Check out these eight Canadian leaders, educators and groups for sex, gender and health advice
From providing advice on your sex life to facilitating safe and honest conversations around sexuality and gender, these eight Canadian leaders, educators and groups are here to inform, entertain and guide you through your journey.
Mela Swayze
An educator, consultant, facilitator, coach and speaker, Mela Swayze does it all. Swayze provides training and workshops on 2SLGBTQIA+ workplace equity and building trauma-informed, trans-affirming spaces. They also provide coaching on sex, gender and relationships.
They are an influential and highly respected leader in promoting queer and trans inclusion practice. Keep up to date with new programming and services from Swayze on their Instagram.
Yaz the Human
Yaz Harris, also known as Yaz the Human, is a yoga teacher and writer. They teach many different styles of yoga including Yin, Vinyasa and Hatha as well as meditation. Harris also writes about their honest experiences with sex, self-intimacy and kinks. Their feed is full of their raw self, with posts discussing body image, self-pleasures and fun dildo reviews.
Jenna Tenn-Yuk
Queer, Christian and Chinese Jamaican writer Jenna Tenn-Yuk did not have any role models growing up who shared her intersectional experiences. Today, through her various roles as a writer, facilitator, performer and speaker, she hopes to share unique stories and empower individuals to embrace their identities. She speaks on various topics such as 2SLGBTQIA+ issues, Christianity, diversity, equity and inclusion.
Dev
Dev is a queer, transmasculine, nonbinary coach in trauma-informed guided meditation and a pleasure advocate. They offer guided meditation and intuitive readings (such as tarot card and astrology chart readings) for healing and energy cleansing. The services are held and booked through their website, Retrogradient space.
If you check out their Instagram page, you will find posts carrying messages of self-advocacy, reflection and community that serve as a reminder to always practice self-love.
Kama La Mackerel
Kama La Mackerel is a multi-disciplinary artist, educator, writer and literary translator. They have worked in many different curational and community-based projects such as Gender B(l)ender, The Self-Love Cabaret and Our Bodies, Our Stories. They run an Instagram account that provides insight into their captivating, multi-faceted work.
Rae McDaniel
Rae McDaniel is a licensed clinical professional counsellor, certified sex therapist, coach, educator and public speaker. They are the founder of Practical Audacity, a gender and sex therapy practice run by queer-identified or allied, trauma-informed therapists.
McDaniel also runs GenderFck, an online coaching community aimed at helping trans, non-binary or questioning folks with transition and their experiences with gender, sexual identity and/or relationships.
Check out their Instagram page for more about their upcoming workshops and services, and get inspired by their educational and motivational posts on gender journey, mental health and transitioning.
Eva Bloom
Eva Bloom is a McMaster alumna, online sex educator and YouTuber. On Bloom’s channel, What’s My Body Doing, she discusses anti-oppressive, sex-positive and evidence-based videos. Some of her most viewed videos are on improving your sex life, masturbation and handling a pregnancy scare.
She is available to answer all of your, questions on sex and queerness and makes it easy to open up conversations on topics such as queer virginity, self-intimacy and sexting.
Speqtrum Hamilton
Based in Hamilton, Speqtrum is a youth-founded and youth-focused community for 2SLGBTQIA+ folks aged 17-29 in Hamilton. The group offers a variety of programs, one-on-one supports and community-building opportunities to promote the growth and development of queer and trans youth.
It also offers special services for 2SLGBTQIA+ youth who are new to Canada to help them develop a network and community. You can get updates about upcoming events, peer support services and opportunities through their Instagram.
Sometimes the most important relationships in your life aren’t your own
One of our favourite family movies is White Christmas. Every year since we were little, my sister and I would attempt to emulate the singing sister duo from the film (sadly without their spectacular outfits) by belting out their song, “Sisters”: “[L]ord help the Mister who comes between me and my sister and Lord help the sister who comes between me and my man!”.
With me being three and her five at the time, the notion of a “man” coming between us seemed completely absurd; our sisterhood was ironclad and eternal.
Fast forward 14 years and the “mister” had arrived in the ominous shape of my sister’s first boyfriend. I met him for the first time when he and my sister came to pick me up — a power imbalance I found deeply frustrating (after all, how could I put him in his place when he was my ride home?).
Completely unprepared for what felt like the most important interview of my life, I interrogated him for a full half-hour. Needless to say, when the car ride was over, I didn’t know what to think of him.
But I knew one thing for sure: this boy had come to take my sister away from me. She could only love one of us best and he was vying for the top spot. This was a state-of-emergency, DEFCON-1 level crisis. I began wartime preparations.
But I knew one thing for sure: this boy had come to take my sister away from me. She could only love one of us best and he was vying for the top spot. This was a state-of-emergency, DEFCON-1 level crisis. I began wartime preparations.
People who say big brothers are protective have clearly never met a little sister. Over the following months, I turned into an amateur private investigator (more Clouseau than Sherlock, I must admit).
