Andy Lee is a mother, former federal candidate, and an independent journalist who had gained a rather large Twitter following over the last year for her excellent reporting connecting the Trudeau Foundation to various Chinese Communist Party actors and organizations. Her work even triggered an investigation in the United States Senate.
Pre-pandemic – like many others I suspect – I lived a quiet, comfortable, relatively apolitical existence. My days were filled with activities and certainty – a life of carefully established routines ingrained into my being over the years. I wasn’t an activist. I wasn’t a researcher. I wasn’t anything of any consequence, really. Of course, in 2020, that all changed.
My mother passed away during the lockdowns. A brief remote goodbye was granted to me over a video call to a body already devoid of life, followed by a quick cremation in absence of a proper funeral. That was my goodbye. Rules were rules, not to be broken.
I realized then how wrong we all were, but I had yet to realize just how wrong we could be.
The more that I reflected on the panicked insanity building to a frenzy around us, the more I felt it. The wool was being pulled over our eyes. I had a growing awareness that something awful was happening. Nonsensical mandates, regulations, restrictions. Firings, school closures, taped-off playgrounds, snitch lines to tell on your neighbours. Headlines threatening arrest if you failed to comply. A fear-mongering media delivering a never-ending news stream of anxiety-ridden stories, browbeating us into reclusive submission for “the greater good”.
Days became weeks which became months which became years. Precious little changed for us under lockdowns circumstantially – we were in a never-ending loop it seemed, frozen in time. It was always the next wave, the next variant, the next something. I became a mere shell of my former self. We never seemed to quite reach the carrot dangled just in front of our noses by our government. We never had our freedom restored, not fully. No matter what we did, the promised return to the land of normalcy remained a pie-in-the-sky dream, close enough to almost taste, but just out of grasp. I don’t think they ever intended to allow us to regain it, really. We were fearful, meek, complacent, and utterly reliant on government handouts for our very existence. A winning recipe for a government with a penchant for control and overreach that holds extreme disdain for any sort of oversight.
“Things aren’t so bad,” our government assured us. “Trust us,” they said – “they are much worse in other places around the world. We are relatively free and unrestricted here in Canada. Be grateful for what you’ve got.”
The habitual claiming of consolation prizes has left us sadly apathetic towards higher achievements. There is no “relatively” free in freedom. We had ought to be the freest nation on the planet. Liberty is an absolute, not something to be placed on a sliding scale dished out in designated dabs by our government as we jump through the appropriate hoops, and other countries have picked up on this democratic backslide and have sounded the alarm as our civil rights circle the drain.
The feeling of wrongness, the knowledge deep inside of me that something was desperately amiss in our country grew and festered until I could handle bystander status no longer. I wouldn’t be here, writing to you right now, had our government relinquished their iron-fisted control over our population and just allowed us to be. In a way – they made me.
It begs the question – what else have they made?
They made Tamara Lich.
We didn’t speak for very long, but we didn’t have to. It was the early days of the convoy back then. She, like me, knew something was going wrong. It was a spark. Something I wanted to help nurture and kindle into a flame that would perhaps light a fire under the apathetic inhabitants of our country. Something that could awake the nation from its slumber. I don’t think either of us fully comprehended what would transpire next, or that she would go on to lead one of the most powerful, successful protests ever seen against discriminatory government measures, one that captured the hearts and minds of a shell-shocked people all over the world. For the first time in a long time, a sense of rightness was restored within me. I had hope.
Now, she’s back in jail, mere days before the celebration of our national holiday, but sent a message from her cell out to all ahead of the weekend – a gentle plea to remain peaceful. Indeed – it was the inherent innocence and peacefulness of her protest that made it such a wild success, and we will do everything in our power to honour that and keep them so.
They also made James Topp.
As law enforcement cracked down on demonstrators in the streets of our capital, smashing glass and dragging determined Canadians from car windows to be cuffed and tried for fighting for what they believed in, quietly, without much ado at all, a man named James Topp departed from Vancouver in the dead of a harsh Canadian winter.
A war veteran who served twenty-eight years in the Canadian Armed Forces, dishonourably discharged for speaking out against mandates whilst in uniform, the soldier marched across our vast country with almost no attention given to this incredible feat by our media at all.
Like Tamara and I – he knew something was wrong.
The more I learned about James and his team, the more I came to admire them. The spark within me that was extinguished was rekindled. Composed and calm, he is a steady, likeable character, gathering a following as his march across the country proceeds. Arguably as successful as the truckers were, he hosted a series of meetings in Ottawa recently attended by Members of Parliament, in the hopes of opening a respectful line of dialogue, one where the fringe group of unacceptables – a group actually encompassing millions of Canadians – finally had a seat at the table and a say.
