Naming Names & Pointing Fingers
Victoria is the name of the city in British Columbia, Canada where I spent the first 14 years of my life.
Patricia is the name of my mother who single-handedly raised three girls, only two of which were biologically hers, and one boy. Child Support & Alimony are the names of two of financial rewards she was legally granted from three different X husbands, and never actually received.
Ed is the name of my biological father, who in an intoxicated rage, viciously bent my mother backwards over a bathtub and smashed her head into the side multiple times, while she was eight months pregnant with me. Asthma is the name my father gave my physical dysfunction that forced me to stop breathing every time I bumped my head as an infant which was instigated to that incident.
Anastasia is the name of the daughter my sister gave up for adoption when she was fifteen years old. Anakin & Sabrina are the names of her other children who were recently given to the state due to her and her husband’s inability to raise them.
Kelly is the name of my eldest sister, with whom I have no biological relation. Mom is the name she gives my mother, for taking her out of a feces covered crib, putting milk in her starving tummy, and doing the best she could to raise her while my mother herself still hadn’t become an adult.
Dean is the name of the father to Kelly’s first child. Accidental Death & Drunk Driving are the names of charges he faced after running over an innocent jogger with his car. Bail is the name of the procedure that allowed Dean to drunkenly brag about what he’d done to friends in a Pub the very week after the incident. Physical assault is the name of the crime he committed against the deceased’s brother, for silently drinking away his pain in the same bar, distracting the attention and stumping any approval from Dean’s companions.
Stable and well-off are names of the lifestyle Kelly now lives and the home she has created. Ashley is the name of her daughter, my 15 year old niece who just recently ran away with a known drug dealer.
Average is the name my family falls under in there.
Victoria West Elementary is the name of the primary school where I attended. Peer is the name of the people I learned real lessons from. Shawna is the name of a school-mate I had in grade 5, whose parents were unknown drug addicts. Responsible is the name I was given after cooking for, supervising, and assuring homework was done and clothing was washed for Shawna, her younger sister, and their mother. Withdrawal is the name of what Shawna’s mother was suffering as she lay helplessly shivering on the couch during my two or three week stay there. Ken is the name of Shawna’s father. Trafficking is the name of the charges that were brought against him, thus disabling him from delivering the substance that would relieve his wife’s suffering.
Correctional facility is the name of the place both Shawna’s parents were eventually sent. And ‘Ward of the State’ is the name of the position both children were given in their early teens, as their parents were stripped of parenting rights. Attempted Bank Robbery is the name of the crime both parents were charged with, after doing their time in the correctional facility. Suicide is the name of the last thing Ken did in this life; while behind bars.
Insane is the name of Shawna’s current situation is. Reality is the name of the belief she carried that forced her to call 911 emergency and ask for assistance because her head was falling off her body. Satan is the name of the voice she hears talking in her head.
Kyla is the name of Shawna’s sister, whom is two years younger than both Shawna and me. Smoking is the name of something I tried in 5th grade, only to have Kyla threaten to tell my mother because she was concerned for my health. Innocent is the only name you could apply to Kyla before her parent’s secret was known. Heroin addict is the name of what Kyla was the last time I saw her. Prostitution is the name of the job she took up to supply her addiction. Juvenile Detention and Rehabilitation are the names of correctional facilities she was sent to. A-wall is the name of her running away from them both facilities multiple times. Over-dose is the name of what got her caught by authorities every time. Dead may very well be the name of what she is now.
Jamie, Harry & Kegan are the names of kids I went to school with who bragged about beating the shit out of their parents on a regular bases and thus not having to do their homework or be home at reasonable hours.
Child abuse is the name of the charges brought against any parent, by either the child or the state who hits a child or teenager back in such situations; or under any circumstance there.
Michael Dunahee is the name of a three year old boy, who went missing from the neighborhood like multiple others during my 7 years attending Elementary School. Unsolved is the name of his case status at present date. Babysitter is the name of my relationship to him before his disappearance.
Debbie is the name of a school friend who actually ran away with the circus when she was 13 years old. Pregnant is the name of what happened to her before she ran away.
Minor is the name 7 or 8 of other peers were given just a few years later while being on trial for the violent assault and eventual murder of a girl they simply didn’t like. Cigarette is the name of one of weapons they used to harm her. Tortured is the name the state of her body was when found in a public park, as given by authorities.
Samantha is the name of a childhood friend who decided to conceive child when she was 17 years old. Billy is the name of the five year old girl whom Sam abandoned to move across country and live her life. Holly (if I remember correctly) is the name of Sam’s cousin, who was happily engaged to a man that was willing to raise her three children with her, though he wasn’t the biological father. Axe is the name of the weapon he used to hack up Holly and her three children in the middle of a quiet spring night while they slept in their own beds. Insanity is the name of the plea he used in court while crying his eyes out claiming he didn’t know why he did it.