Every time we met, I would theatrically narrow my eyes and badger him with questions, certain that I would finally uncover a fact to prove his complete and irrefutable unsuitability for my sister. I was deeply unsuccessful, to put it mildly.
To my horror, I found out that he was actually kind of funny. Well, that wasn’t going to work for me — I was the funny one in our sisterhood. If she was busy laughing at his jokes, she wouldn’t have any time for mine.
He also turned out to be rather hard working and was really nice to her. But aside from stealing her clothes and periodically destroying all her makeup (trivial concerns, really), so was I!
However, the more I talked to him, the more I realized that I just couldn’t reconcile the picture I had of him in my head as a rude, good-for-nothing interloper who would do nothing but cause my sister pain with the reality that he was actually a nice, upstanding guy. In matters of the heart, though, reason counts for very little.
Failing to discover incriminating information, I turned to less sophisticated methods to scare him off: I became really, really mean.
I would call him nicknames to our family friends, I made rude faces whenever he was brought up in conversation and I even made a (losing) bet with my parents about how long he was going to last (the shameful reminder of which lives on in my Google Calendar forever).
I snidely informed my sister one day, “I can’t understand what you see in him”.
“That’s because you’re immature,” she replied.
I had become so cruel, angry and resentful that I barely recognized myself. Understandably, my sister became upset over why I was treating her boyfriend so badly; what had he ever done to me? My mom told her I was just jealous.
The truth is that she was right. But I wasn’t jealous of her, I was jealous of him.
Growing up, my sister was my idol. She was the prettiest, smartest and most confident person I knew and in my mind, I held her atop a pedestal.
Her attention and affection were necessary for my personal validation and I worried that he would take that from me. Was I really so replaceable to her?
Was I really so replaceable to her?
One day I walked into my sister’s room and I saw dozens of pictures of her and her boyfriend on the wall. She was beaming in every one of them. In that moment I realized my incredible selfishness.
I thought he was the one damaging our sisterhood, but in reality, I was the one who had inflicted the harm by denying her the right to affection beyond my own. It was a tight fit, but there could be room for three peas in this pod after all.
In case you thought this was a Hallmark movie ending, I’ll tell you that I haven’t fully gotten over my sisterly identity crisis quite yet. Just the other day I had a rather traumatizing “dream” (it was definitely a nightmare) that they got married — clearly, I still need some time before I can consider taking our relationship to the next level.
My sister and her boyfriend are still going strong and seeing them now makes me thankful that my meanspirited meddling didn’t ruin a good thing.
Even more importantly, I learned that sometimes the most difficult, life-changing relationships you will experience aren’t even your own. The “mister” wasn’t the villain in our sister-saga. I was — and we all know the bad guy never wins.
By: Esther Liu, Contributor
Morghen Jael is a third-year arts and science student who has been in a relationship with her boyfriend, Zooey, for two years.
The Silhouette: Are you living together or in a long-distance relationship?
Morghen Jael: We do not share a lease but he is living full-time at my house. So he has a student house in Westdale that he has a lease with. But because of the pandemic and because he actually has an immuno-compromised housemate at that student house, he decided to just move in full-time with me here because we didn't want to worry about him switching back and forth and exposing all of us to double the amount of people.
So yeah, we technically live together even though that wasn't what I was planning for at this stage of the relationship. It feels kind of soon for full-time living together, but that's what it is and it's been working.
What are the pros and cons of living together?
The pros were that we would get to see each other. Otherwise, we kind of felt like, at the beginning of the pandemic, it was one extreme or the other, so he's either going to stay or we're going to be apart.
So it felt like we had to make that choice and it was almost a no-brainer: we're going to choose to be together. We love each other's company, we're part of each other's daily lives in so many ways, so let's just get together physically—we can do it.
It was great to have support 24/7 [because] it was stressful with the pandemic [and] it's also just a stressful life period of my life. I just started medication for my anxiety actually, right at the onset of the pandemic . . . That was a really big paradigm shift in my life, so it was actually great to have Zooey there for those first few months of adjusting to my medication and also just adjusting to the pandemic.
So I think for both of us it helps to have the other one around. People talk about loneliness during the pandemic and I think we never had that problem because we had each other. We're really great friends in addition to being boyfriend and girlfriend, so we get along really well, we're good at coming up with things to do.
One of the cons of moving in together full-time was the lack of privacy. I think I felt this more than him, just different people that we are. I like to have a little more time alone in my own space, having solo dance parties in my room to let off steam to kind of retreat into my own world. So lack of privacy was something that we both dealt with.
Even just physical privacy — we have been sleeping in the same bed now for all these months. He'd come over to sleep before, but not night after night. That took some adjusting. I'm not gonna have my physical space all to myself anymore: how can I maintain my bodily integrity, how can I stand up for myself? I'm like: "Okay, this is too much snuggling, I need to go for a walk."
Could you elaborate on how you've been maintaining your relationship?
