Scribe magazine by Humber College

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the fall issue 2011

toronto

manufacturing fashion three days with designer breeyn mccarney

An Anarchist’s Guide To Parenting Chatting with Stefan Molyneux

food for thought a look at toronto’s alternative meat market

A Faceless Epidemic

TOronto’s black community struggles with HIV/Aids

Here’s Here’s the the skinny: skinny: Ten Ten years years of of hanging hanging around around

from the editor

Hportrait of Toronto? Toronto is

ow can we define an authentic

vast, multifaceted, and often times unsure of it’s own identity.

Toronto is a skinhead who also works at the TTC, it’s a man struggling to overcome his own physical inhibitions to achieve a seemingly insurmountable goal, and it’s an anarchist philosopher trying to raise his daughter and make the world a better place. It’s the events that bring us together from the serious cinephiles to the gratuitous zombie porn aficionados. Toronto gives us the opportunities to create and express, whether in a photocopied and lovingly rendered zine or in a frothy pink confection of couture. And sometimes it’s the most primal assertions of our selves in a search for the perfect meat or just a really great beer. What we’ve brought you is an authentic portrait. Authentic because it is a real, visceral, and sometimes humorous perspective from a group of individuals who both love and hate this city. Please enjoy our inaugural issue of Scribe, which I hope has captured those seminal moments that, while sometimes foreign in their delivery, are intrinsic to all of us. Perhaps through exploring our pages you too will find something fresh and brilliant about Toronto, or maybe not. Either way, I am exceedingly thankful to Scribe for granting a different glimpse into a city I thought I had figured out. Allie Hunwicks

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Editor-In-Chief Allie Hunwicks faculty advisers Renee Wilson Lara King Managing Editors Sarah Savage Jason Spencer Executive Editor Justin Crann Section Editors Marlee Greig Denee Hall Tyler hunt Stephanie Lippa copy editors Matthew Smith Kayona Lewis Jan Vykydal Ryan Bristlon Research Richard frankel Shumu Haque Clover Sterling Graeme McNaughton Art Director Ryan Bristlon Assistant art Director Sam Halaby Photo editors Nicole Bogart Erin Jones Photographers/videographers Shellon Simon Graeme NcNaughton Reem Jazar Online Aaron Best Jan Vykydal Ashley Greene Online Content provider Rakush Sarkari

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Fall 2011

Pretty in Pink

“I’ve been told a bunch of times, ‘You need to be more commercial.’”

Open mind, open palate

“Kangaroos are the equivalent to deer in the U.S.”

A lesson in three letters

“People hold some very strange and kind of funky ideas about people who are living with HIV/AIDS.”

Stay-at-home anarchy

“Democracy - the suggestion box for slaves that no one ever opens.”

Ten years of hanging around “Welcome to the world of skinheads. They drink, get drunk, and then beat the shit out of kids.” On the cover: Chuck Lea/ Cover photo by erin Jones/ Cover design by ryan Bristlon

pg.6

pg.18

pg.34

pg.40

The arts

in-perso A nightmare on Bloor Street

The science of funny

For the voiceless

Cult of the silver screen

Curtain Calling

D.I.Y. Expression

Mike vs. mike

es The issu Language recre8ed

If you don’t read this you will DIE

A tale of three cities

It’s not a mirage

We’re still here

Blue and white

Culture A Brewing Passion

Off the Rack

Flag and Headline font, Mal de Ojo, Created by Tim Gibbon

in-person

a nightmare on bloor street

by Ryan Bristlon

loor Cinema has become something of a horror mecca in Toronto over the last six years, Bmember, thanks to Toronto After Dark Film Festival’s creator, director, and only full-time staff Adam Lopez. The U.K.-native does his best to juggle life with his wife and eightyear-old daughter, while trying to put on the best bloody show that he can – giving the directorial call of ‘cut’ a whole new meaning.

Photo by Ryan Bristlon

Toronto After Dark creator and director Adam Lopez Courtesy Chris Frampton

Qwhere did the inspira-

:So I’ve got to ask –

tion for horror and scifi come from? What are some of your favourite titles?

:Well I guess growing up I was just a big fan of the classic science fiction. I grew up in England during the 70s and 80s and they would play a lot of black and white monster movies - you know, Universal films like Wolfman and Dracula. I used to love watching these movies. I liked the idea of something a little darker that might give you a bit of a fright. As a kid you kind of push yourself to see what will give you a scare. My mother would always come to put me to bed and I would sneak a TV into my room and create a fort so that she wouldn’t see the glow of the television when I’d watch it until midnight or one in the morning. That was really how I got into it. After watching the cult classics of the 1950s and 60s, I really acquired a taste in the 80s for science fiction. One of the standout movies for me was Blade Runner and

on the horror side I really enjoyed the Alien films - they were a very good blend of the genres. In terms of straight-up horror, I really liked John Carpenter. Was the move to Toronto a personal or business decision? How did the idea for After Dark come about upon your arrival in Canada? Back in the 90s, I worked in advertising in England. That was my first career break after graduating university. In university I studied modern history - which doesn’t really get you any practical job - so I found myself in advertising. It’s nothing like Mad Men, I have to tell you. Mad Men is very glamourous. Anyway, my company had an office in Toronto. I always had a fascination with Canada because at Manchester University I had taken student residence and one of the funniest guys in the wing was Canadian. He had told me to come to his wedding in 1995. I went and I loved Toronto. I knew I was going to go back. After nagging my

company, they found me a job at the Toronto office. Then a sad thing happened, which turned into a happy thing. I lost both my parents; my dad to a heart attack and my mom to cancer. That happened within the space of three years. It was an earthquake because I was still quite a young chap. But I did end up with a bit of spare cash. So I thought ‘Ok, I don’t have to work for at least the next couple of years. What would I do if I could do anything?’ Because I had a bit of a cushion, I could actually try a completely different career. I thought ‘When was I happiest in my life?’ That was when I was 13-years-old, running my sci-fi/ horror film club in high school. So I thought I would go back to that time and somehow recreate that childhood fantasy. I never worked in a film festival before and I didn’t know what I was doing, so we spent two years researching. We travelled around the world going to different genre festivals. Then, by 2005, I knew I could do it and we launched in 2006. Here we are six years later. We’re finally making a

bit of money and my wife’s happy. From 2006 until now, what kind of growth have you seen in terms of press coverage for the event and do you have any strategies for attracting more? In our first year, I really tried to get some press involvement - but we probably only had a dozen media outlets. Last year we had 80. We’re being given a massive amount of coverage now. What’s interesting about us is that we’ve really targeted new media. We were one of the first film festivals in the world to embrace Facebook. We also have one of the biggest Twitter followings of any genre film festival. We’ve really used new media to our advantage because we didn’t have a lot of money. We had to find alternative means of reaching out to the fanbase. What would you consider your biggest break-

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-through in terms of being able to premiere films for their first time in Canada? One of the biggest breakthroughs we had was back in 2008 with a film called Let the Right One In. It played just before us at the Tribeca film festival and won best picture there. They’ve never given best picture to a genre film before, so we knew it was a great movie. We wanted to premiere it as our opening gala and the film was our firstever sell out. We had 1,000 people trying to get in to the theatre. Now the Bloor Cinema, which is our home base, only seats 800. So even though we were happy to have such a huge crowd, it was also sad to have to turn away 200 people. Every paper came out for it and after us, the film went on to win a ton of awards. It almost made it to the Oscars as well. As the years go by were getting more and more high profile films - films that go on to become critical and commecial successes. What is the process like for film selection? Do filmmakers approach you or is it the other way around? We have a five-month window each year for filmmakers to send in their films. As well as that, we also travel to other festivals and get leads for new movies and filmmakers. Each year, we gather about 700 films: 500 shorts, 200 features. Of the 200 feature films, we choose about 17. In terms of the short films, we get that number down to about 40. About 10 per cent of the films sent in actually get to be screened in front of the fans. This year’s platform is much of the same as last year. Do you have any plans or goals for the future that you may be working on for upcoming years? Where would you love to see the festival go? Very large festivals are able to secure major corporate sponsors. Try as we have, we are still very much a niche festival. If we had more money, what would I say? We’d probably try to get more celebrity guests to come. I’d also like to be able to offer really big cash prizes

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to filmmakers. That would be great - especially for independent filmmakers. And maybe we’d see if we could help filmmakers with distribution. We know now that online has become a bigger avenue for fans to see films. Some festivals are exploring an online version of their festivals. The idea is that you could actually experience Toronto After Dark from your computer. But right now, I’m happy where we are. We have a template that works and the fans love us. We do a massive poll every year and right now we’re at a 90 per cent approval rating from our fanbase. Given your position, who is the strangest person that you’ve met through your work with After Dark? It’s not really an individual that sticks in my mind as much as a group. Our ‘Zombie Appreciation Night’, which we’ve had since the start of the festival, is probably one of the most fascinating nights. We have people who come in full zombie costume and they are just out to be in everyone’s scrapbook for that night. It’s gruesome, some of the stuff that appears in the theatre. What is it about horror/ sci-fi that draws people in? Why are people so fascinated with the macabre? Well look at the success of The Walking Dead. How did AMC, with a show like Mad Men, springboard a fanbase into a very dark, heart-stoppingly scary at times, full on horror series? I think there are people out there who just like to be freaked out every now and then. They like to be scared and just enjoy a feeling that they don’t necessarily feel in their day-to-day lives. Look at where we are right now as a society – we’re really cocooned and sheltered. Most people in Canada won’t have to face a fullon war situation and it leaves us to wonder what is actually scary anymore. Scary stuff can often shake you out of your day-to-day boredom and routine, give you a good fright and be entertaining. It comes with the name: After Dark. What happens at night? What happens when the movie theatre turns dark? Imagination comes out.

Box office of the Bloor Cinema in Toronto. Ryan Bristlon

“

It’s gruesome, some of the stuff that appears in the theatre.

”

bloor reaches capacity during the festival. Courtesy Sam Javanrouh

for the voiceless

Organization embraces youth through Hip Hop By Sajae Elder Che Kothari, Founder and Director of Manifesto Community Projects, is determined to be the voice of change and youth culture in Toronto. The Manifesto Festival of Arts & Culture, a week-long event that mixes music with art, film and cultural education, is the backbone of the non-profit organization. Kothari is looking to create a platform and opportunity for the city’s youth and create international connections with the prolific musicians, photographers, artists and performers that have taken part in the festival’s events over the last four years.

Qscribe Manifesto? : How

would

you

de-

:Connect, cultivate, create, communicate and showcase. Connect with the community. Cultivate Change. Create opportunities. Communicate through art. Showcase talent. Those are powerful statements. What’s the mission the organization?

What we’re trying to do is build healthier communities through culture and we define culture as a way of people, the way of a community, the way that people live. We’re trying to express that the most dominant youth culture in Toronto is Hip Hop, and trying to create a platform to show them that they’re part of something bigger than just themselves. The movement is young people, supported by even younger people, mentored by their

courtesy Manifesto Community Projects

elders to work towards fundamental social change and promoting culture to create a healthier world. Other countries have culture that has been passed down for generations but in Canada, with first and second generation Canadians, there’s a lot of questions like “Who am I?” We’re basically trying to instill civic pride. We want to show these kids that they don’t need to look at what’s on TV for talent, we have it right here. A lot of Hip Hop content has been commercialized and commoditized and stripped of its real meaning. Hip Hop in its essence is a voice for the voiceless.

this meeting at town hall to talk about doing the festival as our first real event. The next meeting we grew from the original 20 to 40 people. When we opened it up to the public it grew to 125 people. We had the first festival in September 2007 at Nathan Phillip’s Square, which is kind of prolific. We’re a volunteer-driven organization with very few paid staff. But this is a labour of love. This is people doing it because they believe it.

Describe your experience with the first Manifesto Festival of Arts & Culture event.

For one, I want September to be declared Youth Culture Month by the mayor. That’s one thing we’re working on. We run a studio space for photography with a few boardrooms. We just rent out the whole space for other organizations that don’t have a studio of their own. We have a series of arts education workshops, one called Know Your Crafts that’s basically about honing your artistic craft, making use of our studio space and working with mentors. The other one is called Up In Your Business and it focuses on contracts, standard rates for art and media industries, labour laws and things like that.

I moved from Guelph to Toronto when I was 17 to go to Ryerson, and started to really fall in love with Hip Hop. I moved back to Guelph for a summer and started to actually discover a Hip Hop scene there and threw a Bohemian Jam, which basically has all the elements that the festival has today. We had dance battles, parties, an art exhibit and a free concert stage. I moved back to Toronto and was working with Style & Progress, who was throwing the annual Hip Hop festivals at that time, as their documentation director. Their organization started to slow down a little bit, but I saw the vision of us working together. I said, “ Let’s put together an even that could be as big as Caribana or TIFF.” I was making all these bold statements! I sent an email to people who have been instrumental to Toronto hip hop for a long time, and we held

What other Manifesto initiatives would you like to see develop?