YMCA is the name of the place I attended after-school. Sexual assault is the name of what happened to the young girl I saw running through the park at the YMCA, naked from the hips up. Purse snatching is the name of what I witnessed across the street from the YMCA, as a teenaged boy punched a senior citizen in the face and then ran off with her bag.
Glue is the name of the substance I remember children under the age of ten inhaled to get high.
North Saanich Middle School is the name of the school I transferred to when my family moved. Marijuana, Hash, Cocaine, LSD or Acid, Shrooms, Alcohol, and Mescaline are the names of some of the illegal substances I remember obtaining and using during school hours, with my peers. Laugh is the name of what my friends and I did while being forced to watch drug prevention and awareness videos while intoxicated, during class.
Forced entry, breaking & entry, under aged drinking, use of illegal substances, bodily harm, and possession of illegal weapons are all names given to unpunished crimes I either committed or observed along with my peers from North Saanich School prior to this incident.
Name is something the Police don’t have the right to know about you in Victoria, unless you’re under arrest. Officer is the name of the person who complained about that and teenager’s knowledge of that law that was a part obstacles law enforcement faced while trying to track teenaged criminals.
Popular is the name I was given by peers for the first few years in North Saanich. Rat is the name I was later given by a single male peer. Bev is the name of a girl whom I had my first street fight with, as a result of that Rat accusation. Reconstructive surgery is the name of the operation I had at 13 years old, to correct the positioning of my nose, because of the physical trauma that fight caused. Revenge is the name that was given to what happened to Bev because of that incident, by the very people who instigated my fight with her in the first place, and without my request.
High School Dropout is the name I shared with countless others, when I reached grade eight. Nothing is the name of what my parents or any other authority had the power to legally do to change this.
Andrew is the name of a boy who knocked on my door once or twice attempting to initiate a friendship that I rejected because he wasn’t considered cool. Milk is the name of the product he left his house to pick up for his mother, 3 months after I last saw him, but never returned home. Murder is the name of what resulted from 4 or 5 of my drunken peers ripping him off his bike, throwing him to the ground and stomping on his head until it literally crushed, in broad daylight, in the middle of the street. Heavy Metal is the name of the music he liked, and the only reason his rap-crazed peers violently assaulted him in the first place. Minor is the name they were all given while being charged in court. Reformed is the name they were given two years later after being released from jail. And Brag is the name of what they did about the easy time spent behind bars and their own ability to actually kill. Fear is the name of the power they now have over their peers. Lead is the name of what their position was considered among the gangs, last I heard.
Over-populated is the name most jails in Victoria, BC are given.
Rohypnol is the name of a drug that is easily obtained on the streets in Canada, and that was slipped into my drink on my last night of my last trip home from here; 7 years ago. Rape is the name of the assault that two men got away with that night, because by the time the drug wore off and I was able to clearly recall the few scattered relevant memories, and combine them with the physical condition in which I woke up and verify with any certainty what had happened, I was already on a plane headed half way across the world. Ridicule is the name of what one of the guy’s reactions was to my still intoxicated questioning over the phone, when the realization first hit my clouded and foggy head. Common is the name of the unpunished result of such crimes in Victoria, because by the time a woman realizes what happened there isn’t a single trace of this date-rape drug left in her body; thus no solid evidence.
United Arab Emirates is the name of the country I moved to when I was 14 and have lived in for the past 11 years. Islam is the name of the religion that makes the laws. Arabic is the name of the culture. Unheard of or extremely rare are the names given here to most of the incidents and substances I’ve recalled here. Inexperienced is the name of what the majority of the population who resides here is when it comes to such things so commonly accepted as a part of everyday life back home.
Uncivilized, violent, behind times, corrupt, inhumane and unjust are just some of the names that are wrongfully used to describe this country.
Peace of mind, less chance of becoming a victim to countless heinous crimes, decreased chances of my child becoming a substance abuser before he reaches his teens, tax free wages, a pretty damn good lifestyle, security, and confidence knowing my baby most likely won’t have to experience anything like the things I remember, relief from drug infested schools and laws that tempt rebellious teens to abuse their parents and get away with it, are the names of just some of the things I’m thankful for concerning the UAE, Islamic Laws, and Arabic culture despite this countries most bitched about flaws.
Maybe if some of the other expatriates sit down and think about what they experienced in their own countries and compared it with what they’ve personally experienced here; and not the stories they've read of concerning strangers in the newspapers (because if I were to do that in recalling what happens back home, this entry would be endless), they might find a few forgotten things they’re now taking for granted?
