#halifax pride

[thecanadianweeb]

Halifax Pride 2019

[ameliacf13]

we love to se it folx

[allthecanadianpolitics]

After weeks of uncertainty, Halifax Pride has announced its parade will be going ahead next Sunday at 2 p.m. as originally planned.

The news came just over a week before the parade is set to begin. Those interested are asked to visit the organization's website for a link to the parade route, which will be slightly different from previous years.

Kevin Kindred, a member of Halifax Pride who regularly attends the organization's meetings, previously spoke to CBC News about his concerns surrounding this year's festivities.

He said Sunday that he hopes Halifax Pride can "pull it off" this year, but the lack of communication has meant that many organizations have made other plans.

"A lot of organizations had to pull out over the lack of certainty," he said. "This announcement can't undo the damage of failing to be transparent for months." [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[clickysteve]

The very first Pride in the Annapolis Valley in Nova Scotia took place while I was in town. It was a teeny, tiny, good natured affair, as one might expect from rural Canada, and I'm glad I got to be there and be part of it in some way. Shot on an old crappy digicam.

[mwarian]

Wanna learn more about Mwarian?

Click on the [Carrd Link!]

Some things to keep in mind:

-Truscum, transmeds, TERFs, and Exclusionists can fuck right off.

-Proshippers can fuck right off.

-Antiblack people who think terms like Mwarian, Oshian, or Erosian are unnecessary can fuck right off.

-Anonymous is on for now, but if asks become too abusive I will turn it off. Any racism, especially antiblackness, or LGBTphobia is not welcome here and you will be blocked so don't waste my time.

-Anyone else? Welcome!! :D

[snuggerudsz]

2 TIMES NICO HISCHIER DIDN'T KISSED YOU (AND THE ONE HE DID) l NH13

summary: two times nico hischier almost kissed his best friend and the one time he actually did it.

pairing: nico hischier x fem!reader

author's note: hello!!! finally posting something for my man, there will be more coming for captain hisch so keep an eye out for that. likes and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated!!! thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoy it!!! :) <3333

1.

It was the day before your 16th birthday. The night, actually. There were only a few hours until midnight, officially starting your birthday. You and Nico had been friends since you were little, and the tradition of being each other first birthday wishes had started so long ago that you couldn’t remember a time when the two of you didn’t do it. Keeping your childhood tradition alive, you and Nico sat in your backyard, sharing a blanket to try 一 keyword: try 一 to preserve yourselves warm, fighting against the cold Swiss night. 

Slowly, you lower your head, laying it on Nico’s shoulder. It wasn’t abnormal for the two of you to be touchy with each other, after all of the years you’d been friends, it was like second nature. You had never been as comfortable with anyone as you are with Nico. Which is why the silence of the moment didn’t bother you. 

For a moment, you turn your head to look at Nico, your best friend, partner in crime, and favorite person in the whole world. And he looks back, with his big brown doe eyes that make your heart flutter and your brain short circuit. And your faces are so close, your noses almost touching and you can feel his hot breathing on your face. For one moment, you swear he’s coming closer, alternating his eyes between your eyes and your lips. 

Until his alarm sounds loud. It’s midnight.

You two almost jump away from each other, wide startled eyes looking at each other.

“Happy birthday,” Nico says, an awkward smile gracing his lips.

You nod, saying thank you so quietly you’re not sure he heard you. But he did, Nico always listens to you.

2.

You had always known Nico was destined for greatness. He was the most hardworking, passionate, and dedicated person you had ever met in your entire life. However, it was still quite difficult to believe you really traveled all the way from your little part of the world in Switzerland to the US to watch the NHL Draft. But, if there’s a person in the world who deserves it, it is Nico, you know it. And when The New Jersey Devils take him 1st overall, you can’t believe it. You can feel your heart bursting with pride. Nico hugs you tightly and you whisper to him, telling him how proud you are. It’s one of the happiest moments of your life, how could it not? It’s Nico, your Nico, whom you’ve known since you were 2, and he was achieving his biggest dream. You were so happy for him. Still, there was this terrible feeling at the back of your mind. When he first left Valais for Bern, it was hard, but he was still in the same country. Then, he left for Canada, when the Halifax Mooseheads drafted him. And now, he’d just been drafted into the NHL, and it felt so much more real, and the unavoidable reality which Nico and you are never gonna live in the same country again dawned on you, while you were sitting there, watching him become a devil.

It takes a while until Nico has some time to talk to you and his family again, he has been giving interviews to what seems like every single hockey reporter in the world.  But when he finally gets to talk to all of you, he’s glowing, smiling so hard you wonder how his cheeks aren’t hurting. After talking with his family for a good while, you and Nico finally get some time just the two of you.

“Are you ok?” He questions, looking at you. Damned be Nico Hischier and his ability to read you, to always know exactly how you’re feeling. 

“Of course I am Ni. I’m so happy for you. So proud.” You answer, truthfully. “I’ll just miss you. But we’ll survive, right?” 

“Obviously. It’s me and you always, remember?” Nico lets a half laugh escape, smiling down at you, holding your right hand in his.

“Always, Neeks. Always.” You reply, looking up at him, interlocking your fingers with his.

You and Nico stare at each other for a few seconds, getting closer and closer until Katja calls you out from the other room for some more pictures.

