THE PRIDE ISSUE
Published since Nov. 21, 1910 Circulation: 3,500 ISSN 0845-356X Suite 3-04 8900 114 St. NW University of Alberta Edmonton, Alberta T6G 2J7 Advertising www.f-media.ca Cover photography Nana Andoh Sana Ibrahim Jean Sumbilla
MARCH 2019
Editor-in-Chief Arts & Culture Editor Oumar Salifou Jonah Dunch Managing Editor Sofia Osborne
Opinion Editor Andrew McWhinney
Art Director Staff Reporters Jessica Tang Adam Lachacz Kate Turner Photo Editor Richard Bagan Director of Finance & Administration Online Editor Lukas Adomonis Victoria Chiu Webmaster News Editor Papa Gyeke-Lartey Nathan Fung
GSJS The Gateway is published by the Gateway Student Journalism Society (GSJS), a student-run, autonomous, apolitical not-for-profit organization, operated in accordance with the Societies Act of Alberta. Copyright All materials appearing in The Gateway bear copyright of their creator(s) and may not be used without written consent.
volunteer with us. gtwy.ca/volunteer
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ILLUSTRATION ADRIANNA CHONG “SHE’S LOVELY”
DEAR READER, June is LGBTQ Pride month, but at the University of Alberta we have our own Pride Week in March (this year it’s from the 9th to 15th). At The Gateway, this means we’ve always put out a Pride issue in March, and this year is no exception. We’ve tried to bring you a magazine that reflects many different experiences within the LGBTQ community. There are stories that are fun and uplifting and about celebration, and there are others that are more somber and reflective. Through it all, we’ve focused on the individuals in these stories — their expressions and colours — through the photography, art, and design. After reading this issue, we hope you think twice about stereotypes, check out a local drag show, and go home and watch some magically queer TV. g Jessica Tang Sofia Osborne Art Director Managing Editor
Thank you to our cover model, Hassan Khalaf, a first-year women’s and gender studies student who goes by the drag name Imani Khalifa.
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CONTENTS Student Admission: $10 ($8 MatinĂŠe) Metro Cinema is a community-based non-profit society devoted to the exhibition and promotion of Canadian, international, and independent film and video. metrocinema.org Capernaum March 8 - 13 After running away from his negligent parents, committing a violent crime and being sentenced to five years in jail, a hardened, streetwise 12-yearold Lebanese boy sues his parents in protest of the life they have given him.
Gandhi March 21 @ 7PM Mohandas Gandhi was the Indian leader who stood against British rule over his country. Dedicated to the concept of nonviolent resistance, Gandhi is initially dismissed by English officials but eventually becomes internationally renowned, and his passive protests move India towards independence.
Colors (1988)
March 28 @ 7PM A confident young cop is shown the ropes by a veteran partner in the dangerous gangcontrolled barrios of L.A. about to explode in violence in this look at the gang culture enforced by the colors that members wear.
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8712-109 Street | metrocinema.org
Metro Cinema receives ongoing support from these Arts Funders:
tune in stream online volunteer Campus made radio since 1984 88.5 FM CJSR.com 0-09 SUB
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At the Intersections
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Spellbinding Sexuality
Read about a group creating a safe community for trans and queer people of colour. Make your next Netflix binge a bit more queer.
REQUIRED READING
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Homemaker
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Empty Pride
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Unknown Consecration to the Church Monster
Love a boy like language.
Learn about the real history of Edmonton’s pride parade.
Shriek bright red sound.
FEATURES
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The Long and Winding Road
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Queens
Dispel stereotypes about the multisexual community.
Push the boundaries of the binary with local drag queens.
DIVERSIONS
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Horoscopes
34
Crossword
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Comics
Find out what March has in store for you.
Test your knowledge of LGBTQ culture.
Think outside the box.
ILLUSTRATION JESSICA TANG
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CONTRIBUTORS ILLUSTRATION CHRISTINA ZHU
KHADRA AHMED
NINA LEGESSE
“Queens” As you can probably guess from her piece, Khadra is a huge fan of drag shows and, of course, lives for RuPaul’s Drag Race. She’s in her third year of a biological sciences major and women’s and gender studies minor, so if you want to debate the biological and social construction of gender, she’s your gal.
“Spellbinding Sexuality” Nina is a fourth-year English major and film studies minor. Her guiltless pleasures include Jeopardy marathons and Ben & Jerry’s Half-Baked ice cream.
NANA ANDOH Cover photography Nana is a photo volunteer at The Gateway. He is in his first year of computing science and has been doing photography for two years, primarily focusing on portraiture and street photography.
ADRIANNA CHONG “She’s Lovely” Adrianna is a fourth-year visual communication design student with a passion for using design to tackle social issues. She believes it’s important to have representation of queer relationships in media and wanted to show the universality of love through her illustration for this issue.