We have been making sure to take the little bit of personal space that we can. I think that's been really helpful in making sure that we can still tolerate each other when we're together. So we've been going for solo walks. At least once a day, each of us goes for a walk alone . . . Also, on the opposite end of the spectrum, we've been doing dates and stuff.
Every time a monthly anniversary comes up, we'll either order in some food or cook some food and then we'll make it as special as it can be inside my bedroom. So we'll have some music, have a glass of wine and try to replicate a date scenario so it feels like we're still dating [and] not just roommates.
How has your relationship grown because of COVID-19?
I think the pandemic may have helped me to become more honest about my physical needs, like a little more literate, even. I remember using euphemisms to talk about sex or body parts or body functions. In the first year or so, I was kind of like "Oh, I can't tell him about this health problem" because I was a little embarrassed or I didn't know what words to use.
But now we've been thinking about our physical health a bit more. We've been in a closer space so we see each other's bodies more and I'm getting more comfortable being like "Okay, I have a yeast infection." But I'm at the point now where I could tell him that I have this physical problem, here's how you can support me, but you don't need to know everything and I got it. So yeah, I think that's been kind of an added dimension and I think that's also just both of us maturing as people.
Do you have any additional comments?
I just think there are lots of different love stories during the pandemic. Love and sex because sex is definitely an important dimension of this that isn't necessarily coupled with love . . . It's important to remember that romantic love is not the end-all and be-all. People are exploring friendships, deep and new friendships, or their sex lives, their own personal sexuality.
Oh, here's something else: I bought a vibrator for the first time during the pandemic. So I was experimenting with a vibrator. It's been kind of fun to let Zooey try it too, not for himself but on me, and that also goes with becoming more comfortable with my body, with talking about my body and his body. So anyway, I'm just saying that there are all different types of sex and love stories going on in people's lives.
How the Aphrodite Project and similar projects have changed dating
As the pandemic continues to surge and COVID-19 regulations remain in place, many are finding romance and fun. From dating apps to newly-designed matching algorithms, students are being matched by the thousands from the comfort of their beds. This is especially true when it comes to university students in Canada, including at McMaster.
Rates of online dating usage have increased since the beginning of the pandemic. Tinder, Hinge, OKCupid and many other apps have all reported increased use.
However, in addition to a rise in online dating app usage, there have been many innovative projects seeking to help students bound to their homes and laptops find a match.
Perhaps most notable among these projects is the Aphrodite Project. The Aphrodite Project is an algorithm that matches students based on their responses in a long questionnaire.
The project was designed by two University of Toronto exchange students, with the first trial of the software having been trialled in Singapore in 2019. After it was clear the algorithm was a success and full of promise, it was adapted to Canadian universities, starting with U of T and the University of Waterloo.
The site is now open to students across many universities, including McMaster. For many, this algorithm was a success and a way to find love and happiness amid the pandemic.
Among students who found love through this algorithm last year is Karin Lie, a fourth-year student at the University of Waterloo studying psychology.
“I was very impressed,” Lie explained. “We did get along very well.”
The first batch of matching in Canada was completed in 2020, with thousands of students being matched prior to Valentine’s Day. The developers of the Aphrodite Project even opened up a special version of their algorithm, Aphrodite Project: Pandemic Edition.
This targeted students amid the onset of the pandemic, which hoped to offer students an opportunity to meet someone and be distracted from the gloomy times of 2020.
In addition to the Aphrodite Project designed by students at U of T, there are similar projects that have been designed specifically for students at Mac. Among these are Match At Mac, which was run over the summer of 2020 and Mac Aphrodite Project.
These operate similarly to the Aphrodite Project designed at U of T in which Mac students fill out questionnaires and are matched with what is calculated to be the best possible option. Students participating in the Mac Aphrodite Project received their matches on Feb. 13, 2021.
These projects are important this year, as the transition to online learning at universities has presented challenges to many, with fewer opportunities available for socializing and romance. For many students, these algorithms offer a more thoughtful and personalized way to meet potential matches that involves more than swiping right or left.
Although romance and love are obviously never guaranteed, these platforms offer a new and unique way to meet people. As an alternative to conventional dating applications, more personalized platforms like Aphrodite Project have the potential to become pivotal to online dating and match-making.
Among the students frustrated with dating apps during the pandemic is Abby Liznick, a second-year health sciences student at McMaster.
“At a time when we are all longing for a connection and the ability to spend quality time with others, many turn to dating apps to find instant companionship,” said Liznick. “While these connections temporarily fill the social void left by the pandemic, they are just that — only temporary.”
These matchmaking projects are a testament to the adaptability and innovation people have come up during the pandemic. They offer a glimmer of hope for those who are unable to otherwise experience romance or socializing due to the social restrictions, especially those who are hesitant to try online dating apps.
Marzan Hamid, a second-year health sciences student, took a chance over the summer of 2020 and completed the Match At Mac questionnaire, eventually to be matched with someone later that year.