Where do you see Manifesto in 10 years? I’d like to develop Manifesto schools of community culture. Youth can come in, hone their crafts, and then have a summer job working on a specific part of the festival. That way the ownership of the festival becomes so democratized that, essentially, the whole city owns it. We’re trying

to open that up to the community a bit more as far as who comes, who performs. We want people to recognize how rapid this movement is growing and how meaningful it is. This year we’re looking to have festivals in Jamaica, Barbados, Columbia, Miami, so it’s rapidly expanding already. We want to expand our studio space for youth to work in and become great at what they do and might not have the space or resources to do. We want to put more media out to the masses, especially books and documentaries. We want to document all of what we learn from this so that anyone can have an organization and movement similar to Manifesto wherever they want, no matter the city or the country. I’d like to see schools all over the world that are based on culture, heritage and knowledge of self. I’d like to see a spot for cultural revolutions to happen. We can really affect a serious paradigm shift. When 9th Wonder [hip hop producer] said on twitter that “Toronto is the hip hop capital of the world” after his involvement with the festival, how did that make you feel? It reassured me of what I already knew. This is why we started Manifesto. It’s important that people know that Toronto is one of the culture capitals of the world. Notjust hip-hop, but culture period.

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mike vs. mike How a man with m.s. plans to climb mount everest

by Rakush Sarkari Photos by Graeme McNaughton

TAugustine

he first time it happened, Michael was terrified. It was Valentine’s Day in 1992, and he was at his girlfriend’s house when his feet fell asleep. He tried walking, but the numbness wouldn’t go away. It took a year to diagnose him with Multiple Sclerosis. Eventually, he lost the ability to walk and is losing vision in his left eye. But he didn’t let the diagnosis slow him down. This October, Augustine will attempt to climb 12,000 feet to Mount Everest’s base camp. The goal is to prove to himself that he can be independent. “This isn’t so much a lifetime dream of mine as much as it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity that redefines your life,” he said. Augustine’s idea to climb Mt. Everest was inspired by Ralph Cochrane, founder of MS Climb. Cochrane’s mother was diagnosed with MS in the 1970s. Seeing her condition deteriorate on a daily basis, he wanted to do something to raise awareness about the disease. It was on Mt. Kilimanjaro that he found his inspiration.

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Widea, he had gone up [Mt. Kili-

hen he first came up with the

manjaro], and he was thoroughly exhausted by the top and he realized this is how all people with MS feel,” said Augustine. In four years the MS Climb project has organized climbs to Machu Picchu, Mt. Kilimanjaro, The Great Wall of China and Mt. Everest. Their efforts have raised over $770,000 for MS research. Augustine has set a personal goal of raising $100,000. “When it comes down to it, even a dollar is a dollar I didn’t have,” he said. Just as Cochrane felt the pressure of the climb, so did Andrea Vassos. She made the climb to the Nepal base camp of Mt. Everest in the span of three weeks in April and May of 2010. “The altitude is really crazy because it doesn’t make you hungry and you get headaches,” she said. “I probably would describe it like walking up the CN Tower and down for eight hours a day.” Two members of her group could not continue the hike because they were too sick. Climbers don’t feel hungry despite knowing they have to eat. Base camps help climbers during their assent and descent by acclimatizing them to the altitude. Higher altitudes mean less oxygen which result in dizziness, loss of appetite and shortness of breath. Augustine will be making the climb without the aid of his wheelchair, but rather, a custom built, hand-pedalled professional mountain tricycle. He will be peddling 120-180 km by hand and taking the route via Tibet, rather than Nepal. Diagnosing Augustine with MS

Michael Augustine discusses his mission to climb Mt. Everest. took nearly a year -- a time comparably shorter than the four years it has taken for others. He said the symptoms take over a year to diagnose because they can mimic other auto-immune diseases such as lupus. “Imagine for a second that

found in approximately 50-70% of the patients. The disease often exhibits signs of improvement, but the MS Society’s description says it’s a disease of “accumulating disability.” Angela Rodriguez, Manager of Client Services in the Toronto

“

As a person with a disability - it meant that I could not climb because I had too many personal challenges to deal with

”

you’ve had your hand amputated. You can still feel your hand sometimes cramping up because the nerves that control the hand still exist or are intact,” Augustine said about the neuropathic pain he experiences due to Multiple Sclerosis. According to the MS Society of Canada, there are four variations of Multiple Sclerosis—Relapsing Remitting, Primary Progressive, Secondary Progressive, and Progressive Relapsing. Augustine suffers from Secondary Progressive MS, which is

Branch of the MS Society of Canada, says research has allowed further isolation of MS into eight different types. “When I started with the MS Society 19 years ago...there were three types of MS. They knew of Relapsing Remitting, Secondary Progressive and Progressive,” said Rodriguez. In any form of MS, people go through loss. Physical abilities are lost and co-ordination deteriorates. Yet the people diagnosed with MS do not say they are “suffering” or are “victims.” Rodriguez, who has

worked with several parts of the community, said those words are taboo. “Would they have chosen MS? Probably not,” she said. “But have they kind of been able to deal with what is thrown at them and make a different life for themselves that is positive? Yeah!” Augustine’s original plan was to participate in the climb last year, but personal reasons forced him to delay the climb. “As a person with disability, life is unpredictable and unfortunately in my particular case, it meant that I could not climb because I had too many personal challenges to deal with,” he said. One of the ways he has dealt with the issues is to continue to be socially active. He has a passion for baking and cooking. His dishes have no names—they are combinations of various other dishes. He learned how to cook from his father, who Augustine calls an excellent cook. The kitchen in his current residence was perfect for his needs. The first time he saw it, he was awestruck. “You see those movies where Ode to Joy is playing in the background and the background seeps into the foreground, and you hear ‘hallelujah’ and you see the look on the guy’s face like he’s in heaven,” he said without taking a breath. And then he started laughing. “Life happens, and sometimes life happens in a way you don’t expect or don’t want,” said Augustine. “It’s okay to be angry, it’s okay to be sad, depressed and hate your life and hate the world. But eventually, you have to move on from that.”

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pretty in pink

three days with up-and-coming designer breeyn Mccarney Words and Photos by Nicole Bogart

reeyn McCarney has not slept more than four hours in the past 24. Yet as she bursts through the door of a west end café, desperate for a caffeine fix, her exhaustion is barely visible through frantic, energetic footsteps. She sports a self-kept bob, reminiscent of Anna Wintour’s, and is strikingly pretty with little makeup. She has spent her night sewing, sketching and tweeting about ways to piss off Rob Ford. This is Breeyn’s world, where she is encapsulated by her status as one of Toronto’s up and coming designers.

Breeyn McCarney works with a model at her in-home studio. 12:15 p.m., Day One: The first time I meet McCarney she immediately makes an impression. A petite girl, no taller than 5’4”, she dresses in a long fur coat with an impressive collar. McCarney lives in a small west end studio apartment, with a close friend whom she’s known for years. She has lived in Toronto, the place she loves to call home, off and on for 10 years. Throughout the day, we shop for fabric for costume designs she is designing for Tiny Alligator Productions. She tells me about her experiences living in a small town outside of Saskatoon; a poor town, where they reused almost everything. She speaks vividly about how if one family hunted a moose they would share the meat with neighbors, giving her the fur to use in projects. “When I moved back to Toronto from Saskatchewan I was inspired by the way of life there, so I decided to live for as long as possible with as little as possible. I had one mug, one plate, one pot – I didn’t even have a bed for over a year. I learned to appreciate everything and that to be truly happy all I need is tea, hot showers, and my sewing machine,” she said. Over lunch we speak about her career in fashion. Giggling, she tells me that art was her first love, but she should have realized much sooner that fashion was her niche. She tells me a story of her “psychic gypsy grandmother”, who only held McCarney once before she died and predicted she would be in the industry. “While she was holding me I would rub the silk of her nightgown between my fingers. ‘Textiles… she will work with textiles,’” McCarney croaked in an accent. McCarney attended York University for Fine Arts before she answered her calling and at-

tended the prestigious Central Saint Martins College in the U.K. to study textiles and tailoring. “It was my boyfriend at the time, actually, who made me realize that I was spending more time making clothing than working on art, then the pieces sort of fell into place. I made clothing for my Barbies as a child, I worked at Fabric Land in high school – it was

“

Wonderland] they did have to restrain me a little bit because I wanted to go farther with the hair and the makeup. They said, ‘it distracts from the clothes.’ But does it really? We have this real focus in Toronto, we really hold back on theatrics because we have this idea that it needs to be commercial. New York has this very slick, power woman

I’ve been told a bunch of times, ‘You need to be more commercial,

”

shocking that it took me so long to figure it out,” McCarney said.

11:00 a.m, Day Two: McCarney’s commercial line, Another Word for Pink (AWFP), is a budget friendly line that aims to use all natural fabrics with as little environmental impact as possible. McCarney has invited me into her home to photograph her S/S line for AWFP. As we improvise a backdrop of white linen in her kitchen, we talk about the industry and how she feels about fashion in Toronto. “I’ve been told a bunch of times, ‘You need to be more commercial,’ but I don’t think my stuff is that weird! It’s not like it has things sticking out of it and you can’t walk through doors or stuff like that,” she laughs. I ask if she at times feels stifled. “At my last show [Hard Boiled

[look], like Michael Kors or Jill Sander, very stripped down and sleek. I feel like we’re trying to be like that. But we’re not New York, we’re never going to be New York. We’re Canada and we should just be who we are, encourage the creativity and however it comes out,” McCarney said. Hard Boiled Wonderland was praised for its cohesiveness. The Examiner described it as, “watching an elegant woodsy tea party walking down the runway but with enough sensuality underneath the innocent naivety that you knew this wasn’t your grandmother’s tea party.” “There is a bit of a chip on my shoulder with the people who are kind of dictating where we’re at in fashion right now. I just really feel like they’re holding us back. Look what’s happening in the world: when people feel re-

pressed, they start a revolution. I can see that in other people in the industry. I can see people getting annoyed and saying, ‘No, we don’t want to do it like that. We want to do it this way.’ I find it really interesting and I hope that rears up into something that is like a movement,” said McCarney.

7:15 p.m., Day Three: Breeyn and I sit in a dressing room in the basement of the Alumnae Theatre at King and Parliament. The dresses she has designed for Tiny Alligator Music hang, covered in plastic and waiting for the performers to finish hair and makeup. It is here that I realize how dedicated McCarney is to her art. Sitting before me in a black vintage silky dress with a cartoonish bow, she reveals she is only running on four hours of sleep. The past week she committed herself to this project, working all hours of the day to finish the custom dresses and knitted shawls for the show. After tonight Breeyn will work diligently on creating paper dresses for FAT, Toronto Alternative Fashion Week, which she describes on her twitter as, “Paper lantern dresses, moving flower embellishments and an interactive dress”. I ask: does McCarney feel she is destined to work in an international market? Or does she feel too strongly about the city she calls home? “I don’t know. I’m really torn between the draw to leave, to go some place that would be more supportive and copasetic to my vision. But there’s some weird patriotic defiance in me that’s like, ‘No, fuck you! I want to stay in Canada because there is awesome creativity here and if we fight hard enough we can put it on the map!’ So it’s this weird sort of dilemma that I still haven’t answered.”

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the issues

language recre8ed

by Aaron Best

Photos by Shellon Simon

Iand instant messaging are as inn the age of information, texting

stinctive to people as breathing. The Wi-Fi and 3G airwaves are filled with LOLs and BRBs. We pull our phones out of our pockets and fire away as naturally as if we were conversing in person. We sit down at our laptops and find ourselves in four or more conversations at once. It’s no wonder language is being abbreviated and shortened. These days, people are left with few options other than condensing their communication into Twitter’s 140 characters or less. “A lot of popular media thinks that these short forms are completely rampant and that everyone uses them all the time and that’s what’s destroying English,” said Dylan Uscher, who holds a masters in Arts and Linguistics from the University of Toronto. “A lot of people say that the reason that they think these shortforms are so prevalent is because they’re easier to type.” Uscher, author of Understanding the Linguistic Centaur: Language Variation and Change in Computer-Mediated Communication, looks at the example of ‘LOL’ written with extra letters at the end such as, ‘LOLLL.’ He thinks these short-forms exist to help people express sounds and actions they would make in person. “It doesn’t make sense, if you’re doing it to make things shorter, that you have 16 L’s at the end. That’s not serving a purpose of being shorter. That suggests a completely

“

different reason for why they exist,” said Uscher. Whatever their function, professors are disparaging about their effect on English. Gregory Levey, in a Toronto Life article called Lament for the iGeneration, wrote, “Two of my students have used ‘LOL’ in academic papers. Another, in a paper about cultural symbols, referred to ‘the Gr8 Wall of China.’ When I mentioned this to a friend who is a University of Toronto teaching assistant, she smiled and said she’s seen many other text message acronyms in essays: ‘411’ for the word ‘information’ and ‘4ever’ for ‘forever.’” But, according to an extensive research project conducted by Uscher in 2010, in day-to-day conversation, Internet speak is rarely used. His research looked at 45 first year students in a U of T course. Students were requested to record their computer mediated communication (CMC) conversations for analysis by Uscher. This meant they shared a selection of their informal emails, texts, and instant messages that they had sent their peers. Uscher ended up with about 182,000 words with which to conduct his research. Out of that, only 2,056 ended up being short forms. That means, out of 180,000 words, only 1.7 per cent were short-forms. On top of that, half of those short forms were laughter variants such as ‘LOL’ (laughing out loud), ‘haha’, and ‘ROFL’ (rolling on the floor laughing). “People are trying to say that the Internet is destroying language – that English is being ruined because of this,” said Uscher, “While we notice these forms a lot because

When people get hysterical about the effect that technology might have on school kids, I’m just ‘LOL’.

