When my house burned down at age 13, I assumed that all material evidence of my childhood was lost forever.
The desire to go back and redo some, if not all, of one’s life is a feeling that seems to emerge often when reminiscing about the past.
This summer, I had the great opportunity to do research with the Museum Queeries project – a research collective that looks at queer representation in museums. Through the course of the summer, my research interests quickly veered toward representations of transgender identities and gender non-conformity within archives.
There is one space that we cannot escape, that is always with us, constantly mediated by our perceptions of self and how others perceive us. This space is our own body.
I’m sitting in a small fluorescent-lit room about to have a conversation I’ve been rehearsing in my head for years now
Refugee claims are a pressing political subject these days. With millions of people at risk of being displaced by rising sea levels within the next century, this is an issue that won’t go away anytime soon.
It’s the end of November, and if you are as busy as I am, this time of year will be characterized by long hours spent studying in tucked-away corners of the library or days spent staring blankly into the dull glow of a computer screen.
Earlier in October, the Parker Wetlands were bulldozed, and a lawsuit was filed against 49 of the land defenders who had peacefully occupied this historic Métis land and ecological zone.
As I walk the length of Centennial Hall, a burning sensation is forming in my bladder. A need to pee! I suppress this bodily function too often, but here I am saved! A gender-neutral washroom is midway down this hall, and, as I lock the stall door, I am thankful that this time I won’t be forced to choose between a binary that I’ve never been able to fit into.
July 26 to 30 // Moviegoing: An exciting summer activity