New Wave Magazine (Fall 2018) by New Wave Magazine

a feminist magazine built on community and creativity

NEW WAVE MAG

Katie Li//Chelsey Gould

HEADS OF COPY//

Joshua Cameron

ART DIRECTOR//

Sherina Harris

MANAGING EDITOR//

Yusra Javed/Julia Mastroianni

EDITORS IN CHIEF//

issue two/fall 2018 issue two/fall 2018 issue two/fall 2018 issue two/fall 2018

editors:

For many students, post-secondary education can feel like a sort of grey area — we are “adults,” but also kind of aren’t. We are out in the world, but also living in the bubble of our campus and our city. At a time when so many of us are figuring out who we want to be, we are indebted to New Wave’s remarkable contributors for sharing some of that process with us. Although we didn’t set a theme for this magazine, when we looked at our pieces we began to see a common trend emerge — one of growth, of healing and of self-discovery. Through writing about, illustrating and photographing their own experiences and those of others, our contributors have explored what it means to be alive right now. What it means to be hurt, what it means to heal; what it means to be represented; what it means to challenge the status quo. We are so grateful to be able to support a platform for people to share these stories. Our hardworking team of section editors, co-heads of copy and fact checking, art director, copy editors, fact checkers, graphic designers, illustrators, photographers, writers and editors have ensured these stories look their best on the pages you are holding. Thank you to everyone who has contributed along the journey. Just as our contributors have shared their journey of self-discovery and growth, we have loved watching the evolution of New Wave since our first issue last year. Feel free to reach out to us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or by email (newwavezine@gmail.com) if you have concerns, questions or comments. Sincerely,

Yusra & Julia managing editor

editors in chief

from

the

Sherina

6..............................Drag: A History 8...............Journaling: A Space for You 10.............................Canon, at Last! 13......................Caught in the Middle 16......................You’re Too Emotional 18.........................Rebirth Anthology 20....................Blueprints of Trauma 22..........................A Silenced Truth 24............................I Am Not Mine 26.........Rearranging Marriage in 2018 28...........................................Hue 31......................................Of Wind 34...............Endometriosis: A Journey

We are committed to elevating voices and providing a platform for communities to share their stories. We recognize the barriers and challenges faced by folks of various identities and intersectionalities, and so we think it’s important to note the following: Some of the content in this magazine may be triggering. Some of our stories are about topics such as, but not limited to, sexual assault, abuse, discrimination and mental illness. If you find yourself needing support before, during or after reading a piece in the magazine, we have provided resources below.

Counselling

Crisis Helplines

Office of Sexual Violence Support and Education 416-979-5000 ext. 3596

Good2Talk Post-Secondary Student Hotline 1-866-925-5454

Centre for Student Development and Counselling 416-979-5195

Distress Centre of Toronto 416-408-HELP (4357)

Stella’s Place Mental Health Centre 416-461-2345

The Gerstein Centre Crisis Line 416-929-5200

If you or someone else is in immediate danger:

Sexual Assault Survivor Support Line 416-260-0100

dial ‘80’ from an internal phone or call 416-979-5040 to contact Ryerson Security.

Centre for Suicide Prevention 1-833-456-4566

DRAG: by Andrea Josic

A HISTORY

The Church Wellesley Village, Canada’s largest “gaybourhood,” has been the city’s queer haven for decades. With the popularization of drag in the past few years, largely thanks to RuPaul’s Drag Race, drag culture in Toronto thrives more than ever before with all of its glamour and bad bitch energy. A big middle finger to misogyny and the systems of patriarchy, drag is about embracing femininity, individuality and defying gender norms. Drag has always been an iconic part of queer culture. The beginning of the gay liberation movement is generally marked by the Stonewall Riots in 1969,

pioneered by drag queens and transgender activists Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera. The Stonewall Riots, a resistance to systemic discrimination, were an era-defining moment of social and political change for the LGBTQ+ community. Still located in the Greenwich Village in New York City, the Stonewall was one of the only establishments in the 1960s that welcomed members of the LGBTQ+ community. When police raided the bar on June 28, 1969 and began arresting the gay patrons, Johnson was reportedly one of the first people to resist the arrests and Rivera was the first to throw a bottle at the police. Following the raids, Johnson and Rivera founded Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries (STAR) to provide shelter for homeless queer youth — mainly trans and gender non-conforming folks — and was the first LGBTQ+ shelter in America. Through their activism, it was two drag queens of colour who paved the future for LGBTQ+ rights by protesting for justice and equality. While the LGBTQ+ community has deep roots in drag culture, only in recent years has drag really been getting mainstream attention. Some of Toronto’s veteran queens like Heroine, who has been a queen since 2007, have noticed significant changes in the drag community. While Drag Race has introduced local talent onto the scene, several gay bars in the Village have closed down, ultimately reducing the number of stages for queens to perform on. Popular gay bar Zipperz closed down in 2016 for condo developments, while others are unable to afford rent surges when leases expire. As the number of queens continues to grow, it can get difficult to secure gigs. Queen Tynomi Banks acknowledges the differences between older and newer queens. “This new generation is just amazing. They’re born more accepting. [And] they also have it easy. It’s so easy to get help,” says Banks. When Banks first started doing drag in 2006, there wasn’t a lot of competition and she recognizes that Drag Race brought many fresh faces to the scene. Before Drag Race, it was harder and more expensive to get resources like costumes, wigs and makeup. Despite these challenges, Toronto queens continue to hustle and create names for themselves. Some queens have day jobs or part-time jobs and do drag when they can, while some queens do drag for a living. “We all still work hard, but

I feel like Toronto [has] the hardest working drag queens in the world,” says JuiceBoxx, who works full-time as a drag queen. Regardless of how long they’ve been on the scene or the work they have to put in to keep doing what they love, Toronto’s drag queens are passionate and dedicated. Here are some of their thoughts about the art of drag:

Natasha Walker is Tash Riot, drag queen since 2018

“One of the reasons I fell in love with drag is the limitless nature of it. And that’s truly a word I love to use with drag. Limitless. The point is that I’ve always performed, I’ve done lots of different things, but the reason that drag is my thing is that there are no rules. And if there are rules, they’re meant to be broken. And it’s not necessarily something that everyone understands but that’s the point. It’s this ultimate form of expression and you should be able to do whatever the hell you want.”

Sheldon McIntosh is Tynomi Banks, drag queen since 2006

“Drag has helped me find out the person that I am. And I don’t take bullshit. And I love that I don’t. Now I have people who are inspired by me. People who aren’t even in drag. I have people sending me messages how I’m such a light, how it’s so refreshing and how it gives them hope for the future because I give them truth...I understand what the idea of me means for other people. But I didn’t realize, a little child who wants to do drag for the first time, they see a black queen and think, ‘Oh my God, I can be her one day.’ I’m 37, so I realize these things now.”

Aleksandar Golijanin is Erin Brockobić, drag queen since 2016

“Drag is for everybody. Performing is not, but drag is. Some people realize they’re not meant for the stage, but do enjoy wigs and makeup and hair and outfits. And that’s great. Everybody should be able to enjoy drag. I love seeing it. I think we’re stronger as a community if there’s more of us. We support femme energy and we support women and empower women and that’s ultimately the best thing. We eradicate this toxic masculine culture. We’re laughing in the patriarchy’s face.”