“I think it’s really great that students are taking the initiative to connect others, especially during these unique circumstances,” explained Hamid. “It’s nice to find out that there are still creative ways to meet new people even during a pandemic. I’m sure this will benefit many of my peers!”
“I think it’s really great that students are taking the initiative to connect others, especially during these unique circumstances,” explained Hamid. “It’s nice to find out that there are still creative ways to meet new people even during a pandemic. I’m sure this will benefit many of my peers!”
Thousands of people have been matched by recently-made dating algorithms. This is in addition to the huge rise in usage of dating apps like Tinder since the pandemic began. The future looks bright for dating among university students stuck at home.
Male-identifying students share their perspectives on masculinity
In Michael Ian Black’s New York Times essay, The Boys Are Not All Right, he expressed his opinions on the topic of masculinity far more eloquently than I possibly could.
“To be a girl today is to be the beneficiary of decades of conversation about the complexities of womanhood, its many forms and expressions. Boys, though, have been left behind. No commensurate movement has emerged to help them navigate toward a full expression of their gender,” wrote Black.
The Silhouette sat down with male-identifying students to hear their takes on masculinity and how their experiences have shaped their self and gender identities.
Avery Jackman
In his fourth year of the health and society program, Avery Jackman is loud and proud of his identity. Through his work with CFMU’s Rainbow Radio and more, he encourages students to lay claim to their identity.
Jackman views masculinity as complex and multi-faceted. An outer reflection of your inner self, masculinity is something deeply personal and individual. Concurrently, finding one’s own definition of masculinity involves an interplay of historical, societal and biological factors.
He described his elementary school experience as a time in his life where he couldn’t necessarily pinpoint what masculinity was but began to understand how to ascribe to it — how to walk, how to talk, how to sit.
“My earliest memory [of discovering the concept of masculinity] was unfortunately as a young kid, being bullied for being different. I distinctly remember it because I actually found an old picture from kindergarten . . . of me with my friend in the kitchen wearing a pair of heels and a dress. I didn't think anything of it until the picture was posted in the hallway and older kids had seen it,” said Jackman.
Dance and self-expression helped Jackman find his identity through the years. Growing up, he described a constant inner conflict between his own style of dance and that which he was taught to ascribe to — a hyper-masculine archetype of the “male lead.” Jackman currently teaches heels dance classes.
“I [decided] to find a style of dance that aligns with my identity and how I want to express myself. It's art and art is not up to one person's perception. It's what you want to do and what I wanted to make was a dance that showed men being fluid, quote-unquote feminine and challenging gender and dance,” said Jackman.
It was in university that Jackman really began to experiment with identity expression, noting the importance of friends who allowed him to be authentically himself in his personal journey.
“I remember the first time I wore heels to school, before I left the house I called my friends to say, "I'm wearing heels to school. I need you to be on speed dial just in case something happens. Either hate crimes or I fall and get embarrassed. I need you to be there for me because this is a big step." I [was] feeling overwhelmed . . . It's important to have a good group of friends and have a support system,” said Jackman.
Jackman hopes that students understand that gender is a non-binary, individual concept with no set model. How you choose to express your masculinity or femininity does not need to align with anything you've seen before.
“Create your own path through the [world] . . . People's journey of self-exploration is personal and something that, even though it, unfortunately, is politicized, is also not up for debate. Once you learn to unpack the things that you've learned and been taught, you start to invite the person you want to be without the social constructions of others telling you who you should be. Show [that person to] the world, even if there is backlash. I guarantee you, somebody will appreciate you for it, someone will love you for it and somebody will be inspired by it,” said Jackman.
Max Pinkerton
Max Pinkerton is a fifth-year commerce student who plays for the McMaster rugby team. This past year, he was in charge of the McMaster Movember campaign, advocating for men’s mental health.
Pinkerton grew up playing hockey and rugby, both of which are extremely physical sports. He described the norms that arose as a product of the competitive sports environment. Although the ideas of “manning up” or “being a man” came up, he also found a sense of brotherhood in the shared journey of claiming one’s own identity in sports.
“There’s definitely a sense of unity when you all struggle together. You don't have to struggle in silence, it's something that you can talk about. The strength is in showing your weakness and moving forward,” said Pinkerton.
In his pursuit of destigmatizing open discussion about masculinity and men’s mental health, Pinkerton proposed not shying away from difficult conversations and taking the initiative to talk to friends and loved ones about gender.
“[Men] make up 75% per cent of suicides [in Canada]. That is a crazy number to think about, but I think the fact that we're now having discussions about it, — talking about why this number is so high and what we can do to [motivate people] not to tough it out, but actually talk to others about it — goes against that old school concept of being a man. I do think it's changing, and it's changing for the better,” said Pinkerton.
Rogelio Cruz González
As the president and founder of the McMaster Men’s Health Society, Rogelio Cruz González is a second-year life sciences student with a passion for advocacy and men’s health. In his personal journey with gender, González explained that he began to grasp the concept of masculinity when he moved to Canada from Mexico in his early teens.
