Published by
Spring 2019
Katie Stobbart EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Jess Wind ASSOCIATE EDITOR
Dessa Bayrock LITERARY ARTS CURATOR
Aymee Leake VISUAL ARTS CURATOR
LAYOUT & DESIGN
Katie Stobbart Jennifer Hickey CONTRIBUTORS
Dessa Bayrock Julie Dunster Karly Engstrom Laurel Logan Lian McIntyre Cristal Sawatzky Benton Stobbart
15 Art by Cristal Sawatzky: Forms of sensuality and synergy
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Editorial: On representation
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Glossary of 2SLGBTQQIA+ terms
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2019 Fraser Valley Pride festival
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Fraser Valley: a queer timeline
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Being 2SLGBTQQIA+ in the Valley
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Review: Hide and seek and transformation
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Poems by Benton Stobbart
REPRESENTATION REPRESENTATION BEYOND BEYOND SLAPPING SLAPPING A A RAINBOW RAINBOW ON ON THE THE COVER COVER BY BY JESS JESS WIND WIND
At this point every year our social media feeds and most advertising take on a similar aesthetic. Our carefully curated news feeds suddenly become inundated with rainbows and banal messages of love and acceptance. To be fair, my feed is also pretty rainbow-centric throughout the year. Happy pride, y’all. Let me be clear: we are not slapping a rainbow on our cover and calling it a day. So often at this time of year companies roll out limited Pride editions of their products, attach sentiments of support for the queer community, and watch the dollars roll in. Rainbow capitalism, like other social corporate campaigns, uses the popularity of a social movement to sell products and increase their cultural capital in the eyes of their consumers. We see this happening with “eco-friendly” branded goods that actually harm the environment and pink-ribbon campaigns on cancer-causing products (called greenwashing and pinkwashing, respectively). But is rainbow capitalism a problem if it raises awareness? Yes, representation matters. Seeing yourself in the content that is supposed to represent you is a privilege only granted to some of the community. Seeing yourself represented in advertising and mainstream media matters. But representation is not limited to how many rainbows you can stuff into your hashtag cloud. True representation means hiring queer folk and including them on the projects that develop
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Being queer in the valley is still, well, queer.
queer campaigns. It means sharing profits garnered from Pride products with organizations that support underprivileged queer communities. It means actively supporting the community, history, and labour of queer folks. So what does that mean for us? Here at Raspberry we take inclusivity and its relationship to building a thriving cultural community that represents all its members pretty seriously. We are, as many organizations, an ever-growing work in progress. This issue is part of that work as we make space for and celebrate 2SLGBTQQIA+ voices in the Fraser Valley. We provide a space for folks to voice their experiences growing up queer in the Valley. We provide a space for folks to learn more about our history as it relates to 2SLGBTQQIA+ content in our schools, programs, and cultural spaces. Being queer in the Fraser Valley is still, well, queer. By and large, we still assume that people are straight and a sex that matches their gender presentation unless self-identified otherwise. These are assumptions that have to change and grow. We hope this issue will be the beginning of many more conversations about inclusivity in this community. This community that has changed dramatically in recent years, that is younger and more vibrant than ever before, that is anything but homogenous.
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GLOSSARY GLOSSARY
By now you’ve probably noticed the acronym describing the queer community has grown. You’ve probably seen it written different ways in different places. You hear people listing off a series of letters, sometimes stopping at four, sometimes including as many as eight or nine . The Raspberry editorial team has decided to use the acronym 2SLGBTQQIA+ for this issue, but maintained the language used by our contributors. There are three things to keep in mind when it comes to labels.
1 2 3
You don’t get to decide what label to give someone. They do. By respecting a person’s chosen label (including the choice not to adopt a label), you’re respecting that they’re the expert on themselves. Not everyone chooses to identify with a label, or their chosen label isn’t represented in common acronyms. This is why we (and often others) include the + at the end. Just because it’s hard or confusing doesn’t mean you should stop trying. Learning is hard. Learning is confusing. But you learned how to tie your shoes and ride a bike, didn’t you?
There are countless glossaries of terms online for you to better navigate conversations about a person’s gender and sexual identity or the queer community more generally. We encourage you to look them up. To get you started, we’ve broken down the meanings for those identity markers listed in 2SLGBTQQIA+.
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2S 2 SPIRIT
Indigenous people were the first gender minority (described as having two-spirits) on these lands. We’ve gone with the acronym that places 2S at the beginning to acknowledge this history and show our support for Indigenous peoples as Canada moves toward reconciliation.
B
BISEXUAL
Someone who is attracted to more than one gender. Fun facts: being bisexual does not mean a 50/50 split attraction to men and women. It does not make a person more likely to cheat or seek out open relationships. It has nothing to do with how a person navigates a relationship.
