Politics and Sausages (and Dog Parks)

There’s an adage that politics and sausages are two things one wouldn’t want to see being made. That’s because they’re messy and often include some unappealing bits, though the end result is somewhat smooth and desirable.

As someone who embraces her inner political animal, and actively engages in politics, I don’t disagree with the adage. Having spent the past few weeks attending the UNCSW, and having done much reading and advocacy ahead of time, I can share that this CSW was messier than most in process and purpose (as we are facing greater pushback against equal rights). The road to Agreed Conclusions was bumpier than normal, with shifting political practices and alliances; and a decrease in civil discourse and decorum (even in the Chamber!). I have opinions.

A few days of reflection has me considering a different adage than sausages… I think this year, politics at the UNCSW (and elsewhere) is more like a dog park in March.
(Comet gladly came with me for some ‘research’ into this analogy)

The dog park is a great space – lots of room for roaming around, within well-established (and fully fenced) parameters. There are some high spots and low spots, some trees, and some well-worn paths. The opportunity to connect and interact with others is abundant, depending on who is there at any given time. Normally, all goes well, but sometimes skirmishes can occur between pups – these can be resolved by some distance (either going to a different part of the park, or someone going home), and at times some outside intervention (from the respective humans)
The analogy doesn’t need much explanation here.

Presently, the dog park landscape is both the same and different: the March Melt is upon us. This means things are a tad messier than normal. The fencing is less secure in the weakened soil, creating a potential disruption in the security of the parameter. In the low-lying spots, large puddles have formed, which leaves uncertainty about what exactly is in there (including sharp edges on ice)… it also makes for a splashy mess when someone goes in/through. The pathways are far from smooth, as in sections there is really oozy and smelly mud (the kind that tries to suck you in, and even after you’re through it lingers); and in other sections there are some unexpected slippery parts where black ice remains a hazard. Staying on the areas where the snow build-up remains is no longer the solid place it was, as the foundation has started to destabilise, and it’s common the fall through. And, the thawing snow often reveals quite an abundance of ‘surprises’ that had been deposited (and were either unseen or ignored – or intentionally hidden) are no longer covered by the snow. (In politics as at the dog park, poop happens.)
Sadly, I don’t think this extended analogy needs much explanation either.

What this highlights for me is the potential to clean up. For those doing the work of justice, it can look intimidating and ugly and uninspiring. Yet we are committed to the work, the work that we have been called to: be it at home or in larger political spaces. It’s messy, and takes time and effort, but it is holy work. And as with the dog park, we know the safe space and beauty that we can return to – where all who come can benefit and flourish.
In the meantime, we still go to the park – we just bring towels for some immediate cleanup.

Collared

In my last CSW blog, I mentioned the perception of context, and suggested I’d write a separate blog about that.
And here it is!

There are many ways that people demonstrate their position on issues, or where they’re from; t-shirts, flags, pins, uniforms, colours (for example, Thursdays In Black is a global campaign where we wear black in solidarity, advocating for a world without rape and any form of Gender Based Violence). Formerly we would load up our UN Grounds passes with badges and insignia of organisations and causes we support, but as those are no longer permitted, we have found other ways to communicate our stance.

During CSW, I wear my collar. A lot. Many clergy do (if we come from a collar-wearing tradition); when we are there representing our denomination or tradition, it’s a good and simple way to witness even if we don’t say a word. The context of women in a collar at these events speaks volumes.

In meetings with other advocates and civil society organisations, it situates us as to what brought us to the Commission. On Mission visits, the collar is a great conversation starter (at the Canadian Mission reception, for example, more than one person looked at me and asked – “Anglican?”).

In sessions, it serves to quickly identify who we are and who we represent. In the current political climate, it’s especially important to identify as faithful feminists (not as part of the growing anti-rights movement). Often in sessions we endeavour to ask panelists how they engage with Faith-Based Organisations to work against the anti-gender and anti-rights movement.

Because there are many agencies and organisations wishing to partner with people of faith; we are constantly finding new ways to align values and priorities.
(An aside, this is where ecumenical connections become so helpful, as we share vast knowledge and experience through amazing people who have collectively been in this forum for decades, and whose ministry spans the globe in ways that far exceed any one denominational capability)

After one session where we did not get the chance to ask our question in plenary, one of the speakers approached us, commenting on the positive influence of having female clergy in the session. It had become apparent that we were not there to disrupt the session, but to learn from it and support the good work that was being shared. (There were a distressing amount of individuals this year who were there to protest equal rights, especially around sexual and reproductive health.) We had a most intriguing conversation with these staff, who have requested ongoing conversation and collaboration; an opportunity that may not have otherwise come up.

Being easily identified as clergy also opened up a number of conversations where people asked for a blessing, or for prayer, or to speak with us about things that were weighing on their hearts. CSW is normally a time of heavy topics, and this year’s discussions seemed heavier than normal (given the emphasis from some nation states to push back women’s rights); many strangers simply stopped us from time to time for a brief moment of holy connection with us and God.

