Why are women so complacent?

Most women are keenly aware of the challenges that traditional shopping represents. Women unjustly have the reputation of "spending hours in the stores" only because their shopping experience is designed to keep them lingering there. Take for example shopping for bras: Whereas it would be easiest if these were stored in boxes by size and colour with just one of each colour on display, these are out by the thousands in endless tangled webs of hangers and straps, leaving women exhausted and frustrated. Mostly, after going through the lot, one finds that the popular sizes are missing. And forget about going back to buy a bra you previously bought and liked - you'll likely be told that that was "seasonal" stock, meaning that once the stock is exhausted, a new style will be produced to replace it, leaving you again in the position of detangling and trying on dozens. You can't escape this endless frustration. You have to try everything on because there is no telling how each will fit. The fabrics and styles vary so much that each item of clothing, bra or other, will fit differently, even within a brand. You can't just buy a brand in "your" size within a brand you have worn before, no, that would be too efficient! Everything to do with shopping for women's clothes is conjured up to keep us IN the store as long as possible. There is not a woman I know who doesn't identify with these frustrations.

The same is true of all other clothing from shirts to skirts. Sizes have nothing to do with physical measurements, vary from garment to garment and brand to brand, country to country. NO woman I know doesn't have something better to do than to spend a whole day trying to find a skirt or a blouse that actually fits her. If a skirt is long enough and not indecently tight around the hips, it will undoubtedly be loose around the waist. Don't even think about custom fit! Adjustments? Seem allowances? Hemming? Not for us!

Women, who statistically represent 51% of the population at birth (and considerably more later in life), are abominably ill-served by the clothing industry. What wouldn't I give to have on offer what a man has who can walk into a store and ask for a shirt that is 15 1/2" around the neck, 33" in the sleeve, 100% cotton, in a specific colour and still have the choice between a fitted or ample cut! Can you imagine a skirt that comes in "Short", "Average" and "Long", with waist and hip measurements in inches, that can still be hemmed exactly as long as you'd like it?

Men come in all shapes and sizes, as women do, but are never made to feel inadequate if their arms are long or if they have a little pot. Quite the contrary, good men's shops pride themselves in being able to accommodate all men gracefully. Because they do, men generally feel comfortable as they are. If the shop can't fit them, the shop is inadequate, not the man. There is something to say about the message transmitted to men here: that their time and money are valuable and respected and that not being average in proportions is normal.

Men never have to compromise on fit or quality. Bottom line: men look (and feel) terrific regardless of their body peculiarities. Men's shops have tailors that custom fit the clothes they buy. When men buy a suit, it not only fits perfectly but looks good for years to come. It's money well spent. An actual investment! They didn't have to starve themselves to fit limited sized off-the rack clothes in pre-determined "ideal" proportions that the fashion industry dictates to their women counterpart. While women have tons of clothing choices, (designed of course to keep them fumbling endlessly in the stores,) clothing quality is lower and nothing is ever properly fitted or lasts long which drives us right back into the stores for the never ending quest to find something good to wear. Women's clothes are cheaply made, more often than not in synthetic fabrics, with no seam allowances. They may cost less but will not last and will quickly find their way to the give away pile. Buying clothing for us is a long string of stresses, compromises and disatisfaction, and worst of all, we are conditioned to blame ourselves for the shortcomings of the retail industry. Something must be wrong with us if we spend too much time and money on clothes! If we can never find what we need among the millions of options on offer! If the clothes we buy look and fit so poorly.

Bottom line: women earn less, have less disposable income yet are cornered by the clothing industry into buying ill fitting, cheap clothes in an endless quest to look forever young and fashionable. What's the point of buying a quality jacket, boots, when next year's style will have an extra strap or whatever that will make it look like last year's? And who would ever want that? Better of course to buy something cheap with just the right number of straps every few months.

The resources required of women to comply to the standards that our society defines as appropriate for us are enormous, if not all-consuming. Unlike men, women are judged by their youthfulness, and to look forever young, women are pressured into the fashion & style rollercoaster: She must have sexy hair (no gray please!), be manicured, pedicured, made-up, slinky bodied etc. These goals require hours of time and most of women's financial resources. Amazingly, while every possible machination is put in her way to success, women will often be criticized if they are unable to focus as much as their male counterpart at work. Women are often judged are insatiable shoppers, fickle and shallow. The truth is that women are plagued by a sense of perpetual inadequacy, much of it propelled by societal pressures largely facilitated by the fashion industry.