As he closes in on Ottawa, the old crowds are coming back I see. People are once again lining the streets, waving their Canadian flags with pride. I’ll be out meeting him on the road, to document the last legs of his incredible journey, and to see if once again, we can nurture that spark, that feeling that we all sorely miss – hope for a return to normal – and ignite a flame once again.
They know we are coming – we told them as much, and the lengths the City has gone to prevent any of that old fire from returning has been nothing short of extraordinary. New troops and recruits, fences and concrete blockades, along with signs, notices, warnings and releases stating there will be “zero-tolerance” – the bombardment has been nonstop. They respond to our messages put out on social media almost immediately, leaving no doubt in my mind that the surveillance state is well and alive and already here. The nervousness of twitchy officials is palpable, and the harder they frantically push back in aim of subduing demonstrations, the smaller and more pathetically desperate they appear.
What are they afraid of, exactly?
The former claims ring hollow of economic damage caused by the convoy protest, as there were to be open borders, no blockades, and no impediment of traffic, businesses, or people over the Canada Day weekend – not at our hands, in any event. It seems indeed that they are terrified of the very concept of liberty itself. This isn’t about economic damage. I doubt it ever was.
It’s about quelling dissent.
They say hard times create strong men, and weak men create hard times.
As Justin Trudeau’s popularity plummets and he loses the confidence of the country to govern, and his policies create rough times for good people while the cost of living skyrockets to levels not seen since his father was in office, I would unarguably agree that weak men do create hard times.
And, if the government continues to hold fast to the god-like powers bestowed upon them by the pandemic, and continues to descend deeper into the provocative pit of authoritarianism, those hard times will inevitably create more of us.
Living in the fringe….a message from an Uncancellable humanitarian: Written by Newfoundland Freedom Fighter. Dana Metcalfe
Let me start by saying I write this for my lovers my haters and those that have no understanding of who I am, and what I fight for with the amazing people that walk the path beside me. This is a message from the hearts of millions around the world that shout into the echo chambers of misinformation, and government propaganda in the most divisive time of our existence.
The path we walk many could not venture, most people are struggling to survive not only through the biggest fear campaign but the biggest attack on how we live, our health, our systems, and our minds. Most people are busy surviving themselves struggling to find the strength to get up and face the day leaving little energy for self-care and struggling for normal functionality. Just because people cannot speak, cannot hear, and cannot see does not mean they are not with us. It just means they are depending on us even more.
Over the last two years, we have been made out to be villains and rebels defined as being those people or the fringe minority. We are far from any of those things we are humanitarians, doctors, police, scientist, military and people that see without the influence of paid media spending time critically researching the breakdown of our systems of health, democracy, agriculture, international relations and maybe one of the most unsettling is the family unit. If you cannot see these many honorable people trying to show you through love compassion, kindness, and hope standing up against the propaganda machine that has programmed us for our entire lives. We are afraid to and holding our breath for a better world. Turning fear into energy stepping into the unknown sacrificing everything isn’t an easy decision. Nor is it popular when the message we share paralyzes us with disbelief of reality. Even though most people can feel and see there is something wrong.
Ask yourself this question who is making money and who has sold themselves. Who has sacrificed and struggled beside you and who is thriving?
Being the ones who have chosen to fight has come with many challenges, many tears, many broken relationships,s and many sleepless nights. Trying to find a way to break a system we’ve been in that most people don’t even see. It’s an enemy that we cannot face and at times feel unreachable. We remind ourselves daily that all we have to do is our small part and all of these small parts have more power than any other force on earth. We are far stronger than we believe and healing our lives may not require a pill or poke but rather a change in perspective, an opening of eyes, joints of hands, and a strong message of simply saying NO! No more!
We are not racist, we are not anti-gay, and we are not white supremacists! Those words are spread to prevent you from seeing the real in the people that stand against them! We don’t have millions of dollars or paid programming, we don’t have doctors on payroll, or any means of physical defense. Our weapons are the truth and voices! We do this risking everything in hope that we have a chance for a better future this is a gamble that we are making for you and your families.
Standing up is the only option for some of us and we apologize for the discomfort it causes and how uncomfortable our truth is. In time as this insanity progresses don’t forget we are here humbly waiting to support you and your families. Excited about each new hug and new friend! There are no I told you so here just open arms waiting for the world to wake up so we can set the wheels in motion for not only healing the world but the beautiful people who chose to be here. Even if it takes us one hug at a time! We are committed and if this is the hill we must climb then we will do it with courage, faith, love, kindness, hope, and inspiration!
We are the light even if many chose to sit on the beach under a tree wearing glasses until the sun goes down!
Truth Teller 