”

Is texting destroying our language? they’re so non-standard, they’re not like written English, so they really pop out to us. They’re really not that influential.” Jack Chambers, professor of linguistics at the University of Toronto, said language is constantly going through change. This is why Shakespeare’s language is different from ours. “When people get hysterical about the effect that technology might have on school kids, I’m just ‘LOL,’” said Chambers. Chambers said that people who use abbreviations and short forms display a greater degree of ingenuity, because they have to know what the full form is to condense the word. “In order to write the word ‘create’ using ‘cre8’, you’d have to understand how the language works. I don’t know whether that’s really an abbreviation that would take any shorter time to type than typing out the word itself,” said Chambers. The bottom line, said Uscher, is that abbreviations and short forms aren’t going to go away. Just like there are geographic dialects, there are linguistic registers that depend

on social contexts. “I am convinced that language on the Internet is a new kind of register that we’ve never seen before. It’s a combination of speech and writing, but it’s formed a completely new domain,” said Uscher. “If you look at the grand scheme of language, where you look at the really big registers which have classically been speech and writing, we haven’t seen the emergence of a brand new register like this since the invention of writing.” While this may be exciting to people like Uscher, Chambers said that there are still people who see technology’s effect on language as negative, but those numbers are dwindling. “I could imagine some old diehard, maybe somebody who’s still using a fountain pen in this day and age, [who] might come up with an objection that it’s an aberration,” said Chambers. “That it fouls the language to use abbreviations and to speak in [a] sort of telegraphic language rather than fully formed sentences. I can imagine that being a point of view, but those people are dinosaurs.”

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read you if donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t this you could aa look look at at the the use use of of fear fear inin the the media media

by Jan Vykydal

Illustration by Ryan Bristlon

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DIE

Tand tyrants have known for

he media knows what kings

centuries: fear gets people’s attention. Just like advertising uses sex to sell, the news relies on fear to keep people interested, exacerbated in no small part by the rise of the 24-hour news network with their constant struggle to keep ratings above those of their competitors. Networks are more focused on the presentation of the news than on the news itself. This is driving people away from the traditional media, and slowly changing both the way people react to the news and the way they perceive the world. In his 2009 mini-documentary for the TV show Charlie Brooker’s Newswipe, British documentarian Adam Curtis said, “Night after night we’re shown pictures of terrible things which we feel we can do nothing about - images of civil wars, massacres, and starving children, which leave us feeling helpless and depressed, and to which the only response is ‘oh dear’.” “It’s basic psychology that fear gets your attention,” said Dr. John Steckley, Professor of Liberal Arts at Humber College. He said it’s much easier for the media to grab people’s attention by saying, “Here is a legless child who may have lost his leg through sledding,” then it is to say, you should tell your kids to be careful. Steckley, who has two degrees in anthropology, said, “Media in the late 20th and 21st century is all about creating more and more of a spectacle.” He said it’s clear to see if you look at the coverage of major news events, like the earthquake in Haiti, and turmoil in the Middle East. Closer to home, the coverage of H1N1 and the 2010 G20 protests are also great examples of how the media works. He said he thinks the media needs a counter-narrative, and alternative media and the blogosphere could be

the answer. “The media of news on TV is slowly dying,” said Dan Dicks, one of the founders of PressForTruth.ca, “And it looks like independent news outlets may be the wave of the future.” PressForTruth is a Torontobased group of investigative reporters, journalists and political activists who report on things the mainstream media has either missed or refuses to touch. More and more, people are looking online to find alternatives to the traditional mainstream media, he said, and although the alternative online media is still in its infancy, it’s growing fast. The great thing,

“

litically most powerful and influential men in the Western world, who meet secretly to plan events that later appear just to happen.” Estulin said some notable members include Prince Charles of Wales, Prime Minister Stephen Harper, former President Bill Clinton, members of the European Union, United Nations and NATO, and former Presidents of the World Bank. “If 120 rock stars or athletes showed up to a hotel to discuss things there would be media all over the place outside trying to figure out what was being talked about, but at Bilderberg

The media of news on TV is slowly dying, and it looks like independent news outlets may be the wave of the future.

”

he said, is that “anyone with a camera is contributing these days to getting information out there.” Dicks first became interested in reporting when he attended a meeting of the Bilderberg group in 2006, and he found that there was no media coverage of the event. According to Daniel Estulin, author of The True Story of the Bilderberg Group, the group is named after the Hotel Bilderberg in the Netherlands, where the group first met. It was founded by Prince Bernhard of Netherland in 1954. In 1997, The Times of London called it, “a clique of the richest, economically and po-

there was no media there. It was a total media blackout,” said Dicks. That’s not entirely surprising. In his book about the Bilderberg Group, Estulin writes, “as a general rule, Bilderberg meetings are never mentioned in the media, since the mainstream press is fully owned by the Bilderbergs.” Dicks covered the G20 summit that was held in Toronto, and said the mainstream coverage was good, at first. However, Dicks said the excessive coverage of the two burning police cars, which later became the defining image of the protests, might have been a little much. “Certainly the media took

their photo-op opportunity, and that’s all you saw on TV, was the burning police cars,” he said. He included that because there was so much footage of the burning cars, people started to be afraid of “the bad anarchist-types.” “It’s the one thing that truly works,” said Dicks. “If you are in a fear state, and your life or your family’s lives or your job or anything like that may be on the line, you’ll accept whatever kind of solution there is to this fear problem.” Vijay Sarma is an activist, journalist, and former Toronto mayoral candidate who covered H1N1 when it was first brought to the public’s attention. He said that in the mainstream press there were some good stories about H1N1 that the independent media often picked up on and tried to flesh out. However, he said, “By and large, I thought the mass media’s coverage was full of fear-mongering, full of contradictory information about how threatening the virus is and where it might be.” Another part of this, Sarma said, was “the constant repetition and coverage of it.” He said this repetition is part of what is driving people towards online news. “There are two emotions that really stimulate the primitive parts of our brains,” said Sarma. “One of them is violence or fear and the other one is sex. And so those two are often used to control people. You can get an immediate response from people by just scaring them or by turning them on.” “We need a media that will say, ‘hey, chill out,” said Steckley. “I used to like watching the CBC evening news. I hate those grinning ninnies they have there now. They’re pathetic. They do banter. I hate banter. Banter’s for morons doing the Santa Claus parade. It’s not for serious issues.” scribe 17

A tale of three cities: income isolation and polarization in Toronto by Justin Crann

Photos by Erin Jones

Omiddle-income neighbourhoods ver the past 35 years, Toronto’s

have been disappearing at a dramatic rate. While some have been gentrified, many more have lost value, and are now home primarily to low-income families. A startling trend is emerging: the downtown core has become an almost exclusive stomping ground for the upper class, and the city’s outer edges are now home to a majority of low-income families. These are the findings of a recent University of Toronto report, which states that the income gap is widening and causing a system of both economical and ethno-cultural “ghettoization.” “There’s a growing distance, a social distance, between a large minority population, the well off,

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and an increasingly vast majority, over 50 per cent, who are very low income,” said David Hulchanski, a professor of housing and development at the University of Toronto who also authored the report, “It’s creating all of this social inequality among ourselves... the report is something documenting that and warning about that.” The report, titled The Three Cities Within Toronto, was released in December 2010 by the University of Toronto’s Cities Centre, and uses data from the Census of Canada to monitor the development and change of the city’s neighbourhoods between 1970 and 2005. Hulchanski said the focus of the report is income inequality and income polarization. “We have many more low-income neighbourhoods, and more high-income neighbourhoods, and we lost the middle-income neighbourhoods,” said Hulchanski,

“That’s a very dramatic change in those 35 years. That’s what the report is about.” In the report, Hulchanski outlines the trend toward income polarization by splitting Toronto into three different “cities”, each city representing the low-, moderate- and high-income areas. It also notes that the city’s high-income neighbourhoods (city one) tend to be centralized around the downtown core, where access to transit and other vital services is best, the city’s low-income (city three) regions tend to be located on the city’s fringe where services aren’t as reliable, and the middle-income (city two) areas most frequently appear as a buffer between the first two. According to Hulchanski, there are several driving forces behind this trend. First and foremost is a shift in the labour market. “We used to have lots of decent

paying, industrial jobs, and there’s been de-industrialization now, there aren’t many good industrial jobs any longer,” he said, “and now we have a large service sector that pays often relatively low wages, often without benefits and sometimes not even full time.” Also at issue is the relative lack of social assistance programs in comparison to 35 years ago. “We used to have an unemployment system that paid more people more when they were unemployed. Now it pays fewer people less,” Hulchanski said, adding that employment insurance is also less accessible now than it was then. Lidia Monaco, the executive director of St. Christopher House, a non-profit organization that assisted the University of Toronto with the study, agreed that social assistance needs to be improved. “People are really struggling, and we shouldn’t just be looking

the other way or blaming them,” said Monaco. “Where’s the concern for the people living within these systems?” The third cause of income polarization, according to Hulchanski, is the decline in prominence of social housing. “We were building 25,000 social housing units a year up until the early 1990s – that was the federal government, and the province was building some,” he said, “that’s all discontinued. So it’s very tough. If you’re low-income on a low-paying job, where do you find a decent place to live?” Even after those people find a place to live, there’s no guarantee that the services they rely on will be accessible, or that those services will even remain in the neighbourhood. This is especially true in neighbourhoods that are gentrifying. “There used to be a lot of these small family businesses that local residents relied on, and a lot of those are gone,” said Leslie Saunders, coordinator of The Meeting Place, a walk-in centre at Queen Street West and Bathurst Street that is operated by St. Christopher House. “There was a little green grocer just down the road that was there for it had to be 20 years, and we used to rely heavily on that, as did most people living in the neighbourhood,” she said, “and now that green grocer is gone.” “We need to have services and programs there for when people need them,” said Monaco. Gentrification, itself, presents an entirely different set of problems. The most pronounced of these issues, especially in the downtown core, is the clearest example of income inequality in the city. “The more money you have, the more choice of neighbourhoods you have. So higher-income people are choosing either to live in the outer suburbs or in the old city of Toronto, the sort of Victorian city of Toronto, that kind of landscape. Whereas the 1950s, 1970s suburban sprawl is not very desirable to many people, so it’s leftover space, and that’s where lower-income people can find a place to live,” said Hulchanski. “What we’re doing is creating exactly what David is talking about with his report – the three cities,” said Monaco, who emphasized that

a mixed-income model of neighbourhood development is vital to reverse “ghettoizing” in the city. The process of ghettoization is both economic and ethno-cultural, said David Hulchanski, and it has affected both the low- and highincome “cities”. “The high-income area, is that not a ghetto? It’s 82 per cent white,” said Hulchanski, “the city is 50-50 white and visible minority, but 20 per cent of the city is 82 per cent white in the last census. Ethno-cultural groups and skin colour matter... why is it that 20 per cent of the city is 82 per cent white? There’s nine per cent of the city which is 26 per cent black... so we really are segregated by skin colour. You can say some are newcomers, and it takes a while to get established,” he said, “but still, the results relating to skin colour now – being black – are just very dramatic.” When asked about other minorities, Hulchanski said that because of the broader definition of “visible minority”, it’s more difficult to spot trends, but “there are very few visible minority people in city one, also.” “You just can’t explain that segregation, especially by skin colour, without bringing in discrimination,” he said. But the trends of discrimination, income inequality and income polarization need not continue, said Hulchanski. Ultimately, the solution lies in targeting the problems directly. “The inner suburbs have to be made more desirable places to live,” he said, “that’s the real future for city three – it needs investment. Right now, there’s no new investment... downtown, there’s people building condominiums, so that’s investment. That isn’t happening in city three. There’s very little investment there. The solution is, at the city level, greater investment.” Hulchanski points to the city’s Tower Neighbourhood Renewal Initiative, which is currently renewing the older towers in Toronto and the GTA, as a specific example of the ideal form of investment for city three. “There are 1,200 rental highrise buildings in Toronto. That’s an astounding number,” he said. “They house half of all of Toronto’s tenants. So this Tower Renewal is a way to turn around city three.”