JERALDINE CHONG “The Life of a Box” Jeraldine is a fourth-year art and design major focusing on printmaking. Her comic is made from six copper etching prints, each representing the different stages a cardboard box goes through in its life. Each stage changes as the imagination in us fades away.
REBECCA EASTWOOD “At the Intersections” Rebecca Eastwood is in her third year of a bachelor of arts degree. She eats her macaroni and cheese with ketchup, but respects the opinions of those who choose to deprive themselves of that sweet tomato flavour. (This was two truths and a lie — you’ll never know which was which).
SHAY LEWIS “Empty Pride” Shay is a fifth-year philosophy student with a minor in women’s and gender studies. She writes often on queer-focused topics in her own time.
CHRISTINE MCMANUS “The Long and Winding Road” Christine is in her third year of a BA majoring in psychology and minoring in sociology and English. When she’s not writing articles or doing schoolwork (i.e. procrastinating), she spends her time singing in a choir, reading internet comment sections against her better judgement, and snuggling her cat.
KYLE MONDA Horoscopes & Crossword Kyle is a fifth-year bachelor of arts student with a major in art & design and a minor in English who writes about politics and pop culture. He spends way too much time online and forgets that not everyone understands stan Twitter.
SHELLEY TIAN “Spellbinding Sexuality” illustration Shelley is in her last year of computing science. She thinks the funniest phrase in programming is "Segmentation fault (core dumped).” "Man curl" is a close second, but it doesn't mean whatever you might think it means.
ALEXANDER VINCENT “Green Power” comic Alexander is a fourth-year fine arts student. He may be obsessed with goblins for no known reason.
SCOTT JACKSHAW
CHRISTINA ZHU
“Unknown Consecration to the Church Monster” and “Homemaker” Scott is a fourth-year English and creative writing student. His poetry has appeared in The Capilano Review, PRISM international, Hart House Review, and Glass Buffalo, as well as in chapbooks from the Graduate Students of English Collective and The Olive Reading Series.
Contributors illustration Christina is a fourth-year design and exchange student from Germany. Her pieces combine subtle visual messages with mystic atmospheres. She loves comics, the beauty of melancholy, and dumplings.
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Finding community with Shades of Colour.
TEXT REBECCA EASTWOOD PHOTO RICHARD BAGAN
From left to right: Rohan Dave, Nicole Jones-Abad, V Guzman
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icole Jones-Abad, a psychology major at the University of Alberta, was missing a place where she could feel a sense of belonging. Then she joined Shades of Colour (SOC), an Edmonton-based group, run by and for trans and queer Indigenous and Black people and people of colour, that helped her find the community she was looking for. At first, she was hesitant about joining SOC. She had doubts about her identity and validity as a woman of colour. But she soon realized that SOC provides a gathering place based on acceptance and inclusivity in ways she hadn’t found elsewhere. “I just kept going [to SOC] more and more, slowly figuring out that it was a place I could be,” she said. Less than a year later she became an executive member, and has since been helping to run the group’s social media, write speeches, and more. Jones-Abad’s story reflects the group’s intentions: SOC offers a communal space for those who are searching — even if they aren’t sure what they’re searching for. Those navigating their identity in any sense are welcome in SOC, founding member Rohan Shyne Dave said. Knowing exactly who you are isn’t a prerequisite to join.
that queer and trans POC share, and the importance of cultivating a community specifically for them. “With our identities, people aren’t just facing transphobia and homophobia,” Jones-Abad said, “but also facing intergenerational trauma and the effects of colonialism and racism, that intersect in a lot of ways and create something very hard to deal with.” SOC addresses the importance of providing a space for those who feel between groups and the negative impacts felt when those spaces don’t exist. Dave and Jones-Abad said queer and trans people of colour are highly prone to mental health issues and often face challenges when seeking help, from financial barriers to a difficulty finding supports that fit their needs. “A lot of the time, trans and queer Indigenous and Black people and people of colour don’t have access to mental health resources,” Dave said. “As a result of that, informal communities of support start to develop… to give people a sense of community that is otherwise not accessible.” Folks of any age are welcome at meetings, Jones-Abad and Dave said, which fosters an intergenerational community where members can learn from and support each
Dave is a counsellor and former program and volunteer coordinator at The Landing, a society that supports queer students at the U of A. He said SOC began taking shape in 2014, when he and a group of queer people of colour noticed a lack of space on campus for those with their intersections. They found that with other mainstream LGBTQ and POC groups, there was still a disconnect. “A lot of people with our intersections… often feel between communities,” Jones-Abad said. “It creates this gap, this need, of where you feel you can exist.” SOC started as a facet of The Landing, but has since expanded into the Edmonton community. As of fall 2018, the group has also partnered with the Alberta Public Interest Research Group. For a community that otherwise might not have felt belonging elsewhere, SOC has become a home base. Dave and Jones-Abad said they recognize the distinct experiences
other. No matter what they are facing, members have a place to connect and enjoy themselves. “The very big premise of what we do is, [and] we think it’s a really political act, [is] to eat food together and not have to talk about trauma,” Jones-Abad said. From its beginnings as an extension of a student-focused organization at the U of A to becoming an intergenerational community, SOC has come a long way. Running on donations and fundraisers by groups such as the U of A Bollywood Dance club, they’ve managed to cultivate an independent and spirited community. But they aren’t planning on slowing down. They hope to take on more projects, expand their team, and find a space for SOC to settle down and call home. “As we continue to grow, we’ve understood the intentionality behind the project and why it needs to exist,” Dave said. “It’s a significant space in our community.” g
– SECTIONS
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Spellbinding Sexuality From Willow to Ambrose, witches queer our TVs for the better.
