Cas Monk
Digital illustration, 2020
Cas Monk used this painting as a culmination of their feelings and bodily image, formally creat ing a piece that allowed them to come out as part of the 2SLGBTQI+ community. In Dysphoria, Monk breaks from the tradition of painting on a physical canvas to painting in the digital world. “Dysphoria,” a term queer and trans individuals frequently use to associate with the discomfort or unease with their gender, their bodies, and how those around perceive our gender. Dysphoria immerses the viewer in an endless mirage of colour, a world with no containment of gender, or signs of common identification. Monk combats their image of fitting into one socially acceptable mould by combining stereotypes of gendered features they struggled to define, finally allowing a harmony not once accepted when separated.
During the pandemic, Cas Monk (she/they) began drawing as a calming and contemplative pastime, playing with linework and its different weights, movements, and narratives. The line work in this series represents a balance between identity and inner turmoil. By situating drawing as a form of self-care, Monk expresses emotions that are often difficult to work through due to anxiety, depression, and body dysmorphia. Monk’s more recent work deals with subject matter including death, femininity, altered realities, and subconscious desires. By seeking out meanings from published medical articles about mental instabilities and human rights cases involving women and minorities, Monk reappropriates their references to depict inner emotions, often times hidden to the rest of the world. You can find Cas on Instagram @barabuns.
Aurora Picciottoli
Digital collage, 2022
The vibrant history of the 2SLGBTQ+ community stands in an unbroken line, stretching forwards from time immemorial and reverberating into the present day. In A Heritage of Revolution, I wanted to disrupt the settler-colonial notion that queerness is a re cent development. From Osh-Tisch to Angela Davis to Marsha P. Johnson to Frida Kahlo and Audre Lorde, those who exist outside the bounds of heteronormativity have always existed. Using bright, electric colours, I hope to convey the strength and vitality of the
communal, ongoing fight for equal rights.
Aurora Picciottoli (she/they) is a queer writer and multimedia artist. At the University of Toronto Mississauga, she studies philos ophy, French, and feminist studies. With a strong interest in human rights and environmental issues, they seek to use their art to high light the radical compassion and power of those who collectively fight for a better future. When she’s not tutoring or crying over final exams, you can find them on Instagram @_aurie_11.
On August 28, 2022, the federal govern ment released Canada’s first Federal 2SLGBTQI+ Action Plan The plan aimed at improving rights and freedoms for gender and sexually diverse communities in Canada, the plan has been in development since the fall of 2020, when the Government of Canada conducted surveys and organized commu nity discussions to better grasp the difficulties faced by the 2SLGBTQI+ community.
The plan includes many steps and strate gies, beginning with a more inclusive acro nym. The term was changed from “LGBTQ2,” which was used in 2016, to the new acronym, “2SLGBTQI+,” which has been adopted by the Government of Canada moving forward. It stands for “Two-Spirit, Lesbian, Gay, Bisex ual, Transgender, Queer, Intersex,” and “+” to denote gender identities and sexual orienta tions that are not already acknowledged by the previous letters. Having the new acronym begin with “2S” was a deliberate choice to rec ognize “Two-Spirit people as the first 2SLG BTQI+ communities,” according to the plan’s official page.
The plan has a budget of “$100 million over five years.” Funds will be used to implement the plan, collect data, and conduct policy re search to enable informed decision-making, and develop awareness campaigns to end stigma and discrimination in Canada. The budget also includes a total of $75 million for 2SLGBTQI+ community organizations to better provide for their communities and to start new endeavours.
Initiatives of the action plan include steps to cement 2SLGBTQI+ rights nationally, such as by expanding work on bill C-4, An Act to amend the Criminal Code (conversion thera py). This bill criminalized conversion therapy and received royal assent in December of 2021. Another bill that came under the spot light is bill C-66, Expungement of Historically Unjust Convictions Act, which created a pro gram to annul convictions based on “histori cal injustices.” Bill C-66 received royal assent in June 0f 2018. An example of these unfair convictions include punishments for consen sual “sexual activity between persons [aged 16 or above and] of the same sex.”
The Federal 2SLGBTQI+ Action Plan also highlights the government’s commitment to working with the 2SLGBTQI+ community to improve inclusivity. The plan was created in collaboration with community leaders and
In a statement on the action plan, released August 2022, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau says that “We are a diverse nation enriched by the lives, experiences, and contributions of 2SLGBTQI+ people. Let us celebrate all the communities that make Canada such a
diverse country, and work together to build a better future, with pride.”
Many are pleased with the action plan’s promises. SPECTRUM, a community-based organization in the Waterloo region, says in a statement, “This plan represents a good step in the right direction and begins to articulate the very large amounts of work that need to be done to advance rights and equality of 2SLGBTQI+ in this country.” Their statement goes on to describe the clear need for this plan—news articles and blog posts about the action plan were bombarded by hateful com ments, exemplifying discrimination towards the 2SLGBTQI+ community.
However, many find that the plan is still lacking. In a statement released in Septem ber 2022, the Canadian Union of Public Em ployees highlighted the lack of action against workplace discrimination faced by the 2SL GBTQI+ community, something that a 2015 study found was experienced by almost 30 per cent of respondents.
The Federal 2SLGBTQI+ Action Plan rep resents a monumental step for the Canadian government in terms of recognizing and ad dressing the challenges faced by the 2SLG BTQI+ community. Many members of Cana dian society hope that this represents a sign of optimistic change to come.
Studies released by Statistics Canada reveal the prevalence of bullying and stigma among 2SLGBTQI+ youths, as experts advocate for increased awareness and support.
Kirsty MacLellan ContributorOn October 18, 2022, Statistics Canada released a study bringing attention to the vast amount of bullying that sexually and gender diverse youths face. The study focused on Canadian youths aged 15 to 17 who are attracted to the same gender, or who identify as transgender or non-binary, and explored the rates of verbal, cyber, and physical bullying.
The study found that youth identifying as gen der and sexual minorities experience anywhere from four to 10 per cent more bullying than their non-sexually and gender diverse counterparts. Spe cifically, 2SLGBTQI+ youths experience four per cent more cyber bullying, which includes being threatened or insulted on social media or over text. According to the study, they also experience 10 per cent more verbal bullying, such as being insulted, mocked, and name called.
The higher bullying rate comes with a higher risk of “poor mental health,” having suicidal thoughts, and missing out on school. 33 per cent of Canadian 2SLGBTQI+ students who are bullied experienced deteriorated mental health, compared to 16 per cent for their non-2SLGBTQI+ counterparts. These statistics point out the extreme effect that bul lying has on youths’ perceptions of themselves and of life.
On October 24, 2022, Statistics Canada released a video record ing of its “Seeing Everyone: Gender Diversity Data” panel. The panel included stories and interpretations of the Statistics Canada 2021 census, outlining the difficulties, inequalities, and lack of representation faced by sexually and gender peoples.
As the panel continues, Dominique Beau lieu Prévost, a professor at the Université du Québec à Montréal, notes that with the in creasing number of sexually and gender di verse youths comes a need for society to take more social responsibility. “The more we hear about gender diversity, the more it becomes
something that we see as socially relevant. [It becomes] some thing that can be a social issue, that can be a public issue, that can be an issue of public health,” states Prévost.
Anu Radha Verma, “a research manager at a communitybased research centre,” expresses that awareness, care, and un derstanding is required when speaking on transphobia. Verma notes that when transphobic rhetoric is revealed publicly, both online and in-person, it may actually become more challeng ing to speak openly about trans and non-binary youth. This is one of multiple issues that serve as an obstacle to eliminating trans youth stigma.
As the panel discusses the importance of seeing diverse gen der representation in surveys, Verma states that “the data is re ally helpful for us to be able to advocate for increased resources including services and programs that are dedicated to support ing trans and non-binary individuals and communities as well as broader 2SLGBTQI+ community resources.”
As both the Statistics Canada study and the 2021 census re veal, Canadian youths are experiencing stigma, transphobia, and a lack of care from non-sexually diverse peers. Alongside the stories and statistics shared in the panel, the speakers ex plicitly call for continued support of sexually and gender di verse communities, with the end goal of creating a better Can ada for such individuals.
After two years of consultations and deliberation, the Canadian government releases its plan to improve inclusivity, recognize diversity, and quell 2SLGBTQI+ discrimination across Canada.PATRICK DOYLE/THE CANADIAN PRESS
On November 24, 2022, the University of Toronto Missis sauga Students’ Union (UTMSU) held its annual general meeting (AGM) in Deerfield Hall, welcoming all University of Toronto Mississauga (UTM) students to its discussion of cam paigns, programming, and review of the group’s initiatives.
In her presidential address, President Maëlis Barre reveled at the first in-person iteration of the UTMSU AGM since the Covid-19 pandemic began. “Students have been through a challenging time [...] but then at the beginning of this year, we came back in-person,” said Barre.
As he presented the UTMSU’s annual report, Alistair Kirk, the UTMSU vice-president external, went over the UTMSU’s initiatives for the previous year. Kirk focused on several cam paigns and call-to-actions, including, but not limited to, the Education for All campaign, the Fairness for International Stu dents campaign, consent, food accessibility, and refugee settle ment in Canada.