According to the Three Cities report, poverty in Toronto is on the rise.

“

The high-income area, is that not a ghetto? It’s eighty-two per cent white.

But the four greater issues driving the “three cities” dynamic – the rough labour market, lack of accessible social assistance and quality social housing, and discrimination – are all “bigger than the city,” Hulchanski said. “Over the last 20 years, the federal and provincial governments have done things in the wrong direction on those four [issues],” he said, “and if every year for the next

”

20 years they do something positive on those four things the map of the city will change.” Monaco agreed, stressing that if the three levels of government and non-profit organizations in Toronto “work together, we can actually solve the problems.”

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It’s not A mirage The latest challenge for Toronto’s working poor: “food deserts” by Shumu Haque photos by Shellon Simon

IAfter what seems like a painfully t’s almost the end of the month.

long wait, Linda Nebehej has just received $672 – her monthly disability allowance from the Ontario government. After paying her rent, cable, phone and hydro bills out of the allowance, she now has to find the money to buy enough groceries for the entire month. At 4-foot-11 and 93 pounds, she appears youthful, but looking closer, the faintest trace of discomfort is evident as she tries to hide her laboured breathing and fatigue. “Last month was pretty hard, but this month won’t be any different either,” she said, all the while trying to hold a smile. Nebehaj is not alone. The issues of mobility, adverse weather conditions and the lack of public transportation affect almost half the population of Toronto. They’re the residents of ‘food deserts’: neighbourhoods with little access to good quality and affordable food. Fifty-seven year old Nebehaj suffers from Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease and food allergies, and she lives on her own on the meagre amount that Disability Services provides for her. She lives

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in the Rexdale area, does not own a car and the closest grocery store is either a 15 minute bus ride or a ten minute walk away. There used to be a grocery store next to where Nebehaj lives that has closed down recently. “That made a big difference in my life. Because then I had to rely on taking the bus to the Albion Centre or walking to the Giant Tiger and even that’s hard on me, too, because when I walk with the shopping cart, I get out of breath. I can only get a few little things so that the cart’s not too hard to pull,” said Nebehaj. Due to her health, sometimes she is forced to take a cab, especially when she buys a large amount of groceries. Each ride costs $12. “And that’s when I run into problems. The money just goes. I have to be very careful,” said Nebehaj. The Lloyd & Delphine Martin Prosperity Institute is the world’s leading think-tank on the role of sub-national factors – location, place and city-regions – in global economic prosperity. According to research done in 2010, almost half of the population in Toronto lives in an area that is more than one kilometre away from the closest grocery store.

“

you have to go through a lot of hoops in order just to get food.

”

Kuljit Pharwala has concerns about the selection of food at grocery stores. The report also suggests that 13 of those food deserts co-exist with lower income, high priority neighbourhoods, which are neighbourhoods characterized by low median incomes and the socio-economic problems that arise from that. Kevin Stolarick, Associate Director and Research Associate at the Martin Prosperity Institute, identifies transportation problems as one of the most important variables behind food deserts, which in turn results in other issues such as overconsumption of fast food. “People in Toronto and other cities who don’t have a lot of money end up spending more of that money on [fast] food. And they are buying bad [fast] food with the money that they spend. But they don’t have an alternative. They don’t have the time, or the ability to get to a big grocery store to buy all the things they want,” said Stolarick. Danita Kagan, a professor of Sociology at Humber College, also points out the relationship between working conditions, time constraints and the tendency to go for quicker options rather than nutritional ones. “When you have low income or you are working in a job where you don’t have control of the hours or the conditions of the work, you’re going to be time deprived. Your schedule will be much more

constrained. You’ll be looking for convenient choices. Fast food fits in. If you are a single mother and you have multiple jobs, then you’re going to pick up what’s quickest, not necessarily look at the nutritional quality,” said Kagan. Nineteen year old Kuljit Pharwala, who lives in the Jane and Finch area, said he is quite dependent on fast food. However, in the event that he does decide to go for groceries and cook at home, the inadequate supply of food at the grocery store discourages him. “Most of the times, when I go to the grocery stores in my neighbourhood, the good healthy stuff that [is] advertised on the flyers and that I need to buy [is] already gone,” said Pharwala. As a result, he finds it easy and convenient to go and buy fast food instead. “So many of these neighbourhoods have grown up so fast that the stores haven’t really had a chance to react. So they are not realizing how under stocked they are,” Stolarick said, “the tricky part with all of this is, you don’t think that you have to go through a lot of hoops in order just to get food. And sometimes you do. And that, I think, is the real shame.”

”

I run into problems. the money just goes. i have to be very careful.

”

Linda Nebahaj has limited access to healthy food. scribe 21

we’re still here How a former prostitute escaped the sex trade by Stephanie Lippa Photos by Erin Jones

Bters, Angel Wolfe, Briar Rose,

ridget Perrier and her daugh-

and Soleil, gather with big smiles as they pose for this photograph. Looking at Perrier, one would not be able to tell what kind of stories she has to share. They are proud to be survivors of a dark past. She is not only a mother of three – she is also a former prostitute. Perrier is the caregiver for Wolfe, the oldest daughter. Wolfe’s mother, Brenda, was murdered by Robert Pickton. Today, Perrier is a community advocacy worker for the non-profit organization Sex Trade 101. She and other advocacy workers travel

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across Canada, sharing their stories and educating people about the dangers of prostitution. “How many times a night did I ever have to fight a man off who had been trying to rip the condom off or trying to get more for what he paid for?” asked Perrier. One night, a client broke her jaw because he was not satisfied. Perrier was adopted into an upper class family. She struggled with adjusting to the family and often ran away from home. From ages eight to 10 she was sexually abused by a family friend. When she was 12 she became a prostitute. She was living in the YWCA shelter for women when she entered prostitution. She and the group of women she was with had no money

and they often ran away from the shelter. She started off in escort services and then slowly made her way onto the streets, because she wanted to have control over the money she was making. Natasha Falle, the founder of Sex Trade 101, said that the media glamorizes the sex trade while leaving out what really happens behind closed doors. “They’re not putting the full job description out there and letting you know what your work place hazards are,” said Falle, adding those who are promoting prostitution are often those who are caught up in it. At 16, Perrier gave birth to her first child, Tanner. He was diagnosed with leukemia at birth. Perrier continued to work as a prostitute

to help support the two of them. “I did it for survival and it was fast, easy money,” said Perrier. She also started using opium. “It was chaos,” said Perrier. “A parent of a sick child shouldn’t have to worry about how much money she’s going to make.” Tanner died at the age of five. Before he died, she made a promise to him that she would stop working in the industry and get herself cleaned up. At the age of 22, Perrier left the sex trade industry. At 17-years-old, Wolfe is the youngest advocate for Sex Trade 101. She was in the care of CAS in Vancouver until she was 16. She was adopted by Perrier, who used to date Wolfe’s father. Wolfe was five when her mother, Brenda,

went missing. When she was eight, she was told that her mother’s body was found on a farm. “It was horrible at first. I hated it because there were so many lies written about her, [like] she was a drug addicted prostitute,” said Wolfe. “It was tough. At times in my life, I really just wanted to give up on everything and not deal with it anymore.” Sex Trade 101 works closely with the Toronto Police Sex Crimes Unit and detective Paul Gauthier thinks public awareness about human trafficking is important. Gauthier said the average age that most girls enter prostitution is 12 or13 years old, and often these young girls come from broken and

abusive homes or are immigrants who don’t speak English and have no money. “We do as much as we can to educate the public. A lot of people see it as a woman who is loose, who is willing to sell her body, and gets in it because she’s after money,” said Gauthier. “In a lot of cases people do not understand the dynamics. Often, you are dealing with a young girl who started doing this at a young age, had a bad set of circumstances to begin with, got let into this business and unfortunately can’t get out and that’s the dark side of it that people don’t understand.” Gauthier also thinks that programs like Sex Trade 101 are a

“

At times in my life, I really just wanted to give up on everything and not deal with

”

Angel Wolfe

Bridget Perrier

great way for these workers to speak up and help others get their lives back on track. “For a lot of women it’s hard to come public about that, to say that they have changed their life… they are in the business. They really don’t want to look back to what they’ve done. They really don’t want their family or friends, bosses or co-workers knowing what they did in a former life. They’re definitely out there, and good for them for getting out of it,” said Gauthier. Falle’s message for those who want to get out of the sex trade is that they are not alone and there is always help. “Start doing today what you can do for tomorrow,”

said Falle, “you are not alone and there are people in organizations, like myself, that are there to help.” Falle wants those who want to speak out about their experience within the sex trade industry. She insists it is never too late and that they should not have any fear of talking about their experiences. “They do not have to do this alone. They are worth so much more than what $1,000 can buy them. The message we try to send them is that they’re worth more,” said Falle, “and is that $1,000 worth your life?”

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open mind, open palate Photos & Words by Sarah Savage

’m not going to lie, I was nervous. Trying new things isn’t usually that big of a deal, except when you’re going to write about it and you’re new at that, too. My mission: try a meat I had never tasted before. Despite the wide variety to choose from in Toronto, one of them stood out for me as being really exotic. When it came to the table, it had a slightly phallic shape. I took my knife and cut into it. The meat was lean, and it was like cutting into a steak. I placed the morsel in my mouth and chewed slowly. It tasted like beef, but stronger. It’s official: I like Kangaroo. Despite my initial trepidation, I was beginning to enjoy the idea of being a foodie and a writer and the unexpectedly delicious kangaroo had assuaged most of my meat misconceptions. I wanted to know what made owner Bill Barootes feature exotic meats in his restaurant, Barootes, located on King Street West in Toronto. “I mean there must be 50 or 60 restaurants within four square blocks. So we decided we were going to do something a little bit different. We were going to start to offer some game meats when they were available,” said Barootes,

who imports the Kangaroo meat from Australia. “I was floored by the amount of people who were middle aged and greater that wanted to try kangaroo. The sales mix here on kangaroo is so great that I can’t take it off [the menu] right now. It would be a major mistake for me to take it off because it does sell so well.” Still on a culinary high about the novelty of trying Kangaroo here in Toronto, I got to thinking: is this something that they eat on a regular basis in Australia? “Kangaroo can be found at most grocery stores, but in few restaurants in the Sydney area,” said Brooke Schoenman, who currently blogs for WhyGo Australia. “The first time I had it, I did not enjoy it, but it wasn’t quality meat or cooked the way kangaroo needs to be cooked [medium]. These were cheap kangaroo steaks and it was cooked well, which makes them really tough and meaty tasting. The second time I had kangaroo was in a meat sauce for pasta, which was quite lovely. This kangaroo came as a mince,” she said. “Kangaroos are the equivalent to deer in the US. If you go on a road trip in Australia, you must watch out for kangaroos around dusk and dawn. Kangaroo meat used to be only used for dog meat by the white Australian. Aborigi-

nal people have eaten them for centuries, but have become a common food source in the past couple decades. So, I would say that they do think of them as vermin, but eating them is becoming more mainstream,” said Schoenman. Sheryl Kirby, editor of TasteTO.com, also shed some light on the exotic food industry. But first a warning: don’t call her a foodie. “We all eat three times a day hopefully. It doesn’t mean that because I eat and you eat we have anything in common. You know, I wear shoes, George Bush wears shoes. I’m not going to hang out with him and go shoe shopping. So to me it kind of groups people together,” said Kirby. Exactly how would Kirby describe her interest in food? “People have batted around foodist. I’ve seen the word foodster being used. They’re all kind of lame. Does it need a word? I tend to use food lovers or people who love food,” said Kirby. Once Kirby set the record straight on preferred terminology, she also put my fascination with exotic meat into perspective. “It [kangaroo] was very bland,” she said. “What you have to remember about any kind of exotic meat that you can get here in Toronto, and there is lots of it available, is that it is all farmed. It’s ex-

otic in that it’s an animal that you haven’t eaten before; as in it’s not a cow or pig or a chicken, but it’s raised on a farm. If you take a piece of farmed venison and a piece of wild caught venison they taste completely different. One is eating feed that is probably mostly corn, the other is eating berries and twigs and leaves and things.” Kirby encourages people interested in food to try new things. “If you’re in Toronto you have access to, with the exception of a major portion of Africa, pretty much every cuisine in the world. So, try stuff you don’t know unless it’s crazy expensive. You’re out 10-20 bucks and if you don’t like it, big deal. You get to eat again in three hours. And, if you do like it, then you’ve just discovered something amazing,” she said. “Somewhere in the city you can find pretty much anything you need if it’s legal and if it’s not legal you can probably find it, too, if you know who to ask.” I wondered if it was this easy to get different kinds of meat and food in Australia? “Turkey is definitely not as popular in Australia as it is in North America, which is sad because it is my favourite meat. They typically only market turkey around Christmas, and even then it is mighty expensive,” said Schoenman.