TEXT NINA LEGESSE ILLUSTRATION SHELLEY TIAN
Last Halloween, Netflix reminded the world of its supremacy with its instant-hit original series, The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, a loose adaptation of Archie’s cousin comic that also spawned the 1996 sitcom Sabrina the Teenage Witch. While polar opposites in tone, both adaptations speak to a rise in the popularity of witchcraft. In the 2018 series, Sabrina has a cousin named Ambrose, a warlock who spends more time lounging in his attic like a chiselled Greek statue than Sabrina spends brewing in her cauldron of teenage angst. Ambrose (played by Chance Perdomo) may look young and hunky, but is really centuries old. Now under house arrest in the Spellman Mortuary, the warlock was once a poet, a revolutionary, and an apprentice of real-life occultist Aleister Crowley. With his wit and sarcasm as coping mechanisms for his lifelong loneliness, Ambrose is truly a warlock for the 2010s. He’s also openly pansexual, which Perdomo speaks about at length in interviews. Pansexuality is rarely heard of in film and TV, and it’s far from being widely understood. When done right, popular media can demystify misconceptions about terms like this. Fantasy and sci-fi have always explored issues of identity and marginalization, from
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xenophobia to sexism to exploitation. They can tell stories about a strange-looking “other” without explicit reference to the real alienated groups in our world. And in stories that accept the alien and the supernatural as real, anything is possible. For a fantasy series grounded in historical reality, Chilling Adventures doesn’t handle the topic of witch hunts with very much depth. We know the story of centuries-long witch trials in Medieval Europe and how witchcraft was condemned in Salem and in some African societies, including the Azande and the Kuranko. Unlike in the Netflix series, however, people who were accused of witchcraft didn’t actually worship Satan. In Western, Christian cultures, it was women who didn’t comply with Christianity, or who were loud, old, ugly, or unwanted, who were called witches. This was convenient for the patriarchy, but it wasn’t just a way of maintaining the male-dominant social structure. The church really believed that every month, groups of heretics would fly to their diabolical witch meetings, where they praised Satan, ate babies, and committed obscene sexual acts. These suspicions prompted Christians to send people they
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suspected were witches to trial without evidence. The executions likely weren’t in the millions as some media depictions suggest, but it was still a widespread problem. Although the medieval witch hunts are long over, traditional attitudes about difference still endanger women and minorities. In response to this, the early 20th century saw a revival of pagan religions. Modern witchcraft, known as Wicca, rejects monotheism, patriarchy, and dogmatic Christian morality. Wiccans have a simple rule: Do what you will, so long as it harms none. Glen Fairen, a religious studies instructor at the University of Alberta, links this revival to changing attitudes concerning women and sexualities. “As Christianity has been intolerant, traditionally, of queer sexualities,” he says,
“Wicca has been more tolerant, both because [Wiccans] tend to be more inclusive, and also as a way to define themselves as not being Christian.” To Fairen, the Wiccan moral code “makes sense.” “There’s no reason [for Wiccans] to be against queer sexuality or different gender identities,” he says. In keeping with the Wiccan worldview, witchcraft in popular media today puts women in empowering positions. “In fantastical literature, with witchcraft and things, we are having this sort of inversion of tropes,” Fairen says. Traditional villains take on new roles: “Witches are becoming more positive figures while still being outsiders.” “That’s what I loved about Harry Potter,” he continues. “The witches are neither good nor evil or Satanic or
In stories that accept the alien and the supernatural as real, anything is possible.
