The other day, I saw my first government-sponsored commercial addressing stigma around opiate addiction.
Wellness seems to pour from every crevasse of the marketing world currently, from chain health food stores, crystal companies, gyms and weight-loss programs to yoga studios, greeting cards and mental health campaigns.
Strange; odd; peculiar; eccentric. These are the 16th century connotations of the word “queer.”
In Winnipeg, we wear our winters as a badge of honour.
Swimming is a popular, benefit-rich activity, but there are social and structural barriers which can make swimming in the city an impossibility for many.
Many of us have heard stories, whether from the news, close friends, relatives or coworkers, about how sexual harassment and assault have impacted their lives. Some of us might have stories of our own. For those who do not, it can be difficult to know how to link arms with survivors and continue advocating against sexual harassment and assault together.
I’m thinking about this vision I had for my life as a kid. I saw myself living in a hundred-year-old bungalow, with creaky floors and incense burning and classical music on the radio. There were cats, and maybe someone who loved me living their life in tandem with mine.
The Christmas I was in kindergarten, my aunts gifted me a really cute denim jacket – the kind I would be stoked to wear today. I remember looking at my five-year-old self in the mirror as I tried it on, and feeling, for the first time, deeply ashamed of my body. I looked … big, which in my mind, already equated to bad. This was the first time I decided I was ugly. (It wasn’t the jacket’s fault.)
We live in an age where our voices can be heard by the masses with just a few clicks of a button.
Some weeks ago, in a moment of spontaneity sponsored by happenstance and financial permission, I treated myself to the recently-released Suspiria remake.
Walkability is a broad concept, with an ambiguous working definition along the lines of “how friendly a place is to walking."
Transgender Day of Remembrance (TDOR), observed on Nov. 20 each year at the University of Winnipeg and in hundreds of cities around the world, is an event whose purpose defies a universal definition.
A few kilometres southeast of Gretna, Man. sits a spacious lodge on a dirt road, steps away from the Canada-US border.
This Remembrance Day saw more than a dozen services and ceremonies throughout the city. At sunset, church bells throughout Winnipeg – and across Canada – rang out to mark the 100 years that have passed since the armistice that ended the First World War.
When the poet Eileen Myles came to town to launch their book Evolution, a dinner was organized in their honour featuring local queer poets and writers at all stages of their careers.
At first glance, harm reduction might seem to be a combination of two simple words – ones that appear to be easily understood and put into action. How hard can reducing harm be?
Working in media as a sober person during the time of cannabis legalization has been an incredibly strange experience.
Simple turns of phrase or even the order in which a reporter introduces sources can hint at their inherent biases.
This year’s ballot question of opening Portage and Main to pedestrians has been championed as the chief accessibility issue for Winnipeg citizens across the city.
The first time I stepped in a newsroom, I shadowed a sports reporter who left me with one key piece of advice: don’t clap. If I wanted to be a journalist, I shouldn’t cheer, celebrate or reveal my biases while in the field.