Jo Primeau is JuiceBoxx, drag queen since 2014

“You get a lot of attention. People just move out of your way when you’re walking in a bar in full drag, because drag queens, at the beginning of the gay rights movement, drag queens were a huge voice, right? For gay men and lesbians and people who fell in between. You were those people that people looked up to. Now that it’s mainstream, everybody’s like, ‘I want to be that person, I want to be a part of that legacy,’ so then they want to be a part of that movement

because they see how accessible it is and how easy it is.”

Matteo Cassano is Heroine, drag queen since 2007

“As long as I can meet people that really appreciate my art, then that’s all that matters. I’m not really in this for the money. Yeah, money’s great. Money is how I’m surviving and doing this. But my goal in drag is, if I can make someone laugh, then that’s all that matters. This whole creation I’ve put together, it’s designed to make people laugh and feel something. And if I can make someone chuckle, then that makes me happy.”

Jordan Leuthel is Tiffany Boxx, drag queen since 2018

“With it being mainstream, you are giving yourself so many different opportunities and different people to listen to you. I was at DragCon back in May and it’s extremely heartwarming and exciting to see kids that are 7 meeting drag queens and dressing up in drag. And it’s so cool seeing people that may not fully know what their identities are at that age but being willing to explore.

Journaling: ournaling: A Space for a space for you You by Raizel Harjosubroto

It was during a subway ride when I realized how little space I’ve trained myself to take. The man sitting across from me in the subway had his legs wide open as the young woman beside him squished herself up next to the window so that she wouldn’t be in his way. She seemed unbothered—yet uncomfortable—because, like me, she might have been taught not to inconvenience anyone. Stay out of people’s way. Don’t make things a bigger deal than they need to be. I wanted to yell at the man for taking up more space than he needed. Suppress. I wanted to talk to the squished woman next to him about how irritating it was to see this happen to her and how it’s always happening to people sitting beside men. Suppress. I wanted to rant to the folks sitting beside me about how women are taught to always comply without making them feel like I was rambling. Suppress. I wanted to complain about TTC etiquette and why I’m always the one who makes sure I don’t go over the seat divider. Suppress.

Am I always going to suppress? Not in my journal. As a woman of colour, an identity that has two layers in it, being able to say and do whatever I want in my journal is not only empowering; it’s therapeutic. As the writer of my journal—the author of this documentation of a chapter in my life—I’m focusing on my own thoughts, experiences and feelings. And because I have the freedom to write on and on about my thoughts, suppressing them is no longer an option.

Journaling is a reflective experience. It has brought me to come to terms with the way I feel about things. It’s an opportunity to investigate my feelings, and gain mental and emotional clarity. Seeing my thoughts in a physical form forces me to confront feelings that aren’t always pretty.

It’s my chance to sit with my anxieties. Rest with them. I have always actively avoided confrontation. Being openly vulnerable in front of someone is scary. I’ve never felt that my feelings or ideas were worth talking about. But writing them out becomes a conversation with myself and, in turn, can soon become the conversation I have with someone or something that is bothering me (or pleasing me). There are no rules when it comes to journaling. When I’m writing in my own journal, I feel empowered enough to let my perfectionism rest. My journal is a place where I don’t worry about grammar, punctuation or spelling. It’s a place where I don’t have to worry about looking cool amongst peers or sounding smart in front of a professor. Setting time aside in your day just for journaling is also empowering. Write in a journal you want. Write with a pen you want. Write in a place where you want, where you feel most comfortable. And write whatever you hell you want. Self-care routines are hard to do and journaling can help you begin to practise one. My favourite time of day to write in my journal is right before bed, when I can reflect on what happened during my day and list my feelings. Some mornings, I like to write my stream of consciousness, where I can dump my immediate thoughts that make no sense so that I can clear my mind before I start the day. Journaling is something that I encourage everyone reading this to do. It is empowering. It is therapeutic. It is a space for people to take as much space as they want and it’s a time for reflection and self-discovery as I learn more about my feelings and how to confront them. It is a place where I can unapologetically be me. So when another man scoffed at me when I accidentally stepped on his shoes—that were under my seat—and I didn’t feel confident enough to tell him to mind his own space, I could go home and yell at him in my journal. Even though he won’t hear it, I’m releasing that anger and it is empowering—it’s a feeling I’ll take when I’m in other situations where I feel like I’m the one being stepped on.

Canon, at last!

by Jordan Currie

hen Marceline and Princess Bubblegum from Cartoon Network’s Adventure Time kissed on screen for the first time in the series finale in September, I immediately texted my friend in pure excitement, eager to talk about how cathartic it was to watch. She replied, “Yeah, I thought it was a fake edit at first. I can’t believe they really did it.”

How modern children’s cartoons are becoming more visible with LGBTQ+ representation

Adventure Time is a colourful and surrealist cartoon loved by children and adults alike, spanned 10 seasons over eight years. It revolves around the adventures of Jake the Dog and Finn the Human. Marceline and Bubblegum are two central characters, worshipped by fans as sapphic icons who dubbed their willthey-won’t-they relationship “Bubbline.” It’s the irresistible trope of opposites attract: Marceline, the punk, bass-playing vampire queen and Bubblegum, monarch of the Candy Kingdom with her all pink everything and occasional temper. The best friends turned lovers exuded a casual and effortless relationship. Producer Adam Muto hinted at the two having been in a relationship in the past, something the writers were hesitant to confirm even in the finale.

I remember viewing cartoons in ways they perhaps didn’t intend for me to — or, perhaps they did, but could only be subtly slipped into subtext in fear of backlash. The Teen Titans episode “Switched,” when heroines Raven and Starfire switch bodies, was one of my favourites in the series. I wanted Raven and Starfire to spend more time together, but as something beyond friendship, something I didn’t understand how to articulate with a child’s vocabulary. Two women? More than friends? Was that possible? Quinlan Green is a 19-year-old student at Concordia University who identifies as gay and is a fan of Adventure Time. He says internalized homophobia prevents kids from even noticing subtext, just as it had done to him when he watched the show at age 14. “I don’t think their [Bubbline] relationship had been that defined at the moment...I kind of thought it was a stretch to say that the two characters could be in a relationship,” he says.

I’d seen a few episodes back in its heyday but admittedly felt intimidated by its scope and didn’t watch it consistently. Still, intrigued by Bubbline, I’d occasionally check in on the fandom to see what was up with their relationship. I saw the clip of Marceline and Bubblegum’s triumphant kiss during the show’s climactic final battle and had a similar reaction to the message from my friend — in disbelief but pleasantly surprised. Like many LGBTQ content consumers, I had become accustomed to the same tired tropes: deaths of queer characters, coding queer characters as villains and queerbaiting. But this time, Adventure Time made it real. They became canon, meaning they were officially confirmed by the show as a couple.