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Christian. They’re not even playing in that field. You see a more broad spectrum of witchcraft [nowadays].” The High Priestess of supernatural teen drama, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, aired from 1997 to 2003 and was seminal in transforming the face of magic. Buffy Summers went down in history as an ass-kicking feminist icon, but one member of her back-up squad is responsible for witchcraft’s new look on TV. Willow Rosenberg, the mousy red-headed genius and lover of books and tech, seems like a straight character from the outset. She crushes on her childhood best friend Xander from early childhood, then dates a boy werewolf named Oz. This latter relationship is stable enough, until Oz leaves her because he can’t control his dick — I mean, his inner wolf. Meanwhile, she experiments with magic little by little until it becomes an integral part of her identity. She realizes
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how powerful she can be and joins a Wiccan club in college to hone her skills. That’s where she meets Tara. A sweet and quiet relationship forms between Willow and Tara. It grows into something more intimate after weeks of staring into each other’s eyes while practicing spells. Then the super gay subtext rapidly becomes text. “[Willow and Tara’s romance] normalized [homosexuality] for a lot of people, especially considering when the show came out,” Fairen says. “Willow is this heroic figure who was openly gay and wasn’t defined by her sexuality. There was nothing strange about it, and she happened to be a witch.” Fairen believes Willow’s involvement with the Wiccan community made this a smooth coming-out story. “I think if she were a Christian mystic, for instance, that would’ve been a problem.” Not only is it unusual to have Willow and Tara, two
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queer characters in a relationship, as series regulars, but they’re also essential characters. The cherry on top: it’s not just a phase! It’s common for the sexuality of bisexual characters to be used as a plot device, introduced for only one or two episodes. These characters get flippant treatment, often given same-gender love interests to spice up the plot. By the end of the episode, the relationship ends and the character boards the next train to Heteropolis or Gayville. This is a problem you see everywhere called “containment.” It happens when writers introduce a nugget of social progress on TV only to rip the rug out from under you. They do have to make money, after all. Buffy was by no means a perfect remedy for this. The show’s writers tiptoed around bisexuality, clarifying any confusion about Willow with the simple statement: “She's gay now.” She always asserted that she’d gone gay, never to return to men again. Almost like a magical spell, her straightness was… transfigured into a rainbow?
Chilling Adventures reminds us, 20 years after Willow, that visual media still has an important job to do. This raises some questions about the fluidity of sexual orientation. Is your attraction determined in early life, never to change but by choice? Some argue sexual orientation can be fluid, others say it’s always in flux, and some say that such notions don’t help the LGBTQ community’s cause. You can apply any of these points of view to how you watch the story of Willow Rosenberg. You might say she
was bi all along, that she falls for people’s souls, or that she’s a fictional character who’s a product of the 90s and their mildly bi-phobic writers. Buffy scholar Em McAvin thinks that despite total absence of the term “bisexual” in the show, the sexuality “appears as ruptures in the coherence of the hetero or homo subject.” In other words, Willow doesn’t need to say she’s bi because the harmony between her romantic past and present — the validity that the series grants both her straight and gay relationships — is enough. It’s a statement that hetero and homo aren’t the only ways to go. Over two decades later, Willow is still important. If her seven-year journey can tell us one thing for sure about sexuality, it’s that bisexuality is still mystifying. It has been labelled fraudulent by both straight and gay communities, and associated with skankiness and indecision, among other stereotypes. Because it’s not always a balanced, 50/50 attraction to men and women, it can be frustrating to explain. Like magic, it’s shrouded in mystery. But love is powerful and comes in endless shapes. Changes in discourse about queer sexuality since the 90s are reflected in The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. We can look to Ambrose, this generation’s magical TV sidekick, for much more candid and intersectional representation. Ambrose represents fourth wave feminism, which is a recent resurgence that uplifts all disempowered identities, proudly puts names on the unfamiliar, and encourages us to speak out against abusers in a digital age that facilitates social revolution. In the late 2010s, we welcome labels for self-identification, not to divide social groups but to form communities and validate individual realities that were previously invalidated. Chilling Adventures reminds us, 20 years after Willow, that visual media still has an important job to do. As the most accessible medium for storytelling right now, TV has to help us better understand the world we live in and the people who live in it. Fantasy has a special voice for this, with its witches and monsters and other freaks re-shaping our perceptions of who should be accepted and what is possible. All the stories we consume — magical or not — should look like that. g
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REQUIRED READING
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REQUIRED READING
Poetry previously published in The Capilano Review POETRY SCOTT JACKSHAW ILLUSTRATION JESSICA TANG
homemaker so that when I left the southside Baptist church becoming dissident & eyes out of skull like the spirit into wilderness so that when my pastor honeyed tongues in a crusty mattress or like locust grazed on permed hairs & translation so that when I let him blood me & loved a boy like language so that when I loved a boy so that whenever I loved a boy the space of that boy would look like an invitation to inhabit or family history pinned up in my garage so that straight paths God would move when mom prayed in groanings & groanings up furnace vents to our bedrooms moving too so that where the Baptists circulated rot I spilt myself like a land of milk & saw worlds thicken so that coming will I go & tasting of
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EMPTY PRIDE
REQUIRED READING
the parade’s forgotten history. TEXT SHAY LEWIS
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On June 9, 2018, Edmonton’s annual Pride parade was stopped for more than half an hour when a group of queer and trans people of colour and their allies blocked its route. The demonstrators handed out leaflets with the following demands. The Edmonton Pride Festival Society consulted with the protestors and announced the EPS, RCMP, and military will not march in the Parade until all community members feel safe in their presence. Shay Lewis was one of the protesters and is now involved as a community member with the Pride parade's community outreach committee that's working to find a way forward for the festival in light of the protest.