“In North America, it’s a bit more open-minded when it comes to how men are expected to act. In more [traditional] cultural backgrounds, like Mexico, it's still very enforced that men have to be the providers. They have to be the strong person that carries the family on their shoulders. They're the ones that show determination and courage and strength . . . and that's partially due to the fact that they still stick to their traditional roots of the nuclear family,” said González.
As González has had the opportunity to explore what it means to be a man in various cultures, he has expressed disappointment in certain cultures’ restrictive views.
Having seen the repercussions of trying to make one’s self-identity fit into these restrictive moulds, González stressed the importance of open discussion with others on the topics of masculinity and mental health.
“Often times as men, we fail to take care of ourselves and that ultimately not only impacts us but it impacts the people around us. If you're not good to yourself, those problems eventually start to [outwardly] express themselves . . . If [people] really try to care for and invest in themselves, to make sure their own needs are met and their own desires are reached, we will create this positive change,” said González.
Tristan Lindo
In his third year of communications studies and a player for the McMaster men’s basketball team, Tristan Lindo described masculinity as a term denoting a sense of respect and power.
As is the case with many individuals, the portrayals of masculinity and body image that Lindo saw in the media as a child largely shaped his definition of masculinity.
“When [you’re] younger, you look at the media and you're seeing these big muscular guys and then you look at yourself. I have a more slender build, so I [would] think, “am I not a man?” Now that I've matured and gotten older, I realized there's way more to it than that,” said Lindo.
Lindo wants labelling to be less normalized, in the goal of breaking down stereotypes of what it means to be a man.
“It's kind of happening right now, but I wish society could come to a place where there's no real image of masculinity. Kind of like what they've done in the beauty sector — how they've now recently said that all sizes, all shapes and all colours are all beautiful. It should be the same thing for men. All men are masculine,” said Lindo.
For students, Lindo imparted the importance of staying true to one’s own identity.
“People are going to have their own perspectives, views and opinions. Stay true to yourself, and don't let anyone's opinion shake you then. Don't let anyone tell you what you are and what you are not,” said Lindo.
Reflections on accompanying loved ones in pain
By: Serena Habib, Contributor
cw: Mentions of self-harm and mental illness
In The Vampire Diaries, the vampires had an inner mechanism called a “humanity switch.” This allowed them to turn off any emotions that made them human so they could completely and carelessly follow their desires.
While I am grateful for my sense of empathy every single day, I sometimes wish I had a little knob I could turn to decrease the pain love brings when people around me are hurting.
While I am grateful for my sense of empathy every single day, I sometimes wish I had a little knob I could turn to decrease the pain love brings when people around me are hurting.
However, empathizing with others allows us to build connections and make a difference in the lives of people around us.
In an interview with Self magazine, Gottman Relationship Institute Co-Founder Julie Schwartz Gottman said that a person’s ability to empathize with others is what makes friendships last.
Psychologists Daniel Goreman and Paul Ekman outline three forms of empathy: cognitive empathy, the ability to understand another person’s perspective; emotional empathy, the ability to share the feelings of another person; and compassionate empathy, which allows us to understand the other person and moves us to take action to help them.
But what happens when your friend has been suffering severely for years from a mental illness? You can see from their perspective, you are agonizing in their pain and you have already tried everything you can do to help, but it doesn’t feel like it makes a difference.
I am scared. I am tired. I dream about her dying and I awake to her messages about how they are hurting themselves. Yet, if my friend was dying from cancer, I would stay with her until their dying day. How is it any different with a mental illness?
I am scared. I am tired.
The definition of love as understood in our society can be summed up by the famous Bible passage from 1 Corinthians. I think about that quote when I think about our friendship.
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.”
I am being patient and I am being kind. I do not want to be friends with anyone else. I do not think I am a better friend. I am not prideful about what I have done in the friendship for I know we have helped one another.
“It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.” I try not to be angry, but it enrages me to see people suffering so gravely due to circumstances they cannot control.
“Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.” I am grateful for the honesty in our relationship and I want to be there as a listening ear. Our friendship was built upon rawness and mutual support.
“It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” I always refrain from saying things that will be triggering or telling my friend how much this is hurting me because she already feels guilty for it. I do not give up and I never will give up on her being okay.
I always get excited at little glimmers of hope when she messages me about recovery or when we text about mundane things all day, but then I am dejected when the illness re-emerges and I once again see myself losing my best friend.
I get swept up in this whirlwind of pain and hope and confusion and I feel like I am trapped by the friendship that has brought me so much life and liberation.
I get swept up in this whirlwind of pain and hope and confusion and I feel like I am trapped by the friendship that has brought me so much life and liberation.
But then I realize that friendship goes both ways. I am not being honest with myself or patient with myself. I am expecting myself to do everything perfectly and blaming myself if anything goes wrong.
I need to follow these rules for myself. I need to be honest when I need time to put on my oxygen mask so we can both make it through these tumultuous times. Seeing as I can’t flip a switch to make this change, I’m not quite sure how to do this, but I am working on it.