Patricia is the name of my mother who single-handedly raised three girls, only two of which were biologically hers, and one boy. Child Support & Alimony are the names of two of financial rewards she was legally granted from three different X husbands, and never actually received.
Ed is the name of my biological father, who in an intoxicated rage, viciously bent my mother backwards over a bathtub and smashed her head into the side multiple times, while she was eight months pregnant with me. Asthma is the name my father gave my physical dysfunction that forced me to stop breathing every time I bumped my head as an infant which was instigated to that incident.
Anastasia is the name of the daughter my sister gave up for adoption when she was fifteen years old. Anakin & Sabrina are the names of her other children who were recently given to the state due to her and her husband’s inability to raise them.
Kelly is the name of my eldest sister, with whom I have no biological relation. Mom is the name she gives my mother, for taking her out of a feces covered crib, putting milk in her starving tummy, and doing the best she could to raise her while my mother herself still hadn’t become an adult.
Dean is the name of the father to Kelly’s first child. Accidental Death & Drunk Driving are the names of charges he faced after running over an innocent jogger with his car. Bail is the name of the procedure that allowed Dean to drunkenly brag about what he’d done to friends in a Pub the very week after the incident. Physical assault is the name of the crime he committed against the deceased’s brother, for silently drinking away his pain in the same bar, distracting the attention and stumping any approval from Dean’s companions.
Stable and well-off are names of the lifestyle Kelly now lives and the home she has created. Ashley is the name of her daughter, my 15 year old niece who just recently ran away with a known drug dealer.
Average is the name my family falls under in there.
Victoria West Elementary is the name of the primary school where I attended. Peer is the name of the people I learned real lessons from. Shawna is the name of a school-mate I had in grade 5, whose parents were unknown drug addicts. Responsible is the name I was given after cooking for, supervising, and assuring homework was done and clothing was washed for Shawna, her younger sister, and their mother. Withdrawal is the name of what Shawna’s mother was suffering as she lay helplessly shivering on the couch during my two or three week stay there. Ken is the name of Shawna’s father. Trafficking is the name of the charges that were brought against him, thus disabling him from delivering the substance that would relieve his wife’s suffering.
Correctional facility is the name of the place both Shawna’s parents were eventually sent. And ‘Ward of the State’ is the name of the position both children were given in their early teens, as their parents were stripped of parenting rights. Attempted Bank Robbery is the name of the crime both parents were charged with, after doing their time in the correctional facility. Suicide is the name of the last thing Ken did in this life; while behind bars.
Insane is the name of Shawna’s current situation is. Reality is the name of the belief she carried that forced her to call 911 emergency and ask for assistance because her head was falling off her body. Satan is the name of the voice she hears talking in her head.
Kyla is the name of Shawna’s sister, whom is two years younger than both Shawna and me. Smoking is the name of something I tried in 5th grade, only to have Kyla threaten to tell my mother because she was concerned for my health. Innocent is the only name you could apply to Kyla before her parent’s secret was known. Heroin addict is the name of what Kyla was the last time I saw her. Prostitution is the name of the job she took up to supply her addiction. Juvenile Detention and Rehabilitation are the names of correctional facilities she was sent to. A-wall is the name of her running away from them both facilities multiple times. Over-dose is the name of what got her caught by authorities every time. Dead may very well be the name of what she is now.
Jamie, Harry & Kegan are the names of kids I went to school with who bragged about beating the shit out of their parents on a regular bases and thus not having to do their homework or be home at reasonable hours.
Child abuse is the name of the charges brought against any parent, by either the child or the state who hits a child or teenager back in such situations; or under any circumstance there.
Michael Dunahee is the name of a three year old boy, who went missing from the neighborhood like multiple others during my 7 years attending Elementary School. Unsolved is the name of his case status at present date. Babysitter is the name of my relationship to him before his disappearance.
Debbie is the name of a school friend who actually ran away with the circus when she was 13 years old. Pregnant is the name of what happened to her before she ran away.
Minor is the name 7 or 8 of other peers were given just a few years later while being on trial for the violent assault and eventual murder of a girl they simply didn’t like. Cigarette is the name of one of weapons they used to harm her. Tortured is the name the state of her body was when found in a public park, as given by authorities.
Samantha is the name of a childhood friend who decided to conceive child when she was 17 years old. Billy is the name of the five year old girl whom Sam abandoned to move across country and live her life. Holly (if I remember correctly) is the name of Sam’s cousin, who was happily engaged to a man that was willing to raise her three children with her, though he wasn’t the biological father. Axe is the name of the weapon he used to hack up Holly and her three children in the middle of a quiet spring night while they slept in their own beds. Insanity is the name of the plea he used in court while crying his eyes out claiming he didn’t know why he did it.
