Help Kate Stay Alive

kateb

I’m not American. I don’t tend to throw around words like ‘heroes’ when I speak about the people I admire- it’s a word that seems clunky and ill-fitting to me.

If I did, though, Kate Bornstein would be one of them. Not just for her writing and her work- although those are immensely valuable and important. For who she is. For the genuine interest she takes in the people around her. For her warmth, her openness, and the love and community she embodies. While we don’t agree on absolutely everything- on the other hand, who the hell agrees with someone on everything?- she is one of the most genuinely engaging people I have ever been fortunate enough to meet. I’m immensely privileged to call her a friend.

Kate needs your help.

She’s suffering from lung cancer. It’s treatable. Getting through the treatment and compensating for the money she won’t be earning is going to cost her about $100,000.

Nobody should ever have to look for money for medical treatment. Medicine is a right, damnit. The fact that someone I care about who has given so goddamn much to our community has to ask for help in accessing the  life-saving treatment she needs and keeping a roof over her head when she does it? It is wrong. This shouldn’t be happening. Everyone, whether famous or unknown, rich or poor, admirable or asshole, should be able to get the treatment and support they need without question.

This shouldn’t be happening, but it is.

If you can spare anything- anything, even a couple of eurodollarpounds- please go to her fundraiser and donate what you can. If you can’t spare money, please share and spread the word.

Kate has helped so many of us to stay alive. Please, right now, return the favour.

Help Kate Stay Alive
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A toast to all our saviours, each so badly behaved?

I’ve been thinking about our heroes, what we expect of them, and how we turn on them. Two things have happened in the last few days to bring this up. The first of these was, unsurprisingly, Elevatorgate. The second was some conversations I’ve had with a friend* about Kate Bornstein- someone who I think is lovely, and who my friend has serious criticisms of and doesn’t like because of this.

I’m thinking of what we ask of the people we admire from a distance. The people who we have heard of, who we know as activists, whose work we read and are inspired by. The people we look to as spokespeople.

I’m thinking about how quickly we reject them.

Here’s the thing. Dawkins, in my opinion, has behaved abominably in relation to ElevatorGate. However, any of his behaviour from now on can’t negate his past work. A Devil’s Chaplain will always be dog-eared holiday nights, finally making sense of my lack of belief. The Ancestor’s Tale will always be the book I read oh-so-carefully, in whose detail and scale I found such profound, mindboggling awe.

I think that we reject people so strongly, not in spite of having admired them, but because we did. Because it’s hard to reconcile the fact that inspiration and ignorance can come from the same person. Because it’s hard, I think, to accept that a person who taught you so much can be so clueless. It makes us question ourselves, question everything we learned from that person in the first place. Question the times we admired them, the times we defended them.

And that’s hard. That’s hard work. It means learning to see these people as our equals. Learning to look at everyone- even our heroes- critically. Learning to accept that they’re just people who are as flawed as ourselves, who mess up as much as we do.

It’s a lot easier to just reject them wholesale.

I’m not recommending that we leave Dawkins (or whoever) off. The guy messed up, and needs to deal with what that means and what it implies. Messing up has consequences. And it should.

I do think, however, that we should be conscious of how we react when people we admire do godawful, ignorant things. And before we reject them wholesale, think about whether we’re rejecting them because of the ignorant thing they did, or because of the inspiring things before that.

*If you’re reading this, I didn’t name you because, hello, privacy. I’ll pop your name in if you like, though.

A toast to all our saviours, each so badly behaved?