Women are still valued as sex object today as always, and they accept this role all too complacently. As women, we comply with the most unrealistic fashion demands and we accept the exhorbitent demands made on our resources for this conformity. Much has been done in recent decades to change this but just when women begin to develop the strength and understanding to resist, out come the powers that push her right back into enslavement. Few men ever have to worry about such pressures on their way to the big boys club. Few men ever have to compromise their mental and financial health or to relinquish their time resources to such superficialites. And everything is done to accommodate their needs in this regard. Everything they do is focused on how precious their resources are. They expect and demand service and quality efficencies that translate into economies of time and money. They would not have it any other way. Why should we?


Is it any wonder that so many young women everywhere, confronted with the pressure to conform to the most unattainable weight and body measurements, suffer from varying forms of anorexia. For most women, dieting is a way of life from the early teens (another muti-million dollar industry thriving at our expense) while reaching the ideal form is generally unatainable. This conditioning is deeply damaging and erodes the confidence of the most resilient among us. Short of blaming a conspiracy to keep women down, one must at least acknowledge the seriousness of the problem and as women, undertake to help ourselves and get off this threadmill.

The world of fashion is a huge bottomless pit that sucks women down and swallows them whole. It gobbles up all their resources and leaves them with an insatiable need to comply to unatainable, because forever changing, goals. To surrender to the demands of fashion is to surrender body and soul into slavery.

It's enough to start a revolution! Why are women so complacent?

My Grandmother

My maternal grandmother died in the Fall of 1929. She was 36 years old. My mother was three. I know of her through hearsay. She was a beautiful young woman when she married. She wore her shiny dark hair long, tied in a bun as was the fashion then. Her dark wedding dress was elegant, in a Victorian sort of way. The picture I have of her on her wedding day is the only one that exists of her other than the one on her mortuary card. Anyone seeing those two photos would never guess it was the same woman. By the time she died, some twelve years into the marriage, she had aged. Her beautiful hair was now short and cut bluntly as though by her own hand. Her dress tattered and worn. It was in the depression years. She had had 8 children, not counting stillborns and early deaths, and was pregnant again when she died. I often wondered what she would have said had she been able to blog in her days. How I wish I could read her today.

I know that my Grandfather and her were very much in love but times were hard and pregnancy which was difficult to prevent, was very hard on her. Life on the farm became increasingly demanding. There were so many children to care for and farm hands to feed. Rumours have it that the farm was frequented by so many people, all seeking the understanding, the comforting ear of my grandmother. Even as a young woman, she was kind and wise. Her name was Martine.

I love her and she is missed, even by those who never knew her. My Grandfather only remarried when all the children were raised and settled and he once said to my father that his first love was the greatest and could never be matched. He was of Irish extraction. She, French. He learned French for her and never spoke English in her presence, even in the company of his Irish friends. He really loved her. I know that. If she could have blogged, if she had had the leisure time we have to do that today, she would have doubtlessly spoken of her love for him, I know that. She might have told us about raising her children, of her dreams for them, of her longings, her passions, her political views. As it is I can only imaging these. I like to think that she was bright and optimistic, that she read everything she could, that she believed in education, that she was a stable force whose wise opinions were sought. Above all she was a loving, giving person.

The farm and the house where my mother was born still stand. Every year lately I have gone there to join my mother, now 82 and to sleep there. I am privileged to sleep in my grandmother's bedroom. I feel amazingly comfortable in that house though it is small and basic by today's standards. The view from my bedroom window over the hill to the river below is breathtaking. The air is good! Or is it the good vibes? Surrounded by tall pine trees, misty in the mornings, utterly peaceful... I feel wrapped in my Grandmother's kindness, her happiness to see me there, in the harmony she impaled on this magnificent place. She lives on in all of us still today.

The Getty Museum, Los Angeles.
� Diane Richard
There are places I've been where it is hard to take a bad picture. The Getty is such a place. And whereas it is easy to take stunning photos of The Getty, it is impossible to capture the whole. But beauty is found in small things also. Here a group of cacti taken at sunset at the Getty which, by its colours, contrasts and textures, offers a glipse of The Getty, in its own way.

Phi Phi Island, Thailand.

Long Boat, Phi Phi Island, Thailand.
� Diane Richard

There are countless times that I have gone back to Phi Phi in thought, this place lost in time and so peaceful where I spent two weeks, just two years, almost to the day, before the Island was swept by the great Tsunami.

It is in this place, after four weeks of travel from Singapore to Malecca, through Malaysia, that I finally found rest - rest of the deepest, most satisfying kind.