Q QUEER
Generally used as a catch-all term to identify as somone outside the normative categories of cisgender and heterosexual. While this term was widely used as a homophobic slur for decades, it has since been reclaimed and now represents empowerment and connection to community. Again, use only when someone has told you it is how they identify.
A
ASEXUAL / ACE
Used by people who are generally not physically attracted to any gender. This doesn’t mean they are disinterested in the romantic part of relationships, or never interested in sex. There are myriad ways to express an asexual identity including (but never limited to): aromantic, biromantic, and demisexual.
L G T
LESBIAN
Women who are attracted to women.
GAY
Men who are attracted to men. Also sometimes used as a catch-all to describe same-sex attraction.
TRANS*
Someone who identifies as a gender other than the one they were assigned at birth. Can sometimes include transgender, transsexual, nonbinary, and gender nonconforming (etc.). It’s important here to remember that a person decides when and how they identify, you don’t decide for them. It is not okay to ask about a person’s biology.
Q
QUESTIONING Someone who is navigating their sexual and gender identity. A good reminder is that a person may never decide on a label that suits them. Also, a person may identify with one of the above terms, and later learn more about themselves. They then may identify using a different or additional term. It happens: we grow, we learn. It doesn’t mean they were actually “questioning” the whole time, it just means they’ve found a more accurate way to identify today than they had yesterday.
I
INTERSEX Someone who is born with the reproductive or chromosomal makeup not classified as typically “male” or “female”. This is not the same as trans* (though a person may identify as both). Please stop using 7 “hermaphrodite” as a descriptor.
Celebrating
PRIDE in the Valley
by Lian McIntyre
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Jubilee Park will once again play host to the Fraser Valley Pride Celebration on July 20, 2019. If you’re surprised to learn that the Fraser Valley has its own Pride event, you’re not alone. But with steady growth over the last six years, awareness of the event continues to grow. Now in its seventh year, the Pride Celebration is comprised of several events over the course of two weekends culminating in the Festival and Pride Walk. According to Pierre Richez, Executive Director of the Frase Valley Youth Society, which hosts the event, Fraser Valley Pride differs from other Pride events in that it is “very youth focused and family friendly.” It also functions as a fundraiser for the Fraser Valley Youth Society. There are five events this year, Cards Against Humanity: Pride Edition; Dinner, Dance and Variety Show; Rainbowl; Youth Dance and Drag Show; and Festival and Pride Walk. The Cards Against Humanity and Dinner, Dance and Variety Show are 19+ events hosted by The Stage in Mission. Cards Against Humanity is a new addition to the Pride festivities, while the Dinner, Dance and Variety Show is an annual event, this year featuring performances by ARMY of SASS, Tha Realm Dance Studio, and Vancouver Stephen Scaccia. The Rainbowl is also a new addition to the Pride festivities. This is an all-ages, family friendly event at Galaxy Bowl on July 15 hosted by Fraser Valley drag queen Robin Loveless. This is the second year for the Youth Dance and Drag Show. This year the theme is “Out of this world”. It is a by-donation event for youth aged 13 to25 taking place at the Abbotsford Arts Centre on July 19, featuring drag performances by The Valley Clique, comprised of Anida Tythole, Justice, and Jo King. The Youth Dance provides a safe, sober space for young people to “be themselves, meet like-minded folks and find a community” says Richez, which has
been part of the Society’s mandate since it began in 2000. The finale is the Festival and Pride Walk at Jubilee Park from 3 to8 p.m. The festival features vendor booths of 2SLGBTQQIA+ organizations and 2SLGBTQQIA+ friendly businesses, as well as live music and drag performances. This year’s line-up includes the Native Heart Drum Group, Surrey’s Ria Jade, Port Coquitlam based expressionist electro-pop performer Chersea, Vancouver drag queen Alma Bitches, Nadya Business, and Fraser Valley favourite Robin Loveless. The roots of Pride in the Fraser Valley follow in the footsteps of early Pride events, starting out as anti-homophobia marches before transitioning into a Pride Celebration in 2013. The Pride Walk
The Pride Walk signifies and celebrates where it all began. “signifies and celebrates some of the history and where it all began” says Richez. “It is a peaceful walk with a positive stance.” The first Pride event took place in Chilliwack and was little more than a BBQ out of the back of a pick-up truck in the park, says Richez. In the intervening years, the celebration moved to Abbotsford, taking place at Thunderbird Square, and Tretheway House, before finding its way to Jubilee Park growing to the current weeklong schedule highlighting local vendors, performers, and dignitaries. Richez hopes that the celebration “continues to grow organically” in future years but will “always retain the grass roots feel.” Funds raised from Pride events and the Festival go towards regular program costs for the Fraser Valley Youth Society, facilitating participation in Queer Prom, and opportunities to attend Vancouver Pride, which takes place in August.