+1

Summer was always amazing. Nico came home, and you’d make the most of the time you had together. This year the Devils’ had gone on to the playoffs, still ending their season short of a Stanley Cup, but it was still incredibly impressive what they had been able to do.  So, when Nico got to Switzerland, he definitely looked like he was more at peace with the way their season came to a finish, unlike previous years.  And it was probably one of the greatest summers you had in recent years. But not today. It is Nico’s last day before he has to go back to Jersey.

You had brunch with his siblings, and now you two were in his childhood bedroom. It was not your first time here; in reality, you probably had been in this room more than Nico himself if we’re being honest. Both of you were sitting in his bed, side by side, going through a box of old pictures Rino found a few days ago. There were so many memories, so many moments eternalized in those pictures. Nico and you had been laughing at the faces you made, at all of the things you’d been through together. 

You couldn’t pinpoint the moment you threw your legs on top of his, or even the moment you two had gotten so close. But when you noticed, you were almost on top of Nico. Truth be told, Nico had noticed. He always did when it was you. He knew everything about you. He knows that your favorite color is lilac, that you play with your bracelet and rings when you’re nervous, that your favorite subject was chemistry because it made you feel smart, and how you always hide your smile with your hands when you laugh �� which Nico firmly believes should be a crime, because how dare you hide your smile? 

So, he noticed. And he had been fighting with himself for around twenty minutes now because you look way too good not to be kissed, but he was so scared. You are one of the most important people in his life. It had been (Y/N) and Nico for 22 years, he couldn’t lose that. It was very difficult to ignore the urge to kiss you, hold you, and tell you about how much he loves you, how he has been in love with you since you were 14, and how he has tried so fucking hard but he will never find anyone like you. It was bordering on impossible. Until it was impossible and, in a strike of courage, a second of bravery, Nico Hischier finally kissed you. Both his hands holding your face, while you, after moving on from the shock, reciprocate the kiss, one of your hands in his neck and the other in his hair. 

Nico kissed you slowly. He was kissing you like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. He smiled into the kiss, finally kissing the girl he always wanted. His heart was missing beats and he felt his hand couldn’t bring her close enough to him. Somewhere in the universe all of the stars could be burning out, the sky could cave but all he cared about was how she tasted and the warmth of her skin against his. Neither of you had ever felt so alive and you bith know this is the start of something beautiful.

[st-just]

hi I like your blog. I have a question that may be too personal so no hard feelings if you don't answer but could you talk a little bit about more about what you like/don't like about Halifax? im considering Dalhousie for grad school but have never been! and would like to have as much information about where I might spend the next 2 years of my life. thank you!

Oh sure! Though like, it depends on where you're coming from? Everything here is very relative. And also I'm absolutely certain I will forget numemrous vital things, do ask followup questions.

Most important thing is that the housing market is horrifying - the city's population started booming during COVID and the zoning and construction is only really starting to catch up now. Especially within walking distance of Dal getting a place to live at anything approaching affordable is going to be vicious. (This has unsurprisingly coincided with a large uptick in homelessness. Unremarkable to walk by a tent in a corner of some public park now).

Relatedly, the bus system is like - okay I'm not sure it's notably bad for a mid-sized-ish north american city, but it's damn sure not any better. You can get by bussing around on the peninsula, anywhere beyond 20 minute drives turn into 40-60 minute rides.

You will not have a family doctor, figure out the nearest walk-in clinic you can use for anything non-emergency.

The city's economy runs on some combination of students, tourists, sailors and soldiers. There are as many bars as you might expect (had the most per capita in the country for a while, don't know if we still do). Some of them are actually very good!

Relatedly, weed and liquor are both only legally sold by the crown corporation monopoly and a few weird specialty places.

None of them are massive, but there is a very nice amount of parkland and green space scattered throughout the city. The public (botanical) gardens are really beautiful in the spring-summer, and most are well-maintained (they just renovated and expanded the outdoor pool on the city Commons last year, even).

The waterfront has been thoroughly gentrified for the cruise ships over the course of my lifetime, but it's all still open to the public and grabbing one of the armchairs or hammocks to read in during the summer is lovely.

Provincially the government is the most thoroughly domesticated/red tory party in the country (they fairly literally ran to the left of the liberals). Full of corrupt backslapping, constantly getting into pissing matches with the municipal government, will probably govern for the next decade.

For reasons that I assume are downstream of all the students and having the closest thing to a regional theater scene east of Quebec, the whole city is IME very queer-friendly. For reasons I absolutely not understand, pride is in August here.

The public library system is basically the only part of the municipal government I think anyone involved should be unequivocally proud of, but it is great.

I don't really know the crime stats offhand but like, I left my apartment door unlocked probably 7 times in 10 through all of undergrad and it never bit me in the ass?

[rjalker]

[ID: Eight vintage pin buttons against light backgrounds.

The first is black with an upside down pink triangle in the center, and thin black text that reads, "Get your filthy laws off my body".

The second is white with black text between two black lines, reading, "Promote Queerness"

The third reads, "PFLAG, Halifax, Nova Scotia", with a logo of a heart and upside down triangle with a rainbow pride flag. In blue marker, someone has handwritten, above and below, "Proud mom".