The current housing crisis—which affects many UTM stu dents—was also addressed. The UTMSU has been in contact with Housing Canada, the Canadian Centre for Housing Rights, and the City of Mississauga’s mayor—Bonnie Crom bie—to call for improved transit options and cheaper housing.
Apart from dealing with housing woes, students are also burdened by stressful tests and examinations. Mindful that the end of November is fast approaching, the UTMSU vicepresident campus life, Fatima Yakubi, stated that students can expect exam de-stressors to come in the near future.
Looking beyond the fall academic semester, the UTMSU will be holding its lobby week from January 30 to February 3, 2022. Students who register for the event will find themselves working in groups to draft lobby documents for a campaign
of their choice. They will also be presenting recommendations and lobby initiatives to the university administration. The campaigns include Academic Advocacy, Education for All, and Food Security.
For the Academic Advocacy campaign, the UTMSU en courages the university administration to update The Code of Behaviour on Academic Matters, which UTMSU vice-president university affairs, Suraqa Noor, noted to be “archaic” and out dated. Additionally, the UTMSU propounds that students should be shown evidence of their alleged academic miscon duct. The UTMSU also hopes to set a timeframe for academic offense resolutions: two months for departmental meetings, two months for divisional meetings, and six months for tri bunal meetings. Likewise, the UTMSU intends to lobby for an increase in the grade threshold for department-handled aca demic offense cases, from the current 10 percent to 25 per cent of final grade.
Lastly, the UTMSU calls for an extension of the Credit/No Credit (CR/NCR) request deadline to the day that students re ceive their final grades—which currently is either the final day of class or the date of the final test and assignment. Noor put forth that there is insufficient time for students to make “in formed decisions” regarding the use of CR/NCR options. “We believe that [the extension] will give students the opportunity to take up courses that they might want to increase their horizons with,” stated Noor.
The Education for All campaign focuses on the gradual and eventual elimination of tuition fees.
The Food Security campaign focuses on improving the accessibility and di versity of food options on cam pus. To satisfy a broader range of students’ dietary prefer ences, the UTMSU calls for more vegan, vegetarian, halal, kosher, and gluten-free diet
options, among many others. “I’m a pescatarian [an individual that does not consume any meat other than seafood], it’s a real thing. We’re a growing community, but we struggle [with food options],” lamented Reagan Roopnarine, the UTMSU vicepresident equity.
The UTMSU also recommends updates to food quality man agement to ensure that UTM students have access to safely and properly prepared food. “If you’ve ever been to [Colman Com mons], you’ll know why [we are recommending this],” joked Roopnarine. She also stated that staff training is necessary to ensure that the preparation processes for various food options are done adequately. For example, tools used in preparing nonhalal foods should not be interchangeably used in halal food preparation, which has special guidelines.
Finally, Roopnarine put forth that “students don’t leave cam pus promptly at 6 p.m.” The current food service hours at UTM are insufficient, leaving hard-working learners, or simply stu dents who have night classes, without quality food.
Through participating in the lobby week, students will be able to chime in on the initiatives and recommendations put forward in these campaigns, improving the scope and thor oughness of lobby documents.
!“Over the last year, students have made a really significant impact on the UTM com munity, but the work does not end there, and there’s still so much more to achieve. […] As students, we hold so much power when we are united, […] when we come together and strive for a common goal, and I want everyone to always re member that the students united will never be defeated,” shared Barre, reaffirming the im portance for UTM stu dents to stand as one and drive change.
In both the US and Canada, transgender inmates have had their rights violated, as prison systems place them in gender-divided cells that do not match their gender identities.
Zitong Chen Contributor
Nikita Dragun, a transgender woman and an influencer, “was arrested and held in a men’s unit of a Miami jail” on November 8, 2022, according to NPR. Dragun was accused of walking around a hotel pool naked. Upon the security guards’ arrival, Dragun report edly splashed them with water. Afterwards, officers arrived at Dragun’s room to confront her about the disturbances. She “allegedly then threw an open bottle at a security guard and police officer, hitting them and covering them in water,” reads an NPR article. As such, she faced charges of “felony battery of a law enforcement officer” and disorderly conduct.
According to Local 10, in court on Novem ber 8, Dragun inquired about whether she would be forced to stay in a men’s cell when jailed. “I don’t make the rules up there,” Judge Mindy Glaze had stated, though she told Dra gun that she could be released if collateral,
As reported by CTV News, Wilson has encountered several violent incidents in the prison. The news report reads: “Wilson was slashed in the face by another inmate with a homemade weapon at Kent Institution in November 2018 and also detailed another in stance where she was attacked and suffered a black-eye in October 2020.”
Wilson has been subject to much abuse within the prison. Correctional service guards have reportedly used derogatory terms when speaking to Wilson, which caused other pris oners to follow their example. “I’d rather be locked in a cell for 24 hours a day to deal with my journey on my own without any abuse or verbal attacks,” said Wilson in a phone inter view with CTV News
The Transgender Inmate Management of Ontario takes pride in their progressive pol icy for transgender inmates, which states that “all inmates are treated with the same dignity and respect regardless of their gender expres sion or gender identity.” However, as exem plified by Wilson’s case, the validity of such statements can be questioned.
In their annual general meeting, the UTMSU reviewed the previous year’s initiatives and introduced its lobby week event for UTM students to chime in on what needs to be improved upon.
Associate News Editor
Seven national teams participating in the 2022 World Cup in Qa tar are contemplating legal action after FIFA said it would pun ish any players wearing a “OneLove” armband. The Royal Dutch Football Association, the organization that launched the arm band in 2020 to promote inclusivity, says the Netherlands, Swit zerland, Germany, England, Wales, Belgium, and Denmark are “jointly considering their legal options” in response to the ban, though the teams have elected not to take the issue to the Court of Arbitration for Sport. Qatari tournament organizers have pre viously stated people of all sexual orientations are welcome in the country for the event. Regardless, they have cautioned public displays of affection by 2SLGBTQI+ peoples.
British children’s show, Peppa Pig, has introduced a same-sex couple following calls for the program to feature 2SLGBTQI+ characters. In an episode that aired on September 5, 2022, titled “Families,” Peppa’s friend, Penny the Polar Bear, tells her she lives with two mothers. One of her mothers works as a doctor and the other “cooks spaghetti”. The episode comes after a 2019 petition called for the show to introduce a same-sex couple, arguing that “excluding same-sex families will teach children that only fami lies with either a single parent or two parents of different sexes are normal.” The petition currently has over 23,000 signatures.
Emily Rogers Associate News EditorOn December 19, 2022, Myron Demkiw will be tak ing over the Chief of Police position at Toronto Police Services (TPS). Once appointed, he is anticipated to hold a press conference discussing his outlook for the next three years. Current Chief James Ramer commends this choice, tweeting his certainty that Demkiw “will serve our city with integrity and professionalism.” The TPS Board has Ramers’ standards in mind, in a tweet, a TPS chair cites Demkiw’s capability to support a “progressive and com munity-centered” Toronto.
Despite this impressive resumé, Toronto’s 2SLGBTQI+ community has less gracious memories of Demkiw. Activ ists have voiced serious concerns over Demkiw’s record of violating queer spaces. On September 14, 2000, Demkiw and six other officers forcefully entered a bathhouse party, humorously dubbed the “Pussy Palace.” the bathhouse was intended to be a safe space for queer individuals. The officers would later justify the raid under the pretense of searching for evidence of illegal sex work, despite failing to find any.
The focus on sexual pleasure of queer women and trans people made the “Pussy Palace” unique. The party was hosted by the Toronto Women’s Bathhouse Committee (WBC)—a small group of “sex-positive feminists” intent on recreating “an experience akin to men’s bathhouses or cruising spots.” The queer women and trans folk decided to celebrate the first fall of the new millennium with a night of “2,000 pussies.”
However, dressed in plain-clothes, seven officers en tered a bathhouse filled with naked women and trans in dividuals—none of whom consented to the officers’ pres ence. Amidst the mass of horrified people, WBC member Chanelle Gallant recalls Demkiw joking that he represent ed “the morality squad.”
All charges against organizers JP Hornick and Rachel Aitcheson were dropped by Ontario Justice Peter Hryn in 2002, deciding that the police were in breach of the patrons’ charter rights. After the WBC filed a class-action lawsuit
against the police and won, the Toronto Police—including Demkiw—were sentenced to sensitivity training.
Following the legal successes of the committee, the WBC became an activist organization advocating for 2SL GBTQI+ rights. On October 11, 2022, Gallant and Horn ick sent an open letter to Mayor Tory, as well as the TPS Board Chair Jim Hart. In the letter, WBC members de tailed their personal experiences with Demkiw and called for a public meeting with Mayor Tory. The WBC later re jected an invitation to a private meeting with Mayor Tory, Hart, and Demkiw, stating that Demkiw’s presence would be inappropriate, as the discussions would be about his ap pointment as Chief of Police. Additionally, the WBC be lieved that the meeting needed to be publicly held as the appointment was a “community issue, requiring a com munity response.”
