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CBC
15 hours ago
- Entertainment
- CBC
How punk made me the trans woman I am
Emerging Queer Voices is a monthly LGBTQ arts and culture column that features different up-and-coming LGBTQ writers. You can read more about the series and find all published editions here. It's Sept. 4, 2020. I've just moved into residence at Trent University, in one of a number of new townhouse-style buildings satellite to campus proper that are creatively named "the Annexes." My roommate and I, still barely unpacked, have just met our next-door neighbours. In this virus-blanketed, pre-vaccine world, they will be our nearest form of human contact for the next eight months. In that ever-so-brief period of time, we and the 16 other people who comprise our floor of Annex B will come together and crash apart. None of that matters now, however; in this moment, we have no idea what's yet to come. Instead, in a moment of semi-normalcy amid the warring tensions between youth and quarantine, we are piled into my neighbour's car, driving to Walmart. As we pull out of the parking lot, dead as it will remain for the coming months since parents have abandoned their children to fate, she punches the stereo and slips a disc into the CD player. A guitar lick begins to play. It's Morbid Stuff by PUP. This is the moment that cemented a friendship which has lasted — well, not exactly a lifetime, since I don't speak to any of the people who were in that car today, but which at least burned with all the clamour and vitality that only youth can briefly muster. Fitting for a friendship forged over a hardcore record that it should be short, explosive and involve no small amount of drugs. Punk is a common language like that. It's something shared, something which — at its best — can be a vessel, and even a sort of catalyst, for these very formative moments in one's life. Sept. 4, 2020, was also the first time I introduced myself to a stranger as a woman. I'd already come out to some close friends and had scheduled an appointment to get referred for hormones in a matter of weeks, but this moment was perhaps the most crucial for me. It was a clean break from the person I'd been in high school and yet it was also the logical extension of the woman my hometown's hardcore scene had made me. I spent my youth in Ottawa, a sleepy government town that had a bad rap for being boring among people who grew up there. I went to one of the city's most stratified high schools, which pulled from one of its richest neighbourhoods as well as the single poorest. A school like that is a bad place to be queer at the best of times, and the years of the first Trump presidency weren't that. Sure, we prided ourselves on our tolerance and enlightenment, but there were harsh social reprisals for sexual deviance all the same. The kids whose parents bought them SUVs were never going to slum it with gender trash like me. So, instead, I found solace in the scene. Contrary to popular belief, the ByWard Market does not represent the entire spectrum of possibilities within Ottawa's nightlife. On any given day, I'd be forwarded a Facebook invitation to some DIY show at 8 p.m. on a Thursday night. The venues for such gigs were often "normal" spaces by day — bookstores, coffee shops and the like. But by night, they'd shove the furniture to one side, plug some amps into a power bar at the back of the room and have garage bands play 15-minute sets until the noise bylaw kicked in. Crowds of maybe two dozen tops, aged anywhere from 14 to their late forties, would gather in these impromptu concert halls to chat, drink and mosh until they were soaked through with sweat and their ears were ringing. My friends started dragging me to these shows sometime in the 10th grade. Being a Good Kid™ at heart, I first went under performed duress. However, the more I went, the more I kept coming back. Punk shows, I found, were a space to both figuratively and literally let my hair down — to be myself at a time when I felt I couldn't anywhere else. Part of it, no doubt, is that the demographic — especially in the younger crowds — skewed exceptionally queer. Stereotypes about blue hair's comorbidity with certain pronouns are easily reinforced at basement shows frequented by angst-ridden 16-year-olds. Adolescence is a period of social experimentation, and a subculture already relatively tolerant of weirdness and diversity is as good a place as any to do it. Being in the punk scene was the first time I made trans friends — the first time I made queer friends, really, who weren't white bisexual women. Some nights, I'd go and find the person I'd been chatting to the previous week had changed their pronouns twice in the interim. More than to just come as you are, the sense was to come as you wanted to be. No one at a punk show cares who you are, what you wear, whether you're not-quite-a-girl or just a guy with long hair. So dark are the interiors of these dives and holes that, really, it'd be remarkable if anyone even noticed. You're just one of a dozen, one particle orbiting the frenzy of the mosh pit, colliding at random with strangers, buzzing the whole time. Nobody's looking at you. No one's even listening to the