The World Cup of soccer is here, and that means Torontonians will have this fabulous distraction. That's one full month (June 11- July 11) of great football matches we can collectively obsess about.
It's a time to slough aside the daily drudgeries we all have to wade through; a time to temporarily ignore impending Carney-ian interest rates hikes, delayed TTC trains and buses not running on schedule and a Canadian sports media fraternity that sadly and singularly supports hockey around the clock, much to the chagrin of sports fans who follow the faster growing sports in Toronto and around the globe (basketball, football).
Not to get overly philosophical during this time of great sporting fervor, but do the World Cup festivities really bring Torontonians together, or does it just further expose the divisions amongst us?
I've borne witness to bushels of misguided nationalistic acts across cultures, from Yonge St. to College St. and St. Clair Ave. too. Sadly, what I've seen happen within our not-so subtle neighborhood divisions, a failed pseudo-multicultural living plan at work – there's a Little Everything, or a Town attached to most ethnicities, a Little Italy, Little India, Greek town, Chinatown, Little Portugal, Little Jamaica...the list is endless - is football fans foaming at the mouth, almost exacerbating these dividing lines in our minds, and on our streets.
It's something I was contemplating during the last World Cup, while the flags of a few nation states were being flung in my and my terrified daughter's faces around the Dufferin/St/ Clair area, while I was out shopping with my family.
In fact my 10-year-old daughter Shiloh's lasting memory of that day, is she was wondering why one half-dressed chap in particular was screaming at the top of his lungs, veins bulging out of his neck, editorializing about how a competing nation "sucks", near taunting area residents who happened to be from the competing "enemy" nation.
I'm still not sure why members of many communities drive up and down city streets taunting one another, and why juvenalia reigns supreme for a one-month period. There's cultural pride, and then there's nationalistic tomfoolery, the former I'm more interested in.
In fact, I would suggest that this World Cup hysteria creates an opportune time to educate ourselves on the plight of many of the 32 countries involved - once we have a winner (which will be Brazil by the way), the civil strife continues, and other battles will be fought. For basic human rights. Civil rights.
I’m doing my part this year, on the pitch coincidentally, taking my terrible cardiovascular conditioning and near lifeless legs to go and kick some rock and roll behind to raise monies for the Right To Play organization (members of the media dubbed "The World" are playing against a motley assembly of rock and rollers "The Rockers" to include Broken Social Scene's Brendan Canning and Great Big Sea's Murray Foster in a game called "Put The Boot In" happening during the NXNE music festival), bearing in mind during the World Cup, that for millions of school-aged children in developing nations, the right to play football and engage in sporting activities, which is a great way to boost self esteem and strengthen familial relations, is a privilege. Donate what you can, please, at the link below. A loonie, a toonie, every cent counts. I will personally contact and thank you, every single one of my donors!
http://righttoplay.akaraisin.com/p/higgins.aspxWhat I'm doing is not that unusual. Soccer has always been used as a political tool, to help even the playing field (quite literally) between the haves and have-nots. So why not now?
In the early 60s African nations forced FIFA, the game’s world governing body, to suspend South Africa because of its racist apartheid policies. In fact, while I cheer on Cote D'Ivoire, Brazil and Argentina, I will in the back of my mind hope that the public funds that were used to build stadiums and upgrade airports, that monies generated by the World Cup will be used to provide proper food, shelter and clothing to all South Africans.
As I watch Mexico advance to the second round, it will be a time to reflect on the draconian anti-illegal immigration measures being put in place in Arizona, a state I will never find a reason to attend. There is life after the World Cup indeed.
Of the motley crew of mostly black and multi-culti late 20’s to 40-something-year-old men who comprise my immediate social group, many of whom are now officially Old School, in all areas of life (I’ll take the Gap Band over The Gap any day) all have had some negative encounter or experience with the police.
It's stuff we talk about in the Barbershops where I work as a facilitator on weekends, as part of the Barbershop Project, to discuss positive parenting in the African-Canadian community. Butting heads with police, has sadly almost become part of some strange, twisted Rites of Passage to African-Canadian male adulthood. Just last year, one of the black community’s greatest thinkers, Harvard Professor Henry “Skip” Gates had a nasty run-in with local Boston area police, and then Obama stepped in, over beers, at the White House, to ease tensions.