“

It would be a major mistake for me to take it off because it does sell so well.

”

Grilled Australian kangaroo loin served at Barootes. scribe 24

Blue and white

Jeff Stanford, founder of The Gondola, selling copies to a Leafs fan.

Has leafs’ nation been bled dry? by Matthew Smith

Photos by Erin Jones

Aunder the Bay Street bridge adbundled-up Jeff Stanford stands

jacent to the ground level of Toronto’s downtown Union Station. “Get your Gondola here, only a dollar!” yells Stanford. Stanford holds a stack of his magazines called The Gondola and hasn’t raised the price since its inception 15 years ago. In it, Stan-

ford writes about the Toronto Maple Leafs with a satirical left-wing tone that would make any hockey fan smirk. Stanford selects a spot under one of the bridge lights. It’s the same spot he goes to every time. Stanford’s fascination with the Maple Leafs started decades ago when the Leafs were winning Stanley Cups. “When I started watching hockey in the late ‘50s, early ‘60s there were only six teams. The Leafs were good since they won three

cups in a row in the early ‘60s. As a Torontonian, to become a Leaf fan was a very easy thing to do. They were the local team and they were good,” said Stanford. Stanford believes that it’s a natural process for the local Torontonian to root for the home team. “I’m critical of everything that has to do with hockey, but I’m still pro Toronto Maple Leafs. It’s so discouraging these days when we expect a better team and were not getting it,” he said.

Stanford used to get attention by shouting ‘Gondola’ for years but now usually succumbs to standing quietly below the tunnel lights as hockey fans and scalpers walk by. “I found over the years that shouting and yelling for attention really didn’t result in that many sales and I just ended up with a sore voice,” said Stanford. “I know I have to get online.I think I’d do much better online since I could

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advertise for free so the publicity wouldn’t hurt.” Apart from Stanford’s regulars, his only alternative to free advertising is by word of mouth. “What has really suffered are the walk-by sales. A lot of the regulars are just not using their tickets because the team is not good enough for them to attend. I think a lot of the regulars are selling their tickets and not coming down to the game like they used to,” he said. Like Stanford, 31-year-old stonemason and Leafs fan Joe Robb has been fascinated with the Leafs since the early ‘90s. However, he has reached a level of infamy that Stanford has not. On December 20, 2010 the Leafs were losing 5-1 to the Atlanta Thrashers and Robb made a decision that would later find him banned him from all Maple Leaf Sports and Entertainment events. “I was getting frustrated so I took the elevator down (from the 300 section) went into one of the washrooms and took the packaged Eggo’s out of my hoody and put them in my pouch, walked out and told my friends that this is go time,” explained Robb. Robb successfully threw all eight waffles on the ice. Unfortunately for him, a security guard

spotted him and escorted him out of the section. “I just remember all the players and fans looking at me before I was taken into the security office,” said

“

that’s just by word of mouth,” said Robb. “All the bars in my area of Oakville put the shirts up for display so it’s good that they’re supporting me.”

...people here in this city have taken losing for so long that they’re easily frustrated now.

Robb. After his now famous outburst, Robb is finding support from his new hobby: making Waffle Nation Leafs t-shirts. The front of the shirt displays the classic Toronto Maple Leaf logo with a white waffle embedded in the leaf. On the back of the blue shirt reads, “Enough is enough. A cup since ’67, really?” “I sell them for $20 each and I’ve sold close to 200 (so far) and

”

Unlike Robb, long time Leaf fan and now pro scout coordinator Gus Katsaros believes that solid progress is being made in the Toronto Maple Leafs organization. “Fans want to see the Leafs succeed in making the playoffs. However, the management is taking a step back and they’re building a foundation which requires consistent competitiveness rather than making quick fixes just to make

the playoffs while satisfying every Leaf fans desire,” said Katsaros. “I tell them that you’re going to get a team that will be like the Detroit Red Wings, which is the motto the Leafs are building around. Essentially, you have to give that time to develop.” Since the 1996-97 NHL season, Detroit has won four Stanley Cups and has consistently made it into the playoffs since the 1991 season. Katsaros firmly believes that the Leafs organization must have the proper patience and scouting in order for them to make it and succeed in the playoffs. “A consistent contender takes time to develop but people here in this city have taken losing for so long that they’re easily frustrated now,” explained Katsaros. “Aside from their Stanley Cup wins (from decades ago) and their playoff efforts in the ‘90s, what was there really to look forward to?” However, Katsaros believes that Leafs management is heading towards the right direction for a winning team. According to him, it’s just going to take a lot of time for the organization and their fans. “There is a lot of impatience here in Toronto but I think that will dissipate once they see a little bit of a turnaround.”

Gus Katsaros, pro scout coordinator, observes on-ice talent. scribe 26

a lesson in three letters A look at Torontoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s black community living with HIV/AIDS Words and Photos by Erin Jones

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Pwoman

atience* is a tall, South African with glistening russet eyes and a slight gap-toothed smile. Her eyebrow is pierced with a silver barbell. Her hair is cornrowed into thick braids that are swirled around one another into a bun. “I will die a natural death. I’m not scared to die,” she said in a gentle voice. She hid behind her coffee cup and choked on her words when I asked about her family, her HIV status, and why she fled to Canada in 2008. She asked me to change her name and not to photograph her because she fears the stigma and discrimination that comes with HIV. “I don’t want my name in [the] media because not everybody knows about me. I only disclose when I think you need to know about me. I don’t just go out and tell everybody. That’s what I’m scared of,” she explained. Patience hasn’t disclosed her status to all of her family. We met in a crowded coffee shop. Patience, scared of someone overhearing us, asked if we could go somewhere else instead, so we made our way to the McDonald’s across the street. The 33-year-old left her three children behind to escape domestic abuse and an arranged marriage. Swallowing back her tears, she shifted her eyes, “I’m very emotionally attached with the story of my kids, my family, because I haven’t seen them since I came here.” Patience’s mother died of a heart attack in 1992, and her father is retired. Her children were left in the care of her sister until, she hopes, they will be allowed into Canada too. Upon arrival in Toronto, Patience found out that she was HIVpositive. She contracted the infection from having unprotected sex with men back home. “I never thought that I would get HIV. You know this mentality when you think that we are big and look healthy and we are not sick. Being ignorant, actually. Let me put it like that, being ignorant.” said Patience. “I was shocked for a couple of months… but after I was connected with the ASOs everything was back to normal.” ASOs are AIDS Service Organizations. In Toronto, ASOs are constantly struggling to adapt and keep up with the growing demand on service and the threat of cuts to their already limited funding. There are only a handful of

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ASOs geared towards the Black community of Toronto, and the Black Coalition For AIDS Prevention (Black CAP) on Victoria Street is part of this select few. The agency was founded in 1989 by a group of concerned community members who were alarmed by the amount of Black gay men dying from AIDS. Over 20 years later, the organization has 21 people on staff, an annual budget of $1.4 million and an array of programs and services, ranging from specifically-targeted education prevention programs to support groups for immigrants and refugees. “It’s my job to make sure that we get money, that we spend money, that we have the staff to do the work, and that we’re meeting our mission in the community to prevent new HIV infections and to support Black people in Toronto who are living with, or who are significantly affected by HIV and AIDS,” said Shannon Ryan, Executive Director of Black CAP. Ryan’s voice is gentle and passionate. He’s a tall, slender black man with thick framed glasses, a knit pullover and a polite smile. “There are a lot of black people in Toronto living with HIV and AIDS - several thousand of them, and often they’re invisible. Often they’re un-served by other organizations so it’s really important that we’re here. Not only to put a face on HIV and AIDS, but to be a space where our clients who are living with HIV and AIDS can kind of have a refuge to go and be at peace, find people who are like them, and find people who can support them,” said Ryan. Robert Remis, a medical Epidemiologist and professor from the University of Toronto, said in 2008 there were 4,878 African or Caribbean people heterosexually infected with HIV in Ontario, including 466 newly infected people, and 49 people died of HIV related causes that year, bringing the total to 589 deaths. He said of people infected with HIV, the black community is classified as the third most important group, homosexual men being the most important and injecting drug users following after. He also said that he’s witnessed a drastic increase in HIV infections in the black community. “It’s increasing faster than any of the other affected groups. In the last ten years from 1998 to 2008 it’s

almost tripled,” said Ryan. “People hold some very strange and kind of funky ideas about people who are living with HIV/AIDS. People often get into the kind of blame game. ‘Well you should have known better, you should have protected yourself, or what did you do to yourself to get HIV? What did you do wrong to get HIV’?” Patience said ASOs in Toronto are imperative to the existence and survival of the black HIV-positive community. “They’ve been so helpful to me,” she said. “I am who I am today, doing this interview with you because of them. It made me strong.” “We don’t bar people living with HIV. We don’t bar people who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgendered on those characteristics,” said Ryan. “We actually find that many of our clients who have those characteristics are often quite successful in their refugee claims process, and that for me is a beautiful thing. Nothing makes me more proud to be Canadian than that. We open our doors to otherwise people who would have the door slammed in their face.” Stephanie Karapita is the Chief Executive Officer at Casey House, a specialty hospital in downtown

Toronto that cares for people with HIV and AIDS. She said there has been a significant increase in black clients in the past five years. “Now I think I have more understanding of life better than pre-

“

Patience said it’s easier to be HIV positive in South Africa but it’s harder to get proper medication there. “It is something that is openly talked about, you know? And a lot

People hold some very strange and kind of funky ideas about people who are living with HIV/AIDS.

viously. I’ve been empowered. If it wasn’t for HIV I wouldn’t have the courage I have right now,” Patience said quietly.

”

of people are dying of AIDS so it’s not something that is rare,” she said. “The only thing that is a problem is accessing medication, and

the fact that people don’t easily go for testing. They only go for testing when they are sick, that is where they usually die because they can’t get help at the right time, so being in Canada, especially for immigrants, it’s a must. That is what I am thankful of.” Patience said she stays optimistic by, “waking up each day, and looking at it in a positive way - knowing that I’m not going to die of HIV or AIDS.” Patience said she practices safe sex with her boyfriend, who she met on the subway and has been dating since October 2010. When I asked her if her experience with her children’s father affects her current relationship, Patience goes mute. She keeps her eyes down, picks at the paper sleeve around her coffee cup and quietly says, “No.” “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I just hope I don’t become resistant to [the] medication, and to bring my kids to Canada.” When asked if she’s afraid of dying of HIV, she said, “No,” with an awkward chuckle. “Except for dying as in dying, because that one you can never run away from.”

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the arts

toronto comedy clubs foster career growth Jtakes the microphone from the on Steinberg walks on stage and

emcee. “Hey there,” he says to the audience. His dark, messy hair bobs up and down. Even after doing years of stand-up, nerves still get the better of him. But Steinberg’s unmistakable wit and cleverness have gotten him nominated for a Canadian Comedy Award, and he’s been dubbed Canada’s

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‘next big thing’ by Russell Peters. The Ottawa-born comic resides in Toronto, the mecca of comedy in Canada. “In my first western tour in 2006, I was gone six weeks, staying in really shitty hotels. I was broke all the time. Partly what got me through was a lack of any other job skills. But you also can’t put yourself out there too early,” said

Steinberg. Smaller clubs shape Toronto’s comedy scene, offering the chance for amateurs to test their craft. One of those small clubs, the Rivoli, hosts Laugh Sabbath every Sunday. The event features a variety of up-and-coming comedians. “Small clubs are mega-important. People have to be able to work out their bits. Like anything,

you should be doing stand-up at least three or four times a week. You discover these little gems that you can work on, and then you can do them in big clubs in front of important people in suits,” said Sarah Hennessey, a Toronto-based comic who hosts the last show of each month, on top of being featured regularly on MuchMusic’s Video On Trial.

the science of funny by Tyler Hunt Photos by Graeme McNaughton

tively unknown to international audiences. He said lately, with the uprising of social media, stand-up is so widely available that people have developed a short attention span. “Most young people can’t sit through a 45 minute headlining set, and it’s a problem that a lot of comics are worried about all over the country,” said Breslin. However, he noted that despite the negative aspects, sites like Facebook and YouTube have their benefits as well. “The main thing with the internet is that it means there’s no such thing as a completely obscure or underground artist,” he said. “Everybody has a following. It may only be 200 people, but you’ve got a following. I’ve watched the rise of a lot of independent thinking comedy, and I think the Internet is primarily responsible for that”.