While his position in the “Pussy Palace” raid is the most glaring issue, Gallant and Hornick point out that “this was not an isolated incident.” The “Pussy Palace” raid may have obtained historical infamy, but it was just one in a series of raids on 2SLGBTQI+ spaces that Demkiw took part in.
Mayor Tory himself has also faced scrutiny in regards to his dealings with the 2SLGBTQI+ community. In October 2022, Mayor Tory held a campaign event at Woody’s—a popular bar on Church & Wellesley, in downtown Toron to’s Gay Village. At the event, Maya Fleischmann—a queer woman and activist—sought out the mayor to address her concerns over Demkiw’s appointment. Finding herself un able to squeeze through his barricade of staff, she uploaded an Instagram reel stating that Tory’s refusal to hold a pub lic forum while “co-opt[ing] a queer space for his benefit” was “brutally hypocritical.”
In a letter addressed to the WBC, Tory’s campaign man ager, Patrick Harris, asked that statements regarding Tory’s lack of public accessibility at Woody’s bar be retracted. On behalf of the John Tory Campaign, he claimed Tory con versed with “any Torontonian that wanted his time” dur ing his visit to the Village. Since the initial invitation to a private meeting, neither the Tory Campaign nor the TPS Board have made any attempts to publicly address Hornick and Gallant’s concerns regarding chief designate Myron Demkiw.
An aide to Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni is being criti cized after an interview in which he referred to same-sex cou ples as being abnormal. While speaking about the portrayal of a lesbian couple in an episode of Peppa Pig, culture spokesman for the Fratelli d’Italia, a right-wing conservative political party, Federico Mollicone said that presenting same-sex couples as be ing normal was “absolutely wrong.” Same-sex marriage is not recognized in Italy, but a 2016 bill granted same-sex couples ac cess to civil unions with many of the same rights as marriage. Mollicone’s stance drew criticism from political rivals, including Italy’s centre-left Democratic Party.
Vote Against Woke, an organization promoting “anti-woke” can didates—those who are against supporting oppressed people, such as 2SLGBTQI+ community members—in Ontario’s 2022 municipal election was forced to take down its list of approved candidates due to concerns over election laws. Launched on September 21, 2022, Vote Against Woke’s website posted a list of school board trustee candidates that aimed to “take back the ed ucation system from woke activists.” The list originated from an other website, www.blueprintforcanada.ca, which was launched by Kawartha Lakes school trustee candidate Peter Wallace. Both sites removed the list, with Wallace explaining in a PressProgress interview that he “didn’t want to be in violation of third-party municipal election laws.”
Mihail CubataFuture Toronto Chief of Police’s record of violating queer women and gender-non-conforming individuals rights breaches the 2SLGBTQI+ community’s trust.
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Editor | Kareena Kailass opinion@themedium.caThe first and most fundamental role of The Medium is to put student voices on display for all to see. Our platform ensures everyone is heard, if they choose to speak. This week, we at The Medium, wish nothing more than to hear about your stories and your struggles. We hope this is sue celebrates the lives and legacies of 2SLGBTQI+ peoples, and we hope the future brings more of these powerful voices and stories into our community.
For those of us who have the privilege to reveal our minds and bodies honestly, for what they are— know that you are always wel come at The Medium
For those of us who maintain our veil of safety, camouflaging gauze and scars under our shirts and only
clasping the hands of our lovers in the dark—know that you too are always welcome here.
For those of us who have not been granted the right to speak, dare to whisper. For those of us who have been allowed to speak, dare to shout. Shout for those of us who are kept silent, whether by fear of judgement, loss, violence, homelessness, isolation, or death. Shout for the lost and murdered trans women of colour, shout for the queer people who never got access to the health care that they needed. Shout for the people who have been shunned by their workplaces, communities, and families for being who they are. Shout for these people because they cannot tell their own stories anymore. Make demands for the queer commu nity. Demand space, demand time, and de mand support.
Speak your de mands and have the community hear them. Let us hear your stories.
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Jestina Hajjar Contributor
“I hate it when dudes try to chase me But I love it when you try to save me ‘Cause I’m just a lady”
– King Princess, “1950”
Sapphic love is the beauty of embracing my femininity in the arms of another woman. Lesbians and sapphics rejected femininity as a concept for quite some time. People believed that to love a woman in the “correct” way, there must be a masculine quality within one’s relationship. However, men have absolutely nothing to do with the way women choose to love each other, and thus, should not be centered within our relationships.
Sapphism is not attempting to mimic heterosexuality; rather, it contains its own kind of love, an ethereal kind of love.
The ethereal quality of sapphism is emphasized in its softness, its innocence, and its purity. The mere act of longing for a woman’s touch reflects the purity contained in its essence. Sapphism is the adoration of all the small and delicate aspects of the woman you love: the way the corners of her lips perk up as she sees a dog pass ing by, the way she nuzzles into your neck and lets out a comfort able sigh, and the tingle you feel as she brushes her fingertips ever so gently against the back of your neck. It is in the comfort of the little parts of her, which only you know, that contain the minis cule escape from the world’s expectations, which you have always longed for. For in those moments, you are hers and she is yours; it is not for the judging stares or the objectifying smirks—it is simply for us, and only us.
Yet, there is a constant fear of loss in every form of sapphism— the fear of losing the woman you love to someone who can give her what you never can: societal normalcy. I cherish her, memorize every part of her, support her, praise her, give her the kind of love even the movies cannot recreate; but I cannot give her normalcy. This is perhaps the most heartbreaking part of it all, as the only way I can provide what she so clearly deserves is by taking away all that which we have built. In that respect, perhaps normalcy is something I cannot provide, but I will work tirelessly to give her a love that will fill that void. I will dedicate ev ery moment of our bond as a love letter to sapphic love.
To me, love is warm, gentle, comfortable, and peaceful. It feels like a safety blanket on a stormy night. It doesn’t have strict rules or fixed categories—just feelings and emo tions rushing through your veins like a drug. But what happens when someone has to ques tion and hide their feelings because their love is being rejected?
The unfortunate truth is bisexual people are forced to face this every day.
How?
Let’s start at the beginning. WebMD defines bisexuality as “an attraction to more than one gender.” Bisexual people can be attracted to those who share the same gender as them, as well as those with different genders. But bi sexuality is much more fluid than what a stan dardized definition suggests. Every bisexual person has a varied preference for genders, and some might find themselves attracted to one gender a little more than another. Bisexual people might also find themselves alternating between heterosexual to same-sex relation ships, which is quite common.
So how does this affect a bisexual person’s mental health? We often find ourselves stuck in a situation where we have to lie to our fami ly and friends, which is never a pleasant expe rience. It makes us feel guilty and consumes us from within. As a budding teenager, conver sations about dates and crushes float around between students, but through all this, bisexual people are often left feeling uncomfortable and exclud ed. Simply put, we have to dodge the topic because we’re hiding a part of ourselves— giving way to feelings of hopelessness, sadness, and sui cidal thoughts. According to a report by The Trevor Project, a non-profit organization that supports 2SLGBTQIA+ suicide and mental health awareness in youth, these emotions are notably higher in bisexual youth when compared to their heterosexual and gay coun terparts. These emotions also leave bisexual
youth more vulnerable to numerous mental health issues. The crux of this disparity comes from the fact that we’re often in the closet and misunderstood by our parents and peers.
But some of us break out of this caged feel ing faster than others. Some of us find the courage to come out, but then, we have to endure our sexuality being mocked and shamed. When we describe ourselves as “bisexual,” people just don’t take us seri ously. Our coming out is overlooked as a “teen phase” or just pure con fusion.
Our sexuality is judged.
The judgement and ig norant comments dismiss ing our sexuality makes us start to question ourselves. It makes us feel that others know more about how we identify than we do. It is frustrating and invalidating.
An online survey study conducted on bi sexual and monosexual people found that “bi
sexuals experience unique discrimination due to bisexuality that is different from gay/lesbian individuals. Bisexuals experience bi-negativi ty, or anti-bisexual prejudice, from both het erosexuals and lesbian and gay individuals, as well as the LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans gender) community more broadly.” Bisexual people face prejudice from the 2SLGBTQI+ community and discrimination from people outside the community.
But besides all the adversities and discrimi nation, there is still hope for us to find a com munity where people accept us for who we are and make us feel confident in ourselves—a community that doesn’t interrogate our iden tity. People are becoming more accepting of bisexuals as a “real” identity and not just a phase towards being straight or gay.
The month of March is Bisexuality Aware ness Month. A month where bisexual people can celebrate their identity, no matter who their significant other is. But the end of March doesn’t mean bisexual awareness and support is over. We should dedicate every day to fight ing the prejudice both inside and outside the 2SLGBTQI+ community. We should fight un til we learn to accept people for their compli cated and layered selves.
