Statues of the men who brought us the national shame that was the residential school system are being defaced, toppled, and removed.
An emotional catharsis generations in the making, symbolism that echoes in our hearts, but we need more than symbols. More than apologies.
It comes as no great surprise that back in the 1870s, when the residential school system was instituted, it was depressingly common to think that anyone who didn’t look, speak, or pray like you didn’t deserve to be treated as human.
The question that haunts me though, the truth that makes me cringe, is how did we allow this persecution of children, this destruction of family and culture to continue for so long?
With the help of some friends, the Philadelphia-based dancer and performance artist, built a seven-foot-tall Barbie box, selected the accessories to go inside it, and turned himself into the life-sized doll.
The latest in a variety of projects designed to keep the artist active during the endless restrictions and lockdowns of Covid-19, Super Gay Barbie pokes fun at gender norms with humour and style.
Like many other couples during this past summer, Keith and Chris had to make a few changes to their wedding plans. First up, whittling down the guest list. At the time, Covid restrictions in British Columbia limited outdoor gatherings to 50 people or less.
The outdoor part was easy, the men having always planned on having their service in Keith’s parents’ backyard.
Scaling down the guest list from a cozy 105 to a painful 45? Not so easy.
Because the invitations had already gone out, Keith and Chris had to make a lot of tough phone calls. Tell people they cared about that they couldn’t come to their wedding.
When Covid concerns had their catering service bowing out, a determined Keith and Chris rolled up their sleeves and prepared all the food for the wedding party.
Amid all the Covid-dictated changes, some things remained the same. The couple didn’t have to go looking for another ringbearer…
Their Bernese Mountain Dog, Gus had no problem walking down the aisle with them.
Who’s to say? Don’t we all see God in our own way, or through the filter of our parents’ voices? What God—if he/she exists—thinks, is and always has been, a mystery.
We though, with all our human failings, are often wrong.
Even those of us who try to get it right. Even those of us who believe they hold God’s playbook in their hands, who think they know God’s mind.
Redeemer University, a private Christian university in Hamilton, Ontario, is an institution that believes it has the inside track on interpreting God’s intentions. Believes it with a conviction that promises disciplinary action against any student engaging in sexual activity outside a heterosexual marriage.
Same-sex marriage has been legal in Canada since 2005.
Susan Ursel, a Toronto lawyer who represented the Canadian Bar Association against Trinity Western University on a similar issue, says Redeemer is discriminating against not only LGBTQ students, but any student who chooses to remain single.
“In a decent, multicultural, diverse society are there limits to what religion can do?” That, says Ursel, is the question before our courts today.
Is God wrong? Maybe not, but religions and religious institutions are another matter.
The museum’s mandate claims it is “centred around the idea that respect and understanding of human rights can serve as a positive force for change in the world.”
Understanding implies knowledge, and for two years from 2015 to 2017, the museum adopted a don’t ask, don’t tell policy when conducting certain tours. At the behest of some schools, the museum staff was told to excise specific exhibits from their guided tours.
I’d give you two guesses as to what those exhibits were, but you only need one—LGBTQ content.
Staff members were asked to steer the students away from any displays that mentioned diverse sexual orientation or gender identity. They were told to stand in front of a same-sex marriage exhibit blocking it from the students’ view.
That this conspiracy of silence was even considered, much less condoned for over two years at a museum purporting to encourage dialogue about human rights—all human rights—is disheartening. One more example of how far we still have to go as human beings.
Note: The CEO has resigned and the museum has issued an apology. They no longer adapt any of their education programs at the request of schools.
I’m cheating on Netflix with Amazon Prime and Crave.
Netflix holds my heart, true, but…to quote Oscar Wilde, a man who knew what he was talking about, “I can resist anything except temptation.”
I’m a weak person, lured away from my true love by Tim Roth in Tin Star winking at me from Amazon Prime. Tempted by Nathan Lane in City of Angels calling out to me from Crave. Seduced by Suranne Jones in Gentleman Jack smirking at me on Crave.
In my defence, I didn’t intend to cheat. I was just looking, you know, the way you do…
I stopped scrolling.
—For reasons I’m sure I don’t want to look at too closely, top hats get my attention, tuxedos too. Doesn’t matter which sex is wearing them, remember Julie Andrews in Victor/Victoria?—
Top hat. I hit select.
Funny thing about guilt, the more you cheat, the less it bothers you. Fortunate, that, because I’ll be cheating until the very last episode of Gentleman Jack.
Set in 1832, Halifax, West Yorkshire, Gentleman Jack is a period piece with a twist. That twist is Ann Lister. From the first scene, from the minute she drops the reins, jumps down from a public coach she’s not supposed to be driving, and strides onto the screen, you’re hooked.
Ann’s who we all want to be, if we were only stronger, smarter, braver.
June is right around the corner and with Covid-19 still a menacing presence, Pride will look very different this year. Goodbye to a million people crowding the sidewalks of Toronto and hello to celebrating in place, just you, your tablet, and Zoom.
Digital doesn’t sound appealing?
Looking for a more personal touch?
Buddies in Bad Times, Toronto’s queer theatre, suggests going old school this year.
Remember letters, envelopes, stamps? Actual writing, you know, with a pen? Buddies has set up a program, Pride Pen Pals, where queer folks can connect with each other through snail mail, share their experiences around Pride.
I think Buddies has something here, not that I don’t appreciate the digital world, but there is something about opening an envelope, pulling out sheets of paper that are handwritten…
Now that I think about it, I can’t remember the last time I received a real letter, opened an envelope that didn’t hide a bill.