REQUIRED READING
WE DEMAND: 1. That the Pride Society uninvite the RCMP, military, and Edmonton Police Service from marching in future parades. 2. That the society re-structures its board and staff hiring practices to have more representation from people of colour and trans folks. 3. That more well-funded spaces specifically designed for people of colour and trans folks be included in the festival. 4. That all mainstream pride spaces clearly acknowledge and honour pride's history as a demonstration against police oppression.
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Pride was
REQUIRED READING
to go to Pride and not just exist, but gather publicly,
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ike many Pride parades, the Edmonton Pride Parade finds its roots in protesting police treatment of members of the LGBTQ community. It’s an often forgotten fact that, like in many other cities, the Edmonton Police Service orchestrated operations targeting the gay community. It was these acts of homophobia and discrimination, rather than some abstract aversion to the police, that fueled the initial Pride events in Edmonton. Pride didn’t actually have a parade component in Edmonton until the 90s and wasn’t incorporated as an organization until 2003. It began quite simply as an event for the queer community to voice their demands to be heard. If you look at the Wikipedia entry on the Edmonton Pride Festival, you’ll find little beyond a terse recognition of these facts. The Edmonton Pride Festival’s website doesn’t even mention the original motives behind the parade, which would lead you to believe that the jovial nature we see currently is simply how it’s always been. It’s this effective erasure of history that leads many to be so confused about the protest against police participation at the 2018 Pride Festival by a group of racialized queers and their allies, including me. Without knowing about the history of police violence in Edmonton, like the Pisces Bathhouse Raid, it's quite possible to see the police as victims of bias and discrimination. What exactly happened at the Pisces Bathhouse Raid? The Pisces Bathhouse was effectively a place gay men could go for hookups with other gay men. Members only paid for access to the bathhouse, and sex, if it occurred, was not connected to the bathhouse. With no significant difference from bathhouses that had been around for 10 years or more, the subsequent raid by Edmonton police baffled many when it occurred in 1981. Spurred by a complaint that the bathhouse “gave gay people a bad name,” police used undercover officers posing as gay men to gather evidence. This evidence-gathering resulted in the eventual raid on
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the bathhouse with 40 officers, six RCMP officers, and two crown attorneys. Roughly 56 men were arrested and photographed, and many of them ended up paying fines or serving jail time. Yet, by all accounts, there was little evidence that the Pisces Bathhouse was anything more than a bathhouse. Ultimately, one could presume the only “crime” the Pisces Bathhouse committed was being “too gay” in the eyes of the morality squad, the Edmonton Police Service group that handled these cases. This clear abuse of the law sparked outrage and protest, coalescing around what had until then been a seemingly invisible gay and lesbian community. For folks in the Edmonton queer community, it became clear they would need to fight for their rights, leading to strong support for events like Edmonton Pride. In these early days, Pride wasn’t about having a fun time, but about fighting for the gay and lesbian communities’ right to exist and be accepted. Pride was politics; to go to Pride and not just exist, but gather publicly, was an act of resistance that demanded attention. It was a protest fueled by outrage over police mistreatment and lack of government protection. Over time, it expanded to include the queer communities we know today. Since the start of Pride, there have been some victories. There was the reading of “sexual orientation” into section 15 of the Charter of Human Rights in 1996, the legalization of same-sex marriages in 2005, and the adding of gender identity and gender expression to the protected grounds of the Charter in 2017. However, the legal victories the Canadian queer community has seen thus far don’t cover the full extent of issues that need to be addressed. Conversion therapy is still legal across most of Canada. An inability to access gender-affirming treatment leads to high rates of depression and suicide among the trans community. There’s a continued lack of services for non-binary folks. Given that these communities make up small minorities
s politics;
REQUIRED READING
was an act of resistance that demanded attention.