“When I was growing up, I could have used a show like Adventure Time to normalize a same-sex relationship,” says Green. “Getting older, it was interesting to see Bubbline being more affectionate.” I saw characters like Shego from Kim Possible and Velma and Daphne from Scooby Doo — more so in the terribly spectacular live-action films — as queer in some way growing up. Sailor Moon, a favourite of mine and well ahead of its time having aired from 1991 to 1997, paired heroines Haruka Tenou and Michiru Kaioh as a couple in the original Japanese language version. The English dub disappointedly turned them into relatives instead of lovers — though the amount of times the two would tenderly call each other “cousin” is equally as hilarious as it is cringy.

Twenty-six-year-old cartoonist Maggie Gallagher loved cartoons of the late ‘90s and early 2000s, but she felt guilty watching shows that were pegged “girly,” like The Powerpuff Girls. “I guess with me...I am trans, and I was identified as male when I was a child,” she says. “I remember that feeling of repression and almost shame that I’m watching this.” This summer, the PC Party axed the 2015 Ontario sex education curriculum and reverted to the outdated 1998 program. Omitted are references to same-gender relationships and gender identity. In a desperate time for LGBTQ youth in Ontario, children’s programming can play a role in educating children on sexuality and gender if their own schools won’t.

“It’s not just a sex education document, it is a health and physical education curriculum that includes sex education,” says Marni Binder, an associate professor of Early Childhood Studies at Ryerson University. She says LGBTQ children’s programming affirms the identities of LGBTQ children and teaches them to remain open-minded, as homophobia is a learned behaviour in society and comes from many different people in their lives and institutions. This can challenge such societal issues and learned behaviours and open up important conversations. “Children are not born racist, homophobic nor initially see people through stereotypes,” she says. “It is a learned behaviour.”

Without clear labels, fans draw from subtext and make their own headcanons — a belief about a character that is accepted by some fans but has not been confirmed by the show. “There’s just so few characters that they can actually identify with,” Gallagher says. “I think the audience have just as much of a part in crafting the character as well in a lot of ways.” Green says films like Love, Simon which include LGBTQ teenagers are as necessary as any young adult media. “It would’ve made me feel more included and that my feelings for other guys were natural and accepted. Because you already sort of know, but you just don’t have the movies that you watch telling you the same thing.” If Sesame Workshop can announce in a now-deleted tweet that Bert and Ernie “remain puppets, and do not have a sexual orientation,” why do Miss Piggy and Kermit get to be a beloved heterosexual couple? Thankfully, there are modern cartoons that include unrestrained LGBTQ representation such as Steven Universe, The Legend of Korra, and The Loud House. I don’t believe our children’s programming is where it needs to be, but I can say not all hope is lost. I haven’t seen all of the weird and wonderful Adventure Time, but knowing fans who rooted for Bubbline were given what they hoped for, I’m inspired to go back to the beginning and explore the Land of Ooo in its entirety. Hopefully next time fans won’t have to wait until the finale to witness their victory.

CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE

BY DHRITI GUPTA

s a second generation Indian-Canadian, I often find myself struggling to strike a balance between my personal and cultural identity. I was born in New Delhi, but only lived there for the first three years of my life and spent the rest jumping from city to city within North America. We searched for our little piece of home in each new city. In the cramped aisles of a tiny Indian supermarket. In a little smile exchanged with the only other brown kid in class. In a mouthful of mithai on Diwali that we drove 30 minutes to buy. These are the discernable things that have connected me to my culture in the 15 years I’ve lived away from where I was born. It’s the aspects of culture that I can’t see or put a name to that throw me for a loop. Living outside of the country where I was born, I’m afraid of being deemed “whitewashed.” Ironically, I fear the accusation that I don’t care about my culture more than the thought of actually losing my culture. As kids who grew up outside of our countries of origin, we hear it all the time from our parents, from our relatives, in our communities and in the media:

[

You don’t have respect for our values, our traditions. You don’t understand our ways.

It weighs heavy, the idea that we’re a disappointment to our families or our origins. But for me, what’s perhaps heavier is the truth within those claims. Sometimes, I really don’t understand why we hang on to some traditions, especially when they conflict with my personal beliefs. I would like to think my family is not stereotypically traditional. My parents had a love marriage. I was encouraged to pursue whichever career I wanted to. My grandparents never pressured my parents to try for a boy. I’m supported in my decision to go to therapy and to advocate for the LGBTQ+ community. I take pride in these small ways that we defy the norms, but when I do come across an issue where my parents side with tradition, I am all the more confused and surprised as to why they see it that way.

CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE

In discussing plans for my post-secondary education, my parents and I came across the topic of moving out. They immediately ruled out the possibility, saying there was no way would I move out of our house before I am married. It’s the respect for our elders ingrained within Indian society that defines the practice of living with your parents for as long as possible. But considering how we left other traditions behind, I couldn’t wrap my head around the importance my parents placed on living at home, and that’s what scared me. Just as they said, I couldn’t understand the cultural significance. Unlike the delicious food, the beautiful clothing and the vibrant colours, this wasn’t a part of my roots that I wanted to preserve or identify with. For a while, issues like this made me feel isolated. My friends couldn’t understand why my parents wouldn’t let me wear certain things, why I wasn’t allowed to come over for sleepovers, why I couldn’t stay out too late or why I would get in trouble for talking back when I tried to take a stand against these restrictions. My family couldn’t understand why I wanted so desperately to be like other kids and give up on my own culture in the process. That left me somewhere in the middle. Then, I thought back to the things that make my family “modern.” My grandparents were criticized by my other relatives for celebrating the birth of their three female granddaughters. My parents’ love marriage was initially met by a lot of pushback from my dad’s side of the family. It took me some time to make space for discussions about mental health within my household. Along every step of the way, there have been accusations of assimilation and disrespect and loss. But ultimately, every uncomfortable disagreement we’ve had opens up a new discussion. While this can leave younger generations like mine in a place of uncertainty or loneliness, how we evolve as a cultural community is dependent on what we find important. There will always be gray areas when it comes to what is an actual loss of culture versus what needs to be left behind. Yes, it will result in some scary and unpleasant disagreements between us and those who came before us. But I believe both sides need to lean into these discussions, no matter how painful or unfamiliar, because what will come out of them may very well represent the growth of a culture.

CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE

“You’re too emotional.” by Aya Baradie

As women, we are encouraged to censor and dilute ourselves to avoid being labelled as overly attached and emotionally invested. We begin questioning the validity of what we feel, when we feel it and how we can express it. This three-part photo essay celebrates some of the many emotional phases that shape our experiences as women — to laugh uncontrollably, dwell in sadness and self-reflect in a moment of loneliness. While society’s task has always been to belittle women’s emotions, what we feel and how we express it will always play an integral role in our growing processes and defining what it means to be ourselves, and to be women. (Pictured is Sukaina Jamil, 20, a third-year student at Ryerson University.)

rebirth The collective body is a cocoon and inside the cocoon is an egg, waiting to become a butterfly. There is a plurality to this egg in that it is the manifestation of the bodies and souls that have been betrayed by a culture of naturalized misogyny and reinforced sexual violence. How do we take care of our butterfly so that it may heal and truly become itself? The imprint of trauma rooted in sexual violence stretches past time and space. Its history is not contained by a single generation. In the midst of the current #MeToo movement, stories penned by victims of sexual harassment and assault are increasingly emerging into our consciousness. This act of producing visibility is powerful and a call for tangible action. Through the telling of nuanced and individual stories, we may find a way to hold ourselves accountable and negotiate the way that we participate in the silencing of these accounts. I think that we grow by carving space for the stories that show us what we, as a dominant culture, refuse to see. By acknowledging that there is so much work to be done in the process of implementing actionable and preventative strategies for vulnerable individuals in our communities. By seeing and accepting our privileges and proximity to power, resources and space.