The fourth shows a black whale with a plume of water above it, and reads with red text curving around the outside of the button "Gay whales against racism".

The fifth is bright yellow, with black text that reads, "Out of the closet and into the street"

The sixth is off-white with orange text that reads, "Help stamp out freedom -- support censorship"

The seventh is black, with a yellow sillhoette of a hand holding a police baton, with yellow text above and below reading, "Help the police - beat yourself up".

The eighth is dark orange and beat up, with black text that reads, "Your silence will not protect you", as a quote credited to Audre Lorde.

End ID.]

Sources:

Get your filthy laws off my body Promote Queerness Proud mom Gay whales against racism Out of the closet and into the street Help stamp out freedom - support censorship Help the police - beat yourself up "Your silence will not protect you"

[tortoisesshells]

11. laying their hand on the other’s neck; for r/v in the vamp roger au?

Touch Prompts

Roger Collins was in the kitchen, an unusual circumstance (even if she knew he was there in some vague way, a little thought like a slip of paper under the doors of her mind): the undead, Vicki had learned over the past several weeks, tended to not have much use for pantries and refrigerators. Unwilling to be rude, and taking her hand from the side of her neck where it had drifted, as it did, when she thought of Roger – she greeted him. Going to the stove out of habit, Vicki looked about until she spotted the kettle steaming in his hands. He was looking at Mrs. Stoddard’s tea service like it had bitten him. “It’s silver,” Roger hissed, by way of explanation. Vicki, lying, made a noise that implied understanding. “Silver,” he said again, “Silver! Only the best, for our sainted ancestors! Naomi Collins, they said, was the most beautiful woman between Savannah and Halifax, and in consequence, had been given a king’s ransom in jewels by a lovelorn pirate – my father never told me where this came from, but maybe that rascally old sea-dog stole it from a duke. I wish she had hit him over the head with it, and then thrown it into the sea.”

She took the kettle from his hands, blood humming, wondering what else a tea set – one that Mrs. Stoddard would give pride of place, at least – would be made of. Porcelain – or bone china, or creamware lent prestige by the passing years. But as her experience of fine settings began with Austen and ended in Collinwood, she let it pass, and went about preparing tea for herself while Roger – fussed, she supposed.

That wasn’t the right word, but she wasn’t sure what was: Roger, Vicki had thought since seeing his teeth, usually reminded her of a jaguar she’d seen in the Bronx Zoo, lazing in the afternoon like an alley cat on a sunny fire escape. Fussing seemed – too frivolous for that. He was annoyed, but he didn’t have the normal markers of it – not drumming his fingers or huffing – but she could see it, in his crossed arms and cocked head.

Still, it was something new for her understanding of the supernatural world: “You can’t touch silver?”

“I thought that was common knowledge.”

“You’re going to find this funny, Roger,” she said, discarding the leaves after they had steeped enough, “But I never gave it much thought before I came to Collinwood.”

“No late-night double features with Dracula and the Beast of the Black Lagoon for Miss Winters?”

“That would have been sneaking out.”

Roger, amused, brought over a cookie from the jar on the counter, carefully avoiding the silver tray. He glanced at her neck. “A curfew, at an orphanage? Your benefactors ought to stop cribbing from Dickens.”

“Oh, it wasn’t that –” she laughed, gathering the last things together, “It was lonely, but wasn’t like Dotheboys Hall. Shall we go?”

He looked at the tray as though he ought to be carrying it, but grimaced, and held the door – and each succeeding door, until he closed the drawing room doors behind them. The lock clicked as Vicki sat on the side of the couch nearest the fire.

He sat next to her, untying her scarf, and brushing her hair back over her shoulder. In the half-second between feeling a steadying hand on the side of her neck and the pain of the bite, she said, quietly, “Thank you for trying to get tea ready for me, Roger.”

[sonjabysonjamorgan]

i’ve only ever been to one pride parade cjsnxjdn like after that i ended up workimg every weekend or it got cancelled bc of pride board member shit (both in edmonton and halifax!)

also that pride parade sucked bc there was a tank from the army there

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

We’ve heard them all before. From Greenwashing and artwashing to veganwashing and funwashing — in the minds of Israel’s most ardent critics, there is nothing the Jewish state won’t do to distract the world’s attention from the Palestinians.

The most frequent bit of “washing” that Israel is accused of relates to its progressive stance on LGBT+ issues in a region where sexual minorities face widespread persecution — an imagined diversionary tactic that anti-Israel campaigners have dubbed “pinkwashing.”

As noted previously, the pinkwashing claim evokes historical antisemitic libels, specifically that anything Jews do that is good or beneficial must be a part of some nefarious ulterior motive.

However, the pinkwashing charge is now being used as more than just a cudgel to attack Israel. Today, the accusation simultaneously serves as a shield to deflect criticism from the widespread homophobia that is prevalent in Palestinian and Arab society.

The latest example of this was in an article in left-wing Canadian outlet Rabble, which published a so-called “analysis” that authoritatively announced: “Israeli pinkwashing: ‘It’s a facade’.”

In the piece, Rabble writer Yara Jamal and the founder of “Free Palestine Halifax,” Katerina Nikas, argue that pinkwashing “paints Palestinians as backward, racist and barbaric in order to justify the oppression and unequal treatment of Palestinians both straight and queer.”