within the larger queer community, it becomes easy for cisgender, gay, and lesbian activists, when they see their personal goals achieved, to declare victory and shift to celebration despite the fact that there’s still work to do. That focus on celebration was one of the sentiments that drove myself and others to protest at the Edmonton Pride Parade in 2018. The inclusion of the police in the parade, despite complaints from both the racialized queer community and other marginalized queer communities, was a clear failure to properly consider all the ways different members of the queer community have been and continue to be impacted by different forms of oppression like carding. For these groups, the current legal victories, while steps forward, still leave much to be desired. The political aspect of Pride is not just important, but necessary. In a way, the protest was simply bringing back an aspect of Pride that had mistakenly been abandoned. It’s important that we make space for those whose voices aren't being heard. That the Pride Festival’s board agreed to the requests of the protesters — such as uninviting EPS, the RCMP, and the Canadian military from future Pride events — is a sign of how reasonable this is. The question on many people’s minds has been where we go next from here. How can Pride reconcile the celebration it's become and the protest that many need it to be? Honestly, it's in the best interest of everyone that Pride doesn’t become strictly one or the other. There’s merit to the arguments that the positivity of Pride is important given the harsh reality many of us live with; however, that positivity doesn’t require an apolitical stance, nor does it preclude using Pride as a platform for protest. In regards to specific changes like police participation in the parade, some may find prohibiting police organizations from the parade contentious. But consider that earlier this year, the Edmonton Police Service chose to not issue an apology for past homophobic actions and then
proceeded to defend those same actions. Regardless of your beliefs in regards to their practices, it's clear that the Edmonton Police Service is not a strong ally of the queer community. If the Edmonton Police Service cannot even perform the most symbolic of formalities, they shouldn’t be represented at Pride. Interestingly enough, many have contended that if we don’t invite the police due to poor allyship, then we would need to disinvite many other organizations for the same reason. That may be in the best interest of Pride. A smaller Pride, one focused more on promoting and building community, is likely a healthier thing for everyone involved. Being more selective of who participates lets us refocus the parade on the important messages and services that people should hear and access. As cool as it is that things like the parade have gotten so big, many important but smaller organizations get lost in the shuffle of banks and other corporations who do little more than show up with rainbow-coloured chapstick once a year. We’ve reached a redefining moment for Pride, and it's important that we consider the direction Pride takes carefully. For this reason, it’s important that Pride’s community engagement process is thorough and nuanced. Precedence will be set in regard to how we respond to protests internal to the community, how we value the voices of others, and what the values at the core of Pride actually mean, and this precedence should not be set lightly. Nothing is without consequences, but if we accept the status quo, we’re effectively throwing away the ability of Pride to demand change. Pride was built on demanding change, and to lose that ability would be tantamount to killing Pride. Injustice hasn’t died, so neither should Pride. g
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FEATURES
THE LONG & WINDING ROAD TEXT CHRISTINE MCMANUS PHOTO RICHARD BAGAN
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FEATURES
Stereotypes & self-discovery in the multisexual community.
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ooking back on my childhood is kind of funny, because the fact that I’m bisexual is incredibly obvious in hindsight. One of my first crushes was Mulan. Rya Kihlstedt’s character in Home Alone 3 enraptured 10-yearold me. As I developed crushes on male classmates, I also noticed female classmates and friends. I thought they were exceptionally pretty, to the point where I’d think “She’d be perfect for me, if she were a boy.” Yet, when I finally put two and two together, my initial reaction was panic. I was a brace-faced, greasy-haired 12-year-old who navigated social situations like I was walking a tightrope over Niagara Falls. All of the sudden, my David Semaan interactions with female classmates took on a whole new dimension of anxiety. Could she tell I liked her? Was I being Eliot Howard (they/them), a writer and musician who too invasive? I didn’t realize it at the time, but I’d internal- grew up in the early 2000s, practically never heard about ized the idea that liking other girls made me creepy. LGBTQ people at all during his junior high years — except Maybe it was the constant use of the word “lesbian” in one particular context. “It was still really common to as a put-down — when straight girls I knew wanted to in- hear about hate crimes all the time,” they recall, frowning, sult someone, calling them gay was their go-to. Maybe it “and that was the context in which people were talking was the section in my pink study Bible that condemned about being gay. I was super scared that people wouldn’t homosexuality as a “detestable sin.” All I know is that accept me… because I heard about people getting killed for somewhere along the way, the idea of same-gender attrac- being this way.” Fearing a possible negative reaction from tion as degenerate and unclean planted itself firmly in my peers, Eliot stayed in the closet for years. “I was afraid of head, and it would take me years to unlearn it. men I was attracted to knowing. I was afraid I’d lose my As it turns out, my experience isn’t uncommon for best friends.” people across the multisexual spectrum (that is, people David Semaan (he/him), a political science gradwho are attracted to more than one gender). As we dis- uate student, also remembers an environment with a cover our identities and come out to ourselves and others, less-than-accepting attitude towards LGBTQ people. He stereotypes and negative preconceived notions about grew up in western British Columbia, in a place he describes bi, pan, and queer folks have a profound impact on us. as “one of the most conservative parts of the country.” In Throughout our lives, we confront ourselves and society an environment steeped in religion and conservative polalike as we separate who we are from who the world says itics, coming out to himself was hard, and coming out to we are. As I spoke to other people who are attracted to others was out of the question. more than one gender, I discovered a number of common “I was 21 when I started to think of my sexuality as themes. We deal with prejudice as soon as we are old something real,” he tells me. “I was in a long-term relationenough to understand it, in every aspect of our lives, and ship, [which started] when I was 18. For most of that time, in a number of forms. I denied my sexual orientation.” These days, David uses his childhood experiences with prejudice to help others through the peer support services at The Landing, U of A’s Somewhere along the way, non-profit society for gender and sexual diversity, turning hard and painful experiences into constructive ones. the idea of same-gender Sometimes, however, it’s not what is said — it’s what attraction as degenerate and isn’t said. Janeen Marko (she/her), a third-year double major in history and anthropology, doesn’t remember an unclean planted itself firmly environment that was hostile so much as it was silent. “I in my head, and it would was in Catholic school until grade nine, so I wasn’t exposed to any LGBTQ conversations,” she explains. “They sort of take me years to unlearn it. bypassed the ‘gays go to hell’ conversation by not talking about ‘gays’ at all.”