ANTHOLOGY We must protect these stories, care for them as they inch into the world so that they may write themselves at their own pace. As readers, we must take a moment to honour those who are able to come forward to urge us towards collective healing and awareness. The words in this anthology have drawn a map for readers that lead us, implicitly and explicitly, to the deep-rooted causes of sexual violence. The consequences of taking the life and voice away from the stories that matter are continuous, diffuse and culturally felt. We should approach their contributions with a sensitivity and a desire to read with an open mind. Individual realities do not define the universal reality. The art we make, through our vulnerabilities, is a connective tissue that brings us closer to one another. We must listen deeply to those who have fought for their stories to be heard. Through them, find the courage to listen to the rhythm of your own voice. And in nurturing these stories, remember that we nurture the collective body that has been infected by cultures of ignorance and oppression. Let us all give birth to this butterfly so it may find its way to heal.

~ Jessica Felicity Kasiama, creative editor

believe you I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

i believe you I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

LIEVE YOU i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

believe you

ve you

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

i believe you I BELIEVE IY

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

I BELIEVE YOUi b I BELIEV

I BE

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

i believe yo ib

believe you

i believe you

like a girl who loves to be fucked,” he says. I

BELIEVE YOU i believe youI BELIEVE YOU head is spinning i believe you I BELIEVE IYOU i believe you am drunk, my I BELIEVE YOU and his handi believe you i believe isyou moving up my shirt. I am frozenyou to the wall i believe you i believe i believe you i believe you but am eventually able to push him away. I BELIEVEI BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

believe you

ve you

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

LIEVE YOU

E YOU

EVE YOU

i believe you

I BELI I BEL I BELIEVE YOU believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you i believeFord’s you I To watch testimony is to experience the i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU believe you i believe you

power of a woman’s mind. How it clings to I BELIEVE YOU i believe you I BELIEVE YOU details, ingrains in our I, like i believe you bones. i believe you them I BELIEVE the YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe I BELIEVE YOUnever forget what was done to me. Ford, will i believe you i believe Our bodies you becomeI BELIEVE blueprints i believe you YOUof the trauma, you usbelieve you out, allowing to map everything trace our I BELIEVE YOU you i believe I BELIEVE YOU i believe believe y Ifingers BELIEVE i believe overYOU the memories. Here, we say, here is you i believe you i believe you you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you I BELIE I BELIEVE YOU where i itbelieve happened.

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

by Emily Peotto

i believe you

believe you

i believe you

believe you i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

I BELIEVE YOU E YOU believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU you

I BELIEVE YOU

—of— YOU I BELIEVE TRAUMA I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

YOU

BLUE prints i believe you i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

YOU you

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

i believe y

I BELIEVE YOU believe you i be I BELIEVE YOU When I am 15, a boy corners me at a party. His I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe I BELIEVE YOU I BEL you believe you believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU mouth is pressedI BELIEVE against my ear. “You look YOU believe you i believe you i believe you

EVE YOU

i believe you

i believe yo

I BELIEVE YOU i beli

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

believe you

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

ieve you

believe you

i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe you believe you believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU

ieve you

I BELIEVE

I BELIEVE YOU

I BELIEVE YOUi believe you i bel

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i belie

i believe you I BE

I BELIEVE YO

I BELIEVE YOU Ford has spent years compressing anger into i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

I BELIEVE YOU believe you resilience, churning these tragedies into action. I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe I BELIEVE you believe you believe you i believe E YOU “I amyou terrified,” sheYOU tells the committee. Her I BELIEVE Y i believe you believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believewords you iecho inside ofIme, pinballing off every BELIEVE YOU believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you you I BELIEVE Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, stone-faced and memory. His face, his laugh,i believe his hands. I am YOU I BELIEVE YOU

elieve you

believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

i beli

i believe believeIyou fiercely intelligent, stands in front of the terrified, am terrified, I am terrified. For you i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU Her right years afterwards, the boy continues to threatyouhand I BELIEVE i believeSenate you Judiciary Committee.i believe iifbelieve you is raised: a solemn promise that she will tell us en me.YOU He tells me I don’t give him what he I BELIEVE YOU believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe youwants, believetell you ieveryone I BELIEVE believe youwhat the truth. he will a dirty YOU slut I believe you I BELIEVE YOU believe you I BELIEVE YOU IEVE YOU i believe you believe you i believe you i believe am. you How I let him feel me up at a party. How I i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe youhow YOU i believe I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE yoube She recounts Brett Kavanaugh, a Supreme love to fucked. I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you i b I BELIEVE YOU Court nominee, held her down, his hand I BELIEVE YOU i believe you E YOU i believe i believe youwith slapped against her mouth. He was 17; she was I am 20 now and you still coming to terms i believe you i believe you believe you i believe you I BEL you 15. She was scared she was going to die. what was done. I still feel the anxiety creeping i believe you U I BE I BELIEVE YOU ou I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU through me,believe the doubt lacingyou itself Ithrough you i believe BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you i believe you i believe you yet, Kavanaugh is voted in as Supremebelieve you my brain. It took years me toyou understand i believe you for I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU And i believe i believe you i believe you i believe you i believe you believe youand I continue to CourtYOU Justice. this wasYOU sexuali assault, I BELIEVE I BELIEVE YOU i believe you I BELIEVE I BELIEVE YOU that I BELIEVE YOU i believe you believe you you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe I BELIEVEquestion YOU i believe it today. i believe you I

BELIEVE YOU

believe you

I BELIEV I BELIEV

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

Uve you

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

YOU

ve you

ELIEVE YOU

VE YOU

EVE YOU

VE YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

believe you

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

believe youi believe you i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

i believe you

believe you

I BELIE

I BELIEVE Y

i believe you

believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

believe

i believe you I B

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

i believe you i believe you

I BELIEVE YO

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

I BELIEVE YOU believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe you believe you believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

youi believe you i beli

i believe you

believe you

i believe you

BELIEVE YOU

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

believe you

believe i believe youiI BELIEVE YOU

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU E YOU believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

i believe

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

i beli

I BELIEV

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

E YOU

I BELIEVE YOUi believe you i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU ieve youI BELIEVE YOU i believe you i belie I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe you you i believe you i believe you i believe you i believe you I BELIEV believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you lieve i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

believe you

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

I BELIEVE YOU believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU believe you believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you ou i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you believe you i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU believe you i believe you

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

YOU i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU

believe believe youiI BELIEVE YOU

ELIEVE YOU

elieve you

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU believe you I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