Aside from the segue into a series of unconnected statements intended to demonstrate Israel’s profiting off pinkwashing, such as how the Jerusalem pride parade is supposedly held on land from which Palestinians were displaced, the writers struggle to prove their central hypothesis that gay rights in Israel are a “facade.”

The article continues:

Israel promotes its capital, Tel Aviv, as a gay friendly destination in the Middle East, while at the same time failing to mention that the city is built on top of several villages where Palestinians were expelled from their homes and are banned from entering the capital. Palestinians queers are also denied asylum in Israel while trying to escape discrimination in their own communities. In October 2022, a 25-year-old Palestinian gay man, Ahmad Abu Murkhiyeh, was killed in the West Bank after unsuccessfully seeking asylum in Israel two years prior to his murder.”

First, Tel Aviv is not the capital of Israel — Jerusalem is and always has been.

Second, the assertion that Tel Aviv was built atop several Palestinian villages (and how this even relates to pinkwashing) is risible. The city was originally founded on April 11, 1909, and was known as Ahuzat Bayit before its name was changed (a picture of the 60 families standing in the desert land that became the neighborhood can be seen here).

Third, it is manifestly untrue that Palestinians are denied asylum in Israel. Last year, the government announced plans to issue temporary work permits to LGBT+ Palestinians who were claiming asylum.

Fourth, the suggestion that Israel is somehow responsible for the death of Ahmad Abu Murkhiyeh is a disturbing distortion of what occurred. Murkhiyeh had been living as an asylum seeker in Israel for two years before — for unknown reasons — he traveled to Hebron where he was attacked and beheaded by a Palestinian.

Finally — and most importantly — why do Jamal and Nikas and indeed so many Western journalists have such trouble facing up to the simple truth that homophobic attitudes run rampant in Palestinian society and that this is not Israel’s fault?

[allthecanadianpolitics]

https://www.cbc.ca/amp/1.7270449

It looks like CBC tried to frame the pro-Palestine protest at the end of the Halifax Pride Parade as a disruption that ruined the event lol. They mention it barely, but I was sitting at the end of the parade route and can guarantee the parade was pretty much over (the demonstration also only lasted like 10 mins max). I’m pretty sure I also recognized most of the protest as people from the pro-Palestine contingent of the parade that had just passed too, so I feel framing it as “protestors [running] into the middle of the road” is rather disingenuous. The article also neglects to mention that the parade grounds were sponsored by TD bank, hence why they had the demonstration there. (If I remember correctly, Halifax Pride released a statement a few days ago saying that they already budgeted with the money they got from TD bank, so they couldn’t change the plans for this year, but they plan to remove them from the budget for next year) They also took statements from two random people to try and act like there was actually any meaningful opposition. People had a pretty positive reaction when they passed by, and there were more people cheering them on when they actually did their chants at the end. I didn’t see the altercation that they talk about though, so that probably happened while I was in the bathroom.

[therosewitchcottage]

𝕬 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖓 𝕹𝖔𝖛𝖆 𝕾𝖈𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖆…

Waking up this morning as the sunlight peaked through the curtains of our room, I took a moment to think about what a morning in Nova Scotia, my home province, looks like to someone not from here. Stepping outside after brewing a cup of coffee the though took a moment to settle, typically I don't stop to think about this one very often it seemed, so I looked around at my street and the road connecting us to the little shopping center. When I think of a morning in Nova Scotia, closing my eyes, I think of foggy crisp mornings and the fall. When autumn hits here, it's like the province becomes another world and that's the type of morning that really feels like home. We pride ourselves on the beautiful change of our trees, the bustle of downtown Halifax as people make their way to work, the smell of coffee from any of the cafes, but mainly the Tim Hortons that you can find on almost any corner or street. The glimps of the waterfront from the main street, shops opening their doors and flicking on their open signs. I think of my commute to work and the folks on the bus, talking to family or friends, finishing up last minute things for work over the phone, students reading textbooks to get a head start on that days lesson, children being taken to school...we often over look the small things that happen around us in our day to day, other people rushing past us in a blur. But during the autumn mornings in Nova Scotia there's a sense of slowing down (even just a bit) and taking in the changes around. I watch the people on my street start their cars, kiss their partners or children goodbye for the day, well wishes for good days and hurried reminders of forgotten lunches. It fills me with a sense of warmth to see others making their way around and about while taking a moment to greet each other, a "good morning" here, a "How's it going?" there. Folks holding doors open for each other, compliments being offered and "Have a good day" ringing in the air. Mornings can be rough, waking up before the sunrises though, that's a special time indeed. The air crisp no matter the season, the gentle song of birds and bugs in the spring and summer, the soft hush of autumn and winter. Holding onto your mug of coffee while just observing. Nova Scotia's not without its faults, but the beauty the land holds, and the glimpses of genuinely lovely human interactions is something to cherish during these times... I love getting to hold on to these morning moments, let them fuel me with hope, and joy.

[button-man-herald]

The Kingsport Clam

in a studio the size of Styrax, a lot of development is "Bottom Up", in the sense that so much of what we make is collaborative, iterative, and often the ideas we are most excited about come from spur-of-the-moment conversations over lunch.