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Her family environment was a bit more welcoming: her sister came out as bisexual a year before she did, and her parents reacted well. But Janeen didn’t want them to doubt her, as they had initially doubted her sister, so she only came out to them after she got her first date with a girl — two years after she came out to her friends. These experiences reflect a common pattern in the experiences of LGBTQ youth: many of us are aware of our sexualities for some time (months or even years) before we tell anyone else. For multisexual youth in particular, this period can be filled with self-doubt. We don’t fit neatly to into the categories of “straight” or “gay,” no matter how much we might try to. For a long time, I used my attraction to boys to overcompensate for my attraction to girls. I thought that I could somehow “fight” my attraction to girls by actively choosing to like boys instead. The idea that I didn’t have to choose didn’t even occur to me. Some of the male crushes I told my junior high friends about were real, but most of them weren’t. I felt the need to constantly “prove” my supposed heterosexuality to myself and others, to deny the dual nature of my sexuality and snuff it out. A common narrative around coming out is that it makes everything better, that all the baggage associated with your sexuality disappears with the closet. However, this is rarely
“There’s always that question, am I gay enough?” the case. When I accepted my bisexuality, my insecurities didn’t go away like I thought they would. Instead of needing to convince myself and others that I was straight, there was now a need to prove that I truly “counted” as bi. After all, I’d never so much as kissed a girl. Could I really be sure that what I was feeling was real? Janeen, who is in a long-term relationship with a man, understands this dilemma all too well. “When I go to Pride,” she tells me, “I don’t go with him, because I don’t want to be accused of faking it.” She describes a kind of “imposter syndrome” that she wrestles with. “I’ve never had a serious relationship with a woman, which is the other thing… there’s always that question, am I gay enough?” Multisexual women are often stereotyped as straight women faking it for (male) attention, so those of us dating men often feel the need to justify ourselves. Of course, men are not exempt from backlash either. Sometimes biphobia comes from unexpected places: David recalls a particularly awkward incident with a guy he Janeen Marko
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used to date. “He introduced me to his friend and he said, ‘He’s not gay, just bi.’” David shakes his head. “Yeah… that was definitely the last time we went out.” Multisexual men are often seen as either non-existent or as watered-down versions of gay men, which has an impact on how potential dating partners treat them. David has used dating apps in the past, and said that “as a bisexual person dating online, it can be really hard to put yourself out there.” But one of the most pervasive stereotypes about us, across genders, is that of the promiscuous bi. Eliot has always been interested in what many different people have to offer, but sometimes feels guilt for “upholding a ‘negative’ stereotype.” “People have a hard time seeing [others] as individuals, and not as stand-ins for the entire group they represent, especially when they’re any kind of minority,” they point out. While they don’t see having an active sex life as inherently bad, the social pressure is still there. “It’s someone else’s fault if they want to interpret who I am as being indicative of anything. But still, I feel a little bit guilty.” Our sexual and romantic lives — which genders we’ve been with, how many relationships we’ve had — are picked apart and scrutinized. Whether we're seen as valid, as real, isn’t always up to us. This is especially true if gender comes into question along with sexuality. “It’s an interesting thing,” Janeen says, “to be questioning your gender identity and being bisexual.” She remembers being seen as a “tomboy” from when she was quite young, and as she grew older, her non-conforming gender presentation and her sexual orientation became increasingly intertwined. “For a long time, I thought I only liked women because I wanted to be a man,” she says. Janeen no longer believes this to be the case, but says that she could see herself “starting to live more androgynously.” This wasn't always comfortable territory: Janeen wanted to wear a suit to her high school graduation, but after her mother pointed out others might see her as trans,
she wore a dress instead. “I wasn't ready for it,” she says. These days, Janeen is still exploring her gender identity, but at her own pace. “I don’t identify as trans, but I may or may not be a woman.” Eliot, a queer and non-binary person, finds looking back on their childhood illuminating as well. “I definitely didn’t identify with effeminate tropes,” they say, referring to when they were beginning to identify as queer. “It’s interesting looking back, because my gender’s become more complicated since then.” Gender, for Eliot, is a process of negotiation: Eliot hesitates to claim “non-binary” or any given label because of how it could be perceived. Like with sexuality, a concern about “misrepresenting” the non-binary persists. Eliot takes a more philosophical approach to gender, using their experiences and uncertainties to ask big questions. “Does anyone really know what gender they are?” they ask. We are told what we are supposed to be, in terms of who we are and who we love, from the time we are born. Is accepting our assigned identities the same thing as knowing our genders or sexualities? It’s hard to say, but in a society undergoing a paradigm shift of epic proportions, it’s exactly the kind of question we need to ask ourselves. As multisexual individuals have explored who we are, society at large has experienced a similar type of introspection. We are a society in transition, trying to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past. In many ways, it has changed for the better for bi, pan, and queer people. But even the most optimistic of us will admit that there is much progress to be made. Janeen has witnessed a shift in public discourse surrounding queer people through her studies in history and anthropology. In previous generations of historians and anthropologists, Janeen explains, there was a “general erasing of women who love women. They absolutely existed… but they were erased by [those] who documented it.” She describes a “larger cultural shift” within her fields of study to pay more attention to “untold histories” and bring
Our sexual and romantic lives — which genders we’ve been with, how many relationships we’ve had — are picked apart and scrutinized. Whether we're seen as valid, as real, isn’t always up to us.