Perception matters: in a context and climate where the some are claiming their religiosity as an excuse for hatred, oppression, and division, we chose to ensure it was a symbol of acceptance, advocacy, and solidarity. Our faith calls us to stand for peace and justice, and what a blessing to carry and share that reminder in a small collar.

Can you hear me?

In the conference and meeting rooms at UNHQ, seats at the table have microphones; ideally when a meeting is taking place the speaker turns on their microphone and is thus more easily heard by others (while simultaneously keeping others quieter, as their mics are not turned on). This also provides the option for chairs to maintain time limits of speakers.

Throughout the rooms, all other seats are equipped with ear pieces. They’re not classy, nor are they particularly comfortable. But they are ubiquitous; and highly functional! When sessions include interpretation (real-time conversion of the speech), attendees can listen to the presentation in the language of their choosing (as it is available – not every session provides interpretation into all 6 UN languages)

These small pieces seem simple, but highlight some of the realities of attending global sessions. What is said and what is heard is incredibly important; and ensuring consistency between those two aspects is critical to comprehension.

In my experiences this CSW, some of the speakers have been rather quiet or there is background noise, and I have used the ear pieces to hear the English – without interpretation. My middle-aged ears appreciate the option of increasing the volume during sessions.

I am also challenged to listen carefully to the speakers; even in my native language, if I am taking notes or distracted by something else, I recognise that my listening skills may not be as honed as they might be; my notebook has abundant half-quotes as I was not sufficiently swift to transcribe or make my written commentary before my attention is struck elsewhere.

The interpretation is itself amazing; in larger sessions the ability to click a button and receive the same speech in multiple languages is impressive. It allows delegates and speakers to communicate clearly in their most fluent UN language, while ensuring that the essence of their message is communicated in a timely manner for the deliberation. (Formal statements are translated – the conversion of the written word – often before they are delivered).

Yet sometimes, things seem “lost in translation” – the interpreters are human, and as good as they are, sometimes words are minimised or nuance is lost. Speakers aim to avoid idioms, but they inevitably creep in. Regional dialects, accents, and speedy speakers can also add to the challenge of comprehension. At times I rely on the interpretation as my linguistic skills are inadequate to the level of discourse. (For example, I can follow some Spanish dialects, others are entirely beyond my scope!)

Then comes the discernment. The movement beyond just audibly and logically receiving the words, and understanding and responding to the message. Some of the debates and discussions have come from contexts that are very different from my understanding; the language spoken by one presenter was not the problem in my comprehension, as he described a society without homelessness (though it is widely known to have nearly half a million displaced persons); another person’s speech of the equal access to justice fell flat until I realised that they did not count those stranded in a refugee camp within their borders as citizens worthy of that access.

And beyond the discernment comes the perception of context… but that’s a blog for another day.

These processes are merely a glimpse into the context and nuance of the discussions that we are able to witness and participate in. And they are applicable to our witness and participation in CSW and other such forum, and beyond them. As part of the Anglican delegation, in this context, we are careful to always be mindful – after all, the Anglican Communion is comprised of 85 million people in 165 countries.

But even in our daily interactions, as people of faith, we can all do our best to be intentional about our conversations. We can consider if we are properly hearing and actively listening; if we need interpretation or if things have been lost in translation; and of course if we are framing the conversation in the same way as those who are on other sides of the story – the discernment of facts is so crucial in our lives, our churches, our world.

Our prayers are also active communication, and we can challenge ourselves to put this practice under the same scrutiny. Are we hearing God’s voice, and are we listening? Are we seeking to understand, and discern a faithful response? How is God inviting us to act for justice?

Choose Your Own Adventure

The Rev Lizzi Green and I attend a Side Event in the ECOSOC chamber

Being at the UN CSW is like an extended insertion into a ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ narrative. With over 700 events to consider, each day is a careful discernment of how to spend our time and energy. We consider the topics, speakers, hosts, and themes of Side Events (events on UN grounds, usually panels by nation states) and Parallel Events (in surrounding buildings, led by non-governmental organisations and civil society). We contemplate what we hope to learn, or with whom we intend to network, ally, and advocate, along with concerns of access and space.

In all our time here at the UN, we connect with one another to share our experiences, our learnings, and the lessons we will take home to implement real change for increased justice in our homes, churches, and communities.

CSW changes us, and we get to participate in the selection of the trajectory of that change.

As we heard during the opening session on Monday, equality is an active choice… and that the systems and structures rolling back and eroding women’s rights and gender equality is also an active choice. We know why we need equal rights; we are being challenged to consider why we are not taking action.

 It’s a choice. 

I am reflecting on choices; the choices we make as individuals, families, churches, communities… the things we choose to do and say, and the things about which we choose to stay silent or inactive.

It’s a choice. 

So what is our choice, as the church?

We have the option to make gender equality a fully integrated reality in our shared institutions. We can choose to shape change in our church in ways that uphold the dignity of every human being. We can choose to make gender justice not simply a box to be checked off, but a value to be actively implemented.