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The Fraser Valley
e n i l e m i T r e
e u Q A
Students rally against Social Justice 12 decision and in support of 2SLGBTQQIA+ rights
Same-sex marriage is legalized in Canada
2005
sept 2008
aug 2008
School District 34 removes new Social Justice 12 course from offerings due to parental concerns re: 2SLGBTQQIA+ human rights content
2000
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The Fraser Valley Youth Society, with programs for 2SLGBTQQIA+ youth, is established in Abbotsford
sept 2014
Queer-friendly bar The Stage opens in Mission
may 2013
Fraser Valley’s first-ever pride festival
may 2015
Gay men’s sexual health clinic opens in Abbotsford
oct 2012
United Christian Ministries and UFV Pride host a forum and show a film on the stigmatization of the gay community by certain religious groups
feb 2012
Out in Chilliwack group begins weekly meetings Abbotsford’s first pride walk and rally
dec 2008 nov 2008
Attempted first pride parade cancelled due to public opposition on social media
dec 2009
Abbotsford singer Matthew David risks coming out as gay, having been raised in a conservative family. David received both support and hateful phone calls.
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july 2015
The City of Abbotsford flies the Pride flag, then changes rules to prevent non-regional flags being raised there in future
UFV flies pride flag on antibullying day to recognize recent burning of a pride flag at UBC
feb 2016 sept 2016
UFV students start the semester with a rainbow crosswalk
april 2016
First and only gay bar, Wilde Oscar’s, opens in Chilliwack
june 2016
UFV’s student union society removes pride flag raised by pride collective due to SUS building rules; SUS later identified this action as a mistake
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july 2016
Amendment to the BC Human Rights Code, which added gender identity and expression as a prohibited ground of discrimination (joining the already existing inclusion of sexual orientation). This leads to the inclusion of SOGI (Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity) in the BC school curriculum
2017
Out in the Cold report on FV homelessness finds that 2SLGBTQQIA+ youth leave home at nearly double the rate of other youth
feb 2017
dec 2016
The deadline for all BC school districts to add SOGI language to their codes of conduct-- a deadline missed in Abbotsford purportedly due to delays (a high school stabbing in Nov. 2016)
Abbotsford board of education passed a provincially mandated anti-bullying administrative procedure spelling out gender identity and sexual orientation as protected classes
oct 2017 nov 2017
About 50 people turn out to rally in the cold and rain in Abbotsford in support of SOGI
150 people rally in Abbotsford against the SOGI curriculum in FV school districts Chilliwack’s only gay bar closes 18 months after opening
A rally partly hosted by school trustee Barry Neufled is held against SOGI in Chilliwack Mission RCMP introduce the Safe Place Program for 2SLGBTQQIA+ people
March 2018
A handful of Robert Bateman Secondary students walk out of a school-wide presentation by Out in Schools, an organization that uses film and video to facilitate student discussion on LGBTQ+ issues and bullying 13
sept 2018
U Sports (which governs university athletics in Canada, including at UFV) put into effect a policy allowing transgender university athletes to play on teams consistent with their gender identity.
nov 2018
Chilliwack’s D’Arcy Gauthier, who was kicked out of the Canadian military during its LGBT purge in the 1980s, received an apology from the Canadian government in Ottawa from Justin Trudeau.
aug 2018
Chilliwack RCMP introduces the Safe Place Program for LGBTQ+ people TWU drops mandatory covenant that forbids sex outside heterosexual marriage Former TWU student stages play about gay acceptance
June 2018
Trinity Western University loses Supreme Court battle for accreditation of its law program due to the university’s code of conduct that excludes LGBTQ+ people
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july 2019
Seventh annual Fraser Valley Pride Festival held in Jubilee Park, Abbotsford
Cristal Sawatzky Born and raised in the Fraser Valley, local artist Cristal Sawatzky is selftaught and serves as an intimate portrait artist and soulpreneur both in her loft-style studio in Abbotsford, BC and in location worldwide. Working in a variety of mediums from photography, charcoal, ink, photo-transfers, and multi-media, her figurative works seem to breathe with synergy while embracing sensuality and personal journey. In Cristal’s fine art photographs, the intention is for the viewer to sense an inner strength among the
organic feminine shapes positioned in the dark and twisted nature. The experience of capturing her muse is to help release past conditioning to embrace her history and choose to rise up and to feel empowered. Cristal is committed to celebrating the unique exquisiteness and vulnerability of a woman by authentically engaging and directing her muse to tap into her sensuality while creating art pieces to honour. She invites the viewer to feel the energy created during this ceremonial release and feel inspired.