band. They're just the social adhesive holding this moment together, enabling this collision — enabling you to lose yourself. It's in this moment that you're able to become somebody else. Doing this as long as I did, I developed something of a split personality. Well, being closeted had already bequeathed me said split personality, but my night life embodied it: Public me wore button-downs and skinny jeans to school. Other me wore friends' makeup and Harley boots to shows. And then we'd sit — my friends and I — on the steps outside these empty warehouses and all-ages clubs, bumming cigarettes off the older punks and fuelling teenage angst into urgent confessionals: "I think this body of mine is slowly killing me." "Don't you ever wish you were just born a woman?" We'd hug, and smoke, and cry, and rest on each other's shoulders on the bus rides home. Every night was the most important night of our lives. By the end of 2019, I knew I had to transition. I'd give you a date, but I can't remember much before my first hormone consult, just a jumble of self-loathing punctuated by these occasional one-night crescendos. I'd confessed my intentions to a friend at 2 a.m. one night while listening to Dark Days. She'd told me she was thinking of changing her pronouns. We decided to room together at university. Flash forward to Sept. 4. She's in the car beside me. See You at Your Funeral is playing over the tinny speakers. In two years, we'll stop speaking. This is one of the last good memories she'll leave me. The other is a year and change later, at the Bovine Sex Club in Toronto — our first show since the world shut down. Just like old times, but we're older now and both women. I'm wearing the same Harleys I'd worn at my first show. The steel toes poke through in places where they've been battered in the pit. I feel like a different person — in control now, for the first time, of my life. Yet under that skin are the same muscles that screamed after basement shows, the same vocal chords that ached from screaming too hard. The marks of the scene are still under my body, in my tastes and mannerisms, and in my ears, which still ring in spite of everything. I'm still the woman that punk made me, and whenever I hear those first notes of Kids, I remember that.
CBC
30-06-2025
- Politics
- CBC
As this tiny frog disappears from Canada, conservationist warn fast-tracking bills put more species at risk
The Blanchard's Cricket Frog is so tiny it can fit on your thumb, and the distinctive call for which it is named would make it easy to hear — if it hadn't recently been declared locally extinct in its wetland habitat of southwestern Ontario. Thomas Hossie, assistant professor of biology who studies amphibians at the province's Trent University, described the sound as "shaking a bag of marbles." But the frog hasn't been seen (or heard) in decades. The last confirmed sighting in Canada was in 1977 on Lake Erie's Pelee Island. There have been some unconfirmed sightings since then, but the trail ran cold in 1990, when the Blanchard's Cricket Frog was first listed as an endangered species under federal laws. In 2024, the Committee on the Status of Endangered Wildlife in Canada, an independent panel of scientists that assesses federal species at risk and advises the federal environment minister, said the frog was extirpated — meaning it's no longer present in Canada, though it can be found in other places. WATCH | Hear the distinctive call that gives the Blanchard's Cricket Frog its name: It's the first land species to disappear from the country after being listed as endangered by the federal government, which is holding consultations until July 7 on formally listing the species as extirpated. All this comes under the shadow of new legislation that allows governments to expedite certain projects by speeding the approval of things like environmental assessments. Environmental advocates say what's happened to the Blanchard's Cricket Frog should be a wake-up call for governments about the impacts of removing crucial protections for at-risk species. New laws could remove protections, advocate says Last Thursday, Prime Minister Mark Carney's signature "nation-building" projects bill passed the Senate unamended, despite concerns raised by environmental advocates and Indigenous groups. Bill C-5 gives the federal government extraordinary new powers to fast-track certain initiatives that have the potential to boost the Canadian economy amid the U.S. trade war. This can mean expediting environmental approvals for things like mines, roads and pipelines. The Ontario government passed its own fast-tracking law last month. Ontario Premier Doug Ford's Bill 5 completely overhauls provincial laws protecting endangered species and gives the province the power to expedite certain projects. Both levels of government should take the frog's extirpation as "a wake-up call," according to Shane Moffatt, an advocacy manager with the environmental organization Ontario Nature. "These measures have the potential to remove crucial protections for species at risk, and that's the last thing we need right now," Moffatt said. "In order to build a more sustainable and healthy society and to build strong economies, we need to be conserving