While brainstorming what it takes to build a real town in the imaginations of our players, Ron and I got to thinking: what's the signature food of Kingsport? For those new to Button Man, Kingsport is the name we have given to our fictionalized version of Halifax, Nova Scotia, the setting of our upcoming 1920s adventure game.

New York has pizza, Chicago has hot dogs, Montreal has smoked meat, and Halifax has the Donair. But what about Kingsport? What began as a simple aside turned into a distracting, nagging question for me. What sort of food would early 20th century port-town northerners create to fit the bill?

Pics from Wikipedia and NYC Tourism

Cities' signature dishes tend to share some characteristics. Firstly, they are designed for mass appeal, at least so far as the locality goes. If the local area has a sweet tooth, its gonna be a sweet food, for example. To maintain mass appeal, it also needs to be inexpensive, possibly cheap as dirt. Think of a $1 slice in NYC. Of course the higher quality stuff is out there with a price to match, but the word of the delicious thing wouldn't be out there if it weren't for the decades of legwork done by the humble $1 slice.

So we have broad appeal, low price point, and usually these foods are also a celebration of either a specific demographic in the community, or of an industry of particular pride in the community. For example, is it so surprising that the meat-packing city became known for delicious and cheap hot dogs?

Lastly, although somewhat optional, I've noticed that a lot of local delights tend to come with a little joke or saying, especially in the Northeast. Something playful, letting everyone who buys in on the joke.

Keeping in mind the industries, social classes, and regional culinary traditions in the mix, I finally decided on something that felt plausible, and possibly even delicious: The Kingsport Clam.

What is a Kingsport Clam you ask? Why, its a dark roux-based chowder of mixed whitefish chunks (Haddock and Cod mostly), served on a toasted and buttered bun, cut not quite all the way so the bun keeps a hinge like a clam. Hot, filling, and relatively easy to carry, the Clam would be a favorite among the damp longshoreman looking for a satisfying meal on the cheap. Or so I imagined.

Trouble was, I couldn't shake the feeling that this food I dreamed up might be absolutely disgusting. For the good of the game, and for science, I had to make a Kingsport Clam.

Being so close to the Atlantic, cod and haddock aren't terribly hard to come by. I popped by the store and grabbed some cod, haddock, and threw in some spare tilapia I had at the house when I got home. The "hardest" part was making the roux, but even that just required some attention for a few minutes. Threw in the chopped onions and celery, added water, let it boil off the flour, added the fish, and after a some time stewing... it was done!

As I plated it up, I couldn't help but wonder just how many calories I had managed to condense into a single sandwich. But to my surprise... it was actually looking pretty good! After admiring my work for a minute, it was finally time to give it a try... and it was actually alright! My wife loved it, actually. Overall, too heavy for me, but half of one Clam satisfied.

I was happy to report my success to Ron, and thus the Kingsport Clam was finalized, and ready to be inserted as the official food of our fictional city! Finally I could stop thinking about it.

[otter1962crystalball]

Face It or Not: Out of the Pan into the Fire

June 25th, 2024 

Happy 25th day of Pride Month! Wow! The month of June is almost already behind us. Today, I was thinking about the end of things and what happens when I don’t deal with it.

Soon after my divorce, a man whom I had had contact with found out that I was divorced. I call him Allan. He never really liked John and we had stopped talking because John pissed him off. It turned out that John had asked Allan if he could move in with him - while still married to me. I found this out when Allan contacted me and told me how sorry I was to have gone through that nightmare with John.

The situation led me to taking a vacation to Las Vegas to hang out with Allan. We really clicked and I went home feeling like the divorce had never happened. Allan then booked a flight to visit me and we started a relationship. I felt like I was on cloud nine and that all the darkness of the John relationship was gone.

Then, in September 2017, I was on a machine at the local gym and it collapses on my leg and tore my right Achilles Tendon in half. I ended up driving (on a damaged leg) to the local clinic where I was told that it was torn and that I would need a cast. So, an ambulance was called and I was driven to downtown Halifax where I had a cast put on - very late at night. During that time, I had texted Allan and then my phone died. I ended up getting a message from him via the ward’s nurse. I felt so grateful that Allan would do that. He immediately flew to Halifax and looked after me for almost a month. He was there during the wait time and then the operation itself.

I was feeling very depressed about not being able to be mobile and Allan’s presence cheered me. He accompanied me to physiotherapy (which I was told took an entire year). I was to be in a boot for at least two months and have physiotherapy twice a week for a while and then one per week afterwards. For that month, Allan drove me everywhere, helped out with the house and we made things work.

In the past few blog entries, I talked about John’s red flags. With Allan, I felt there were none and this made me very happy - until one day something happened. Allan got upset because he felt that I didn’t appreciate his help. I told him that that wasn’t true and that I’d been in pain and hadn’t told him enough that I really appreciated him. I did, but he was still angry, so I asked if he needed a break and offered to get him a hotel room until his flight. He then literally accused me of trying to get rid of him. I assured him that wasn’t the case. He stayed for the rest of the month and then flew home.