YMCA is the name of the place I attended after-school. Sexual assault is the name of what happened to the young girl I saw running through the park at the YMCA, naked from the hips up. Purse snatching is the name of what I witnessed across the street from the YMCA, as a teenaged boy punched a senior citizen in the face and then ran off with her bag.
Glue is the name of the substance I remember children under the age of ten inhaled to get high.
North Saanich Middle School is the name of the school I transferred to when my family moved. Marijuana, Hash, Cocaine, LSD or Acid, Shrooms, Alcohol, and Mescaline are the names of some of the illegal substances I remember obtaining and using during school hours, with my peers. Laugh is the name of what my friends and I did while being forced to watch drug prevention and awareness videos while intoxicated, during class.
Forced entry, breaking & entry, under aged drinking, use of illegal substances, bodily harm, and possession of illegal weapons are all names given to unpunished crimes I either committed or observed along with my peers from North Saanich School prior to this incident.
Name is something the Police don’t have the right to know about you in Victoria, unless you’re under arrest. Officer is the name of the person who complained about that and teenager’s knowledge of that law that was a part obstacles law enforcement faced while trying to track teenaged criminals.
Popular is the name I was given by peers for the first few years in North Saanich. Rat is the name I was later given by a single male peer. Bev is the name of a girl whom I had my first street fight with, as a result of that Rat accusation. Reconstructive surgery is the name of the operation I had at 13 years old, to correct the positioning of my nose, because of the physical trauma that fight caused. Revenge is the name that was given to what happened to Bev because of that incident, by the very people who instigated my fight with her in the first place, and without my request.
High School Dropout is the name I shared with countless others, when I reached grade eight. Nothing is the name of what my parents or any other authority had the power to legally do to change this.
Andrew is the name of a boy who knocked on my door once or twice attempting to initiate a friendship that I rejected because he wasn’t considered cool. Milk is the name of the product he left his house to pick up for his mother, 3 months after I last saw him, but never returned home. Murder is the name of what resulted from 4 or 5 of my drunken peers ripping him off his bike, throwing him to the ground and stomping on his head until it literally crushed, in broad daylight, in the middle of the street. Heavy Metal is the name of the music he liked, and the only reason his rap-crazed peers violently assaulted him in the first place. Minor is the name they were all given while being charged in court. Reformed is the name they were given two years later after being released from jail. And Brag is the name of what they did about the easy time spent behind bars and their own ability to actually kill. Fear is the name of the power they now have over their peers. Lead is the name of what their position was considered among the gangs, last I heard.
Over-populated is the name most jails in Victoria, BC are given.
Rohypnol is the name of a drug that is easily obtained on the streets in Canada, and that was slipped into my drink on my last night of my last trip home from here; 7 years ago. Rape is the name of the assault that two men got away with that night, because by the time the drug wore off and I was able to clearly recall the few scattered relevant memories, and combine them with the physical condition in which I woke up and verify with any certainty what had happened, I was already on a plane headed half way across the world. Ridicule is the name of what one of the guy’s reactions was to my still intoxicated questioning over the phone, when the realization first hit my clouded and foggy head. Common is the name of the unpunished result of such crimes in Victoria, because by the time a woman realizes what happened there isn’t a single trace of this date-rape drug left in her body; thus no solid evidence.
United Arab Emirates is the name of the country I moved to when I was 14 and have lived in for the past 11 years. Islam is the name of the religion that makes the laws. Arabic is the name of the culture. Unheard of or extremely rare are the names given here to most of the incidents and substances I’ve recalled here. Inexperienced is the name of what the majority of the population who resides here is when it comes to such things so commonly accepted as a part of everyday life back home.
Uncivilized, violent, behind times, corrupt, inhumane and unjust are just some of the names that are wrongfully used to describe this country.
Peace of mind, less chance of becoming a victim to countless heinous crimes, decreased chances of my child becoming a substance abuser before he reaches his teens, tax free wages, a pretty damn good lifestyle, security, and confidence knowing my baby most likely won’t have to experience anything like the things I remember, relief from drug infested schools and laws that tempt rebellious teens to abuse their parents and get away with it, are the names of just some of the things I’m thankful for concerning the UAE, Islamic Laws, and Arabic culture despite this countries most bitched about flaws.