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What I find so fascinating about the human existence particularly with women is the strength, determination and perseverance that they have had to dedicate to their lives. Those stories that we all share, those connections of fragility, of hurt and pain, of humanness — we all have this common thread which connects us. The muses in my art may have been inspired by this pain, tried to hide from it, or used it as fuel to submerse themselves into the healing that comes from expression, from creativity for soulful connection to your divine art. To connect with each experience is impossible but perhaps we can capture a glimpse. We can celebrate the expression from which they shattered from were they came and created this lyrical storytelling with movement and breath. What an honour to capture — to mimic the strength and movement of the world in nature. Powerful yet fragile — I want to create a body of work that shows this through my eyes and their shared energy.
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in the valley
2s lg bt qq ia
“BEING QUEER IN THE FRASER VALLEY CAN’T BE BOILED DOWN TO A PARTICULAR MOMENT IN TIME.” Putting together this issue on Pride, we didn’t want to just feature one story. While there are similarities, people’s experiences in the 2SLGBTQQIA+ community vary widely, including both positive and negative moments, or overwhelmingly swaying one way or another. One story couldn’t possibly represent what it’s like to be 2SLGBTQQIA+ in the Fraser Valley, and even what follows is not an exhaustive selection. We asked our community to send in short pieces documenting what it was like for them to live as a 2SLGBTQQIA+ person here, either in the present or in the past, having
moved on to elsewhere or still being situated in this region that continues to grow and change. Some of the writing that follows may be triggering for some readers; there is no graphic content, but matters of identity and belonging can be painful to grapple with. If that’s the case for you, please consider reading this in a safe space, with someone to talk to if you need. The Raspberry editorial team would like to thank all the contributors to this special feature: 2SLGBTQQIA+ in the Valley. Don’t forget to love each other.
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ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN
I TELL MYSELF IT’S A JOKE, A PERFORMANCE FOR OUR THEATREKID TOUCHY-FEELY FRIENDS, BUT I BEG HER: LET ME KISS YOU. It’s Halloween of 2008 and I’m straight, I’m so straight, I’m the unlikely end of the Kinsey Scale. I’m fresh out of the gay-straight alliance in high school and I would know if I were queer, but I’m not. All the same, here we are on Halloween of 2008, a first-year undergraduate know-nothing, the first year we’re too cool to dress up or throw a party, and we’re in the field behind Twin Rinks at midnight, where anything can happen. Fog curls around our ankles, like some film crew forgot to take down their special effects for the night. The boys run out into the
darkness to set up fireworks, and I try to convince Alice Watson to kiss me, Alice who I’ve loved since the first minute I saw her, like a sister, I tell myself, and I tell myself it’s a joke, a performance for our theatre-kid touchy-feely friends, but I beg her: let me kiss you. And, as the fireworks go off above our heads, she does. It is the softest moment of my life; it is the most perfect. Nothing will ever compare to it, and even so, I will continue to believe I am straight for the next five years. Alice Watson is a pseudonym.
DESSA BAYROCK
COSTUME Quick girls, it’s rehearsal time Get into your costumes. Remind me how pretty you are Twirl a tad faster Laugh a little longer. Show me underneath all the bravado That you’re just like one of Us Breathe like one of Us See like one of Us Stop itching, stop scratching No, pink suits you better You’re so cute, such a boy magnet Stop crying, you’re fine. Quick girls, it’s showtime Get into your costumes. Do this just for Us, Pretend to be happy (just once) and then maybe We can allow you to be free.
BEN STOBBART
FAITH & SEXUALITY At age 14, my family moved to Chilliwack. In the midst of puberty it became clear I was exclusively attracted to girls. Since I was raised in the evangelical Christian church, I believed my same-sex attraction was sinful, something I was obligated to resist. I’d always been a tomboy and had only female, mostly Christian friends, making any discussion about my sexual identity a terrifying prospect. The battle raging inside felt like I was being torn in half and led to several suicide attempts. I decided to risk honesty. None of my friends were shocked. None walked away. Their unconditional love got me through the roughest years of my life. I resolved to become a “born again Christian”. I began attending a close friend’s local church. While volunteering, I discovered I had a gift for doing sound. Eventually, I operated the main sound system, was involved in various ministries, and went on a missions trip. Despite being honest with a few pastors regarding my sexual orientation, I was accepted. Serving at church brought purpose and stability to my life. The church became my home; however, my same-sex desires didn’t diminish. I was enamored with a heterosexual woman and we began an intimate, lesbian relationship. We moved in together, keeping our relationship a secret. The woman eventually ended our relationship based on her moral qualms. Others’ suspicions led the Senior Pastor to meet with us individually. We weren’t kicked out of the church or shunned. Shortly after that, I asked the Pastor to perform
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a wedding ceremony between God and myself, a symbol of commitment to the Lord. He agreed. I married God. I wanted to give back to the Church so I applied to the Pastoral Theology degree program at a Bible college. The application included questions about personal experiences with things like sexual abuse, suicide, and homosexuality. I hesitated but wanted to begin my education honestly, so I fully answered their questions. The Board blocked my application, but the Registrar argued my case. My honesty won them over and resulted in a conditional acceptance, providing I met bi-weekly with their counsellor. I received good marks, even on two papers I wrote on homosexuality. Years later, I asked a friend to introduce me to an acquaintance of hers, a Christian in a committed lesbian relationship. For the first time, I met another Christian living with same-sex attraction! She impressed me greatly. I began reconsidering the reasons for repressing my orientation. I immersed myself in research on faith and sexuality. During a weekend retreat I read, prayed, and wrote until I could put this internal debate to rest. On my 39th birthday, I came to the conclusion I was created with an innate attraction to women. I can’t change it and it doesn’t separate me from God. I returned with my faith and sexuality reconciled. None of my Christian friends agreed with my stance. None walked away.