The boot came off and I was able to go to work after two months off. It was a bit of an adjustment as I had to use a knee scooter to get around for a while. By Christmas, I was wearing the boot less. I flew to Las Vegas for Christmas and we had an amazing time. We continued back and forth for over two years. We took a trip to Hawaii together during a trip to Las Vegas, which was amazing as it was my first time. We later planned a trip to Thailand via Hawaii. It turned out to be a dream vacation for me despite a bit of a situation with my house. I had it rented out as an Airbnb and the cleaner quit while I was in Las Vegas before we left. I was really upset and wondered if I should fly back to solve the problem. Allan flew off the handle telling me that I wasn’t thinking about him at all. I apologized and things went on. Again, I ignored what was going on.

Later that year during a visit to Nova Scotia, we celebrated Hallowe’en together. While I was in the bathroom, Allan went through my phone and found a picture that I had sent to a friend in Australia. He got angry with me and said that I had betrayed his trust. I realized that I had made a mistake and I allowed him to go through my phone, computer and all my hard drives. He ended up deleting every picture of John that existed. I just let him do it. He also asked me to ditch any of my friends that might want to sleep with me. I followed his advice.

The next trip to Las Vegas was that Christmas in 2018. I took a lot of my family Christmas ornaments with me because he wanted to have a family tradition Christmas. It was a fun time including a birthday cake for me. He also had a surprise for me and announced a two day trip and that I was to guess where we were going.  The first idea came to me was Fort Lauderdale. Allan turned to me and told me that I was disgusting - the only reason I wanted to go there was to have sex with a friend there. I told him that wasn’t true, but he insisted that I ditch that friendship or else. I told him no problem and we flew to San Francisco for two nights. The first night we were there, in the hotel room Allan picked up his sunglasses, turned to me and yelled that I was toxic to him. He squeezed his hands so hard that he broke his sunglasses and cut his palms. I can remember his face as he gritted his teeth and tossed the glasses into the garbage. I was shocked, so I called the last two friends that I still had in my list and said goodbye. That seemed to be fine with Allan and we went on with the trip.

When we returned, it was close to New Years and we had tickets to see Celine Dion. It was an amazing concert. We took pictures of ourselves by the promotional billboard in the theatre. I flew back that New Years day. On Facebook, there was a now and then post. I placed a picture of me in 2008 and the one of me in front of the Celine Dion billboard. Allan didn’t answer his phone that evening. The next day I called him and he screamed at me that I had hurt him horribly. After I hang up, I discovered that he had changed his Facebook profile to a black picture with candles. I texted him to ask if we could talk and he texted back that he wanted nothing to do with me because I had been unfaithful for showing that picture to my friend and that I hadn’t gotten rid of all my friends.

There I was, just into 2019 and again I was single. I was mystified as to why Allan did this and actually thought of going to Las Vegas, but one of Allan’s friends told me know when I suggest it. That was the last time I heard from Allan until two months three months later when I received a package in the mail. The package had a note about how much I had hurt him and that if I wanted any of my stuff that I had left in his condo, I would have to pay back all the money for gifts, trips, etc or I wouldn’t get my stuff back. My eyes were opened and I realized what was happening. I took the package and burned it. I said goodbye to my things in his condo - including my family Christmas ornaments - which were important to me as memorabilia. I never heard from Allan again.

I never had time to process the break up because something else happened suddenly in my life - I was diagnosed with colon cancer. When we see the light and come to understand what we’ve been doing that is not genuine, it’s a breakthrough. In that time, I wasn’t being true to myself.  It took the cancer and chemo along with some internal work to help me see that. If you are interested, you can check out my cancer blog at https://www.tumblr.com/otter1962.

What I learned about myself helped me see that I hadn’t dealt with the divorce from John, jumped into a relationship too soon, discovered that Allan was a worse narcissist than John and that cancer was my wake up call.

For Pride, I am celebrating the trials we sometimes have to go through before we see the light. I came to understand that I had to take care of myself, love myself and do the work before I could even think about another relationship. I am also celebrating the idea that there is a big difference between being alone and lonely, which I’ve written about in a blog entry.

Carpe diem, everyone! Live your life genuinely as yourself and be happy with that. Don’t let others dictate how your life should be lived!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Douglas Murray

Published: Jul 15, 2023

Twenty years ago there was a famous marketing campaign featuring a jolly banker named “Howard” dancing and singing about the allegedly great advantages of being with the Halifax building society. Last month the Halifax hit the news for a less happy marketing gimmick. Customers were no longer being invited to answer the question, “Who gives you extra?” Nor was there any other question or invitation. Just an assertion, “Pronouns matter”, followed by the hashtag “It’s a people thing”. Below was a photograph of a name badge of a Halifax staff member called “Gemma” with pronouns listed below. In this case “She/ her/ hers”.

A number of customers responded swiftly to the message. As they pointed out, there is no ambiguity about the name “Gemma”. Gemma is a woman’s name, so adding pronouns to Gemma’s badge was, as one customer said, “pathetic virtue-signalling” by a company hoping to hitch on to the end of the tedious Pride-month bandwagon.

But it was what happened next that was most interesting. Amid criticism from customers, a representative of the Halifax social media team called Andy M said: “We strive for inclusion, equality and quite simply, in doing what’s right. If you disagree with our values, you’re welcome to close your account.”

If the furious responses to this retort are anything to go by then hundreds of Halifax customers have indeed chosen to take their accounts elsewhere. Andy M’s intervention has been described by a number of market-watchers as Halifax’s Gerald Ratner moment.