I BEL

i belie

believe you

i believe you youi believe you I BELIEVE believe When we broadcast force how Iyou tried to speak, so manyi believe times, but never YOU i believe you women’s storiesiand you

believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

I BELIEVE YOU believe you believe you i believe you I

BELIEVE Y

BELIEVE YOU i could. believe you i believe you them into tellingi believe the world things you theI angry i believe you believe you i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe you that have been done to them behind closed i believe you believe you YOU i believe you I BELIEVE YOU doors and then continue to side with men, it My body still tenses up at parties withI BELIEVE unfa- I BELIEVE YOU i believe you believe you I BELIEVE YOU question their experience. miliar faces. I still choose not to sit in corners, i believe you makes survivors i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you IEVE YOU believe you scared of being trapped. i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU LIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU believe you believe We seeyou our assaulters accepted into universii believe you i believe i believe you i believe you BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOUties,I law firms, the Supreme Court, the Oval you There are memories never leave us; they I BELIEVE YOU i that believe you i believe you i believe believe you you embed i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE BELIEVE Office. Their actions become policiesI and their YOU unspooli believe with us, into our I BELIEVEthemselves YOU i believe you believe you I BELIEVE YOU victims become afterthoughts. cells. Some days, they are small; other days, I BELIEVE YOU e you i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE they areYOU suffocating. i believe you i believe BELIEVE YOU i believe you Sexual assaultYOU trials areyou oftenI described as “he I BELIEVE I BELIEVE believe i believe you YOU I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU believe you i believe I BELIEVE YOU believe you of said,I BELIEVE she said.”YOU Thisi isbelieve an age-old back I oftenyouthink of myself as a part of a larger you notion I BELIEVE you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU andyou forth,i believe of trying community of sexual assault survivors; there believe you i believe you to decide which side to i belie I BELIEVE YOU EVE YOU I BELIEVE i believe youI to take, ofYOU figuring out who believe. ButYOU this are days we wake up unscathed, the thought so BELIEVE believe you i believe youassault ELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOUmore I BELIEVE YOU i small believethat you iitbelieve is false: trials, often than may asyou well be nonexistent. But i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU sexual i believe you i believe you i believe you i believe you not, play out as “he said, she said, he said.” We we will always be women who carry pepper I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe youwomen i believe you believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU do not give the same level of power or spray in the dark. Women who are nervous on i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you believe you believe you i believe you I B I BELIEVE YOU YOU I BELIEVE YOU as men to imply an even believetransaction. you i believe you crowded subways and silent streets. We will respect I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i beli see shadows i believe you i believe youalways I BELIEVE YOU and think danger. believe you i believe you I BE i believe youIn Itruth, i believe you women not get YOU much say at all. I BELIEVE BELIEVE YOU do I BELIEVE YOU believe y i believe I BELIEVE We are allowed toYOU speak,i believe yes, butyou we often endyou I“My responsibility to tell you the itruth,” BELIEVE YOU isi believe believeFord you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you up with a metaphorical hand slapped over our testifies. The unwavering, terrifying truth. The i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you I BELIEVE YOU truthi she I BELIEVE YOU believe you believe youkept inside of her for years, let mouth, silencing us. has I BELIEVE YO i believe you believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe you believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU sink into her bones. I BELIEVE YOU i believe you believe you i believe you i believe you i believe you When I watch Kavanaugh defend himself, with you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe arrogance, angerbelieve and you impatience, the memoryi believe Dr. Christine Blasey Ford: I believe you, I beyou I BELIEVE YOU i believe you I BELIEVE YO of my own assault grows inside me. lieve you, I believe you. I will not let you bear I BELIEVE YOU i believe you believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you i believe you this burden alone. I BELIEVE YOU i believe you LIEVE YOU believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU BELIEVE YOU feel Ihis hand on my thigh, his eyes following ELIEVE YOU i Ibelieve I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU you believe you believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU me down the hallway. I can remember the i believe you i believe i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you believe you i believe you corner he pushed me into, feel the walls closing i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE Ican BELIEVE YOU i believe you I BELIEVE YOU in on my back. More than anything, Ibelieve feel i believe you you I BELIEVE YOU silence thatyou enveloped me in the aftermath, I BELIEVE YOU you e you i believethe i believe I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe I BELIEVE YOU i believe you I BELIEVE YOU believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe you believe you believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE e you i believe you

VE YOU i believe you

LIEVE YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

BELIEVE YOU i believe you

eve you

i believe

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

i believe you

i believe

ieve you

VE YOU VE YOU i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU i believe y

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU i believe I believe you. i believe you BELIEVE YOU i believe you I BELIEVE YOU ieve you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you OU i believe you i believe I BELIEVE YOU ieve you i believe i believe you i believe you VE YOU i believe you believe you

EVE YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU i believe youI

I BELIEVE YOU

BELIEVE YOU

BELIEVE YOU i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you i believe you

YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

i believe you believe you i believe you

believe you

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

believe you

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU believe you I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU I BELIEVE YOU i believe you believe you believe you i believe you I B

I BELIEVE YOU believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU i believe you i believe you i believe you i believe you i believe you I BELIEVE YOU believe you i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

i beli

I BELIEVE YOU

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU

I BELIEVE YOU i believe you

i bel

I BE

i believe you

believe

i believe you

I BELIEVE YOU believe you I I BELIEVE YOU

I BELIEVE YOU

BELIEVE YO

A Silenced Truth written by: Bree Duwyn

As an Indigenous woman, I believe it is important to give attention to some of the issues that Indigenous people face every day. One of those many issues is the crisis of murdered and missing Indigenous women. When these women go missing, this story is a reality for them. These women are sexually, mentally and physically abused before being maliciously killed. I wanted to write this story to recognize the devastation that Indigenous women and their families endure. I hope for change and justice for those who have had their voices silenced.

Nearly half of murder cases in NWAC’s database remain unsolved.* There are many precious things to be treasured within our lives. For me, the most precious things are cooking with Mom, crafting beadwork with Grandmother, and listening to Papa’s stories of the universe. He liked to say we had our own. That they were filled with infinite potential, cradling our fate within the bindings and fabric of time and space. We always had the choice to change our universe if we wanted, to mold and intertwine them with any dreams or wishes we craved. Papa would be proud of mine, it hurts that I couldn’t share it with him like I had hoped, because, at just 14, my universe stopped growing. I can still feel the chill in the air that summer night. I still hear the crickets chirping and feel the hum of an airplane flying high and far away, escaping any terror anticipated below. I still smell the wet grass and I can remember giggling innocently as fireflies danced around my face. Their glowing figures illuminating the shortcut that I had decided to take to get home before curfew. It was a hidden hunting trail that Papa had shown me, and according to him, it was the best spot to hunt rabbits. I took the rustling in the bushes for woodland creatures settling in for the night under the shelter of branches and leaves. I decided that

my mind was playing tricks on me and continued down the path towards home. I could just make out the silhouette of clothes drying along a wire and the flickering neon sign atop the gas station. I was close. Close enough to hear the rushing stream from the river nearby as I fantasized about being a fish in its waters. A fish with shimmering scales and a stream to follow to my next destination. I was close enough to home, but not close enough. Close enough to escape, but for many girls like me, we never do. His hand was rough. It tasted of dirt and sandpaper when he clamped it over my mouth to prevent me from screaming. The burning scent of liquor and cigarettes clouded the air. Fear immediately filled my body as ice ran through my veins. My muffled screams were drowned out by the sound of his grunting as he struggled to contain me. “Calm down, sweetheart,” he whispered hauntingly, his chapped lips grazing the shell of my ear. This is when the silent tears began to fall. Somehow, in that moment, I knew his

NWACâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s research indicates that, between 2000 and 2008, Aboriginal women and girls represented approximately 10% of all female homicides in Canada. However, Aboriginal women make up only 3% of the female population

voice would be the last I heard. No. I knew its voice would be the last I heard. It being the monster that tore open my dress that my Mom had made me. It being the monster that had poked and prodded at every inch of my skin to get a twisted fix. It who took my innocence, and with that, a piece of my soul that could never be recovered. It who dropped my bloodied and bruised body to the forest floor while buckling up his pants and wiping the sweat from his brow. It who continued to do his worst for days to come before the last of my tears fell and my universe, once radiant and promising in a world I was trying so desperately to liven, slipped deep into an abyss as dark as ink. Soon, the cold was swept away by a welcomed feeling of warmth. It soothed my body and rippled across my senses, a delicate yet infectious experience. Then, as if something ignited within me, I had a renewed sight. When my vision cleared, I realized the warm feeling I was experiencing stemmed from my spirit animal, a grizzly bear. It startled me at first, but seeing it clarified my circumstance. I looked deeply into its eyes and remembered Papa telling me about the meaning behind the bear. The bear was believed to possess wondrous power of courage and grounding energy. The grizzly cocked his head and nudged his snout into the palm of my hand.

Aboriginal women are almost three times more likely to be killed by a stranger than non-Aboriginal women are. Bears also act as healing guides, standing up for truth and justice. The grizzly snorted and my gaze drifted downwards. I was not in my body anymore; I was looking down at it. On the edge of a riverbank, with the sun rising over the horizon, I spotted the pieces of my physical being strewed along the sand. I had been lazily stuffed into individual garbage bags as flies attempted to enter the poorly tied knots, so they could feast. Tufts of my dark hair peeked out from the nearest bag, gently swaying in the breeze. Flashes of the monster plagued my vision, the guttural noises and vicious sensations that were endured, all for me to be tossed to the shore. The violence and violation of my life was now stagnant, but I knew that soon, I would be discovered. The inhumane act I endured will never leave my family. The gaping wound will never be healed in their souls, their universes will shrink, and mine will be forever silenced.

The number of missing and murdered Aboriginal women and girls in Canada is disproportionately high.

*According to the Native Womenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Association of Canadaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s fact sheet on Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls.

BY SAM DI BENEDETTO BY SAM DI BENEDETTO BY SAM DI BENEDETTO BY SAM DI BENEDETTO BY SAM DI BY SAM DI BENEDETTO BENEDETTO

I AM N O T M I NE 24 19

I. The boy who destroyed me

II. Déjà vu

III. The reliving

The monotone of his voice made me cry. His words were empty and grey, but his eyes were a pastel blue that transformed his words into velvet ribbons on my skin, sensually choking different parts of my body: my wrists, my ankles, my thighs, my neck.

Another boy asked me to “go out” with him. Somehow, he ended up in my room that night. We listened to a song that had a pulsating rhythm, a soft voice mumbling lyrics. I loved the song in that moment, but then he matched the rhythm of the song with the rhythm of his hands. He held my head with one hand and used the other to throw me down on the bed. He pinned me with his shoulders and I forgot how to breathe.

I still try to scrub away his touch when I take baths, but it never erases the memory. The water slowly flows in spirals into the drain. My body is folded so tightly into itself that there is no space for any muscle to escape. My arms are latched around my knees, pulling them tightly into my chest.

But then suddenly he gripped my legs, dug his nails into my skin and snapped my thighs apart. All I could do was let him take me on what felt like an endless ride of painful thrusts and sobbing, broken cries pathetically whispering, “Stop, please stop.” “It’s fine, just relax,” he said. He held down my arms by my wrists. It was dark in my room, the only sliver of light coming from underneath the door, reflecting off the white cinderblock walls. My bed was small, twinsized, only big enough to fit one person, but somehow, he fit two. My window was open. I could hear sirens in the distance. Were they for me? Was someone coming to save me? Then he pressed my shoulders further into the mattress. My voice had gone silent, only short gasps of air coming out of my dry mouth. “Stop crying,” he told me. I didn’t even realize my face was soaked with tears. I was stunned. I never thought the person I loved could hurt me in such a malicious way.

His hands moved faster then, becoming frantic. He tugged down the waistband of my pants and pulled up my shirt. My head was dizzy. I was panicking. I tried to push his hands off, but they were glued to my skin. His touch burned and my body ached under his weight.

I wasn’t human. I was a dead piece of dust floating in a dark, dark room with no gravity to hold my sanity in place. I couldn’t move. I was not myself anymore. My body belonged to him now. I was staring at myself from another realm. I saw him scrape out my insides and push himself into my shell of a body.

I just stared at the ceiling, mouth wide open, hoping that it would end. And that was the worst part: the not knowing. Would he ever stop? What else would he do to me? Is this what dying feels like?

Hot tears roll down my cheeks as I pant and sob, making inaudible words with my mouth. I can’t inhale, I can only exhale gasps and cries for help. I rock back and forth, my naked body touching the empty bottom of the porcelain tub. Shivers start to shake my limbs and my torso. I feel so exposed. The flashbacks are paralyzing. I close my eyes and see him — he’s smirking at me. I can feel his hands on me, clawing at my body like I’m his prey. He squeezes me so hard that I cringe and try to shift my body any other way but his fingers are inside me. There’s so much pain. It’s like he’s invading my home and setting it on fire. This bed is my prison. I hear his voice in my head whispering, “Just let me touch you.” I open my eyes. I’m naked in the bathtub and I’m shivering. “Relax. You’re making it worse for yourself,” I hear him again. My nails are digging into my palms so hard blood starts to drip into the bath water turning it pink. I can’t stop shaking my head no. I have a soap bar in my hand. I’m scrubbing at my skin with so much force as if I could scrub away his hands and his touch and his words. As if I could erase all the torture he put me through. As if I could regain the part of myself he stole from me.

Rearranging Marriage

2018

Unpacking what arranged marriage is, what forced marriage is and how to escape.

He was her best friend. He was six feet and “well-bulit.” He was from Canada, she was from Pakistan. They had talked over WhatsApp about their pasts, their dreams and their futures and by the end of the month Areeba A.* knew she liked him

He was a stranger. He was six-foot-two inches and “lumpy.” He was from Pakistan, she was from Canada. They couldn’t communicate properly in English, he had a superiority complex, and after one walk in the park alone with him, Terry F.* knew she did not like him.