Breslin has taken his success with Yuk Yuk’s and put his time and money back into the industry by creating Funny Business, a comedy agency that manages around 150 comedians across Canada and finds work for them. A folk singer Breslin used to date inspired him to start Funny Business, back when she was looking for work in the 1970s. “I would watch her spend infinitely more time trying to get work than actually doing work. I always said if I was ever in a position, then I would try to do something that would counter that. And what Funny Business does is give comics the security of knowing they have work,” he said. “We can’t really express the truth in our lives. You can’t tell your boss, wife, or kid what you really think. But a stand-up comic can say it for you.”

comedy clubs in toronto yuk yuk’s 224 richmond st. west

laugh sabbath at the rivoli 334 queen street west

aboslute comedy Comedian Jon Steinberg talks about his career. Hennessey’s co-producer, Tim Gilbert, who has his own Sunday show as well, remembers that the smaller ,more independent shows opened his eyes to different types of comedy. “Shows like Laugh Sabbath showed me that you can do other kinds of comedy that aren’t just Russell Peters or talking about the Leafs. Now, with the Internet, far more people are starting out trying to do alternative comedy after seeing people like Dimitri Martin and Mitch Hedberg,” Gilbert said. On a larger scale, Mark Breslin, 59, knows the culture all too well as

the founder of Yuk Yuk’s, the largest chain of comedy clubs in North America. “We’ve never lived in a world with so much bullshit in it, and we’ve never lived in a world where we need so much relief from that bullshit,” he said. Breslin created Yuk Yuk’s in 1976 with a few friends out of a basement in a Church Street community centre in Toronto. He’s watched stand-up in Toronto grow from the ground up and has seen some of Canada’s most famous comics like Jim Carrey and Howie Mandel when they were still rela-

2335 yonge street

‘high’ comedy - vapor central 667 yonge street

second city 51 mercer street

bad dog theatre company 945 bloor street west

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cult of the silver screen the theatre under the city by Kayona Lewis

Photo by Reem Jazar

TIt has a dark and eerie feel. The trek down

his old building doesn’t look like a theatre.

the spiral staircase feels like entering an underground, secret society. The old floors and aging walls are a clue to the building’s history. The concession stand houses a classic popcorn machine and the theatre seats over 700, and it’s filling up quickly. There are no previews, no advertisements and no trivia before the words ‘Blue Velvet, written and directed by David Lynch’ appear on the screen. This is the Underground Cinema. “When Now Magazine put the word out that there was an old cinema on Spadina and that people were reconstructing it, it intrigued me. It was showing films that regular theatres weren’t showing,” said avid fan Robin LeBlanc. LeBlanc said the Underground Cinema, unlike conventional theatres, is a more casual environment where people can go and hang out. The Toronto Underground Cinema officially opened its doors on May 14, 2010. Theatre owners Nigel Agnew and Alex Woodside, both 26 and former employees of the Bloor Theatre, decided to open their own cinema because they were dissatisfied with the direction that their last employers’ theatre was going. Charlie Lawton, 22, a mutual friend, joined them in their quest to open a theatre that would become a haven for

film junkies. Torontonist Magazine describes The Underground Cinema as “a gutted building at 186 Spadina, and unassuming compared to the eye-catching marquees of the Bloor and the Royal theatres, with subterranean screening.” The building, located at the corner of Spadina Avenue and Queen Street West, has become every film buff’s sanctuary and guilty pleasure by showing movies both new and old, foreign and North American, and even a few classic cartoon movies. As long as something is playing, the theatre seems to draw a crowd. The theatre, which is known for having themed movie nights like horror Wednesdays and classic Saturdays, and playing older films, such as Labyrinth, Bubbah Ho Tep, Ghost and Metropolis, is also making a name for itself by using the theatre to its full potential. They occasionally have live bands play and every last Friday of the month they put on a shadow cast of the film Repo: The Genetic Opera. When starting the theatre, there was one common goal for the three owners. “We wanted it to feel like it’s a room full of friends,” said Lawton. “We just want to make watching films a fun experience, and opening this theatre was about doing what we wanted to do.” The cinema, which has had a long history of opening and closing its doors, had officially not shown a film since 1995. It had been turned into a performing arts centre and had musicians such

as Bjork and Joy Division gracing the stage. “Everything was close to brand new when we got there,” said Lawton. “It had been closed for a while so we didn’t have to make much of a change. We put up some posters, painted the doors and changed the lens in the projectors.” One thing they made sure to keep was the old, rectangular, and ironically white “Golden Classics” sign to pay homage to what the theatre once was. Hoping to make a big impact on the city, Lawton, Agnew and Woodside left it up to genuine film lovers to seek out the Underground, which wasn’t too hard with the immediate press coverage that they received when they opened. “We have made a small impact,” said Lawton, who figured that a lot of people knew about the theatre, but admitted that they didn’t know it would go this well so quickly. “The space is very versatile. We have a single screen and the auditorium is quite large. It’s a great space for so much to happen,” said Agnew. And with so many other theatres to compete against on the Spadina strip, the Underground Cinema is doing well. According to Lawton, the next step for the theatre is being able to play films written and directed by Lawton, Agnew and Woodside, and getting a liquor license. “It will be cool for our viewers to be able to have a beer and enjoy a movie,” he said.

Charlie Lawton, co-founder of the Underground Cinema. scribe 32

curtain curtain calling calling do you have what it takes to make the stage? Ashley Savini poses in costume.

by Denee Hall

Photo by Reem Jazar

Mbefore. She feels the adrena-

orissa Nicole has been here

line pumping through her system as her body turns into a bundle of nerves. She says prayers, gets into costume, and waits for the curtain to rise. The energy around her makes her nervous because she knows that her actions will set the pace for the rest of the show. The curtain rises and she steps out on to the stage. After all of her hard work, it’s finally show time. “There’s a lot of behind-thescenes work that the actor or actress has to do in order to bring life to the character they are playing, and my school helped me with that,” said Nicole, who, from her training, won second place in Vancouver’s iPOP in 2008. “Training is essential,” said Diana Belshaw, who has been involved in the theatre industry for over 40 years and is now Humber College’s Theatre Performance director. “A lot of people think that you can just get discovered. That’s not true, unless it’s in television. Training is the only way to start a long term career.”

There are several ways to get theatrical training in Toronto. There are high schools that gear their curriculums towards theatre and post-secondary schools that offer theatre performance programs. In addition, there are also several acting schools that cater to theatre. Nicole, a 20 year old student at George Brown College, attended John Robert Powers Performing Arts Academy in Toronto for two years. Although training is important, it does not come free. Post-secondary theatre programs in Toronto range from $5,000 to $7,000, not including books and equipment. “We all have to make a living as well as focus on our art. It’s a very difficult struggle,” said Belshaw. However, it pays off in more ways than one. Twenty-one year old Ashley Savini, a York University student, explains that teachers have played an important role by encouraging her. “You can easily get discouraged on your own, but you have someone there to push you and inspire you,” she said. After an actor has gained professional training to accompany their dream, it would be wrong to

let it all go to waste. This is where an agent can help out. “With agents you get better jobs quickly. They handle all the legal work and you just get to be the actor,” said Nicole, whose agent at KG Talent in Toronto has helped her with networking and landing her own auditions. Talent agents are the ones who can lead you to the people and auditions that will possibly hire you. Amanda Molinski, of Carolyn Models & Talent Agency in Toronto explains that there are many areas aspiring talent can go. “Toronto is so open and diverse so we accept different ethnicities, heights, and personalities but you have to be interesting,” said Molinski. After an actor is accepted into the agency, an audition is not always guaranteed. “It’s such an opinionated world that nothing is guaranteed. You have to have a lot of patience,” she said. This is why commitment is also important. Even with a great sense of humour, prominent dimples, and a wide sparkling smile, Nicole admitted to still getting nervous going into auditions. Once an audition is booked, an actor will have

a short amount of time (sometimes only 30 seconds) to impress a group of people. “You have to be charismatic, outgoing and they have to be able to remember you,” she said. So far, Nicole has landed leading roles in High School Musical 2: On Stage, and My Date With Bozo. Alysse Rich, director of the play Crucifixion at University of Toronto’s Chester Festival, explained what she looks for while casting: “I’m looking for a person that best fits the role. It doesn’t matter about race or gender.” In such a competitive and unstable industry, it’s easy for aspiring actors to lose focus. Molinski said it’s common that people go to five auditions and give up. “Those people happen all the time,” she said. But it’s important that aspiring actors stick to their goal and know that it won’t be easy. As for Nicole, it seems as if nothing will stop her. “Everybody has a dream,” she said, “and your dream is your dream and you just have to go for it. I know I’m going to.”

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do-it-yourself expression A Look Inside Toronto’s zine Culture by Marlee Grieg

photos by Reem Jazar

Thalf. Express yourself on every ake a sheet of paper. Fold it in

page. Make copies. Congratulations, you just made your first zine. Zines are small circulation, independently made publications. Content is not limited to personal expression. Fanzines, the precursor to modern zines, are associated with science fiction and 70s punk. Now there are art zines, fashion zines, poetry zines, political zines and zines about zines. “It seems so difficult and then you do it and it’s like ‘that’s not so bad.’ You just need to photocopy something,” said Marta Chudolinska, the head librarian at the On-

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tario College of Art and Design (OCAD) reference library. When she started making zines in her early 20’s, they were mostly collections of her drawings. For her, zines are a tactile experience. Like blogs, they start from the same desire to share something with the public. Also, the creator can mess with the conventional book format. The OCAD collection has a series of zines intricately folded into the kinds of notes you would pass your friends in high school. Zines are essentially “selfpublished mini magazines done on a not-for-profit basis,” said Hal Niedzviecki, founder of Broken Pencil Magazine. They exist to counteract conventional ways of writing and publishing. “Write what you believe, write what you

feel. Don’t approach things the way you feel like you have to approach them, don’t try to imitate others or spend a lot of time trying to get the attention of people you perceive to be more powerful and important.” Niedzviecki founded both Broken Pencil and Canzine in 1995. He said the event exists to “show people how vibrant that culture is and give the people who are making zines and other kind of comics and underground periodicals and whatever it is they’re doing [a connection] with their audience and make sure they are encouraged, and the audience is encouraged.” Every Canzine is different: different venues, different themes and different events. The last Canzine didn’t have a cohesive theme, but there was a puppet show to coin-

cide with the cover story from that Fall’s issue. This year’s event won’t have a theme at all. The venue will be 19 Bathurst St, which was formerly a Buddhist temple. “I think people would just be upset about it not existing. But we like doing it,” said Lindsay Gibb, editor at Broken Pencil. “And I think we also find it’s one of the few things where we can make a little money because we don’t make much money off the magazine. And in doing that, it’s kind of a fund-raising event for Broken Pencil, too.” “Through working at Broken Pencil, I see that there are still tons of zines being made,” she said. “Every time I see one, it’s like ‘there’s another zine I have to know about’. But it’s impossible to know every-

thing about zines, because there is so many. And lots of people make them and don’t put them out in any way.” Both Chudolinska and Andrea Manica, the student liaison for the OCAD Zine Library, mention that Canzine fair draws a larger and more diverse audience than just the Toronto zine making community. “This is maybe a capitalist view on Canzine, but Canzine sells,” said Chudolinska. “There were so many people that were not at any other fairs, but they come there to buy zines,” said Manica. Manica also said that zines are what publishing should be about, “actually having an object that you can hold in your hands. It should be about getting ideas out there but when I think of the word [publishing] I envision a tangible thing.” The switch to e-zines, or online only zines, never happened. Broken Pencil, a zine about zines, has published over 50 issues. “We had an ezine section for a while, and I thought maybe that will switch and it will be all ezines and less zines but we don’t even have an ezine section anymore,” said Gibb. Even though Broken Pencil’s

staff mainly communicates through email, everything still happens in print. “We have an office, but we don’t really work out of it,” said Gibb. “[It] would be much more time economical that way. But we still get things done, just away from each other.” OCAD has held a zine fair for the past three years. There are a lot of zines, and due to the nature of

“

Zines have been made since the printing press.

