Canada Pride

Inukshukolympic  I'll admit it: I yelped when Crosby dumped the Golden Goal in the Men's Hockey Final against the US… 2-2 in overtime making it 3-2. Robson Street in Vancouver was packed, Yonge Street in Toronto was shut down to allow for overwhelming hordes of pedestrians. It was a moment of pride to end the 2010 Olympics: we owned OUR sport, we owned GOLD, we found a collective patriotism that often lies dormant in this grand landscape of ours.

But the deeper thought in me feels alone. Perhaps it truly is. Am I the only one so sad in the midst of all this triumph? Am I the only one who is devastated at what we've done? We showed the world Canada's best… but like all other countries and people, we hid our worst.

To all the men, women and children forced to work to produce all of our patriotic Olympic gear with no pay or honour, I'm sorry.

To all the men, women and children shipped into Vancouver for sexual exploitation so the world could pay for their good time, I'm sorry.

To all the men, women and children who were booted off the street, swept under the carpet, had homes destroyed (yes, a cardboard shack is a home), were spit on, demeaned, ignored, yelled at, urinated on, used, abused and left behind… I'm sorry.

To our athletes who worked so hard to be the best they could be, and perhaps did not know the darker side of the Olympics… of Canada… many who would, I'm sure, be the first to put a stop to the anguish we have caused… I'm sorry.

One apology from on Canadian is hardly worthy anything. But you need to know you're seen… you are known… you are loved… you're people and worth fighting for… more than any sporting event.

While the whole world celebrates its athletes, I celebrate the ones who remain unnamed:

The ones calling the streets home who refuse do go down without a name…

…to the ones forced to sleep with men and women against their wills and refuse to die…

…to the ones who work at under-funded organizations and safehouses who stay up all night making sure clients have a safe place to sleep…

…to the amazing chefs who take peoples' cast-off food and turn it into incredible hot stews for hungry bellies…

…to all the men, women and children who volunteer hours and lifetimes holding the weeping, the sick, the dying, the stinking, the criminal, the cast-off…

… to all of you, I lift my head to heaven and thank God I live in a country of unnamed heroes.

Here's to you, the hands and feet of Jesus Christ.



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