“Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?”
To be clear, the paper itself isn’t melting.
While The Uniter hits newsstands every week, there’s quite a bit that goes on behind the scenes to make each issue.
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.
This issue straddles the end of February and beginning of March, a transition from deep winter to end-winter.
A lot of talk around sex positivity foregrounds sexuality as inherently a good thing – something to not be ashamed of and even as a way to enact self-love and community-building.
It’s been a busy time for students in the cold, cold days of winter.
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.
My name is Frances Koncan, and I hate musical theatre.
Drumroll, please … our annual New Music Issue is finally here!
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.
Food is a multi-sensory experience that can transport us elsewhere.
Humans and animals have been forming unbreakable bonds for centuries.
This Sunday, Feb. 3, we’re grateful to host another amazing cultural producer as part of the Uniter Speaker Series. Darla Contois will join us at the West End Cultural Centre for an afternoon conversation.
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.)
When I set out to write a piece about safe spaces, I quickly realized something: I had no idea what a safe space really meant.
As this issue hits the stands, we’ll be in the tail end of January, a dark, cold month in Winnipeg.