By: Serena Habib, Contributor
Butter slathered on toast during mornings with grandpa,
Soccer games followed by cotton candy ice cream,
Pilsbury croissant scented moments with grandma,
Family Second Cup runs for hot chocolate with whipped cream.
Sleepovers with strawberries wrapped in homemade crepes,
Love in grandma’s curries, which made them preeminent,
Candid photos from feeding each other birthday cake,
Little did she know that a maelstrom was imminent.
Love stopped. Love shuddered. Love got lost in the rain.
Food led to fights over mealtime. Love was enveloped in pain.
Mentally preparing herself for Christmas baking,
Running the chocolate chip calories away,
Laughing at dinner while silently aching.
Food-flavoured love was simply not okay.
She watched the boy she loved post pictures with his loved one
Sharing desserts and dinners she would never be able to eat,
She wanted so desperately to be lovable,
But love drifted away, perpetually out of reach.
She had lost love: she did not deserve it.
She would only have the muffin when she aced her test,
A test with a framework built upon inadequacy,
Years of high standards, and pressure to be the best.
It was love in her aunt’s heart when she tried to feed her oil,
Though she really needed buckets of self-acceptance instead,
From her father’s love formed a focus on body image:
A love that filled family vacations with dread.
Her mother’s love induced carbohydrated commands,
Threats that saved her from withering away,
With loathing she ate her way back to rationality —
This led to a love that would never go astray.
Pancakes with peanut-butter mornings of hope,
Cotton candy ice cream to celebrate her nineteenth,
Love for herself, her family, her journey —
Though her journey might never be truly complete.
For sometimes she feels herself slipping through her fingers,
She sees her reflection and bursts into tears,
But then she grabs some hot cocoa and her purple pen,
Reminding herself to push through her fears.
And sometimes she can’t, and her family is hurt,
As if she doesn’t love them by not trying the homemade cake,
Or they commend her on her weight gain at Christmas dinner,
And a mended part of her begins to break.
But love is eternal; it’s patient and enduring.
With each winter, it reveals itself more.
Meals filled with laughter and fond reminiscing
Are love’s subtle ways of winning her war.
How sex workers have remained resilient in the face of COVID-19 and ongoing criminalization
The COVID-19 pandemic has highlighted the rampant systemic inequality that exists in Canada. Racialized, low-income, precariously housed, disabled and many other marginalized folks in Canada have experienced a disproportionate number of COVID-19 cases and deaths. Among the most affected are sex workers.
While the pandemic unavoidably affected the sex work industry, it is not the loss of work alone that has made this pandemic even more difficult for sex workers. It is the criminalization of the sex trade, the lack of social supports for sex workers and the fact that many sex workers are also members of other marginalized groups.
In 2014, Canada introduced laws that prohibited the purchase, attempted purchase, procurement and advertisement of sexual services, among other things. The titled “end-demand” model is based on the idea that targeting clients will end the demand for sex work and thus sex work more broadly.
The desire to end sex work is based on the incorrect assumption that sex work is inherently exploitative and that all sex workers are victims in need of protection.
In practice, these laws have put sex workers at risk. The prohibition of purchase has made it more difficult for sex workers to screen and assess clients as well as organize with other sex workers.
Moreover, these laws reinforce the idea that sex workers are victims of an exploitative industry when, in fact, most sex workers do not characterize themselves as such. These laws disregard the agency of sex workers and the fact that many choose this work. For years, sex worker justice organizations in Canada have been working to repeal these laws.
However, as the government failed to reform sex work laws, this was the state of sex work in Canada when the pandemic hit in March 2020.
“What's happening right now is a crisis. It's a specific crisis for sex workers,” explained Jelena Vermilion, the executive director of the Sex Worker Action Program Hamilton.
“What's happening right now is a crisis. It's a specific crisis for sex workers,” explained Jelena Vermilion.
Throughout the pandemic, the federal and provincial governments have made several decisions that negatively impacted sex workers in Canada.
In March 2020, the federal government announced the Canada Emergency Response Benefit. This monthly funding was part of a plan to ensure that “no one will be left behind” in the pandemic. However, several sex workers were unable to access CERB.
Butterfly, Asian and Migrant Sex Workers Support Network, is an organization formed by sex workers and service providers that advocates and provides support for Asian and migrant sex workers. They ran a survey in April 2020 and found that less than half of respondents applied for CERB.
Some were not eligible because of undocumented work or immigration status, while others were not eligible because they were claiming other social assistance. A number of sex workers also do not file taxes because of the criminalization of their work.
“Some of it is strategic to avoid stigma. Just having the government know that you're a sex worker is such a risk for some people. Some people sincerely don't know how to do their taxes . . . and fear approaching an accountant for the same reason . . . and then many were unable to collect CERB. Or if they did, they were asked to pay it back,” explained Vermilion.
Vermilion also spoke to the specific impact that COVID-19 has had on sex workers in Hamilton.