It is in this place that I met and photographed people, cats, dogs and roosters. After two weeks, I felt that I knew everyone. I saw its ocean at rest, more calm and gentle than ever I saw the sea...



I ache to think that so few survived.

Phi Phi will never be the same without them.

Rum Point, Cayman Islands.

When I was first in Grand Cayman Island, the Goverment of the Cayman Islands was just beginning to focus on tourism as a way to develop and to improve the living standards of the population. That proved to be excellent planning. The Cayman Islands are truly the most beautiful of the Carribean and over the years, visitors would pay dearly for the privilege of experiencing its silky sand and gentle beaches.

At the beginning, Caymanians were all employed in the service industries required to support tourism. Service jobs were better than no jobs. Their children however, went to universities in the US and those that returned came back as financiers and administrators... Today, the Caymans hire students from abroad (mostly Canada) to fill the many service jobs in restaurants and shops. The student are happy. If you're going to wait, might as well be in paradise! And the Caymanians have achieved what they set out to do, in a single generation.

Grand Cayman is now a well developped community with good roads, fine shops and well stocked grocery stores. The cost of living is high and the seven mile beach is no longer as peaceful as it once was. Just like Niagara Falls is nice in Winter, so are the Caymans in the Fall, their off season.

Niagara Falls in Winter.

Niagara Falls in Winter.

Few think of visiting The Falls in winter yet it is a breathtaking experience to visit when is is coldest and the thundering water freezes mid-stream forming twinkling icycles. In Summer, the area is so thick with viewers that one often has to fight one's way to a view. In Winter the spectacle is all yours.

The Seal Hunt Shame.

There are no photos today, as this is a day of shame, sorrow and mourning for all Canadians.

As our Prime Minister, newly elected Steven Harper, lightly dismisses the seal hunt as "a bit of bad publicity" against Canada the rest of the world, including most Canadians, are appalled and painfully observing the massacre, their hands tied behind their backs.

How can we Canadians stand as the great peacekeepers of the world and allow such violence at home? What has gone so wrong with our democracy that our government condones acts that repulse the great majority of Canadians in effect rendering us victims of ourselves?

In a truly democratic society, the government is but a society's executive arm that puts into effect our wishes. And what kind of society do Canadians want? A peaceful, rational, open and free society, by all accounts. We cannot have the right arm engaged in peacekeeping while the left is clubbing baby animals.

While the market for fur is dwindling all over the world, (Will anyone really still conscientiously wear seal fur?) the Canadian Government, our left arm, is busy funding the development of seal fur markets (http://www.fishaq.gov.nl.ca/fdp/ProjectReports/fdp_122-241.pdf ) and research on establishing the health benefits of ingesting seal oil to capitalize on the blind and frenzied alternative health market (http://www.fishaq.gov.nl.ca/FDP/ProjectReports/fdp_204.htm ), under the Fisheries Diversification Program. (http://www.releases.gov.nl.ca/releases/2001/fishaq/1130n01.htm )
I wonder what part of the 10 million dollars allocated to this portion of the Economic Agreement between Canada and Newfoundland has been allocated to these two projects and others, designed to further develop the exploitation of seals?

There are those who believe that seals are the cause of the depletion of our cod stocks. To those I say: The seals were there when the white man first appeared on our shores and these very men reported that the waters were thick with cod then. The seals and the cod were cohabitating harmoniously for thousands of years before we arrived. The nasty predator has been man who commercializes and exploits everything to exhaustion. By the time our Government began to limit cod fishing within our off shore territory, the cod stock was already so badly depleted that it is now said to be beyond recovery.

The seals eat cod as the lion eats antelope but neither has ever over hunted, hunted for pleasure, for trophy or for fur. Man alone has done this and man alone is the cause of the extinction of so many species, through greed and wreckless behaviour.

Yes, we kill cows and chicken to eat and much has been exposed there to put doubt about the way this is done. However, the great majority of seal that are killed are babies killed for their fur, their skinned bodies tossed back into the sea. Wearing fur today, unless you are an Inuit living in the Great North, is absurd and barbaric. Can you see the blood pouring from these coats?

We are making a spectacle of ourselves by allowing this massacre year after year and by not demonstrating the willingness (or ability) to adopt more civilized pursuits. If multiculturalism, tolerance and pacifism is a reflection of who we are, allowing the mindless, uncivilized hunt of baby seals goes against what we believe is right in our hearts.

It is time for us to stand together against what our government is doing in our name. It is time for us to fund true diversification, away from seal hunting to activities that better represent our civilization and us. Would not our money be better used to fund the development of tourism around the birth of the seals, such a magnificent celebration of life?