We can do this through our prayers, our re-understanding of scripture from a feminist perspective, in how we involve the members in our liturgy, and how we reach beyond our walls. 

The world sees us, and sees how we treat all people. Will we be known to ignore or diminish half of our society, or will we choose to fully engage and cherish the fullness of humanity that God has blessed the world with.

It’s a choice. 

Let us choose for justice. 

International Women’s Day 2026… some foggy reflections

There’s any number reflections and articles being shared today, International Women’s Day. 

I awoke this morning in central New York, here again to attend and advocate at the UN Commission on the Status of Women. Looking out my 17th floor window, I saw the Empire State Building… at least, most of it. 

There’s a low cloud cover this morning, which impairs visibility of the some of the taller buildings. So we know they are there, and can see the basic structure amongst the skyline, but they seem to fade in and out as the mist floats by. 

The potential for a full view is there… yet it’s denied. By something amorphous, ambiguous, slightly insubstantial… yet still strong enough to be a barrier.

This is analogous to the fight for gender equality. The rights for women and girls  exist; yet for many. women and girls, they are just not accessible. At times, they appear to be within reach, until something floats in between. At other times, they exist in theory but the practical application is absent or inadequate. God help us, but in recent years we are seeing equality decline, as rights are diminished or removed altogether. There is no country that has achieved gender equality, and at the current rate of progress, it will take hundreds of years to get there. 

The church is, like so many institutions, reflective of society. One need not look far or deep to find expressions of misogyny, bullying, sexism, and violence. 

Yet we know we can do better. And this is why the church speaks out against unjust systems and structures. We are called to shine the light, a light so strong that it would burn off the mist that shrouds equality and justice from over half the world’s population. 

So we advocate, we pray, we speak up. We do our best to share the news of what the church CAN do: to uphold the dignity of every human being. Everywhere, every time, every occasion where inequality looms - we speak up to normalise the push to equality.

So here I am. In New York. At another CSW. With other Anglican delegates, with ecumenical and interfaith partners, with faith based organisations, with civil society organisations, with non governmental agencies and with government representatives… all upheld by the prayers of countless people in countless places.  

Because until all can have access to justice, Women’s Day remains a call to faithful action. 

Stay In Your Lane

One of the phrases of recent years, that invites folks to focus on their area, is “stay in your lane”. It has the connotation of driving along a road, yet without that context. It instead is meant to admonish those who extend outside of their normal boundaries – even when (especially when!) they know better.

Often, it comes when someone lacks the skill or ability to engage where they are trying to; or when they are ignoring the parameters that have been set for them. What is generally not lacking in these circumstances, however, is an overdeveloped confidence.

I was thinking about the phrase last week when I headed out snowshoeing; I had decided to go alongside the track that the nordic ski club had set at a local golf course. I say “alongside” intentionally – following the request of the ski club (and common sense), I kept off the ski tracks, as I know that snowshoes can cause harm to the groomed trails – and therefore create unnecessary problems for the skiers.

So I trekked out; beside the ski trails, making tracks of my own. Several skiers passed me, there were plenty of friendly ‘hello’s and smiles. Everyone stayed in their lane; everyone had a good day out.

Staying in our lane in other areas of life can also be beneficial; a healthy humility and self-awareness can keep us exercising our ministry in ways that are helpful, healthy, and fruitful to what we have been called to. When we veer into others’ lanes, like traipsing over a groomed ski trail, we can cause damage to the ministry of others; overstepping into someone else’s lane (even with the best of intentions) denies them their ministry.

Our lanes are there; and we all have them. God is always calling us onward, giving us opportunities to go and grow and serve. God is also always reminding us that we are accompanied on our journeys by the others in our lives – who are following their own lanes.

May God grant us discernment and wisdom to stay in our lanes!

A LOTtle

 

Last week, we had a foggy day. Ice fog usually means hoarfrost, where everything gets coated with a sheen of moisture, resulting in gorgeous sparkling when the sun shines.

It doesn’t take much; a slightly higher than average humidity leads to trees covered in diamond-like brilliance. With fog in winter, a little humidity means a lot of beauty.

Likewise, we can reflect on how in our lives, some little thing can become significant to us.

A small gesture of kindness can brighten a dull day; a small act of compassion can encourage in the midst of struggle. A friend making time to listen when we need a shoulder to lean on; a small note of thanks acknowledging our efforts – it all adds up.

On this Freedom Sunday, when we commit to fighting against the scourge of Human Trafficking, a little education can help us to recognise when evil is in our midst; a little courage can help liberate someone who is trapped.

Whatever our context, every small action has the potential to make the world a better place.

Our faith inspires us to love God and love each other; and there is no loving action that is too small to matter. Each small act of love may be an answer to someone else’s prayer; and every connection opens a door to a potential relationship.

As we enter another week, let’s celebrate every little thing that is done in love: it means a lot.

“Rabbi Tarfon would say:
You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.
Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief.
Do justly, now.
Love mercy, now.
Walk humbly, now."
(Quoted in Wisdom of the Jewish Sages by Rabbi Rami Shapiro)