JULIE DUNSTER
AND NOW SUMMER’S HERE AGAIN, AND I’M OLDER AND WISER AND GAYER THAN BEFORE.
GOOD TO BE GAY
Being gay in the valley … what a blessing. Abbotsford is where I came out for the first time, and where I attended my first pride event. That first pride was so wonderful — it was summery and sweet and I was surrounded by so many of my friends. It was around the time when I was dizzily crushing on a woman for the first time in my life. That’s when the whole world began to feel brighter. Not even the massive sunburn I found on my back the day after pride could make the world feel anything less than bright. Last summer, I was reading Call Me by Your Name during all of my work breaks, while listening to the exact same jazz song on repeat, as the sunlight from the windows illuminated the words on every page. The combination of the story, the music, and the light made me feel like I was in a dream. And now summer’s here again, and I’m older and wiser and gayer than before. I’m currently living vicariously through the characters in Gentleman Jack, and that’s enough to make me happy. Man, it’s so good to be gay in the valley. I’m so grateful I get to be gay in the valley. And I’m so glad the warm dewy summer is here again to melt away the loneliness of the spring.
LAUREL LOGAN
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Being queer in the Faser Valley for me can’t be boiled down to a particular experience or moment in time. It’s much more of a feeling or sensation with which all of my interactions and experiences were painted. Let me try to explain. Take a deep breath and close your eyes. Imagine it’s the middle of August. Heat is radiating off the concrete in waves. The air is dead — no breeze to take the edge off. A low, menacing cloud is suspended off the mountain tops, compressing the distance between land and sky. This cloud cover doesn’t bring any relief from the heat, and while the rain it’s threatening might be welcome, it will never come. Instead, the air becomes viscous and stagnant, sitting like lead on your shoulders, your chest. Every step becomes a chore and even your heartbeat feels like labour. Now that you’re there, try taking another deep breath. How does it feel to breathe now? Every day as a queer person in the Fraser Valley felt like this. It felt heavy. Like my queerness was a weight that was slowly crushing me into dust. Every single misguided but well-meaning “I’ll pray for you,” every time a bunch of men would whistle and holler at my partner and I to make out, or even every time we were asked if we were sisters when we held hands even though we don’t even look remotely similar — all of those things would add more weight. And that’s not even counting the times I was called slurs, or told I just needed to be fucked by the right man, or when wellmeaning Christians would only be my friend because they promised Jesus to love everyone — even though they thought I shouldn’t have equal rights because of my choice of “lifestyle.”
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Being queer in the Fraser Valley felt like not being able to breathe. It felt oppressive. And it’s why I will never come back.
KARLY ENGSTROM
BEING QUEER IN THE FRASER VALLEY FELT LIKE NOT BEING ABLE TO BREATHE.
A CROSS TO BEAR
A WEIGHT LIFTED DID I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL THEM? I SAID NO... I WASN’T READY TO SAY OTHERWISE. I didn’t start identifying as queer until I was in my 20s, and only after I started existing in online spaces where I was learning about things that allowed me to question what I thought about myself. I was probably 26 or 27 when I first learned about asexuality and started considering that as the correct label for me. I can distinctly remember, shortly after moving out on my own, sharing a video on Facebook explaining the various terms that fall under the asexuality umbrella and having my mom ask while she and my dad were visiting if I “had something to tell them.” It was terrifying being confronted so bluntly. Did I have something
to tell them? I said no, because it was true, and because if it wasn’t, I sure wasn’t ready to say otherwise. I actually referenced this exchange when I finally came out in May. I’d been wanting to come out to my parents for ages (I was already out online and to close friends) and had agonized over the right time to do it — because my parents had to be together, otherwise I’d have to do it twice. In the end it was a complete non-event, part of a conversation where I was assuring them that nothing would ever happen between me and my very gay male best friend — but it felt like a weight had been lifted.