*Names have been changed to protect individuals’ privacy.

by Sarah Chew

Areeba, a medical doctor, was 24 yearsold and living in Pakistan at the time of her engagement. Terry, a York University student, was only 18 and hadn’t even finished high school. Both Areeba and Terry were married through civil ceremonies in Canada, only months after they were first introduced to their future husbands. As with most arranged marriages, Areeba and Terry’s family members initiated the relationships. Areeba’s mother suggested a man named Asim. Areeba said her parents were very relaxed during the four weeks she spent getting to know Asim. They did not force her to continue talking to him, nor force her to marry him seven months later. “If ever during the whole process I said I found this thing wrong about him, even though they had announced to the whole family that I’m getting married to this person, I always had the freedom of backing out,” said Areeba. “There wasn’t any pressure on me to stick to it.”

“I remember the photographer had to tell me numerous times, ‘Can you smile please?’ And I’m like, ‘No!’” The Difference Between Arranged Marriage and Forced Marriage Terry and Areeba’s experiences having an arranged marriage were so vastly different mainly because Terry did not have an arranged marriage — she had a forced marriage. According to a 2008 report by Naïma Bendriss published by the Department of Justice Canada, a forced marriage is when a person is literally forced into marrying another person despite their refusal. The family who arranges the marriage will subject the person to physical or psychological duress until they surrender. The report states that arranged marriages turn into forced marriages when there is no freedom for the bride or groom to say no. Arranged marriage, on the other hand, includes the informed consent of both parties getting wed.

in one’s romantic life is a good option, as family members can be blinded by their own personal feelings when picking potential partners for others. “As

busy professionals, people will end up hiring financial advisors [and] personal trainers, but hiring a matchmaker or dating coach to help support them through their dating is also a great thing.” Terry said she does not want to think about dating right now. After suffering from physical, emotional and sexual abuse from her husband, Terry separated from him and filed for a divorce. She is now studying human rights and equity studies at York University. She wants to start a group that teaches girls about sex and the meaning of consent. “Rape within a marriage, just because you’re married, does not mean that your body is technically your husband’s. It’s still your body,” Terry said.

Her advice to women or men going through forced marriages is to run away and seek Forced marriage was made illegal in Canada help.“What’s happening to you is not okay. in 2015 through the Zero Tolerance for Bar- There is help, and there is a life better than what you’re going through right now.” baric Cultural Practices Act.

Terry had a very different experience in her arranged marriage. She said her mother told her in Grade 12 that she was going to marry her cousin named A.J.* Terry said she barely remembered her cousin, who was three years According to the Criminal Code, anyone who officiates, participates, or forcibly older than her. removes someone out of Canada for the purpose of a forced marriage could face jail Terry’s family announced the couple’s engagement the following month, and around time for up to five years. six months later, Terry met A.J. for the first Viola Chu, a lawyer licensing candidate time. Upon arriving in Canada from Pakistan, Terry said A.J. judged her appearance, with nine years of law experience, recommended that if any woman finds herself in a demanded a car and swore at her family forced marriage, she should report it to the members. After witnessing this, Terry declared that she would not marry her cousin. police. The 2015 amendment gives police the right to intervene and make arrests in cases of forced marriage. She was promptly told by her family that she didn’t have a choice. “They [looked] at A Modern, Legal Alternative me like I had just murdered somebody,” said A noticeable trend amongst stories of arTerry. “[They said] ‘If you don’t marry him, ranged marriages suggest that most parents we’re going to send you to Pakistan. You’re act out of fear that their children will not going to marry him there.’” find suitable partners on their own. Two months later, Terry and A.J. were Terran Shea, founder of Mutual Match, a married. On the day of the wedding, Terry matchmaking service based in the GTA, remembered she felt “extremely upset” and said that involving an objective third party on the verge of tears. She kept thinking, “I don’t want to do this.”

Happily married Areeba said she and her husband Asim are still in the honeymoon phase five months later. She thanked her Desi parents for initiating the arranged relationship since she felt that at age 24 she “didn’t have the emotional maturity to find the right qualities for a husband.” “It wasn’t ‘arranged arranged’ in the conventional sense that my parents introduced me to a husband,” said Areeba. “They introduced me to a guy who turned out to be my husband.”

“They introduced me to a guy who turned out to be my husband.”

Hue

This photo series, Hue, explores the relationship between gender and emotion. It looks at the construct of masculinity in our society in an attempt to understand and challenge societal norms. In my life, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve had many encounters with men who lacked the ability to express their emotions in a healthy, constructive way. I wanted to address this complex problem through my photography.

a photo essay by Amber Dror

I often perceive emotions through colour. There are common ways of seeing meaning in colour â&#x20AC;&#x201D; red is associated with anger and yellow with happiness. But feelings and emotions are much more intricate, so the colours used to describe them must be as well. My series looks at a man as he explores his emotions through a complex array of colours. We see him pass through stages of withholding, contemplating and, finally, a releasing of emotion. The bottling up of emotions is a crucial symptom of the socially enforced masculine identity. Rather than being given the freedom to truly feel and understand their emotions, men are told they need to suppress them. Where does this come from? Does it come from stereotypically male professions, such as the military, policing or medicine, where men canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t express these emotions? These jobs involve high-stress and quick decisions where emotions have to put on the side and rational and emotionally-detached decisions must be made. This emotionally-separated, logical image of masculinity has existed for centuries, and has become ingrained into the male identity. If the standard for being a man is working in one of these professions, men might feel as if they need to act similarly to be seen as professional and put together.

Why are men encouraged to show some emotions, but shamed for showing others? 29

Suppressing how you feel can be emotionally draining, and this internalization often leads to unhealthy forms of involuntary externalization. The American Psychological Association suggests more men than women are diagnosed with disorders related to the unhealthy externalization of personal issues, such as aggression, substance use disorders and antisocial personality disorder. But why are men encouraged to show some emotions, such as anger and aggression but shamed for showing others, such as sadness and vulnerability?

When men are discouraged from expressing and sharing emotions, it reinforces the faulty idea that women are inherently more emotional. It is important to challenge these outdated, black and white ideas about gender and work towards a more positive and constructive dialogue. The ability to healthily express emotion is positive both for an individualâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s personal well-being as well as their relationships with those around them. (Pictured is SĂŠbastien Clermont)

of wind

a collection of poems about rebirth

I The air, still your gravity spills into open lakes soiled with Black Girls who birthed themselves here years and worlds before.

This time you let the air sink, lungs held by nothing more than a void thickening. Your thighs growing, unshapely and consistent indecisions of steel, impermanent paint brushes stroked against your outer shell.

You still see most clearly in the dark. You light curtains on fire. You’ll undo yourself here make yourself vague you’ll find beige walls layered within your skin brown eyes painted into a self-portrait your nose still too wide still too thick the blackness, a running stream and never-ending.

No, these moments may not be undone. You will relive them every so often on soft nights when the wind is gentle and then, again, you must pretend to forget what it felt like to undo yourself over and over again, until your body is like pottery sculpted from your fingertips.

God is no Picasso “You’re the one that I want,” she says Another rebirth

No, this is not love but it is something deeply rooted, contemplated in the bloodline of messy women like you. You were never completed. And yet, here you are.

This time you let the air sink, lungs held by nothing more than a void thickening.

