You can’t ask me that: Should you ever ask people about their beliefs?
What do you believe in? We’re not talking fairies, vampires and UFOs here. We’re talking religion. We’re talking politics. We’re talking all those things you should never bring up at the dinner table for fear of causing terrible offence.
I didn’t always have a clear idea what I “believed in” but I knew what seemed real to me. Twenty-three years ago, I travelled to Toronto to stay with my friend Jools. She took me on a tour of her adopted city and at one point we came across a booth, sponsored by a local TV company, where members of the public could talk about whatever they liked. Jools suggested we step inside. “But what would I talk about?” I asked her. “I’m a middle-class white woman with no issues.”
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