“I'd say [COVID-19 has affected sex workers in Hamilton] a little bit worse than a couple of other cities, especially with the strip clubs around this area having been closed before COVID due to gentrification and other zoning [and] political issues. People have had to move to or get work in other cities and of course, commuting is its own expense. Having access to a vehicle is precarious for many people. So I would say that honestly we've had a lot more heard a lot more stories of people having housing issues, of people just having no way to get work,” said Vermilion.
Unfortunately, even for Hamilton sex workers who are able to work in other cities, 2020 brought extreme uncertainty.
On Sept. 25, 2020, the Ontario government announced its decision to close all strip clubs, which was made without consultation or notice to sex workers.
Strip clubs were singled out and hit harder with restrictions than other establishments at the time. The provincial government continued to allow restaurants, bars and nightclubs to remain open with added restrictions.
In response to these regulations, the stripper-led organization Work Safe Twerk Safe is pursuing legal action.
“We are concerned that our work at strip clubs is being treated differently than workers at other bars. We feel that the decision to enact these provisions to close strip clubs specifically relates to discriminatory and stereotypical assumptions about strippers as vectors of disease. We want to be treated the same as other bars and nightclubs. We feel we have been left out of decisions that affect us,” wrote Work Safe Twerk Safe on the organization’s website.
As the government has failed to support sex workers, organizations such as SWAP Hamilton, Butterfly, Work Safe Twerk Safe and Maggie's Toronto Sex Workers Action Project have stepped up to help their communities.
These organizations have provided sex workers with guides for working during the pandemic, set up emergency funds and advocated for income support. SWAP Hamilton supported the city’s sex workers during COVID-19 by providing harm reduction packages, gift cards and $100 stipends.
While these actions demonstrate the resilience of sex workers, they are also reminders of the lack of government support for members of this community.
While these actions demonstrate the resilience of sex workers, they are also reminders of the lack of government support for members of this community.
As many sex workers are already members of other marginalized groups, this additional work takes a toll on their mental and physical health.
“Honestly, [SWAP Hamilton is] just trying to survive, just like everybody else. A lot of it falls on my shoulders. So a lot of it comes down to what my capacity is and I'm a trans woman. I'm dealing with my stuff as well during this whole situation. So ultimately it's just been about being able to still remain visible in the community. And even if we're not like active in the exact same way, we want people to understand that [sex workers] still exist,” said Vermilion.
Vermilion encouraged students to educate themselves and to think critically about these issues. She also encouraged all students to sign a petition to repeal the laws that criminalize sex work.
Sorting out my disoriented understanding of love
I’ve always struggled with the question “tell me about yourself.” It’s as if suddenly I forget who I am as I sift through the mess of traits that make up me. The truth is, people are complicated. We all have multiple identities and part of the struggle of being young is trying to uncover them all.
For many years I considered my parent’s divorce a defining part of my identity. The way I thought about relationships, platonic and romantic, was influenced by my fear of being emotionally vulnerable.
I internalized emotions and I kept most people at a distance. Around the few close friends I let into my life I was an open book, but the rest of the time I remained closed off.
Thinking back, there’s not a moment I can remember where my parents enjoyed each other’s company. My parents divorced when I was nine and for a while, things were pretty messy. All I remember thinking was that it was better this way, that everyone was far happier.
I remember travelling to school with my backpack and a grocery bag full of my favourite clothes as I switched between my parent’s houses every two days. Living across town, I led two different lives and had to learn to switch between my identities each time my environment changed. I didn’t choose to be Hannah Montana — it’s just something that happened.
Whenever my parents came to support me in extracurriculars or school events I would end up anxious, running back and forth between them, trying to balance my separate identities.
Seeing them both, I couldn’t imagine a reality in which relationships were positive. I lived in the wreckage of an emotional battle. If I was sure of one thing, it was that I never wanted a relationship for myself.
Seeing them both, I couldn’t imagine a reality in which relationships were positive. I lived in the wreckage of an emotional battle. If I was sure of one thing, it was that I never wanted a relationship for myself.
Watching my mom, a strong and fiercely independent woman, I always knew that when I grew up, I only wanted to rely on myself. It wasn’t sad or lonely to me — it was smart.
I never felt a need to seek out relationships because I believed that to love someone you first had to love yourself. So I turned inward, determined to build a strong enough sense of self that I would not be hurt by emotions if I ever began to feel for someone.
I had convinced myself and those around me that I was wounded from my parents’ divorce. That I was not interested in finding a significant other. I told myself that I didn’t want to be attracted to anyone but surely, I should have been.
Having no other ideas and a burning desire to fit in, I began to fake it. I remember spending a night in with my roommates, swiping through Bumble. I couldn’t understand what they meant as they rated the attractiveness of each new profile that appeared.
That night, I ended up scrolling through all of Bumble, swiping on a few men so as not to feel so abnormal. The truth is, I couldn’t understand the feelings my friends felt.