biodiversity around us." He also wants the federal government to be explicit about the primary reasons for the frog's disappearance, which include the loss of its wetland habitat and pollution from fertilizers and pesticides, according to previous federal and provincial assessments. In a recent report from Environment and Climate Change Canada (ECCC), the department also attributed the frog's extirpation to climate change, but Moffatt says that runs the risk of letting governments off the hook for failing to protect habitats and prevent pollution. "Those are fundamentally different reasons with fundamentally different policy solutions," he said. ECCC did not respond to CBC's requests for comment in time for publication. A unique habitat The Blanchard's Cricket Frog is found in several U.S. states, including Indiana, Wisconsin, Michigan and Illinois. It can't climb very well, according to Hossie, so it lives in open wetlands or marshes with sandy, muddy slopes that allow it to get in and out of the water. Because Pelee Island is the most southern part of Canada, Hossie says it has a very distinct climate, different even, than nearby mainland Ontario. "Partly because of that, we pick up a variety of species that we have nowhere else in Canada." That includes two types of endangered salamanders Hossie studies — the small-mouthed salamander and the Unisexual Ambystoma. He says these and other species in the unique region face the same threats as the frog. Historically, Hossie says, about half the 10,000-acre island was covered in wetlands. Today, the sensitive wetlands are confined to only six per cent of the island, mostly in provincial reserves, while the rest have been converted into farmland, some of which are vineyards for growing grapes. Jeff Hathaway, founder of Scales Nature Park, a non-profit focused on Canadian reptiles and amphibians, says now that the Blanchard's Cricket Frog is considered extirpated, the government should consider whether it can be reintroduced into the region.
CTV News
26-06-2025
- Politics
- CTV News
Lengthy visa delays preventing dozens of Palestinian students from studying in Canada, group says
Tawfiq Abed is a 19-year-old from Gaza City who has been offered a full engineering scholarship to the University of Alberta. A group of Canadian professors is calling on the federal government to speed up the visa process for dozens of Palestinian students hoping to study in Canada. They say there are more than 70 students in Gaza and Egypt who have submitted visa applications to come to Canadian schools but haven't heard back. Some have been waiting for nearly 18 months. 'It's only 70 students and a third of them are already in Egypt,' says Aaron Shafer, a professor at Trent University in Peterborough, Ont. 'They could be on a plane tomorrow and in a lab if the Canadian government could process their visas. Germany has been able to do it, France has been able to do it. They've expedited visas and there is no reason why we can't do the same in Canada.' Among the students stuck in limbo is Tawfiq Abed, a 19-year-old from Gaza City who has been offered a full engineering scholarship to the University of Alberta. 'I am so worried to lose such an opportunity, particularly in Canada,' says Abed. Not only is he desperate to leave Gaza, where he says his family is surviving on rice and lentils, he worries if he can't get a visa in time, he will lose his scholarship and offer of admission. 'That's my dream,' he says, of becoming an engineer. 'That's what I am looking forward to.' Getting biometrics – photos and fingerprints – is part of the challenge for students in Gaza as there is no office that provides that type of service. But Shafer says some students submitted complete visa applications nearly two years ago and have yet to hear anything from the Ministry of Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship. 'I am aware of some students who have had their biometrics since 2023 and are still waiting for it to be processed,' Shafer says. 'They have desks waiting for them. All we need is the Canadian government to process their visas and we have a history of doing this.' Shafer is referring to efforts to help settle those fleeing the wars in both Ukraine and Syria as examples of the government expediting the visa process. 'We're not asking for shortcuts,' says Robyn Paul, a professor at the University of Calgary who has a student in Gaza waiting on a visa. 'We're just asking for these students to be treated fairly so they can come to Canada and study in the great research programs that we have here.' CTV News has reached out to the Ministry of Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship and have not yet responded to questions about why it's taking so long to process these applications. According to the United Nations, 80 per cent of schools in Gaza have been destroyed during the 18-month war between Israel and Hamas. All 12 universities in Gaza have been bombed and either destroyed or severely damaged. The professors say the lack of educational opportunities in Gaza is another reason to review the visa applications more quickly. 'Everyone has the right to education,' says Paul. 'Canadians should be proud to bring them here.'
