So I still don’t have much to say. I’ve been super grouchy over the last week, because I still keep having days where my body is being a pain in the butt. It doesn’t like food and it doesn’t like cold weather. Much of these days are spent crunching on gaviscon, trying not to be sick, shivering under blankets and trying to work out whether I should eat, and if so what will cause the least amount of issues.
I’m part of a group in our local area that has got together to try and raise funds for charities that are providing much needed aid and assistance to Syrian refugees. For most of the events so far all I’ve been able to do is advertise them, but this weekend I was able to go down and help with the set up. We had a tabletop sale, and while I was going around checking the sellers had everything they needed, I spotted knitted owls on a table…and made a beeline. (It’s a danger when you’ve been involved with Brownie Guides in the past, that you’ll forever have a soft spot for owls. I was a Brownie Young Leader for a year, and then an Assistant Leader at a Pack when I was in my first year at university. All leaders of Brownies are named after owls, and the Brownies in Aberdeen named me Snowy Owl).
There were large knitted owl doorstops, but then she brought out small knitted fluffy owls, including the little dude above. He matches my birthday quilt and my purple fleece blanket very well. Teal/turquoise, purple, silver and blue are my colours. Most of my bedding, clothes and jewellery are these colours. Plus how can you resist the fluffiness, the knitted feet, and those eyes looking up at you.
I’ve named him Pixie.
I don’t feel guilty for buying him, because I know the money went to a good cause. It’s been heartbreaking to hear how refugees in Europe have been treated. I’ve been sickened at hearing things like laws being made to seize assets of refugees, making them wear wristbands and painting doors of housing that refugees are in a certain colour. It all screams Nazi fascism to me. And I won’t go into a certain person trying to become President of the USA. I’m just glad that my alma mater’s rival university took away the honorary degree they
stupidly awarded him when his business came to wreck the glorious Aberdeenshire coastal environment. I’m just praying to the heavens that there are enough educated Americans that will go to the polling stations to make sure that someone like him doesn’t end up in the White House (and I thought the Sarah Palin possibility was bad in 2008…who knew it could be worse?)
Pixie has me thinking….what can we do to educate others so that fear stops ruling? I get the feeling that part of it is proactively sorting out the lack of diversity in the arts we consume. So many of us learn about other cultures through the characters we read in books and watch on TV and movie screens.
There is too much in our news that comes under that first category of stories….the ones used to dispossess and to malign. We need the other kind. The ones that humanise and repair all the broken dignity.
The ones where we realise that human beings should be equal. No matter their gender, sexual orientation, skin colour or country of origin. That not everyone fits a stereotype. How we need more variety and more stories to break the strongholds of stereotypes and the associated fears, insecurities and bitterness that ‘othering’ can bring.
Who wants to work on that with me?