Ishaan Sethi Contributorships, and the 2SLGBTQI+ support that was advertised, was just a mere few moments in the whole work.
is a danger at the centre of the 2SLG BTQI+ community. Queerbaiting refers to the use of the 2SLGBTQI+ community for vested interests and market ing intent. But, this is not the definitive definition and needs to be redefined. The disorientation caused by queerbaiting recently led actor Kit Connor to forcibly come out via Twit ter. Connor is not the only one to have faced queerbaiting accusations. Many other celebrities like Harry Styles, Rita Ora, and others have been subjected to the unescapable pub lic eye’s accusations as well. While queerbaiting is a legitimate issue for the 2SLGBTQI+ community, over time, it has trans formed into an excuse for the invasion of privacy.
Beyond celebrities being accused of queerbaiting, queer baiting can be used by corporations, companies, and groups, for personal monetary benefit. For instance, many television shows and movies highlight 2SLGBTQI+ characters through trailers and advertising to put out an image of support for the 2SLGBTQI+ community. With that, people identify with the characters, or find the film supportive of the 2SLGBTQI+ community, and tune into these programs only to find that the characters, relation
Not only is this harmful for the 2SLGBTQI+ commu nity, but many companies, like AT&T and CVS Health in the US are ingenuine with their support and fund homo phobic campaigns, politicians, and movements on the side lines—like Chick-fil-A’s prior connections and donations to anti-2SLGBTQI+ Christian organizations. While Chick-filA’s affiliation with such organizations is an accurate repre sentation of queerbaiting, many instances are not. They are simply misunderstood.
In Connor’s case, we can clearly see how harmful queer baiting is for those accused. Watching Heartstopper (2022), a love story between two young queer boys, the audi ence accused Connor of queerbaiting by “project ing himself in a queer way.” Not only did the public accuse Connor, but also forced him to temporar ily quit social media when he was photographed holding hands with a co-star, Maia Reficco, which led to extreme scrutiny and speculations of Con nor’s sexuality.
We often discuss queerbaiting as people acting queer for additional attention or interest. Queerbaiting in media is when an 2SLGBTQI+ angle is add ed to maneuver attention and increase tar get audience; like, the show Supernatural (2005-2020) and Teen Wolf (2011-2017), which have been criticized for queerbaiting with bisexual characters, and especially in the case of Teen Wolf, misrepresenting bisexual people and their rela tionships. In this case, the plot of Heartstopper is based on a queer love story, meaning that being queer is an
essential part of the story and not an added marketing technique.
Queerbaiting is strongly related to media representation; wherein, many people prefer 2SLGBTQI+ actors playing 2SLGBTQI+ characters. This comes from a need to balance the opportunities between heterosexual versus homosexual actors. In attempts to identify 2SLGBTQI+ celebrities in me dia, campaigns, and the like, many forget the right to privacy and depth of self-discovery that these stars have.
Privacy and self-discovery are intertwined. Self-discovery is a timely, complex, and emotional process that any indi vidual would want to journey in private. In the exploration stage, privacy is essential to maintain our authen ticity. With this authenticity, when we do come to terms with our identity, or even, like celebrities, choose to share our lives in public, we stay true to ourselves. Behind the silver screen, actors are real people with qualities and feelings; like us, they prefer to keep personal aspects of their life—their relationships, identity, and more—private.
In the hopes of protecting the 2SLGBTQI+ commu nity from queerbaiting, unfortunately, the countereffect of violating celebrities’, especially young celebrities’, privacy has emerged. While the opposing reaction to queerbaiting is val id, it is misdirected—it is a danger for 2SLGBTQI+ individu als, and the 2SLGBTQI+ community as a whole. Accurate recognition of queerbaiting aids in maintaining the dignity of the community and preventing its capitalization. The inabil ity to identify a problem will only result in misguided, larger, and combined anger.
Being bisexual comes with a unique set of mental health challenges but hoping for acceptance isn’t a lost cause.
Understanding the importance of recognizing queerbaiting can help prevent the invasion of privacy of individuals and the 2SLGBTQI+ community.
The dangers of queerbaiting
I’ve been seeing a lot of betrayal in the name of love lately. Friends turning on friends to get consoled by a boy. Boy friends and the girl’s close friend getting together. It’s hard for me to think that these relationships, founded on hurt ing others, will last. Have you also seen an influx of this?
Do you think a relationship can be successful if it started off causing someone innocent that much pain?
Silent ObserverThank you for your note and sorry for taking a while to get back to you. Your question took me some time to think about—partially because of my Covid-induced slump, and partially because I recently faced something similar. I recently lost a friend over a boy (among other reasons). The wound is fresh, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to give a proper response. But I’ll give it a try.
The experience of a “falling out” is more multi-faceted than people think. Because relationships and friendships intertwine the thoughts, feelings, and experiences of everyone involved, relationship and friendship fall outs will never affect only one side. None of us are perfect.
Try not to think too much about the aftermath of the toxic relationship. I know that it hurts, but the best thing you can do is take a step away and know that other people’s actions are not for you to judge—nor for you to fix. People change—some times overnight—and falling victim to your friend’s inexcus able actions can result in more pain and guilt. I urge you to forgive them in silence, but also to realize that if they’ve hurt you once, the chances are they will hurt you again. In the wise words of the famous author, Dr. Maya Angelou, “When people show you who they are, believe them the first time.”
Unless someone shows you that they have changed for the better, know when to protect your peace and walk away. Even tually, you will meet people better suited to your needs. Some times we need painful friendships to show us what we deserve.
As for your final question, Silent Observer, no. Relationships that start off in painful ways usually aren’t successful. Feelings of guilt eat away at even some of the most special forms of love. Mixed with toxicity, well, that makes for a relationship that shouldn’t have started in the first place.
With love,
Mari Khan ContributorJust be fore June, Pride Month, corporations race to change their pro file pictures and social media branding to em brace the 2SLGBTQI+ community. I’m sure we’ve all seen the rainbow filters that corporations surface during the month of June. Then, with the first of July bringing the end of Pride Month, all the profile pictures instantly change back to their “regular” branding.
This sudden, momentary change in social media brand ing is “rainbow-washing” at its finest—and it doesn’t end there. Extending beyond social media strategies, compa nies also change the way they act during Pride Month— taking rainbow-washing to a whole new level.
A few ways corporations rainbow-wash beyond just social media are: selling products with rainbows to en courage sales; employing Pride-focused initiatives only during the month of June; and featuring influencers from the 2SLGBTQI+ community that make the company seem 2SLG BTQI+ friendly.
And yes, rainbow-washing can extend beyond corpora tions. If you attended a public school in the Peel District, you have likely noticed how the Peel District School Board also pushes the 2SLGBTQI+ inclusivity narrative on students throughout the month of June.
Mari, you’re being too harsh. Why is rainbow-washing a problem? Corporations are trying to be inclusive and show their allyship, what’s the harm in it?
Well, I suppose you might be right. It is nice that corporations are ac knowledging the existence of the
2SLGBTQI+ community. It’s definitely something they haven’t done in the past, so I’ll admit that it is a step in the right direction—but that’s it: it’s a step. There are many more to be taken, but unfortu nately it seems that this is where corpo rations intend to stop. Corporations are pushing allyship into one month, taking away from the community and the movements Pride Month represents. That is the problem.
I also suspect that some of these corporations only support 2SLGTBQI+ during pride month for the money.
Big shocker, I know.
An article by Forbes estimates that the 2SLGBTQI+ com munity spends $3.7 trillion per year, globally. That is a lot of money. So, corporations target these communities, eager to get their share of these spendings, also known as “pink mon ey.” Not only does pink money take advantage of the 2SLG BTQI+ community, but it makes the support of Pride even less genuine on the part of many corporations. So, companies have a reason to support 2SLGBTQI+ during June—to get ex tra sales. That is why I am pessimistic of the sincerity of these corporations and if they are positive forces in support of the 2SLGBTQI+ community.
I believe that it is important that we demand more account ability from companies that claim to be an ally of the 2SLG BTQI+ community. We should be grateful that corporations have begun being prideful, even if it feels like empty gestures. Now, we need to push for sus tainability in the inclu sion of Pride support.
Dear Silent Observer,Professor R. Cassandra Lord’s upcoming book “Performing Queer Diasporas: Friendships, Proximities, and intimacies in Pride Parades” focuses on Pelau Mas QUEERade, a Caribbean queer diasporic group that participated in Toronto’s annual Pride Parade from 2002 to 2014. After be coming a member of the group in 2004, Pelau MasQUEERade became a subject of Professor Lord’s ethnographic research— comparative studies focusing on people’s habits with particular attention to culture, traditions, and heritage—in 2005.
“[Pelau] re-imagines a belonging in Pride on their own terms that seeks to bring the Caribbean into Pride through the idea of carnival,”
The name “Pelau” stems from the cooked rice dish originating in Trinidad and Toba go. The meal is cooked in a single pot with chicken or beef, rice, peas, vegetables, herbs, and spices. The beauty of Pelau is that de pending on where you eat it, who cooks it, and what type of ingredients are used, the dish is always unique. This diversity is the essence of Professor Lord’s examination of
Pelau MasQUEERade in Toronto.