Which brings me to Toronto Deputy Police Chief Peter Sloly. Pardon my ignorance, but I know little to nothing about what it takes to become a member of the police of today. But what I do know is that the police force needs more Peter Sloly’s - and I ain’t much into human cloning, at all (though I might consider it just this one time).
I participated in a much-needed TDSB (Toronto District School Board) Young Men of Color Conference last week, populated by a large assembly of black men doing right by their community, one that, er, interestingly got little mainstream media coverage, and Sloly explained how he came here from Jamaica, like most immigrants for “a better life”, how when he began policing in Jane-Finch he had to unlearn negative, outdated characterizations of the neighborhood that was fed to him, and how his black heroes like Nelson Mandela fuel his work to this day.
I’d never met the guy prior to this presentation, but the Power Point-aided story he told about himself, concerning the two-way dialogue that police officers and community members need to be having, hit home. Peter Sloly reminded me of what the Canadian Dream can be. He played sports at a high level, like I once did, and got injured, and took a different career path. And then decided to, as he said, serve the community for the public good.
Like, who can’t relate to that? His view of modern day policing is something that needs to be heard by more black youth, who fairly or not feel victimized for WWB (Walking While Black), DWB (Driving While Black), SWB (Shopping While Black). Myself included, if you continue reading.
As you dig a little deeper into this police business, you’ll begin to see that there’s another guy, Keith Forde, who is a really high-ranking Deputy Chief, the first non-Caucasian figure to be appointed, who happens to look like many of the city residents. Around the block from where I live, there’s this African Canadian constable (Jimmy, I believe his name is) who greets me every time I see him, like he is totally there to serve and protect me. And you. And you over there in the back. You couldn’t meet a nicer guy.
Those reading this might think I’ve gotten older and soft, and have lost my literary and journalistic ability to speak out against injustices committed by everybody, including bill collectors, Raptors management, out-of-touch bureaucrats or the more subtle forms of racism that continue to permeate Canadian society (check it, to celebrate Halloween last October, some students at the University of Toronto dressed up as the Jamaican Bobsled Team in blackface). What year is it, again? 2010? Or 2010 A.D.?
Uh-huh, muted is not me. Human rights are human rights.
And when I myself got stopped by a knuckleheaded constabulary member years ago – apparently knuckleheads come in all professions — for “walking while black”, I reported on this for Now Magazine, and then sent out a communiqué to my well placed “supporters”, some of whom are in the legal community.
That’s just my personal view on what citizens need to do. It’s why I blog here. The pen, ahem, keystroke is always mightier than the sword! And machetes too. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. Don’t let me get all MLK and Malcolm on you.
So, despite harbouring awful childhood memories of me and my mostly black friends being suspiciously and mistakenly carted off to some stranger’s house by a police officer - it was an elderly Italian woman who’s kid had his orange bike stolen, supposedly the identical color as me and my friends bike - all I knew was that my hard-working mother bought this Canadian Tire special orange Super Cycle for me, and no amount of terrible policing was going to get that bike removed from the grips of my pubescent hands.
The relationship between police and our youth is tenuous, at best, and I only know this because I see the run-ins. Often. And I work on the ground.
To repair this community-police relationship it’s going to take more than playing pick-up basketball games every so often in neighborhoods heavily populated by racialized groups. Let’s maximize this opportunity of having a few high-ranking community-based officers like Keith Forde and Peter Sloly who are both proudly black and proud police to bridge the gaps, and build bridges where we can, across communities.
The tide might be turning.
While I was out at the Toronto Women’s Bookstore recently reading from my new book Hip Hop World, and asking some very tough questions about race, gender, globalization and youth culture, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread when the employee at the store informed me that the store’s doors may be shut by the time summer rolls around.
The idea of yet another crucial institution falling by the wayside does not sit easily with me. My definition of "institution" might fall loosely outside the textbook definition, but it involves time-honoured venues with a social purpose that have profound impacts on large groups of citizens.