I had convinced myself and those around me that I was wounded from my parents’ divorce. That I was not interested in finding a significant other. I told myself that I didn’t want to be attracted to anyone but surely, I should have been.
Not long after, I became suddenly more exposed to queer stories through the media I was consuming. I was fascinated by the queer characters in the TV shows and movies I came across.
Seeing these characters represented on screen allowed me to come to terms with the legitimacy of a feeling I had been ignoring for so many years. I was finally able to admit to myself that I am attracted to women and the world finally clicked into place.
At the same time, I was faced with the unease of internalized homophobia and a lifetime of exposure to primarily heteronormative narratives. I was raised neutral to the queer community in that it was seldom a topic of conversation in my house.
But being exposed to a world that assumes heterosexuality as the default instilled in me a feeling of otherness towards the community.
Though I questioned myself, I remembered the same-sex crushes I’d had all through my childhood and teen years that I passed off as admiration or platonic friendships without giving two thoughts to the matter.
I could finally see what my friends had been speaking about all along. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder what my earlier life would have been had I been exposed to more queer stories earlier.
For so long I blamed my parent’s divorce on my disdain for relationships and love. Yet all along, it was just me being unable to see myself for who I am.
For so long I blamed my parent’s divorce on my disdain for relationships and love. Yet all along, it was just me being unable to see myself for who I am.
I think back to the unfortunate conclusions I drew about love so early on in life because I was lost and I wish I could tell myself to keep searching. I recognize that I still know very little, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that everyone loves differently and everyone’s love is valid.
With something so personal, we all have to figure things out on our own time for ourselves.
Brass Beauties empowers Hamiltonians with the art of pole-dancing
Seven years ago, Lisa Esposto started pole-dancing. She originally bought into it to strengthen her core. After a month of pole-dancing, she became hooked on taking daily classes.
“It helps me a lot mentally, helps me look at myself in a different way, [I] became more confident in my everyday life . . . It also helps with some physical appearance demons that most females deal with at some point,” said Esposto.
A year later, she purchased the studio from the owner, turning it into Brass Beauties. The name comes from the foundation of treating everyone equally beautiful, as explained by Esposto.
“Everyone creates their own beauty. You can see your instructor, but you’re never going to move like them; you’re going to find your own way. It may be a hybrid, but you’re going to put your own twist on it,” said Esposto.
“Everyone creates their own beauty. You can see your instructor, but you’re never going to move like them; you’re going to find your own way. It may be a hybrid, but you’re going to put your own twist on it,” said Esposto.
As an owner, Esposto’s main responsibilities primarily look at the finances and management of the studio. But as an instructor, she helps women to feel more empowered in many different ways.
“Anybody can do it, you just have to put the time in like everything else in life . . . It’s just how much you want it,” said Esposto.
On a personal level, Esposto tries to ensure women are comfortable within the studio. She provides them with a space to dance that empowers and distracts them from what’s outside the studio’s four walls.
“Life is hard outside, it’s just a space to let them forget about the crappiness of life. If they’re having a bad day, they talk to me and we just go from there. I look at them as my family,” said Esposto.
Despite the studio not being your typical weights-based gym, Brass Beauties still provided a social atmosphere to its dancers.
“Not only are they getting a workout, but we also joke around. So they are missing the social aspect of it right now,” said Esposto.
Esposto also re-iterates how the dancers come together as a huge support system and thus, motivate each other.
“If someone catches you slacking, they’re going to call you out,” said Esposto.
Brass Beauties holds a variety of classes: fitness, dance, tricks, flexibility and hammocks.
The fitness class is all-levels whereas, for the dance classes, they vary by levels, from beginner pole-dancing with heavy instruction to more advanced classes where freestyle is available.
A popular trick class includes upside-down dancing. Flexibility classes include all types of stretching. There is also a floor dancing class, so dancers can transition from the pole to the floor and vice versa.
While the majority of the patrons are adult women, the studio has offered four-week hammock classes for children prior to the COVID-19 pandemic. Now, due to the pandemic, the hammocks can’t be used due to public safety guidelines on cloth usage. With that being said, there are plans for the studio to expand its target audience.
“The plan is to, at some point in the future, incorporate male students. We’ll probably run another children’s program, which was a huge hit,” explained Esposto.
Aside from the classes, Brass Beauties holds two annual shows. Their last show was just before the March 2020 lockdown. They also participate in the Festival of Friends every year, where dancers perform with a portable pole. Two years ago, the studio had the opportunity to participate in Supercrawl.
In the pandemic, the studio had the opportunity to re-open from July to December, in accordance with the provincial government’s guidelines and restrictions.
“It’s a bit of a struggle to offer online classes because not everyone has the equipment [pole],” said Esposto.
When thinking about the long-term future of the studio, Esposto emphasized the importance of exposure to more festivals and accessibility to equipment.
“Right now, my main focus is getting out of COVID and getting the girls back on the poles,” said Esposto.
“Right now, my main focus is getting out of COVID and getting the girls back on the poles,” said Esposto.