the school there is also an assortment of crafts, prints and pins. The organizers rented out a button making press and all passers-by are encouraged to make their own. The

event serves the twofold purpose of art fair and advertising. This is how the actual library works. People wander over, pick things up, fiddle with them, flip pages, and ask questions. Some visitors leave empty handed and some abscond with pockets full of goodies. Of course, it’s not just a Toronto thing. Montreal has Expozine, Chicago has its own zine fair and Portland has a Zine symposium. Both Chudolinska and Manica have tabled at zine fairs in other cities and said it’s nice to be able to show your work to people who haven’t seen it three or four times already. “Sometimes I like the zine community and sometimes I don’t like it. Sometimes it seems too inclusive, like those times when you go to a zine fair and it’s the exact same people every single time, and it’s the exact same people looking at everything all the time,” said Chudolinska. Gibb said that Broken Pencil gets a lot of zines from the Sticky Institute, a seller and resource centre in Melbourne. Portland has the Independent Publishing Resource Centre. Toronto doesn’t have its own resource cen-

”

tre for zine making. Chudolinska and Manica agreed that it would be great to see a social resource centre for zines and DIY here instead of just a collection. Often there are one-time workshops and they would like to see a consistent space for people to get together. It’s easy to disregard zines and the creators of such DIY self-publications as luddites. According to most media outlets, the sky is falling on the writing world. The iPad, ebooks, publishing house closures, and independent bookstore bankruptcies all provide fodder for those who believe technology is usurping nearly 600 years of print supremacy. The zine niche is not completely devoid of Internet presence. Small online communities like WeMakeZines, run out of Portland, exist to help creators to advertise and distribute their zines. It’s not that there isn’t an antitechnology mentality either. “Zines have been made since the printing press,” said Chudolinska, who recalls being told that she could not use a scanner to scan a drawing for a zine and had to use a photocopier instead. “The photocopier is still technology.” *with files from Jason Spencer

Vendors display their creations at the OCAD zine fair. scribe 35

culture

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stay-

-at-home anarchy by Jason Spencer Photos by Graeme McNaughton

Ayear-old daughter, Isabella, and spends the day with

t 7:30 a.m. Stefan Molyneux wakes up with his two-

her in their suburban Mississauga home. They go for an outing to the library. By 2 p.m., Isabella goes down for her nap and Molyneux enters a spare bedroom that is painted completely red and filled with broadcast equipment. He turns on his dual monitors, sets up the video camera and puts on his headset. He greets his audience and begins to pace. At this moment, he shifts from a stay-at-home-dad to online philosopher at freedomainradio.com. He explodes with acrobatic speech, logically dismantling the State. He releases free podcasts, books, and videos. He declines advertising because it “interrupts” the discussion. He has over 25 million downloads and is hosting the “biggest philosophical conversation the world has ever seen,” he said. But, the principle of anarchism, or voluntarism as it is also referred to, was a painful transformation that Molyneux “grudgingly” made. “All you ever get in school is: without government, we’d be taking each other’s kidneys out with spoons, eating our toe nails and living in the woods,” he said. Molyneux looks the part of the average, middleaged white guy. He said the stereotype of a chaotic, younger person living in a squatter house with tattoos and a hideous skin disease is the image we see when we think of anarchist. He said anarchism is a tough word and people don’t like it. However, it simply means no government. It doesn’t mean balaclavas, flaming garbage cans and turning over cop cars. He said these stereotypes exist because the people in power control education and the media, but governments can’t argue against anarchism because they tell us to live by these rules that they don’t follow. So, you get ad hominems, where people are personally threatened and can’t answer to the argument, he said. This is one of the “sacred cows” in society, or uncomfortable topics of discussion. “Rulers don’t like a philosophy called no rulers,” he said. It’s been over four years since he left his job as a director of technology at a software company. He worked as a software entrepreneur for 15 years. Back then, he was an admitted socialist, or “Canadian” as he put it, and he was at the limitations of Ayn Rand’s objectivist philosophy of minimal government he held for 20 years. “Whenever a philosophy gets really vague with its answers, the spidey sense starts going off,” he said. It was one day, during a lunchroom argument over environmental protection with a couple of interns, he realized that the government would do nothing to fix the situation and a stateless society would be ideal. The idea went against the peace, order and good government that Canada represented, but making things more “simple and “universal” caused him to have a “brain seizure” of intellectual excitement. He decided to put his approach of “no gods or governments” to use and start freedomainradio.com, as a hobby, in 2006. He knew this decision to promote anarchism was radical and would blackball him from the corporate world permanently, but the risk was important to him because it would establish more of a legacy for him than software development ever could. “I took that big Evil Knievel catapult across the Grand Canyon and tried to make a go of it,” he said.

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Stefan Molyneux outlines his philosophy. The website began to gain traction, so people recommended he set up a Paypal account. Over time, the donations rolled in and Molyneux had the opportunity to make his website a career in 2007. His wife, Christina, is the clinical director at Meadowvale Psychological Services in Mississauga. She was enthusiastic and supportive of his decision, but the 75 per cent pay cut was a financial concern. “Even if you don’t agree with him [Molyneux], he forces you to think,” said Marc Stevens, who hosts a radio show called No State Project from Phoenix, Arizona. Stevens said Molyneux’s ability to take criticism is a key ingredient to his success. Stevens understands that critics exist to ridicule you, so it comes with the territory when you’re dealing with irrefutable truths. To him, voluntarism means living without permission. It can be put to use today, but it takes an individual to act on it. Raised by a single mother in Don Mills, Molyneux saw the dysfunction of the welfare state. He recalls one evening when a neighbour was supposed to come over for dinner, but he didn’t because he lost his temper and shot a hole through the wall. The neighbour was a police officer. It was the observation of this type of abusive behaviour that gave way to questioning the moral aspects of society. He is an atheist now, but Molyneux grew up religious and couldn’t understand how so many awful things, like war, could happen on the Bible’s watch. “Religion had a good flak of time to solve the world’s problems and it hasn’t been able to solve anything,” he said.

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Stevens said that although Molyneux is one of the main voices of the voluntarist movement, he thinks his views on religion are a bit “too narrow.” Mark Edge is a host of Free Talk Live. He doesn’t even bother debating religion with Molyneux because he’s aware that he is a “hard atheist” and it’s very easy to debate someone who believes. Edge, who has Molyneux on as a regular guest, is sympathetic to the voluntarist movement, but doesn’t think the world could handle a voluntary society overnight. The irrationality Molyneux points out is a symptom of what he refers to as “Statism” – a small group of individuals who can use whatever force they want to achieve their goal, like the government. Using violence to counter the forceful tactics of the state is “pure suicide”. What needs to be used is a universal standard for ethics. He said if it’s wrong to steal, then it’s wrong for someone in Ottawa to steal. This is universal ethics. “There’s no one out there saying the kinds of things he says, and he offers solutions. People are drawn to him because they feel he offers answers,” said Edge. Another arm of Molyneux’s philosophy is the Non-Aggression Principle (NAP) also known as the Porcupine Principal because the porcupine only shoots its quills when it is under attack. “The revolution is a revolution of ideas. Violence will not solve, or progress anything forward. I believe in the abstract right of selfdefence, but given that very few people have run at me with chainsaws, it’s really quite abstract,” he said. Molyneux said the NAP applies

to children most of all because they’re the most vulnerable members of society. He said our culture is founded upon the indifference to, or harm towards, the needs of children. He and his wife practice NAP with their daughter and the results are remarkable not only for themselves, but for other parents who have successfully adopted the principal as well. He knows his philosophy will not take root unless people deal with the trauma they experience from child abuse. He said the effects of child abuse on the brain are catastrophic both in terms of health and the ability to reason. He said criminals and those who lust for power are often abused as children, so if we get rid of the criminal element and the lust for power, which drives the political process, then a voluntary society will emerge of its own accord. Molyneux references Lloyd deMause’s book, The Origins of War in Child Abuse, as a startling explication. Through the expansion of a woman’s right to leave an abusive husband, Molyneux came to the universal principle that “adult relationships are voluntary.” This idea caused significant controversy in 2008, when the Globe and Mail ran an article titled How a cyberphilosopher convinced followers to cut off family. The article was a result of a few listeners who admitted they were abused by their family, exercised what is called a “deFOO” and the parents blamed Molyneux for their child’s decision, even though they were legal adults. A deFOO is a complete divorce from your family of origin. Molyneux admits he was abused growing up and has cut off all contact with his family. He asserts, “I didn’t tell anyone to leave their families.” Edge, who lives in New Hampshire, said Molyneux’s work on the family is the most interesting and beneficial. He understands the need to ostracize someone if you’re being abused, but Edge himself hasn’t experienced abuse growing up, so he can’t relate. Stevens, who released a book on the American legal system in 2002, called Adventures in Legal Land, does not agree with ostracizing family members. He comprehends the basis of deFOOing, but prefers to lead by example and give people more of a chance. The backlash of deFOOing re-

sulted in accusations of Molyneux being a cult leader. Since the storm of sensationalism passed, he recommends listeners seek therapy and try to make amends with their families if they are being abused. The media scorn was one of the low points in his podcasting career, but is an acknowledged consequence of becoming a popular online figure with incendiary views. Molyneux makes no excuses about his ambition to awaken the “beauty and power” of philosophy. He wants philosophy to be remembered, not himself. He feels that it’s a job well done if philosophy is talked about in the future and we remember the idea, not the person. “Aristotle, Plato, Socrates, Ayn Rand were accused of being cult leaders, so if a philosopher isn’t being called a cultist than he’s not doing his job,” he said.

Molyneux-isms “Philosophy is tough because it shakes up all of your relationships. It is the most extreme sport I know of.” “Why don’t we remember anything from fifteen-thousand hours of education?” “Governments tax the unborn by borrowing on their collateral, that to me is chaos.” “The reason I’ll be talked about in the future is, either I’m right, or I’m not right and I’ll be a great example of what not to do.” “Democracy - the suggestion box for slaves that no one ever opens.” “Ethics is the whole thing. If you can’t get ethics down then everything else in philosophy becomes niche.” “Why would we call it immigration? It’s just moving.” “When you ask the questions the right way, you almost don’t need an answer.” “Ethics is complicated because it’s hard for people who profit from threats.”

a brewing passion by Richard Frankel

Photo by Nicole Bogart

Fis just a hobby. For Charles Fajor some, beer and wine making

genbaum, proud owner of a brewit-yourself beer and wine shop, it’s a way of life. But running the brewery isn’t easy. Now middleaged, Fajgenbaum has experienced what most people find in their own lives: a love and hate relationship with what stimulates him most. But it is his experience that puts his business ahead of the curve. “To make the art side work, you have to understand the science behind it so that you have a level of control,” Fajgenbaum explained. Walking into Fermentations, Fajgenbaum’s shop on Danforth Avenue, is like getting a swift kick in the nostrils. The store is warmly lit, and the pungent smell of hops, mingled with the sweeter aroma of grapes for winemaking, envelopes its patrons. Fajgenbaum opened his shop for the first time on June 8, 1993. It has since become one of the city’s best do-it-yourself beer and winemaking spots, having won numerous awards by the readers of NOW

Magazine and Eye Weekly. Fajgenbaum looks unassuming but bears a sense of genuine enthusiasm and energy when he talks about what he loves most. Wearing an aged green sweater and glasses, he relates the success of his business to a coupling of the highest quality ingredients and attention to detail. He respects the process of the craft and never underestimates the intelligence of his customers. He said he loves beer and winemaking because it is an organic process, but is dismayed by the approach his competitors often take. “Why are they trying to use piles of sugar as opposed to ingredients that produce really unique and distinct flavors in beer? Well, because it’s cheaper. Everything I saw was the race to the bottom,” he explained. But not all people in the industry agree with Fajgenbaum’s approach. “In brewing, we use a starch source added to malt and wheat to make ‘wort’ which for all intents and purposes is sugar water.

Starch[es] are long, chained sugar molecules. Microbrewers gain over u-brew,” said Jamie Mistry, a spokesperson for the Amsterdam Brewing Company. “Comparing u-brew to craft brewers is like comparing someone who bakes at home to an artisan baker. The artisan is educated and has apprenticed under someone who knows everything about his or her craft.” In many ways, microbreweries are cornering the beer brewing market. As an industry across Ontario, the make-your-own beer business is shrinking because companies are stretching themselves too thin. Another issue is the loss of suppliers of hops and other ingredients that are needed to run a brew-ityourself shop. “Stores that I would buy hops and grains from were closing so it was more and more difficult to get the ingredients and the last store I went to that had hops - probably about five years ago was way out in the west end. I haven’t been back since, partly because I started

cheating and I would go to Magnotta winery ‘cause they had kits of beer styles. You threw in the yeast and that’s it,” said Richard Becksted, who brewed his own beer for almost 20 years. The hobby started when his sons, Graham and Alex, were babies. Even now, Graham, 25, remembers his dad taking over the entire kitchen for days on end. In the brewing industry, diversity seems to be key. “[In] the beginning, brew your own beer shops weren’t making wine or anything else that fermented and were very focused on beer and I saw an opportunity to actually incorporate the opportunity for people to make wine in the same business from day one,” Fajgenbaum said. He said he loves how social his shop has become and that on weekends when it gets loud and rambunctious, the hard work is gratifying as even long-time clients teach newcomers how to brew a good beer. “It’s neat to have that kind of community spirit,” he said.