II Make good with your incompletion. Make good with the lonely child stifled within you. Hold her, all that is left now of you of her are the prayers of your mothers. Bow only to yourself Black Girl unlearn the ways of emptiness, slur the gaze of men who watch they wish not to witness the rebirth of self-love caught between halves of you. Enter the mold, speak to your daughters fold the tales of resilience into the knots of their hair, make them remember what it was to be unfinished and yet whole. Make them remember the way you curved yourself made a home out of flesh and bones. For your babies, daughters of soil and blues. You are a sun in rapture You are blooming Black Girl but only if you rise. You’ve never done any good near Earth’s crust. You belong in Heaven’s gaze, Black Girl. A future’s myth lies within you they’ll say you were only a fantasy. But, you are more real more true than the fists of God. The only certainty.

III I am Cleopatra’s risk Eve’s risk I am Like the sea in the ways in which I overtake you, fall over you like piles of breathless lightning. I am awoken by the thunderous hooves of my dreams, they tell me to sleep when I’m dead when I’ve lost what makes Borderland-Women so terrifying. The unexpected thrust of our hips propelling you into another dimension. You are not well versed in the rhythms of my ancestors. You cannot out beat the stomp of my tongue, weighing obese with the sting of decolonized spirits lifted by Venus. We are the ugly sisters witch bewitch you in broad daylight I am no longer soft like the kisses you gave to send me falling. I am no longer hollow like the gaze you emptied out before allowing it to hold me. I cannot belong to anything any longer. Because I too fully, too wholly belong to myself.

zanele chisholm

written by

ENDOMETRIOSIS a journey. ____________________________________________

by Valerie Dittrich Since the beginning of her teen years, all Katy Brennan knew was pain. At times it was so bad that she couldn’t even wear pants. She was in and out of doctors offices and hospital rooms for years. Every time her period came, the pain became more intense. She had ultrasound after ultra sound, but was told there was nothing wrong. Her doctor at the time put her on birth control to try and control the pain. It wasn’t until she had her daughter and stopped taking the pill that her symptoms came to a head. The pain her menstrual cycle brought continued to worsen. “I couldn’t escape it. It was constant.” Brennan experienced blinding pain during intercourse and was admitted to the emergency room four times over the course of a few months. Only then did a gynecologist finally agree to look into her agony. This is the reality for people who suffer from endometriosis. It’s a common disease. According to the Endometriosis Foundation of American, about one in 10 women suffer from it — but not a lot of people are aware of it.

Endometriosis is a disease where the inner lining of the uterus grows in other areas outside the uterus, such a the fallopian tubes, ovaries and pelvic area. The symptoms vary, but it is commonly associated with painful and heavy periods, painful intercourse, uncomfortable bowel movements and pain in the lower back, abdomen and pelvis.

Shelby Hagar’s experience with endometriosis started earlier than most. When her period started at age 13, it was evident even from her first cycle that something was off. Hagar’s mother dismissed it at first, hoping her daughter would grow out of it, but Hagar’s painful periods persisted into high school. Although it took a while of going to appointments and being on birth control, her doctors finally started to take notice of her symptoms. At 14, Hagar underwent the endometriosis detection laparoscopy surgery. She was clinically diagnosed with endometriosis, which her doctors found puzzling, since most women don’t get diagnosed until after their teens. “That came with a little embarrassment for me,” she says. “I didn’t want to talk about it with my friends or with other people.”

For both women, the journey to find a specialist to treat their endometriosis was long and complicated. Ablation surgery, or laparoscopic removal, involves burning the disease off the affected areas in the body and is said by medical professionals to be a minimally invasive surgery. However, it is so physically taxing that doctors don’t recommend it to treat endometriosis anymore. t was probably the darkest ti The surgeries were not effective for either woman, so the next step was using hormonal drugs such as Lupron to treat endometriosis. Through a series of injections, Lupron sends a woman’s body into synthetic menopause

by stopping the estrogen production. The drug brings relief from pain caused by endometriosis and stops the disease from spreading. Although Lupron is effective, it comes at a high price. A single injection can cost $1,539 without insurance coverage, according to Drugs.com. Hagar found the injections so painful and the side effects so intense that she only took two injections. She had every symptom that comes with menopause: hot flashes, cold sweats and insomnia. Hagar went back to her specialist after six months of taking Lupron to express her concerns about the drug’s side effects, but the answer she received wasn’t the one she was hoping for. “He stated that if Lupron wasn’t giving me any improvements, then it wasn’t endometriosis.” For Brennan, the experience was equally as harrowing. “I took this drug against my better instincts because I really felt desperate at the time,” she says. The injections gave her severe vertigo, and made her incredibly ill. She was bedridden because of the intensity of the side effects. For a time, her parents had to take over the care for her young daughter.

“It was probably the darkest time of my life.”

continued --

Dr. Christina Williams, a gynecologist at the B.C. Women’s Hospital and Health Centre, says choosing treatment for endometriosis is a very personal process for patients.

“Endometriosis somehow has been, for some reason or another, a disease that is just a fact of life, because it’s suffered on a monthly basis in silence with something that’s in the closet, which is sex and periods,” she says.

Dr. Williams says that most of the diagnoses she makes do not require surgery, but rather are based on ultrasounds and consistent symptoms. Still, even with alternative treatment options, she recognizes the stigma that comes with the disease.

“The more awareness there is, the more opportunity there will be to access care on time.” Brennan and Hagar turned to holistic methods to treat their endometriosis. This has meant not only cutting out food that causes inflammation, but also learning to love their bodies. “You feel like you’ve been rejecting your body for so long and feeling confused about it, so that transition into self-care was hard,” says Hagar. Hagar advises young girls may be in a similar situation to reach out to others who are going through the same thing. “You are heard, you are vaued and there is hope through the confusion.

Just really don’t give up.

There’s so much more out there for you.”

CONTRIBUTORS

issue two//fall 2018 Editors in Chief Yusra Javed//Julia Mastroianni Managing Editor Sherina Harris Art Director Joshua Cameron Feature Editors Vanessa Quon//Emma Buchanan //Kiernan Green Creative Editor Jessica Felicity Kasiama

Heads of Copy Editing and Fact-checking Katie Li//Chelsey Gould

Photo Editor Aya Baradie

Writers Andrea Josic//Raizel Harjosubroto //Jordan Currie//Dhriti Gupta //Emily Peotto//Bree Duwyn //Sam Di Benedetto//Sarah Chew //Zanele Chisholm//Valerie Dittrich Photographers Opal Benhanoh//Aya Baradie //Amber Dror Graphic Designers Narissa Khan//Samantha Nunziato //Serina Choi//Therese Sevilla Illustrators Veronika Wiszniewska//Heidi Lee //Yvette Sin//Eric Tostevin Copy Editors Lisa Lam//Hannah Oh//Jordan Currie //Sam Di Benedetto//Rosie Leonard //Aaliyah Dasoo//Sofia Ramirez Fact-checkers Lisa Lam//Hannah Oh//Lisa Belmonte //Emily Kung 37

Thank you for reading.

New Wave Magazine issue two//fall 2018