Professor Lord shares that “The book is a re-working of my dissertation’s field work. When you have a question, it preoccupies your mind for a very long time. Writing takes time and thinking takes time.” She continues by saying, “The work has evolved since then.”
For years, Professor Lord analyzed deracialization patterns of queer histories and white homo-national narratives that routinely removed people of colour from queer spaces. The existence of Pelau Mas QUEERade confronted those non-inclusive ideas by creating a space for queer people of colour within Pride.
“The larger question was: How do queer people of colour make meaning in the Pride Parade?” says Lord. “[Pelau] re-imagines a belonging in Pride on their own terms that seeks to bring the Caribbean into Pride through the idea of carnival,” she explains.
Pelau’s practices draw on Trinidad and Tobago Carnival. First repurposing clothes worn during the carnival for their masquer ades, Pelau had to switch to painting partici pants’ bodies and wearing earthy tones as a result of low funding. Professor Lord de scribes this act as a “queer-making prac tice.” However, she stresses “We have to change our mind about what is queer. It’s not queer because the people doing it are queer, but
because it allows us to re-imagine forms of being and belonging.”
Professor Lord followed Pelau’s early conceptions, observing how participants interacted within the queer diasporic space by embracing the need to be and share their whole selves. Professor Lord sought to understand the formation of Pelau Mas QUEERade in the context of Toronto, where different histories and diasporas cross in identifiable ways. Studying the transcripts and narratives presented in her research, she discovered the recurring theme of friend ship. A deep sense of knowing someone is what made Pelau a group of non-Caribbean and Caribbean people committed to bring ing Carnival to Pride.
Those invested in Pelau MasQUEERade showed the importance of creating relation ships with other people of colour and acted as a model to confront white supremacy and interrupt white spaces. “Once you know someone, you can go to the places that are difficult. Friendship allows people to [con nect with] each other. It’s not an intimacy of knowing that is without fractures and faults,” explains Professor Lord. Rather, “it allows people to push the limits of their friendships and talk about things they may not want to say,” she em phasizes.
“What endeared me is the feeling of going to Pride and
listening to trucks with big sound systems,” shares Professor Lord. This included Trini dadian pop music used in carnivals. “Soca music in the context of Pride,” she elaborates. “I was intrigued by people going to Carnival in the diaspora. Moving back and forth be tween spaces and reworking costumes to fit different bodies.” Professor Lord describes the experience of observing a performance by Pelau MasQUEERade as “the day that you’re going to be swept away by the music because you’ve never seen anything like [it] before.” She continues, “When Soca music is reconfigured in a queer space it does some thing. The instruction and movement. Back, forth, left, and right. Is this Pride? Is this Caribana?”
“Friendship allows people to [connect with] each other.”
While participating in Toronto’s Pride is an empowering act, Pelau MasQUEERade identified its missing flavour and gath ered ingredients to create a space for queer people of colour. Without this disruption of queer white spaces, people of colour are often evicted resulting in “a history of dis appearance,” as Professor Lord describes. To conclude our conversation, Professor Lord explains what she aims to achieve with her book. “[Queer people of colour] have always been there, but there was no documentation. It’s about writing yourself into the history— ‘queering’ history,” she finishes.
Here’s what happens when Pride and the Caribbean diaspora intersect
Ramnarine Staff Writer
In the first full year of in-person learning since the pandemic, being surrounded by people on campus can feel lonely and isolat ing. Without the safety of online platforms or anonymity, letting yourself be known can feel like a big risk. For members of the 2SLG BTQI+ community—a group whose spaces even today are still under attack—creating supportive and safe environments for selfexpression is crucial. As such, OUT@UTM, a club for 2SLGBTQI+ individuals and al lies, wants to be a safe and reliable place for people to come together, celebrate each other, and discuss the history and future of the community.
club on campus for the LGBTQ community,” she explains.
After doing some research, Vaswani found that OUT@UTM had already been established on campus but had been inac tive for a few years. The club was handed over to her last year, and she has since led it as co-president and now as sole president. “I wanted to become the president because I think the main issue is finding people in [your community] when you’re not sure if people around you are homophobic or not. How do you come out to them? How do you talk about being queer to them?” The fear that comes from this uncertainty is wellfounded, and Vaswani has discussed this with other students. “It’s a very real fear that people have. I’ve talked to a few non-binary students, and they all have the same fear:
room is open and supportive of the 2SLG BTQI+ community.
The relationship between the clubs be gan last year when in collaboration with the Women and Gender Equity Centre, the three organizations hosted an online event to dis cuss with students the history of the 2SLG BTQI+ community and their hopes for the future. “Being the co-president [of OUT@ UTM] last year, and being the marketing as sistant for Positive Space, I had a lot of over lap in my duties, so I tried to put events to gether for both clubs,” Vaswani adds.
Looking ahead to the winter semester, Vaswani says the club has many plans for stu dents, like a dance night at The Blind Duck, and an off-campus group trip to the Art Gal lery of Ontario or Scooter’s Roller Palace. “We’d like [to host] social events for people
find clubs and figure out what it means to be queer on campus. But Vaswani doesn’t plan for the mentorship to end after first year. Instead, she wants the program to also be “For upper-year students who wish to talk to somebody who’s already graduated, who can talk to them about what it’s like in the real world, and what it’s like to live and work as a queer person.”
“I had no community where I could be myself, or have many queer friends, so that made me decide to open a club on campus for the LGBTQ community.”
Vaswani has many plans for OUT@UTM, but so far she says putting them into action has had its challenges. “In one way, online was easier, because we didn’t have to go through the same loopholes that we do now to hold events,” she explains. Vaswani adds that holding online events meant they didn’t have to wait for funding or account manage ment, something that has been a problem this year and has meant stalling their events
Spreading awareness about the club has also been challenging, Vaswani says. “I think there should be an easier way to market events on campus. Right now, we have to message other clubs on Instagram and hope that they tell their followers about it too,” she notes. She thinks that ensuring that stu dents know of and have access to the Student Group Directory, an online registry for clubs, could be very beneficial to students looking
For now, though, she wants to highlight the groups that already exist on campus. Many resources and services are already available to support students, playing a vital role in fostering an inclusive environment on campus. But we must ensure students know where to find them. This is where OUT@ UTM comes in. “Us at OUT@UTM, the Women and Gender Equity Center, Positive [Sexual Education Centre], these are all places that will support students, […] the most important thing is highlighting the core community and creating resources for
I n 2017, for her paper titled “In-durable Sociality: Precarious Life in Common and the Temporal Boundaries of the Social,” Pro fessor Zoe H. Wool interviewed injured US military soldiers who were cared for by one of their family members. Wool is an assistant professor in the Department of Anthropol ogy at the University of Toronto Mississauga (UTM). She researches the anthropology of toxicity, gender, disability, as well as feminist science and technology studies. Her current work focuses on the effects of war and het eronormativity on veterans’ care experiences post 9/11. In her research, she has realized that what most fail to consider is that hetero normativity—the idealization of heterosexu ality as the correct way of being—shapes our understanding of well-being. As such, the ableism that results from the romanticization of normative views about well-being affects disability and rehabilitation experiences of veteran and queer bodies.
“What most fail to consider is that heteronormativity— the idealization of heterosexuality as the correct way of being—shapes our understanding of well-being.”
During her interviews with veterans, Pro fessor Wool found that “one of the things that were really central to them was reconfiguring or figuring out how to inhabit masculinity in these transformed bodies.” From this, one of her current projects, titled the “Socialities of Care + The Significance of Others,” began. In it, she explores the harms of heteronormativ ity in relation to caregiving, rehabilitation, intimacy, and the disability experiences of soldiers.
Professor Wool shares that “there’s this pressure, and often this desire, to inhabit a normative body, a normative mind, and a normative set of intimacies that by definition [injured individuals are] excluded from be cause of their disabilities.” As Professor Wool points out, in many ways, the concept of masculinity itself assumes “able-bodiedness and able-mindedness.” Within the rehabilita tion of US veterans, achieving heteronorma tive lifestyles seems to signal success, empha sizing the tension between normative ideas of masculinity and disability. “And so, one of the arguments that I make is that in this re ally normative context that is the US military, we see a clear example of how heteronorma tivity ends up becoming the opposite of dis ability,” explains Professor Wool.
Professor Wool adds that the impacts of heteronormative expectations often regard
intimacy. For example, she shares that one veteran she worked with is cared for by his mother who supports most of his daily activi ties. Though part of him is content with his life, he feels the need and desire to live alone, have a girlfriend, and children. “There’s this kind of disconnect between, on the one hand, him being quite satisfied with the way his life is, and on the other hand, him also expressing a sense that he’s missing out on something,” shares Professor Wool. “That’s an example of what I’m talking about, where his sense of himself as a complete person is undermined by expectations of heteronor mativity,” she expands.
Professor Wool stresses that healthcare can emphasize heteronormative expectations.
communities of queer, disabled people, have built up this wealth of knowledge and exper tise around how to configure care over the long term, and often these lessons are not incorporated into policy,” Professor Wool continues.