Maybe if some of the other expatriates sit down and think about what they experienced in their own countries and compared it with what they’ve personally experienced here; and not the stories they've read of concerning strangers in the newspapers (because if I were to do that in recalling what happens back home, this entry would be endless), they might find a few forgotten things they’re now taking for granted?
posted by Tainted Female at
10:51 AM
12 Comments:
I was sexually abused at school in the UAE and they suspended the person that did it for 3 days. Talk about justice.
Your experience is your own, as a white (i'm guessing) canadian woman you probably didn't experience the worst that is on offer.
Count yourself lucky.
You are a westerner, think about the other colors that get to experience some of the same stuff you did.
gosh, this is a rollercoaster ride!
anon,
First of all, I’m sincerely sorry for your abuse and can sympathize with you because that’s one of those things I also suffered as a child in Canada. But did you report the abuse to the police, or only the school authorities? And did you or your parents open a criminal case which of course is your right to do?
Racism happens everywhere, and yes it's a HUGE part of UAE society. But I don’t like the implication that because I’m western or white I haven’t had as many bad experiences here as the rest of the population, here. That’s a rather racist generalization in itself.
Know why them girls I mentioned didn’t like that other one and burned her with lit cigarettes and tortured her to death? Their reason for not liking her in the first place was that she was Indian and smelled like curry; according to their statements made to the press.
I never implied that the UAE is faultless or that none of these things could ever happen here. But there is a hell of lot to be thankful for, despite the faults.
The point is, in 14 years I stayed in Canada I saw or was a part of all of that; PLUS whatever I’ve failed to mention and what’s been forgotten. In 11 years here, I haven’t seen or experienced half of what I did there. Nor have I ever met a person of any race or skin color who spent their entire life here that has experienced such a combination violently destructive behavior and tools that where I’m from, is just another part of every day life.
wow 14 years only and you witnessed all that, I wonder what if you were still there?
yes you can say UAE is A paradise, it is
adevents, it's funny you should mention now..
My brother went back to stay when he was 19 years old. Within the first week he was punched in the face by a drunken 30 year old women hw was working with. She didn't agree with something he said.
It's incredible really.
I fail to understand why so many people have such strong desires to move there, raise children there, and think it's all just nifty.
And I don't think UAE is really paradise, I just think people need some perspective when it comes to their bitching and whining.
And Balushi...
Just... Shhhhh!
Sequinsafia... I've been wondering where you went. You don't have a blog or any contact... I wanted to make sure you got the response to your interest about RAK...
I full-heartedly agree with you and which society is better for raising children in, by the way.
i must say that in every socity there is the good and the bad and the ugly but compare to what tainted talking about here, i still say that uAE is among the the good to raise ur childern slthough there is many crazy kids around but even thier crazness is imported (by the way i am not emiraty just to know)
Help me understand here:
You can (legally) drop out of school after age 8 in Canada (or at least you could then)?
If true, then I can understand why you grew up in a society that had so much crime and violence in it.
sesquinsafia: I know that Tainted Female described such an upbringing as "average"...and perhaps where she lived, it was, but down here in the United States, I can assure you that it is most certainly NOT the average experience. Perhaps some kids do live a life such as this, but it is most certainly on the extremes of life.
Glengarry…
To be honest with you, I’m not sure if it’s legal or illegal at any age to drop out of school. All I know is that no one has the right to legally force the child back; and if they did try, there is no criminal punishment or consequence of the child refusing.
And kids there know this, and so much more about the law. They take the best advantage of it.
And I think I need to make clear that not all of Canada is like this. I’m talking about 1 city on Vancover, island, where I was raised. Just last night I was talking with a Lebanese immigrant to Toronto who said he’s not once in as many years experienced violence, either himself or as an observer of friends or relatives there. At the same time, friend of mine from the states commented on this entry (as I have another on-line journal, at another site that’s been around a lot longer), and said she’s not at all surprised, because she went to quebec on vacation and was objected to this sort of thing almost immediately.
My guess is America is pretty much the same. There are the hoods, so famously known from movies... The gangs, Bloods & Crips (which also were in Canada), and on and on and one.
Not all of Canada is like this. Not all of America, or UK, or wherever. But at least I know for SURE that almost NONE of the emirates is like this; yet… anyway.
Sequin, I’m so sorry you lived there! I did not and can’t really picture what it would be like. I remember being in a restaurant once with a friend of mine, years ago, and long before my legal battles there. People really didn’t know what to make of me; some carried expressions as though I were a ghost. They simply didn’t at that time know what to make of anyone who visited from somewhere else. I have no idea what it’s like now, though.
Wow.
Well written stuff,
But you are right, your experiences are not everybody's- they don't describe "the West"- and the UAE (most of the Gulf for that matter) are.. different.
Great Blog by the way
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