LIAN MCINTYRE
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Hide and Seek and Transformation
with Jen Currin’s Hider / Seeker By Dessa Bayrock
The title of Jen Currin’s debut short story collection has an immediate demand: who hides? Who seeks? The answer to these questions, hidden in the threads of twenty short stories, is more bashful — more clever, more slippery — than you might think. And, in the end, it’s not necessarily even about what is hidden, what is sought, and what is found — but rather what happens during the process. It’s about transformation. A woman binds her breasts and joins a monastery in order to hide from — or is it seek? — her father’s ghost. Another protagonist visits her alcoholic brother and finds only her own helplessness, finding him transformed beyond recognition. Or is it herself that has changed — through space, through distance, through refusal or inability to offer help? Another monastery — a woman carpooling to a silent retreat with a stranger, whose feet smell so awful that she wants to vomit. And yet, by the end, these awful, fungal feet, somehow become endearing — perhaps not a transformation so much as a shift in perception, a revealing, maybe even a revelation. Currin’s stories return, time and time again, to these intimacies; shifts and changes that seem simultaneously infinitesimal and seismic. Intimacy, she seems to warn, is a
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term that includes not just secret warm moments of connection or adoration, but also moments that are off-putting, horrifying, unsettling, or disgusting. Intimacy with dirt under its fingernails. Intimacy clipping its toenails. Intimacy forcing blackheads out of its pores in front of the bathroom mirror. These stories, at their heart, are like all stories at their heart: snapshots of people clacking comfortingly against one another like mahjong tiles, tumbling away from one another, ripping down the middle of themselves and their relationships, and sewing themselves back together once again. We are to understand here are motions to the universe, machinations, luck and intent and marriages of all kinds. There is heartbreak here, the heartbreak of so many things lost or dropped or ruined beyond repair, of dishes cracked in the sink and pencils ground down to the eraser. We’ve all heard the cliches — love is blind, love knows no age, love at first sight — but here Currin shows us love limping and wounded, love after invasive surgery, love with pepper stuck in this teeth.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever felt less hungry. I stare down into my unfinished drink. Rox rises to her feet and shakes out her dress. Her face looks both pissed off and resigned. I wonder how I look to her, and then I realize that this thought makes me afraid. “We’re ready,” she says, as she strides toward the open door, toward the smell of garlic and oregano. “We’re right here.”” — the last lines of “Dinner Party” 31
Nothing is sanitized; all the ugly, strange, intimate parts of love and being are dissected, labelled, displayed. And even so, these details have the otherworldly glow of lightning at sunset, every curl of every cloud lit up like the rosy lips of a lover, like the curve of an apple in a bowl, the last bright thing in an empty house as the door closes and latches and locks.
“The door was bolted from the inside. She had to kick it open. Dust upon dust— she could barely see for all the motes stirred up in the air. At the back of the garage, she saw a shrunken figure balanced between a bench and a worktable. She stepped closer. Under a thick layer of dust was a skeleton barely held together by the thin paper of its dried skin. Between two fingers, a cigarette, a long fingernail of ash at its tip. The daughter blew softly and watched as her father crumbled to dust.” — the last lines of “The Sisters and the Ash”
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Benton Stobbart Benton is a 21-year-old tattooed trans guy residing in Abbotsford, BC where he currently is a lizard dad to a bearded dragon named Juno. He managed to survive high school and is now spending his time writing about anything that comes to his mind (whenever he has the energy). You could find him playing D&D, watching Grey’s Anatomy, or reading fanfiction. His next work will probably be something related to the impending doom he feels as the Earth gets hotter.
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before Lukewarm coffee in chipped mugs, Loose leaf paper thrown into a bag. Your yawn is melancholy, as if your mind weighs Heavier than the physical burden you carry. I wonder if you realize how thrown-together you look. Bits and pieces that wouldn’t combine elegantly if it weren’t you wearing them, showing them, flaunting it. Flaunting this piece of you that no one understands, sometimes not even yourself. It’s distracting, gives everyone something to look at instead of the bags under your eyes, the pale tone to your skin. Days sitting in front of a screen and pouring your heart out have gutted you. Pieces of paper with the contents of your brain, thoroughly exhausted and dry after the exams that nearly ripped your soul out of your frigid, proud hands. As you release one last sigh of relief, I wonder: what happens when there’s no one left to write for anymore?