I don’t have the space in this blog to list the large numbers of authors, thinkers, feminists and activists who have benefitted over the last 3+ decades from the Bookstore hosting events, readings, and engaging Toronto’s Creative Class to do more good. Are we going to now add this bookstore to a long and growing list of socially relevant not-for-profits with a deep, rich history that go under without a fight?
It’s the Toronto Women’s Bookstore. And this plea is coming from an African-Canadian man who sees the value of having a venue where mostly female writers and thinkers, including ones from racialized groups can get a chance, get some proper shelf space, more respect.
I’ve seen others bookstores and pop culture fare in my immediate community go six feet under - Third World Bookstore, 28 Lennox – and still other more mainstream-y venues like Sam the Record Man, Pages Bookstore – and I can truly report that too many of the things that make Toronto unique, in a liberal, progressive, all-inclusive, multi-culti kinda way have either fallen by the wayside, or are threatening to, as the gaps between the have and have-nots widens.
We make claims, often, of being this world-class cosmopolitan city. But where’s the political will to assist and help preserve these institutions that make Toronto unique?
Hey, I love H&M’s and Home Depot as much as the next working class guy, but some of these businesses that have taken the place of older buildings and businesses that are the living evidences of communities that make Toronto somewhat interesting, that work to conserve our cultural heritage, are contributing to the McDonaldization of my city. And Mickey D’s menu needs much tweaking.
Independent entrepreneurs in the city’s downtown core need better tax breaks, more incentives to help them navigate their dreams through a nasty gentrification that has driven large aspects of many lesser-off communities to the ‘burbs. There’s dollars and cents, and then there’s dollars and sense.
Is there some way to establish some piece of legislation to help preserve, for the benefit of the city, select venues of historic, traditional or artistic interest? Am I appealing to a venture capitalist of any political persuasion to come help save the day?
Maybe.
Can the fine folk at City Hall (or any arm's length investors with sway that might hang around in the shadows at 100 Queen St. West) please weigh in on this?
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| Dalton Higgins. |
Thinking outside of the box. Pushing envelopes. And buttons.
While these cliches might sound hokey and trite, they still carry much weight in most of my analysis around civic engagement. The answers to voter apathy and civic disengagement are sitting right there in front of us, and I am no rocket scientist (though as a toddler I’m told I had a penchant for all things Stars Wars).
Torontonians from all stripes will always be less likely to engage civically for a few clear reasons. When you don’t really see yourself represented in the corridors of City Hall, on a simple, base level, it interferes with your ability to dig deeper (or vote). Or rally those around you to collectively clog up ballot boxes.
For example, my early knowledge of politico living and policymaking comes from seeing Zanana Akande being elected by the NDP (at the provincial level), and her looking like me, and speaking like me, as a proud African-Canadian. In the realm of public school trustee’s, it was seeing another African-Canadian, John Mills push forth some ideas that I could relate to, on a micro level, in my ‘hood. With former City Councillor Rob Davis, it was the same thing. He lived in the neighborhood. I bump into him at the local area bodega. It’s all good.
This doesn’t even mean I would be racially bound by some unwritten contract to vote for these candidates. It just means that getting my hip-hop generationers out to the polls – which also means forsaking a few hours of watching BET - is within the realm of possibility. I’d like to think these might be some of the same reasons my parents and most of the other kids I grew up with, and around, who came from racialized groups watched City TV - if you were black, and of African descent, Jojo Chinton was The Man (not that Man). So you tuned in.
And that’s the reason why many of my friends might "auto tune" out of local area politics, like T-Pain. It seems too Baby Boomer aligned. So, if you're youth-ey, of colour, into digital culture, are equally versed in hockey as you are in hip-hop like I am, are forward-thinking and have your pulse on the genuine community’s beat, what candidate truly represents those interests?
Maybe no one. Or the lesser of a few evils. Adam Giambrone? Surely you jest.
I'm still constantly amazed at how in such a world-class cosmopolitan city like Toronto, we do an incredibly fabulous job of tip-toeing around these kinds of hard issues, around aggressively diversifying the political landscape, running candidates who aren’t born between 1946 and 1962, aren’t blah and yada.
I’d like to think that a change is gonna come, in a Sam Cooke-ian kinda way, but progress in this area in Toronto has been glacial.
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