I woke up this morning before sunrise, feeling well-rested and ready to start my day. It’s a rare experience.
When the World Health Organization (WHO) declared COVID-19 a pandemic, I was living with my parents while I transitioned between apartments.
In the last few months, Winnipeg Transit went from working with students to revise and consider expanding the U-Pass discount student plan to unceremoniously dumping the program with no explanation other than the inevitability of budget cuts.
“Wet’suwet’en, what do you think about the protesting?” I was asked, the only Indigenous person at a Leap Year fire.
The idea of walking a mile in someone else’s shoes is a common metaphor for how people should empathize with one another. I see this show up in little ways in my everyday conversations. When a friend tells me something they’re struggling with, I find myself responding with a story of a situation I’ve been in that is comparable in order to identify with their struggle.
The Uniter is adding the following disclaimer to the March 5, 2020 article “Callouts are the symptom, not the problem:”
From the historical wrongs committed against Indigenous peoples – including the enforcement of residential schools – to current forms of prejudice, discrimination and racial microaggression, both Canada’s history and present beliefs are plagued by systemic racism.
One year ago, I sat on the streets of Hunan, China, eating barbeque rabbit and drinking Tsingtao beer with friends. I had no idea that I was one hour away from the city of Wuhan: a place that would become the centre of the virus outbreak COVID-19 (coronavirus) in December 2019.
You may have plenty of images in your head already after reading that headline. When you think about bipolar disorder, what first comes to mind? Let me guess: probably someone with two personalities, right?
Food is a powerful storyteller, so rich and multi-sensory that the mere image of it brings potent memories and associations. Many diasporic artists work with food iconography and names, because it is an accessible way to communicate cultural identity, lineage, home and double-meanings.
In the weeks since former NBA star Kobe Bryant’s untimely death in a helicopter crash, it’s been nearly impossible to browse the internet without seeing tributes to the 41-year-old basketball legend.
Pallister’s healthcare cuts are killing us. This isn’t a metaphor. This is an emergency.
Space travel used to be a dream, a fantasy only seen on the screen of a movie theatre.
For the past year, I’ve been working on an academic research project in which I interview individuals from the trans community who belong to generations before me.
Trees are often caught up in human politics and drama on all scales. Every once in a while, these politics centre around a single tree. Such was the case of the Wolseley Elm.
I see them when I scroll through Instagram or press “play” on another YouTube video. I hear them during podcast commercial breaks and then, occasionally, again, echoing in the back of my mind when I skip a workout or reach for another handful of chips.
I requested Chanel Miller’s book from the Millennium Library minutes after I read a news article revealing both her name and the work’s release. Her memoir was quite literally the next chapter following years of media coverage that referred to her only as “Emily Doe” or, in other cases, as “Brock Turner’s victim.”
I always expected that by now I would be thriving in my career as an author. I can almost picture myself signing books and giving profound talks and presentations.
For the past few years, I’ve made near-monthly pilgrimages to Tiny Feast, a stationery store tucked into Winnipeg’s Exchange District.
I tried to update my Instagram bio recently and didn’t know what to write. It’s hardly a new problem. Twitter, Facebook, Tinder, the LinkedIn profile I glanced at once – I’m never really sure what to say, how to describe myself. Even coming up with the two-line description at the end of this article took longer than I’d like to admit.