Stigmatization further inhibits progress. This is because we still don’t understand the human body outside of our understandings of gender—people are only starting to real ize that a uterus isn’t always in a woman’s body. For example, Professor Wool recalls how people used to think of acquired im munodeficiency syndrome (AIDS) as the disease of gay men. However, this is untrue. Rather, AIDS is transmitted through physical contact and is simply more easily transmit
about the ‘transgendered heart,’” maintains Professor Wool. She mentions a fellow re searcher who focused her studies on cardiac health. Professor Wool’s colleague found that a tissue in the heart muscle responds to es trogen, noting its importance in the develop ing field of transgender medicine. But estro gen levels do not only impact transgendered bodies—cis-gendered women sometimes take hormone replacement therapy during menopause. As such, this research shouldn’t solely target transgender individuals—it should highlight gendered implications but focus on how fluctuations in estrogen levels impact the heart.
“We’re contributing to a particular kind of medical stigmatization of a group of people.”
For example, primary caregivers are expected to be the individual’s partner or spouse. Yet, many rely on other intimate relationships, like parents or friends. This skewed under standing of caregiving can affect access to healthcare services. For instance, Professor Wool notes that in the US, the Veterans Ad ministration launched the Family Caregiver Assistance Program to support caregivers, providing them with policies, resources, and even a stipend to enable them to leave their work to be full-time caregivers. Although the program’s objectives were noble, heteronor mative expectations for spouses to be caregiv ers meant that spouses were predominantly the only ones admitted to the program. “It’s a very narrow imagery of what family looks like and it’s a very narrow imagery of what caregiving can be,” says Professor Wool.
“It’s a very narrow imagery of what family looks like and it’s a very narrow imagery of what caregiving can be.”
These expectations impede policy imple mentation. “One of the things that criti cal disability studies teaches us is that gen erations of disabled communities, including
ted anally—but people failed to consider gay men aren’t the only ones to participate in anal intercourse. “We’re contributing to a particu lar kind of medical stigmatization of a group of people and we’re producing incorrect in formation about transmission. […] We could provide better and more accurate informa tion about health and illness in this case, and we can avoid reproducing stigmatization,” stresses Professor Wool.
“There’s this pressure, and often this desire, to inhabit a normative body, a normative mind, and a normative set of intimacies that by definition [injured individuals are] excluded from because of their disabilities.”
One way of preventing stigmatization is to avoid focusing research on gender. “It’s great to say that trans people’s experiences of hormones over their life course are going to be different than cis-gendered people’s ex periences of hormone changes over their life course. But […] we don’t need to make this
Professor Wool argues that disability jus tice could help avoid prejudice and promote inclusivity. Disability justice is a framework that uses intersectional analyses to under stand how disability is perceived as a prob lem. She explains that there is a difference between impairment and disability: impair ment is the actual illness, like a lost limb, but disability is the result of our ableist society’s failure to accommodate for impairment. As such, the illness itself is not a problem. Rath er, the issues are stigma and the lack of ac commodation. She notes that although med icine doesn’t understand itself as mirroring eugenics (the inhumane practice that aims at removing people’s “undesirable characteris tics”), it seeks to eliminate disability from the world, rather than accommodate for it. “And a correlate of that desire is to say that dis ability shouldn’t exist; disability is undesir able; disabled people are undesirable,” which is evidently wrong, explains Professor Wool. Disability justice then looks at the nature of those systemic problems, identifying their causes. This involves thinking about urban planning, policy, systemic discrimination, and even environmental sustainability.
She adds that disability justice is an anticapitalist movement that emphasizes how capitalism harms us. On this, Professor Wool states, “Capitalism produces an idea of pro ductivity through which we value people as worthy or not. If you don’t measure up to those standards of productivity, then you’re understood to be unworthy as a person.” As such, Professor Wool points out that students feel pressured to come up with excuses to re quest extensions. She urges students to just ask for extensions, without excuses, because acknowledging that high-pressured expecta tions are overbearing is crucial. “When you come up with an excuse, you’re playing into the story that the conditions of life aren’t themselves reason to need a break,” she con tinues. Being overwhelmed, burnt out, or disabled is normal. What’s not, is society’s expectations that fail to recognize and ac commodate for circumstances of life.
Prisha Editor Professor Zoe Wool speaks about the impacts of heteronormativity and ableism on veteran and queer bodies.
Mashiyat Ahmed Contributor
Classic literature persists through indi viduals who revive old works in mod ern ways. In her novel The Song of Achilles, author Madeline Miller retells the story of Achilles—a Greek warrior—and his lover Patroclus The story takes inspiration from Homer’s Western classic The Iliad—a legend ary epic poem which recounts the events of the Trojan War. Although the The Song of
Achilles lacks archeological evidence—when it comes to proving legitimate documenta tion of the events and individuals in the Tro jan War—Miller redirects her artistic atten tion to the exploration of the two characters.
Throughout the centuries, there have been multiple reinterpretations of The Iliad. How ever, the versions of this tale that include the relationship between Achilles and Patroclus have always excluded the possibility that they were homosexuals. In The Iliad, it is Achil les’ unspeakable grief and rage—caused by the unjust death of his lover—that turn the tides of the war in favour of the Greeks. In
Michael Foucault broadens the definition of a “gaze” into an “act of selecting what we consider to be the relevant elements of a to tal data set available to our senses.” In The Song of Achilles, the blossoming romance of Achilles and Patroclus takes place against the backdrop of a raging, unforgiving war. Woven through the pages of the novel is the continual conflict of rationality with emo tion, freedom with fate, and selfish desire with selfless love—all factors that have been added as aspects of the “female gaze.”
It can be hard to understand why or how the “female gaze” is relevant to a homosex ual narrative involving two men. In today’s growing culture of toxic masculinity and stigma, Miller’s application of the “female gaze” redefines sexuality, masculinity, and vulnerability. By using the point of view of a patriarchal society, the novel implicates that males are emotionally stifled, unchanging, and should be strict with themselves—in reference to power structures. In The Song of Achilles, Miller strips Achilles’ and Patro clus’s relationship of any standards that de scribe what sexuality, grief, and love should look and feel like. As a result, the two char acters—who get to know each other through an initially anxious friendship—develop
their deeply organic, intimate, and oddly lib erating romance, despite the confines of their destinies and gender roles.
In each chapter, the “female gaze” empha sizes qualities of softness, emotional fluidity, compassion, and humanity. While Achilles is a quintessential masculine figure who thrives off praise, strength, and extroversion, Patro clus is unable to be a competent soldier. He enjoys practicing medicine in a tent, eating figs, and swimming—activities that, in the novel, lack utility. The politics of the Trojan War reinforce male gender norms, making the connection between Achilles and Patro clus even more important.
Achilles is at times brutish and quick to anger, while Patroclus is sentimental. Only through navigating the harsh waters of their love does Achilles learn gentleness and does Patroclus feel empowered and strong. The Song of Achilles tells its readers that there are many different types of relationships, and in all of them, gentleness and understanding form the foundation of love. In her retelling of The Iliad, I do not think Miller set out to revolutionize queer literature. Instead, she provides a different perspective on two char acters whose mystique captivates audiences to this day.
Zitong Chen ContributorSpoiler warning: this article discusses scenes from Bros.
The comedy film Bros, directed by Nicholas Stoller, recently premiered at the 2022 Toronto International Film Festival. According to The Queer Review, the movie made “history as the first major studio feature to star and be co-written by an openly gay man, Billy Eichner.”
In this film, Bobby (Billy Eichner) is a cynical but smart gay man who is emotionally unavailable for any romantic relation ships. However, when he encounters the muscular lawyer Aar on (Luke Macfarlane), his life changes—even though Aaron does not believe in relationships either. Their differences teach the couple how to tackle crucial problems in their relationship. Through conversations about their different upbringings, Bobby and Aaron form a bond. While Bobby grew up in an open-minded family that allowed him to explore and develop his sexuality at a young age, Aaron grew up in a less progressive family from a small town in Upstate New York. He did not get
to accept his true self and was, for a long time, trapped—pre tending that he was something he wasn’t. While Aaron made
his living as a testament lawyer, he was once really interested in designing chocolate packages.
As their relationship prospers, Aaron becomes fascinated by Bobby’s genuine confidence. There is a scene in the film when Aaron asks Bobby what makes him so confident. Bobby ex plains that even though he had supportive family and friends growing up, he was also told to be less of himself so that he could be more successful in mainstream society. “Confidence is just knowing you are the only person left you can count on,” says Bobby to Aaron.
The film depicts the struggles of queer people through the repressive nature of modern society. Public institutions like schools and workplaces keep restricting the queer community from being who they truly are. “I went to college, and my musi cal theater teacher told me that I had a ‘gay walk’ and a ‘flam boyant quality’ which would ‘limit my options,’” says Bobby.