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during Sleep-slow mornings and scrambled eggs, Toast with light butter and a touch of comfort. Kisses bitter with day-old Grey Goose, Hints of glitter dotting the creases of your eye. We met in a bar. Not the most romantic, but in your eyes it’s as if a fairytale prince has come to life. You accept drinks with shaky smiles: you’re nervous. Your nails are buttercup yellow, gripping your fourth (and not last) outrageously fuschia ‘alcoholic masterpiece’ of the night. Your giggles are saccharine but bittersweet, beckoning me closer even though I needed no invitation. I can see the novels being written in your head, your gleaming eyes skimming for detail after detail. With my heart on my sleeve in the middle of a pulsing dance floor, I kiss you. Your lips taste raspberry-sweet, lingering on my mouth even hours after we’ve stopped kissing. I wonder to myself, daringly, if raspberry jam with pancakes sounds like the perfect way for you to wake up next to me.
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after Salty rims of soup litter your bedside table, Decorated with candy wrappers and spoons of melted ice cream. The endless droning of a newscaster, Determined to tell everyone the world is going to die. What a wonderful way to forget How to live. We had differences, we knew that. Your sock drawer was misshapen, a mound of stripes and zig zags, endless pieces of cotton and creamy white. I categorized your life, put everything stressful to bed, laid out your tools on your desk. I hoped, with time, that eventually your writings would turn into love letters about me. This was the safe haven I created for you: no toxic distractions littering your counters and tables. You tell me that our love drains you, wrings you dry of inspiration, leaves you with hatred for words and how they can be reshaped into broader meanings. I taught you that you could do whatever the world asked of you, wanted from you, took from you. Surely the world wouldn’t mind: “Another Writer, Taken Too Soon.” Little did they know: the timing was right, but not for you.
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Inspired by place, people, and Netflix programming by Dessa Bayrock, feat. Benton Stobbart Can you tell me a little bit about the process of writing this piece, and writing in general, and your journey as a writer? I’ve always written to get feelings out. I go through these periods where I have a tonne of inspiration and I want to write everything that has to do with those topics and then I go dry for three months [before] I pick it back up again. With this particular piece I was watching You on Netflix— —that’s the one where it’s a love story but the guy is also a stalker figure, right? Yeah. It’s been a controversial show to watch, and to follow on social media as it gained popularity; it’s such a controversial relationship because it shows that this person, who is toxic, and a stalker, is also just a normal guy. This piece isn’t the same premise, really, as You, but it’s the same moment of love at first sight — or infatuation at first sight, because infatuation isn’t the same thing as love, but the character thinks it is — and then it turns into an attitude of if you aren’t with me, I don’t want you with anyone.
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And we see that whole journey happen in this piece — she’s drained dry in the first section, and seems to come to a solution or a rejuvenation in the second section, but then everything comes crashing down again in the third section when she realizes how the relationship isn’t what she thought, or isn’t what she wanted. Exactly — and I wanted it to come across as this unhealthy relationship, but at the same time, she is getting her inspiration back again. As much as this isn’t going to turn out well, and we see that, it’s also the prime of her writerhood. It’s a shitty situation and definitely not the most healthy, but she sees it as a way out. The raspberry line is the first detail that twigs to the reader that not everything is quite right, because in that line — “I wonder to myself, daringly, if raspberry jam with pancakes sounds like the perfect way for you to wake up next to me.” — he’s already making choices for her. Exactly! He’s already made that decision. What I was trying to get across was this thought I have about relationships, especially with my generation, and I see this in my friend group, too. There’s this toxic idea that
“There’s this toxic idea that once you find someone, you need to stay with them forever.” once you find someone, you need to stay with them forever. You’re not just a person any more; you’re combined as a pair. But if you’re not with someone, who are you? I wanted to get the reader to think about how you can be super in love, or super happy with the person you’re with, and it can still be not right.
aesthetic of those shows, which are thematically dark but visually very bright, which I very much see in this piece as well. A friend of mine calls it “Diner Noir,” — that genre of “we’re teenagers, everything’s great, we’re having so much fun with our friends, and also there’s MURDER.”
You mention being inspired by your friends — do you see your writing or your writing style or yourself as specifically connected to or inspired by the place and space where you live?
It’s a cool vibe to work with, And I worked at [a diner] — that was one of my first jobs — and everyone loves the diner feel, but I’m not a fan of it. As my first job, it was one of the worst jobs I’ve had, and so I don’t think of diners as a place I want to be.
Yes, and I can immediately answer that in two ways. Yes, because when I create any kind of imaginative space, I immediately fill it with the trees of the Fraser Valley, and the mountains, and I want to connect that to whatever story I’m telling. It’s a mystical place; all the fairy tales are made of forests, out here. But secondly, something I’ve found with media recently is that there are so many shows filmed out here — Twilight, Riverdale — all of these dark storylines, and they’re all set in this place that I’m so familiar with. It’s easy to pull inspiration from that when the content I consume is also set against that background. It’s really interesting that you mention Riverdale, and Twilight — and have you seen Maniac on Netflix? Emma Stone and Jonah Hill? Just thinking about the
Other people see the surface level, where everything is bright and fun and vintage and cool and hipster, and then you’ve seen the behindthe-scenes of, no, it’s actually just another kitchen, and it’s messy and hot and hectic and toxic and super shitty. Yeah — it’s seeing those behindthe-scenes of something that people really really like and not liking it. And you can see that hinted at with that contrast between the bright colours and lights against that darker underbelly of the text. That’s where I like to see my writing — that bridge between something that can be both dark and light, just like the Valley.
