QUEERMONTON Role Models Engaging leaders- Sept 30 / 09

Figure skater Johnny Weir is a perfect role model because he refuses to be one. In the documentary Pop Star on Ice, screening at this year's Edmonton International Film Festival, we get an intimate on- and off-ice look at Weir as he goes through the ups and downs of success, failure and the surrounding culture's attempt to nail him down as something of a role model.

Weir is a handsome-faced flamboyant bad boy with a healthy sense of humour and a worldview that seems to come as a product of overly nurturing parents—one that leads him to think the world around him will accept him no matter what. It is with this view on life that Weir is so willingly able to be unapologetically himself. This makes him stand out, both for good and bad.

As is much-publicized in the marketing of Pop Star, Jon Heder's character in the Will Ferrell comedy Blades of Glory is based on Weir, and after watching Pop Star you realize that Blades is as funny as it is accurate. Weir really did don a swan costume on ice—a move that was chuckled at by commentators, but which made Weir a legend for fans and skating aficionados.

Weir was under constant scrutiny because of his celebrity, and much of Pop Star uses clips of Weir at press conferences. Early in the film we see Weir being asked about some drug-related, off-colour analogies he made to describe his poor performance, his competitor's better performance and how it all relates to his position as a role model. With sweat and product-slicked hair, still fresh off the ice, he responds, "I don't think there should be one role model—no one is Jesus."

In his refreshing candour and label refusal Weir is able to put into words a more loving framework for admired people, one that does not set the people who look up to them up for disappointment. There is almost always a desire to canonize prominent, highly-functioning and/or successful people like Weir. In doing so we isolate them and create different rules and expectations of them, from which they are bound to fail and disappoint us. By labelling someone exceptional or better we exempt them from being able to indulge in their humanity. We take away their ability to fail, change or not know better. As any cautionary tale about celebrity or power will tell you, it's lonely at the top.

For me, the best example of this remains the case of Monica Lewinsky and Bill Clinton. At the heart of the story is a man and a women engaging in sexual relations, but this simple story as old as time is confused by the fact that the man was not just a man but the president of the United States, and therefore held to a higher standard. While I would love to argue that he was just reaching out for some warm flesh in a world that I assume is cold and lonely, the truth is that he found himself, through his own hard work and that of others, to be in a position where he had to be different, better. He was not supposed to indulge in his earthly desires, or, more accurately, he was not supposed to get caught. That is part of the isolation and the different set of rules that comes with respected difference. We all make space for indiscretions by our leaders, but we hope that they will be smart enough to choose their indiscretions carefully, not put younger people with less power in harm's way, not cover up what they have done and, when caught, to admit, repent and disappear for a while.

I see in Weir a better way of dealing with being perceived as exceptional: fight the rap and enjoy being human. During Pop Star we see Weir living up to his statement that no one is Jesus by not being Jesus himself. While we never see him being totally un-Christlike we do see him giving up on himself, treating some people as dispensable and indulging in his own celebrity, and it's fine because he never pretends to be anything other than he is. This makes it possible for people to forgive, look past or even celebrate the ways in which Weir makes his way through the world.

Too many awesome people get derailed by thinking they have to be beyond reproach, or be better than they are. Too many people who have done great work for the community find themselves isolated and trapped by work. This leaves our leaders and our role models lonely and prime for mental health issues and burnout.

Leave well enough alone, the saying goes, but what we should be doing with people who excel is engage with them. The best thing we can do for people we really admire, the community and ourselves is to treat them as we would treat anyone else. Reach out to them, be there as a support for them and let them know that we only expect from them what we would expect from anyone else.