Yahoo
26-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
When truth isn't a defence — Joseph Howe's courageous fight for a free press
(Watch the full video directly below. (If using the National Post iPhone app, the video is at the top of the post.) In this NP Comment video, the Post's Terry Newman speaks with Trent University Canadian studies professor Christopher Dummitt about his new video series, 'Well, That Didn't Suck!' Dummitt set out to create a series of videos on Canadian history that would make sense to people who have grown up on social media — including YouTube, Tiktok and Instagram, which is where you can find his short history lessons. Essentially, the short Canadian history series finds audiences where they are. The first lesson, 'The Price of the Truth,' is about government corruption and the importance of the free press. It tells the story of Joseph Howe, who, in addition to being a politician and poet, was the sole editor and owner of the Novascotian. Howe published an anonymous letter accusing local police and politicians of stealing public money, resulting in him being charged with seditious libel. Unfortunately, the truth alone wasn't a defence at the time. Unable to find anyone willing to defend him, Howe defended himself. In a six-hour speech, he urged the jurors to 'leave an unshackled press as a legacy to your children.' Even though the judge advised jurors that it was their duty to return a guilty verdict, they ignored the judge and the law, finding Howe not guilty after a mere 10 minutes of deliberation. Following his acquittal, Howe claimed in the Novascotian that, 'The press of Nova Scotia is free.' Watch the full interview with Christopher Dummitt above and check out his new Canadian history series, 'Well, That Didn't Suck!' here. Christopher Dummitt: The radical takeover of a Canadian studies conference in Britain Christopher Dummitt: Canadians need a proud, not guilt-ridden Canada
National Post
26-05-2025
- Politics
- National Post
When truth isn't a defence — Joseph Howe's courageous fight for a free press
Article content Article content In this NP Comment video, the Post's Terry Newman speaks with Trent University Canadian studies professor Christopher Dummitt about his new video series, 'Well, That Didn't Suck!' Article content Dummitt set out to create a series of videos on Canadian history that would make sense to people who have grown up on social media — including YouTube, Tiktok and Instagram, which is where you can find his short history lessons. Essentially, the short Canadian history series finds audiences where they are. Article content The first lesson, 'The Price of the Truth,' is about government corruption and the importance of the free press. It tells the story of Joseph Howe, who, in addition to being a politician and poet, was the sole editor and owner of the Novascotian. Article content Howe published an anonymous letter accusing local police and politicians of stealing public money, resulting in him being charged with seditious libel. Article content Unfortunately, the truth alone wasn't a defence at the time. Unable to find anyone willing to defend him, Howe defended himself. In a six-hour speech, he urged the jurors to 'leave an unshackled press as a legacy to your children.' Even though the judge advised jurors that it was their duty to return a guilty verdict, they ignored the judge and the law, finding Howe not guilty after a mere 10 minutes of deliberation.