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Raiseberry 2019:
Back for round three at The Reach
Photos by Deron Tompke Red Press Society hosted its third annual gala and fundraiser for our Raspberry in June 2019 at The Reach Gallery Museum in Abbotsford. Raiseberry is a celebration of arts and cultural talent in the Valley and a fundraiser for programming including printing this magazine. This year we were proud to feature UFV’s Bhangra Dance Club; writers Jessica Milliken and Laurel Logan, both of which you’ve read about in past issues; the musical talents of Mark and the Magic and Samuel Crowe; and artist Shannon Thiessen, her live painting which has proven to be a sought after auction item.
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Our contributors Dessa Bayrock is a Fraser Valley ex-pat who lives in Ottawa with two cats and a variety of succulents, one of which is growing at a frankly alarming rate. She used to unfold paper for a living at Library and Archives Canada and is currently a PhD student in English, studying literary awards and the production of cultural value. She really likes books and has a tattoo of Mount Cheam on her arm. You can find her, or at least more about her, at dessabayrock.com, or on Twitter at @yodessa. Jennifer Hickey lives in the heart of Chilliwack, BC, where she coordinates community events. She has worked for the Chilliwack Arts Council and the Abbotsford Arts Council, and studied Visual Arts and Graphic Design at UFV, in addition to Hospitality and Event Planning Management. You can find her sampling delicious Fraser Valley food and beverages, exploring local art galleries, and observing zany occurrences throughout the Lower Mainland. Aymee Leake studied visual arts at UFV, and is a staunch arts advocate in Abbotsford. She has been an enthusiastic administrator and coordinator in a variety of organizations, including the Abbotsford Arts Council and a number of galleries. In 2016, she was nominated for the Christine Caldwell Outstanding Arts Advocate award. She’s quirky, passionate, and patently hilarious. These days, you can find Aymee painting eyes and firing up the kiln at the Clay Cottage. Laurel Logan is a poet who studies English and Biology at the University of the Fraser Valley. She spends her mornings in class, and her evenings teaching children how to read and write. In her free time, she likes to hang out with friends and family, practice yoga, watch movies, drink coffee, and play video games.
Lian McIntyre is a graduate of UFV with a Bachelor of Arts in English which ultimately led to her current job as a legal administrative assistant. New to the world of non-profits, Lian is passionate about cultivating social engagement in the community and about giving artists, writers and other creators a platform for their work. Lian is a voracious consumer of all things media and a self-proclaimed armchair critic. Benton Stobbart is a 21-year-old tattooed trans guy residing in Abbotsford, BC where he currently is a lizard dad to a bearded dragon named Juno. He managed to survive high school and is now spending his time writing about anything that comes to his mind (whenever he has the energy). You could find him playing D&D, watching Grey’s Anatomy, or reading fanfiction. His next work will probably be related to the impending doom he feels as the Earth gets hotter. Katie Stobbart is the founding editor of Raspberry and the heart and soul behind Red Press Society. She’s a queer feminist poet and nerd from Abbotsford, where she lives with two cats, eleven houseplants, and a thousand books. Katie has a B.A. in English, Creative Writing from UFV and is the executive assistant at a local non-profit organization. When she’s not working, you’ll find her writing, painting, or leading a bumbling party of heroes on a quest to save the forest. Jess Wind teaches communications at the University of the Fraser Valley and is an editor at Raspberry. She has an M.A. from Carleton University, a B.A. from UFV, and enough zombie research to survive the apocalypse. She’s a pop-culture nerd, a retro-loving geek, and a writer of many things. She also shares a birthday with Harry Potter.
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Raspberry is a magazine devoted to Fraser Valley culture and community life. Established in June 2016, Raspberry publishes reviews, event coverage, and other local content. f RaspberryZine
t @RaspberryZine
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THANKS TO OUR 2019 RAISEBERRY SPONSORS
Red Press Society is a non-profit organization dedicated to raising the profile and stimulating the growth of local arts, culture, and community life in the Fraser Valley. BOARD OF DIRECTORS Jess Wind PRESIDENT
Dessa Bayrock SECRETARY
Aymee Leake TREASURER
Lian McIntyre BOARD MEMBER
Shea Wind BOARD MEMBER
Danielle Windecker BOARD MEMBER
Katie Stobbart EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR f RedPressSociety
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i RedPressSociety
www.redpresssociety.ca