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Off the Rack Exploring vintage in Toronto

by Ashley Greene Photos by Reem Jazar

Ositting on a concrete slab in the n a mild Fall day, she may be

middle of a campus. She covers her face with her brown hair. She effortlessly exudes style and confidence. People around her are unaware that her khakis are men’s size, the loose see-through blouse hanging off of her is a one-of-a-kind Chanel and the 60s teal gemstone ring she bought for $10 is, in fact, older than she is. Although she doesn’t tell anybody this, her style is clearly different. Her style is vintage. “There is a huge vintage scene in Toronto and there’s a huge gratification to just finding authentic and unique pieces,” said Ben Barry, Chair of the Toronto Fashion Incubator and the CEO of Ben Barry Agency. Barry is at the forefront of Toronto’s growing fashion industry. For him, vintage fashion isn’t all about wearing trendy clothes. It’s about being stylistically creative. “It allows you to create a new

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way to express yourself and obviously find pieces that have history and heritage,” said Barry. “People can be creative and fresh with their fashion choices – it’s really shifted who has the opportunity to be the creator in the fashion industry.” The vintage trend is all about the art of finding clothes with history, personality and class. Although it may be a secret to some, the vintage style is present and thriving in both Toronto and the greater world of fashion. Kaitlin Simonsen has adapted the vintage style as her own, and is also helping others find their own style. “I want to show people how to get the most out of their wardrobe,” she said. Now living in Toronto, she is the creator of MyVintageStyle. com, a website that is dedicated to finding to your own personal style through affordable vintage and thrift clothing. “I’ve always liked vintage because it’s a cheaper way to be creative with your outfits,” said Simonsen. “Vintage is one of a kind that no one else is going to have

rather than shopping at H&M or Forever 21 where you can see your copy on the street.” Visitors to her website will find posts discussing her vintage and thrift store finds, do-it-yourself activities to update their wardrobe, and a map of vintage and thrift stores in Toronto and the GTA. Simonsen said she never really thought of vintage fashion in Toronto as a trend since it has always been a part of the city’s fashion scene. “A girl wearing vintage stands out, but not in a crazy way. You realize that she’s wearing shoes you’ve never seen before, a fur vest that you’ve never seen in stores – they have that new style nobody else has,” said Simonsen. Toronto hosts an array of vintage stores, many of which are located in the heart of Kensington Market. One of these stores is Courage My Love, which is known for its diverse cultural and classic pieces. Co-owner Cece said her store tries to get cool stuff and unique items people will be happy with. Of Toronto style, Cece said it’s

“two years ahead of Belleville, one year behind New York and two years behind Japan.” “To make a vintage look your own really lies in the way you accent and mix it with other pieces you already have,” said Katherine Vong, Editor and Head of Trend Research at TrendHunter.com, a website that defines trends in fashion, popular culture and lifestyle. Vong describes Toronto vintage style as eclectic – Torontonians already have an urban-cool style that they successfully manage to fuse with the vintage style. “Torontonians don’t normally follow the style trends prescribed by retailers, fashion magazines and the like,” said Vong. Vintage fashion is not just about fashion – it’s about culture, too. It allows anyone to have the opportunity to own a piece of clothing with history and to identify and appreciate the history of that garment. “Style is a state of mind,” said Vong. “All you can really do is just zero in on what you truly like and find ways to make it your own. That’s style.”

ten ten years of of years hanging hanging around around by ALLIE HUNWICKS

huck Lea talks with the type of fervor usually reserved for holy men and the insane. His feverish blue eyes bulge slightly from his head. When he speaks, he leans forward into the conversation.

His lean frame is full of imperceptible electricity. He’s not discussing politics or religion – he’s telling a story about a local reggae legend whose party he crashed and whose niece he spent the evening dancing with. His speech is clipped and contains a slight lilt, but beneath the pleasant conversation and casual camaraderie there’s a faint undercurrent of unease. Lea is a skinhead. He peels back his lower lip to reveal the stark, black SKINS tattoo inked into his flesh. Photos by ERIN JONES

The things I live by?” says Lea, “well, anti-racism for one, pride in the working class and not being ashamed of that. Loyalty. That’s definitely a common theme. Loyalty to your friends and the people you love. For our particular crew, a lot of us support the Glasgow Celtics and that’s a Catholic soccer team basically. We’re proud to be Catholic.” Later in our conversation Lea spots a pair of orange clad boys at the bar – orange being the standard colour for Protestants – and casually passes his girlfriend an empty beer bottle under the table to keep in her purse, just in case they need to scrap later. Despite the association of skinheads with Nazis, it should be pointed out that racism plays a fractional, though well publicized role in the culture. Lea is a traditional skinhead, and draws his particular loyalty from a credo of working class values born out of the proletariat frustration during the ‘60s in the United Kingdom. For their part, The Beer City Skins (his former crew) follow the aesthetic code of the skinhead from their Doc Marten’s and Fred Perry’s to their ubiquitous shaved heads. Simon Garfield, in his 2007 article for The Observer, Getting under their skins, describes the style as being studied and selfconscious: “Just watch the way a skinhead moves. There’s a lot of lapel twitching. The head twists out as if the skin is wearing an old-fashioned collar that’s too tight for comfort.” Lea embodies this statement like no other: his eyes dart about constantly; his chest is puffed out like a prizefighter, like he’s casing the bar for a potential enemy. Lea and his crewmate Brad “Hun” Coxford are like a Gavin Watson photograph come to life as they drink and carouse, their bald heads leaning slightly together as they laugh at a shared joke. The skinhead scene in Toronto is divided into factions that are subject to politics and prejudice just like anything else. “Politics has always played a role. I’ve hung around with communist skins and Nazi skins. But I’ve never gone out of my way to fight them, or be mean to them. I’m not a politician - I’m an electrician,” said Lea, who works for the TTC. “The right are neo-Nazis like the Hammer skins, we’re Trads, so like working class, anti-racist,

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and then there’s RASH (Red Anarchist Skinheads). We’re ok with the RASH, but we try not to mix with the Nazis. You don’t want to end up on Nazi watch - then people just try to fuck you up.” Lea is talking about a site called Naziwatch.org, whose most recent target of left wing aggression is Kevin “Scrotumhead” Goudreau. Anyone who is curious as to why that might be, need look no further than the massive swastika and iron cross that Goudreau has decorated across his chest. While sites like Naziwatch.org are not governed by any particular skinhead faction, groups like the SHARP’s (Skinheads Against Racial Prejudice) are avid in their promotion of the site. In his Vice Magazine article, Skinheads Against White People: Why are SHARPS so dull?, Jim Goad condemns the notion that any form of prejudice through intended violence is vile, be it against Nazis or not. “In 2004, you risk very little by saying you hate Nazis. It’s just a popular stance, it borders on cowardly. The bottom line is that SHARPS enjoy the homoerotic rush of boys bonding together through crisp uniforms and manly blood oaths... through the orgiastic ritual of joining together and attacking another male’s body.” Steve*, is an ex-Nazi skin from Montreal. He has been rehabilitated for 20 years now, and works largely in Montreal’s black community helping to create opportunities for youth in gangs and highrisk areas. “Welcome to the world of skinheads. It doesn’t really make a difference what they stand for - it’s just an excuse to fight. They drink, get drunk, and then beat the shit out of kids. That’s what they do,” said Steve. “Before I realized what I had gotten into, I had to adhere to the mentality around all those people. It was to save my own ass, because if not I would’ve gotten the shit beat out of me and at that point you’re involved in something so dangerous that you really have to play the role.” Despite the fact that “boneheads” (Nazis) aren’t as active on the Toronto scene, the fear of associating with one is still prevalent. At a recent Celtic Soul night (the UK’s answer to Motown) at The Cloak and Dagger, RASH leader Pat Nicolas is DJ’ing. Nicolas looks nothing like the skinheads commonly portrayed in the media.

Chuck Lea reveals codes of skinhead culture.

“

Welcome to the world of skinheads. They drink, get drunk, and then beat the shit out of kids.

He is large, Peruvian, and is wearing a Kangol cap over muttonchops. The night is in full swing, and bomber jackets swish against one another as the bodies jostle up to the bar and move in lumbering unison to the rhythm. Nicolas stands at the front of the bar with a couple other skins, like some sort of godfather surveying his bevy of intoxicated bald men. The music is infectious, and frankly, the scene seems mildly inviting. Anyone coming off the street with only a rudimentary knowledge of skinhead culture could be fooled into thinking this was just another Irish pub with a great soundtrack. After a brief discussion with Nicolas, Lea makes his way back to the bar. Apparently an interview with Nicolas is a definite no, despite

”

the fact that both Lea and Coxford, who have known Nicolas for years and are moving from skin to skin in the packed bar, have vouched for me. Lea shakes his head woefully, his face now maudlin in fog of beer. He seems to think the interview has been terminated because Nicolas thinks he’s a bonehead. “You’ll never make it into this scene,” he tells me. Lea himself got involved with the skins in his late teens. He was living in Rexdale, and looking for a credo that he could live by. “I was 19 or 20 when I really made the decision. When I was a kid, I hung out with a guy whose older brother was a skin. So, at first I was really just trying to emulate him, and his crew, and their attitude,” he says.

He joined his first crew, The Fear City Skins, after meeting “Skunker” Kevin at a D.O.A. hardcore show. That crew has since moved to western Canada, so Lea runs with a crew headed up by Gio, who is the lead singer of a band called The Skunks who run a regular Oi music night at the 460 on Spadina Ave. every Thursday. “We all kinda live by the same ideals and listen to the same music. So, it’s basically a group of friends who are like-minded,” said Lea. Coxford had similar motivations for adopting the skinhead lifestyle. After growing up in the Yukon, he has been moving back and forth from there and Toronto since 1996. He’s currently studying to be a paramedic with the Toronto EMS, and is a committed vegan. He’s tall and lean, with an expressive face and gentle voice, and leans in slightly when he wants to punctuate an idea. “When I was growing up there was probably, like, three of us [skinheads]. And we had a lot of friends that we’d hang out with who were, you know, kind of into punk rock and whatnot. I was like 12 years old, and I guess I just thought it was a tough look or something,” says Coxford. “We were young men… and I guess at the time it made me feel like a tough guy or something.” He’s also quick to dismiss the idea of latent violence and targeted skirmishes, citing any recent mixups as purely circumstantial. And while all of this may seem like boyish aspiration, there are those like Steve who are quick to reject the notion that it’s all in the name of a good time. Reminiscing on a time when he was still involved in the movement, he outlines a brawl that occurred between English and French factions in Montreal. “When this fight happened I didn’t pick a side I was like, this is stupid. We all stand for the same thing so why are you all beating the shit out of each other? And I refused to fight. And, because I refused to fight both sides attacked me at independent times because I was a “traitor”. My whole stance was: this is stupid. This is not united,” said Steve. “They play on this sense of becoming a traitor. That word becomes this really bad word.” The community is tight knit, and contrary to the everyman influences, has an air of exclusivity.

As an outsider, one experiences an almost surreal sense of privilege at being granted access to the seductive air of camaraderie that permeates the culture. It’s that most basic feeling of protection. Steve’s departure from his crew was an exemplification of that same community turned against him. “At one point I cracked and I was like: I can’t live like this. I’m so afraid that I might as well be dead. So my mentality was, fine, what are you gonna do? Beat the shit out of me? Go for it. And I remember an altercation with a very scary individual when this was happening and then the whole dialogue was ‘fine, I’m so afraid of you, you managed to convince me that you’ll beat the shit out of me and that I’m gonna lose this fight. All I can do is try to kill you because I’m dead anyways. So I might as well at least go out fighting.” At the bar, Lea is two pints deep, and his normally frantic gaze has softened into a sort of soporific reverie. He puts his arm around his girlfriend (“There are no skin head girls, just skin head girlfriends,” he drunkenly laughs later.) “I just kinda woke up one day and realized that this is who I wanted to be. And I’m covered in bald dudes, so I’m committed now. It’s just been 10 years of hanging around, that’s all,” said Lea. He gives her a kiss on the cheek, lingers for a moment, and turns back swiftly. His eyes are glazed but have regained their electric blue intensity and he says: “Put this in your article: your friendly neighbourhood skinhead doesn’t exist. People try to make you feel bad for who you are, but I really don’t give a shit. None of us do. You fuck with us, and we’re gonna kill you in a heartbeat.” He holds his stare for a moment longer, jaw thrust forward, and then with a laugh saunters off into the crowd. [*Names have been changed.]

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