If it was only Halifax behaving this way, perhaps that might be believable: a single company going off-piste thanks to an inexperienced junior marketing person with plenty of views and little judgment. But what is remarkable about the Halifax case is that it is nothing new.

Indeed the moment there was some customer pushback, another bank — HSBC — decided to speak out in solidarity with Halifax. Retweeting their competitor’s original message, HSBC said: “We stand with and support any bank or organisation that joins us in taking this positive step forward for equality and inclusion. It’s vital that everyone can be themselves in the workplace.”

Of course there was no evidence that “Gemma” was having any trouble being herself in the workplace. But for HSBC the whole contorted issue of pronoun usage (a core tenet of the new trans faith) appeared an important hill to stand on. They are not alone. In recent years nearly every high street bank has made similar statements of politically dogmatic intent. Five years ago Barclays bank celebrated Pride month by decking their branches in the rainbow flag and promoting the advertising line “Love happens here”. As I remarked at the time, it was a strange claim for a bank to make. After all, most of us do not want either sex or love to happen at our bank. We just want there to be an adequate number of staff manning the place and not to be overcharged when we lose our back statements.

Even the Queen’s bank, Coutts, has got in on the act. Last autumn the bank’s headquarters on the Strand in London was bedecked with an image of the footballer Marcus Rashford. An accompanying laudatory blurb on the building front talked of how Rashford was a “shining example” and “political activist” who “leads the way in celebrating and championing difference”. That is as it may be. But what does it have to do with Coutts?

Four years ago I wrote a book called The Madness of Crowds: Gender, Race and Identity about the intrusion of woke identity politics into every facet of our lives. Increasingly, you could not avoid it anywhere. Not even eating. Marks & Spencer started producing an LGBT sandwich (lettuce, guacamole, bacon and tomato), as though sexual preferences are a suitable basis for sandwich fillings.

Back then I tried to describe the nature of the new quasi-religious movement being forced on our societies. Specifically, the intense doubling down on the significance of sex, race and sexuality just when most of us had hoped to have got past the stage of obsessing about these things. There were plenty of reasons why this change had come about. But it required another writer to fill in one of the last remaining pieces of the jigsaw.

Because in the four years that have followed, it has become clear that the movement known as “woke” is not just a grassroots movement. It is a grassroots movement that has gone so far so very fast because it is gigantically fuelled by old-school capital. This is what the entrepreneur Vivek Ramaswamy described in a superb book published last year as Woke, Inc.

Ramaswamy filled in the blanks that had not previously been able to be filled. Why were “social justice” campaigns no longer about campaigns on the street, protest marches and much more, but about top-down lecturings by highly privileged individuals and corporations? Why had it become the case that we were being urged to “do better” not just by certain princes and duchesses, but by major companies and brands who would once have just taken our money and run? Why were firms like Goldman Sachs and Blackrock boasting about their commitment to such things as “racial equity and social justice”?

The answer starts with the way in which energy companies began to rebrand themselves in recent decades. From the early part of this century oil companies like Shell and BP went out of their way to present their public image as being one of unbelievable green-ness. As it happens, both companies, like most other energy companies, are trying to diversify their energy bases and are hardly any longer reliant solely on the pumping of oil. But even when they were, they presented themselves as though they positively existed to make the world greener and to ensure each field was filled with flowers.

And this in many ways explains the far grander and more comprehensive examples of something similar that is happening today.

What we now know as “woke” is a legacy product of legitimate and indeed venerable human rights campaigns. The campaigns for women’s rights, gay rights and racial minority rights were just and noble enterprises which ended up achieving the overwhelming majority, if not all, of their aims.

[ Shell, the oil company, presents a public image of great greenness ]

But at the point of victory something strange happened. People remained on the barricades long after the battle had been won. Partly because careers and pensions were at stake. But also because a new generation of activists wanted to experience the moral high of fighting for rights which had been honourably fought for before their time. So it was that legacy rights organisations like Stonewall ended up fulfilling the dictum of Eric Hoffer. Which is that every good cause “begins as a movement, becomes a business, and eventually degenerates into a racket”.

When Stonewall started out it was an important movement which did a great deal to improve the lot of gay people in this country. But by the time the fight was essentially won, with the passing of civil partnerships and gay marriage, Stonewall stopped being a good cause. For a brief time it became a business. But it swiftly degenerated into a racket. For the point of victory was of course the exact moment when everybody wanted to be on board. After the battle was won, who didn’t want a piece of the civil rights action? The big banks and corporations may have been nowhere when people were fighting for their rights in the 20th century. But in the 21st century, at the point of victory, everyone wanted a piece of the action. And some were willing to sell it.

As this newspaper has reported, in recent years Stonewall started raking in money from government departments and vast corporations. It came up with the brilliant idea of a “UK Workplace Equality Index”. Through this process Stonewall got paid by companies to approve them and mark their “social justice” and “diversity” homework. Of course the charity used this not just as a money-making scheme but as a way to push their agendas, which in the mid-2010s moved from concentrating on gay rights to trans rights.

As The Times reported last June, documents show that Stonewall used its equality index to force organisations to lobby for their policies. If a company, NHS trust, government department or local council did not lobby aggressively for what Stonewall wanted then the group would mark them down, or drop them off its “Top 100” employers index. Even firms that had bent over backwards to placate Stonewall would find themselves told they had room for improvement. For a healthy further donation of course.