Through the movie’s unique use of humor, Stoller captivates audiences and explores queer issues in dynamic ways. Films like Bros are crucial to today’s cinema because they tell stories that represent queer perspectives. In this way, the film speaks up for the queer community and notes that there are ongoing societal changes that require drastic improvements. “The world caught up with us, but didn’t catch up fast enough,” says Bobby.
Nicholas Stoller’s film depicts societal issues that continue to repress queer individuals.
Theatre kids are often stereotyped as being “those loud Broadway lovers that sing in public.” At the University of Toronto Missis sauga (UTM), you can spot groups of drama students in the depths of Deerfield Hall—on the mint-coloured sofas near their rehearsal rooms.
Through the plays they perform, write, direct, and produce, U of T’s thespians are some of the most influential students on all three campuses. Their works spark discussions on critical social and personal issues, and they inspire other cre atives. Theatre kids create legacies, one show at a time.
Currently in his third year at the University of Toronto, Valentine Leger is a student-writer and director majoring in drama studies. His newest play, Support Groups for the Queer Daughters of the Cluster Pucks, was recently showcased as a staged reading through the UTM English and Drama Student Society (EDSS). In an interview with The Medium, Leger discussed his personal experiences that influenced the play’s structure. “I came out as transgender about two years ago and I really needed an outlet [to express myself]. I started writing plays [and] I found
that it was so cathartic and a great way to talk about things without actually having to talk about them,” said Leger.
The story in Support Groups for the Queer Daughters of the Cluster Pucks stemmed from a conversation that Leger had with his dad about queer identity. Through his dad’s insights, Leger felt inspired to transform his newfound knowl edge—along with his own struggles as a queer individual—into a unique piece of writing.
“I assumed that [my dad] has never had to engage with something like [understanding queer issues]. [But he told me about] these men on his beer league, [and how] all of them hap
pen to have gay kids. [He said that] sometimes after games, when they drank beer, they would talk about it,” Leger stated.
Flipping the storyline, Leger wrote his play from the perspectives of the kids. Each ac tor became “a manifestation” of someone that Leger had once met “as a queer teen in sports.” The play was staged as a conversation that took place in the lobby of a hockey arena. Four ac tors sat in a semi-circle and read from a script, speaking about hockey culture, their experienc es as queer individuals in a suburban town, and the complexities of father-child relationships.
Further speaking about his identity, Leger
stressed that while many of his works are based on his life, he aims for his plays to be relatable to others in the queer community.
“As a transgender person living in North America, [it often feels like] your identity [is] being put under a magnifying glass,” Leger expressed. “I think that it’s easy to write about these scenarios that I’ve been put in and sort of blow them up.”
As he wrote the play, Leger realized how under-represented trans people are in the world of theatre. With an intent to address this lack of representation in today’s staged shows, Leger hopes to continue writing works based on queer stories.
“Something so nice about young queer peo ple and emerging artists is that they [use] the phrase ‘if you can’t find yourself in something, create it [yourself].’ I’m starting to see all of these amazing plays and it’s cool to see us creat ing our own representation,” Leger said.
Support Groups for the Queer Daughters of the Cluster Pucks was a part of the UTM EDSS’ “New Play Development Program,” mentored this year by playwright and actor Madeline Brown. As Leger continues to structure the play, he aims to keep it in production. To find out more about the play, and to keep up with the UTM EDSS, be sure to follow them on Ins tagram @utmedss.
Starring Harry Styles, the film offers a meditation on shame, deception, and misplaced hope.
Samuel Sports & Health EditorSpoiler warning: this article discusses scenes from My Policeman.
Released earlier this month on Prime Video, Michael Grandage’s second directorial feature My Policeman consists of three main characters and a classic cinematic staple to bind them all—the love triangle.
Based on Bethan Roberts’ 2012 novel of the same name, the understated film stars Harry Styles as Tom Burgess, a young police officer in late 1950s England. Amid an il licit affair with his gay lover Patrick (David Dawson), Tom marries schoolteacher Marion (Gina McKee), and she falls in love with him deeply. But, to openly spend time with Patrick, Tom introduces him as a friend into his relation ship with an unwitting Marion. Marion and Patrick, a mu seum curator, instantly bond over a mutual interest in art, literature, and opera.
Unsurprisingly, Marion finds Tom and Patrick sharing an intimate moment in a (not so) secret manner. Out of revengeful heartache, she reports Patrick to the authorities. Later, through diary entries read in a courtroom, Tom is revealed as Patrick’s lover—an unintended consequence of Marion’s actions. Patrick goes to jail for indecency, Tom loses his job, and Marion continues to survive in an un happy marriage.
The trio’s lives are uniquely intertwined, forming a dysfunctional quagmire of emotions. Fast-forward to the
1990s, Marion accepts the repressed history that she shares with her husband and decides to then end their marriage. She leaves Tom to Patrick in their quiet seaside home. Shortly before Marion’s departure, Patrick suffers an inca pacitating stroke. In an attempt to heal her marital lone liness, Marion takes Patrick into her care out of guilt for having kept him apart from Tom.
In a post-screening Q&A session at Toronto Interna tional Film Festival Bell Lightbox this September, Styles described Roberts’ story and said that lost love in the form of “wasted time is the most devastating thing.” I disagree.
In my perspective, shame, in one sense, is the inability to live in congruence with one’s values. In spite of his longing for Patrick, Tom takes Marion to be his wife because he, at some level, believes in the tradition of having a public ser vice career alongside a woman with whom he can bear chil dren. Tom, in other words, seeks to satisfy two inherently conflicting desires: the stability of the mid-century nuclear family life and homosexual love.
It is sad that Tom’s latent sexual guilt puts him in dishar mony with himself. What’s worse is the human suffering that results from his maladaptive ways of coping. Rather than going left or right, Tom draws both Marion and Pat rick into his inevitable downward spiral. He deceives Mar ion into believing that she, as a devoted wife, could have the power to “change” him. He deceives Patrick in suggest ing that he could ever be a committed partner. And finally, he deceives himself with the idea that he could sustain a double life by foolishly avoiding the profound discomfort of sacrificing one thing for another.
To say that discriminative societal norms of the 1950s caused Tom to do what he did is to overlook his major character flaws. He’s sweet but also pitiful, as his sense of consequence—based on his extensive actions that hurt the two people he claims to care about—is distorted.
My Policeman is mostly boring—except for those who are willing to apply some intellect to their viewing of Grandage’s two-hour film, only to get the most basic take aways. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.
A discussion on identity, queer experiences, and transgender representation in theatre.Alisa ALANA PATERSON IMDb com
Tiana Dunkley Contributor
Finding a reflection of yourself in the art you enjoy is a wonderful feeling. If you need some new music, here are a few 2SLG BTQI+ musical artists providing the perfect tunes for any ear.
Ross’s songs make me feel like my thoughts are being sung back to me, soothing the worries I never had a chance to name. Like many, after indulging in a late-night Insta gram scroll, I came across a video of Ross singing one of their unreleased songs. Their soft guitar playing matched their careful lyri cism about staying true to yourself, leading me to return to the same video for days. After exploring more of their music, I found that Ross’s musical catalogue is filled with songs that explore the intricacies of simply existing as a human being. One of their latest singles, “We’ll Never Have Sex,” confronts ideas of intimacy and manages to astound listeners in under two minutes.
During another late-night Instagram scroll (separate from the one above), I came across an advertisement for Sun’s “Dirty Dancer” music video. Through my phone’s speakers, I heard one of the most angelic voices paired with beautiful visuals over crisp drums—I became an instant fan. A few months ago, I was fortunate enough to attend one of her
show into a dance party. While her songs are considered alternative R&B, she also releases beat tapes called the “Test Series”—collec tions of sample heavy beats that flex her mu sic producing talents.
Adria Kain’s music is perfect for all lovers of love. With soulful vocals over scenic produc tion, Kain explores the feelings that come with being cozied up to someone you love and expressing your affections to a stranger. With songs like “Alone in Kenzo” on her album When Flowers Bloom, Kain sets the mood for any romantic scene. On the con trary, her song, “Lost One,” gets you missing a lover you never had.
Even if you haven’t heard of Charlotte Day Wilson, you’ve probably listened to her voice without even knowing it. Her song “Moun
Exploring some new and up-in-coming creatives that are worth the listen.
tell impactful stories
Many universities actively strive to become more in clusive by providing student members of the trans community with wellness resources and opportunities for greater representation on campus. Within that same com munity, however, there are voices that haven’t been main streamed like those of their trans counterparts.
Jungian analyst and psychotherapist Lisa Marchiano says detransitioners “may feel out of step or unseen in an envi ronment that is very-trans-affirming. […] They are some times treated as if they, as a group, are anti-trans, which just isn’t true.”
Marchiano has experience working with young women who have detransitioned. According to The SAGE Ency clopedia of Trans Studies, “to detransition is to reverse a prior transition from one gender or sex to another, typically returning to one’s [natal sex].”
“They detransitioned after realizing that transition was not helping them.”
