opinion piece in the Washington Post sums up the way many outside the U.S. view the election results: “Americans ordered up Donald Trump. The world will foot the bill.” Though that piece focuses on trade and immigration, mention of “the world” is a nice segue to yet another aspect of collateral damage the election of Trump will inflict: damage to mother earth. The trajectory the climate is on is in need of a course correction but not of the kind that’s likely to result from policies like “drill baby drill” and doing away with environmental regulations. Putting economic interests ahead of efforts to limit climate change is perhaps the hardest thing for me to fathom. The collateral damage caused by not working to solve climate change transcends both physical borders and generations. Shortsighted does begin to express the concerns even childless women like me have about what we’re leaving future generations. 

Usually by the time I sit down to write On being… I’ve figured out a few ways of coping with the particular matter I’m writing about. But I’ve not come up with any great ideas about how to staunch the fears I have of the – shall we say ripple effects (perhaps a less charged term than collateral damage) – of the U.S. election results. I have decided to limit my diet of news (there are only so many balaclava-clad folks waving Nazi flags I can see, or hate-motivated tweets and texts that I can hear about). But that’s really just something I can do to help my sanity. 

As for combating the powerless I feel to effect broad changes, I’ve decided that focusing on doing little things to help others is better than doing nothing. I figure just being kinder and more generous with people we cross paths with is a good start. Such action may not change others’ lives, but it may remind us of our shared humanity, which seems to me a necessary first step that could lead to bigger changes. 

What about you? What are your coping strategies in light of the political situation(s) around the world? If you have any insights (other than of the “this too shall pass” variety), please share them… 

© 2024 Ingrid Sapona