It is quite obvious how this benefited Stonewall. They became richer and more powerful than they had ever been. And now the boot was on the other foot they used it to kick around companies and governments and get whatever they wanted while being exceptionally well paid for doing so.

But what did the companies get out of it? And there lies the answer to much of the corporate wokery of our time. Because it is clear by now that the relationship between woke lobby groups and the corporate world has become symbiotic. One side gets rich. The other gets a camouflage, or wokescreen.

Suddenly companies that certainly do not prioritise radical left-wing causes can present themselves as though they are on top of — even ahead of — all the social issues of their time. In the process they can do a number of things. One is to ask the angel of social media death to pass by their door. If they paint themselves with enough rainbow flags and diversity policies then they can evade notice.

For the benefits for Woke Inc are very great indeed. Even the negative publicity that may come from woke over-reach cannot even slightly approximate the negative attention that corporations might otherwise run into. For instance when the Halifax was in the news for its new pronouns policy, it was almost certainly banking that a sizeable number of people — perhaps especially younger potential clients — would be impressed by their “forward-looking” and inclusive policies. What people will not be focusing on is the fact that Halifax has become yet another one of the high street banks that has decided to retire from the high street.

In recent years the Halifax has continuously closed branches. It is a high street bank that has abandoned the high street. This year alone Halifax has closed 27 branches across the country. In other words, while it witters on about the pronouns of an employee called “Gemma” and people become agitated about either this being a great leap forward for humanity or that Gemma could hardly be anything other than a woman, they fail to notice their chances of ever having any interactions with Gemma or any other physical, actual employee of the Halifax. In reality you won’t need Gemma’s pronouns because a Halifax customer’s chances of ever encountering a Gemma diminish every week.

Other things that end up getting covered over include the Halifax’s simple poor performance as a bank. For example, its appalling mortgage rates. While the internet was tearing into the Gemma issue, you had to search the financial pages to discover that at the same time the Halifax had once again hiked its mortgage rates, with the lender’s 60 per cent LTV remortgage rate rising by almost 300 per cent in a year. Gemma may be better news fodder, but she actually covers over the real stories.

It is the same with corporation after corporation. What did HSBC think it was doing when it joined its rival in planting the pronoun flag as the most important issue of the moment? It doubtless thought it would get good publicity and public acclaim from tweeting about how much it stood for “equality and inclusion” and everyone being able to “be themselves in the workplace”. But these words are cheap. Just as it is comparatively cheap to bung some thousands of pounds each year to Stonewall or cover your branches in rainbow flags for a month, compared to the criticisms you might actually be having to face. Woke is camouflage for these firms.

The reality with HSBC, for instance, is that it has proven itself not just uninterested in equality and inclusion, but brutally, cynically, money-grubbingly uninterested in them. In 2020 when the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) effectively fully subsumed Hong Kong into the communist state, there was a range of options open to individuals and corporations. They could either agree to the new regime, stay silent or leave. That year the CCP brought in new security laws which included making it illegal to criticise in any way the activities of the communist authorities, undermine their power or permit foreign interference in Hong Kong. HSBC could have left and gone to Singapore. It could have made a stand. It could have stayed silent. It did none of these things. HSBC backed the security laws. Because it prioritised access to the Chinese market over human rights. As clearly as anyone could.

When HSBC talks about pronouns, it hopes we won’t know about its complicity with the CCP. In corporation after corporation the same cynical game is played. Four years ago Nike started to run adverts featuring the black NFL player Colin Kaepernick, most famous for taking the knee during the playing of the American national anthem. Through this and other campaigns Nike likes to present itself as wildly on the right side on all racial and other justice issues. It should have come as no surprise two years later when reports revealed that parts of Nike’s products were being made in China’s forced labour camps by Uighur prisoners. The same revelations came out for Apple in due course.

It doesn’t matter where you turn, the cynicism of Woke Inc hits you every time. There is not a political issue that the fattening ice cream Ben & Jerry’s does not try to speak on. Why ice cream should speak in the first place is a question we might park for another day. But among much else, Ben & Jerry’s have in recent years expressed their views on Jewish settlements in the West Bank and Priti Patel’s proposed reforms on illegal migration across the Channel. All of which may well distract from the fact that Ben & Jerry’s parent company, Unilever, has been accused of underpaying £550 million in tax in the UK. Or that the parent company of this oh-so-woke entity still sells skin-lightening creams across Asia.

There was a time when people assumed that corporations were going woke because they wanted to get with the times. As Ramaswamy and others have now shown, nothing could be further from the truth. Corporations go woke because they know it is the best way to get away with worse and more expensive habits. So I would suggest that this should become a new rule in our society. As obvious as the fact that the most outspoken male feminists reliably turn out to be sex pests.

There was a time when people thought Woke Inc was well-meaning at best, naive at worst. But as the saga of Gemma reminds us, when a company advertises its woke credentials, we should assume it is trying to hide something. And then go looking for it.

[ Via: https://archive.is/ziEDT ]

==

when a company advertises its woke credentials, we should assume it is trying to hide something. And then go looking for it.

Repeated for emphasis.

Stop getting taken in by this virtue bullshit.