In 2021, the Journal of Analytical Psychology published research from Marchiano on an 18-year-old woman, re ferred to as Maya, who took testosterone (a male sex hor mone) for two years before she was hospitalized for suicidal depression. Maya eventually quit her medication, stopped identifying as trans, and six months later, began psychody namic talk therapy with Marchiano.
“For most of the women I have seen,” Marchiano says, “they detransitioned after realizing that transition was not helping them.”
Suffering from ADHD, lack of positive parental attention, low self-esteem, disordered eating, and the “disarticulated grief” of losing her aunt, Maya tried to escape the trauma of her reality by adopting a new body and joining a diver sity-defending movement—that serves the mental wellbe ing of many people—for a sense of community belonging. In other words, the complex combination of psychosocial problems that initially led Maya to a period of trans iden tification in impressionable teenagerhood was never ad dressed.
“Maya tried to escape the trauma of her reality by adopting a new body and joining a diversity-defending movement—that serves the mental wellbeing of many people—for a sense of community belonging.”
“I do think some of [my clients] felt deeply betrayed by the doctors and therapists from whom they sought care [when they decided to medically transition],” Marchiano says. “In some cases, they were rushed or affirmed without any real therapy or exploration, and there is anger about that.”
Affirmation, in the words of psychologist Diane Eh rensaft, is “a method of therapeutic care that includes allowing [people] to speak for themselves about their self-experienced gender identity and expressions and
providing support for them to evolve into their authentic gender selves, no matter at what age.”
Some might question the validity of this approach, as gender identity and personality develop over many years of adolescence and early adulthood, whereas sexual preference can emerge much earlier and become con fused with gender identity.
“In some cases, they were rushed or affirmed without any real therapy or exploration, and there is anger about that.”
While the process of detransitioning is an understudied field, a 2020 survey found that majority of its 100 partici pants detransitioned after realizing they weren’t adequately evaluated prior to receiving medical interventions. The second highest reason to detransition comes from concern about potential after-effects of those interventions.
Researchers from the Center of Expertise on Gender Dysphoria at the VU University Medical Center in Amsterdam, the Netherlands, discovered that trans gender people who start cross-sex hormone (CSH) therapy after the age of 16 may be prone to osteo penia, or weak bones from asymptomatic bone loss.
A team of Dutch medical specialists and pro fessors observed 34 transgender people over the course of 14 years. They started sex reas signment during puberty, first with gonado trophin-releasing hormone agonists (GnRHa), then CSH, and lastly a combination of the two. GnRHa suppress natal sex hormone levels, while CSH stimulate opposite secondary sex ual characteristics.
For instance, female to male transitioners, like Maya once was, take testosterone and, as a result, develop facial and increased body hair, a deepened voice, an enlarged clitoris, and may lose their scalp hair.
To learn about the long-term effects of these injections specifically on bone health, the re searchers measured their subjects’ bone mineral density (BMD) from 1998 to 2012. Data findings became available when the subjects turned 22. The pre-treatment BMD scores of individuals from both the transmen and transwomen’s groups decreased to a point where the World Health Organization would clas sify them as “osteopenic.”
The laying down of new bone is important for normal growth in adolescence. Osteopenia from CSH often pro gresses to osteoporosis. Osteoporosis is a skeletal disorder that puts people at higher risk of “sudden and unexpected” bone fractures.
Studies have also linked hormone use to cardiovascular disease, breast cancer, and debilitating acne.
“Detransitioners can feel very uncomfortable and self-conscious about their altered bodies,” Marchiano says. “They may ruminate about the changes […] and may have lost the friends and community they had when they were trans identified.”
“I hope that universities will offer services and sup port to this small but very vulnerable population of young people so that they can feel welcomed on cam puses,” she concludes.
Detransitioners’ marginalized experiences with gender-affirming care impart nuanced insight into the psychological and physical effects of transitioning.
Competing in Olympic-level competitions, these athletes are setting new records while advocating for
2SLGBTQI+ individuals in sports.
In recent years, transgender-identifying athletes have been seen as role models for members of 2SLGBTQI+ commu nities. Setting personal and world-records, these icons have fulfilled many “firsts” for the sports community and spread positive messages for the inclusion of queer youth in athlet ics. Below, we highlight three trans athletes who have served as mentors for the greater community, while also excelling in their disciplines.
The Canadian women’s soccer team won gold at the 2020 To kyo Olympics for the first time in the team’s history. Alongside them, midfielder Quinn set records of their own, becoming the “first openly transgender, non-binary person to win an Olympic medal.”
Quinn has made multiple appearances with the Canadian women’s soccer team at international events, including FIFA World Cups and two Olympic games. During the 2020 Olympics, they were on the team’s starting lineup for most games, including their gold medal win.
Quinn came out publicly as transgender on their Instagram in 2020, later telling Sport that they decided to use their “plat form” as an athlete to be “visible.” In their interview with BBC Sport “It’s really difficult when you don’t see people like
yourself in the media or even around you or in your profession. I was operating in the space of being a professional footballer and I wasn’t seeing people like me.”
Hammer thrower Keelin Godsey was the first Amer ican transgender athlete to compete for a spot on the US Olympic team. Although Godsey did not qualify for the 2012 Summer London Olympics, he started the con versation about transgender athletes in sports.
Godsey is a male-identifying transgender athlete who com peted in women’s hammer throw events. His identity posed some difficulties. Godsey had to forego medical treatments for transitioning during his career as an athlete on a women’s team to fulfill his elite athlete identity.
Following the 2012 London Olympics, Godsey competed in male hammer throw for one season and then retired. He now works as a physical therapist and advo cates for transgender healthcare and rep
Lia Thomas is a well-known transgender American swimmer and recent student at
the University of Pennsylvania (UPenn). Ac cording to ESPN, in March of this year, she became the first trans athlete to win the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) Division I championship—a na tional competition dedicated to the success of college athletes. In the 500-yard freestyle swim, Thomas finished with a record speed of “4 minutes, 33.24 seconds.”
In an interview with Sports Illustrated, Thomas expressed her need to compete in women’s sports—de spite the controversy that her win has sparked amongst US sports fans. “I just want to show trans kids and younger trans athletes that they’re not alone. They don’t have to choose be tween who they are and the sport they love,” she said in the interview.
In July of this year, UPenn nominated Thomas for the “2022 NCAA Woman of the Year” award. In spite of this, FINA, the In ternational Olympic Committee, “banned transgender athletes” from participating in swimming. While this news is unfortunate for Thomas, she will not give up that eas ily. With support from her teammates and family, Thomas continues to fight for trans rights in sports to create a brighter future for young trans athletes.
Elizabeth Provost Editor-in-ChiefHistorically, sports have categorized athletes into two leagues: men and women. This binary fails to consider ath letes with non-norma tive gender identities—cre ating tension, discrimination, and disparity in their experiences and access to sports. Such athletes include those that are transgender or identify as non-binary, gender-fluid, or gender-queer.
Sports in university serve as both a pro fessional and social activity for students. Some student athletes choose to participate competitively, while others participate rec reationally. Being active in a competitive or semi-competitive university setting builds character, reduces stress levels, shapes selfesteem, increases respect for others, enables teamwork, and forges meaningful connec
es, gender labels determine access to athletic spaces on university campuses. Elitist rules and regulations that do not recognize nonbinary gender identities cause a cohort of university students to feel uncomfortable in gendered spaces. It has been argued that in high-level, professional sports gendered sys tems enable fairness and safety—although I think this reasoning is bleak—but, at the university level, such strictness on genderrelated advantages should not be prioritized.
In 2018, Canadian university sports, including U of T’s athletic programs, an nounced that student-athletes who haven’t medically transitioned with hormone ther apy had the choice to compete on the team in accordance with their gender identity.
Adherence to the Canadian Anti-Dop ing Program is still in effect.
Although this policy is an inher ently inclusive and progressive effort at accepting non-normative bodies in student athletics—an effort that isn’t always mir rored in wider sports outside university in frastructures—the binary between the male and female athlete, and the subsequent lack of inclusion for students that do not identify with these two labels, persists.
Published in the International Review for the Sociology of Sport, a 2021 focus group study conducted at four universities in Eng land, suggested that gendered societal struc tures serve as major barriers to gender-fluid, non-binary, and trans athletes.
The student focus group expressed that even for trans university students who iden
tify with one of the two gender categories, insufficient guidance and support at school, along with past negative experiences, may discourage participation and hinder their sense of belonging in student athletics.
Participants presented one way to ad dress the experiences of trans, non-binary, and gender-fluid individuals: mixed-gender teams. The University of Toronto Missis sauga offers some co-ed tri-campus sports, namely ultimate frisbee and cricket. An other competitive league offering co-ed participation are intramural sports. On a non-competitive level, drop-in sports at the Recreation, Athletics and Wellness Centre are also non-gendered.
Not only do university sports need to be considered on a gender continuum as op posed to a binary, there also needs to be a change in culture and the perception of trans, non-binary, and gender-fluid athletes. A shift away from cis-gendered activities and spaces will require informed acceptance and understanding that athletes may iden tify beyond the binary of male and female.
The need to embrace more gender-diverse participation in university athletics