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the stories of the marginalized to light. Women, people of colour, LGBTQ people, and other largely ignored groups are starting to be treated as worthy of study and attention in academia, creating a view of our past that is no longer centered on the most privileged. David, who studies topics relating to current LGBTQ issues, says that being open about our sexualities in the workplace is still an issue for many of us. “Almost half of queer people are not out in workplaces, even if we’re out in every other aspect.” David himself worked in automotive retail for five years, and only came out to two coworkers during that time due to what he calls a “culture of mocking homophobia.” Making fun of LGBTQ people was commonplace where he worked, and he felt that being open with his colleagues wasn’t worth the risk of ostracization. Despite the amount of change we’ve seen in the last half century, casual homophobia still permeates our society, indicating that stereotypes still heavily inform how people see us. Eliot agrees that “the prototypical gay person” hasn’t really changed, even if we’ve made progress. They note that
plenty of stereotypes about multisexual people are still quite common, like the fact that many people won’t date bisexuals for fear of being cheated on. The change, Eliot says, is in the presence of an open conversation. “People are talking about it… trying to debunk myths… but it’s still a process.” It is a process, but it’s one well worth undertaking. It’s about giving the voices of multisexual people a platform, a way to freely share our experiences. It’s about making ourselves present without the need for caricatures or closets. It’s about representing who we are in ways that might help others see themselves in us, regardless of whether they’re queer or not. When I look at who I am now, compared to the scared kid I was all those years ago, I can’t help but feel hopeful. Once, labelling myself as bisexual seemed impossibly daunting — now, it feels as natural as saying my name. The fact that so many stories like mine exist is proof that progress is possible, even within a society that can be hostile and intolerant. If the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, I’d say we are well beyond step one at this point. Now we just need to keep walking. g
Eliot Howard
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Queens
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Exploring Edmonton’s drag scene. TEXT KHADRA AHMED PHOTO RICHARD BAGAN
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hen Netflix uploaded the remaining seasons of RuPaul’s Drag Race in November, I spent hours locked in my room, binging to the point where someone could name a song and I could tell you which two queens lip-synched it for their lives. The addiction came easily as I tried my hardest to soak up the confidence, beauty, and artistic talents the queens exuded through my laptop screen. Though it’s easy to get caught up in the fierceness of voguing and death drops, it’s important to remind ourselves that drag is about a lot more than just serving looks and commanding a stage. As originally proposed by Judith Butler, gender can be viewed as performative. It’s constructed through the way we dress, the way we act, the way we speak; all the minor lifestyle choices we make contribute to projecting a certain image to the world. Drag, a performance in itself, is a perfect testament to this idea. It’s about flipping the script, all while exaggerating the very performances that we use in portraying gender. If a man in a dress and heels or a woman donning a baseball cap and beard can produce the illusion of their opposite sex, what does that say about the performativity of gender? Beyond gender-bending and pushing the boundaries of the binary, drag is also about uplifting the LGBTQ community, a core principle for Edmonton’s local drag scene. Through the Imperial Sovereign Court of the Wildrose (ISCW), a not-for-profit social organization, local drag queens raise thousands of dollars each year for charities serving their community. Out of the 65 courts functioning in North America, Edmonton’s chapter is the second oldest in Canada, operating for 43 years. Comprised of various drag performers, the ISCW annually selects an Empress and Emperor to act as figureheads, along with an upper house consisting of a princess, prince, duke, and duchess. After selecting charities, money is raised for a year through drag performances
PICTURED LEFT IVY LEAGUE
and then given away at a charity ball in August, where the cycle begins again.
As I stood in the changing room of Evolution Wonderlounge, under a large poster of Bob the Drag Queen graffitied with a moustache and goatee, the club’s muted pop music set the tone for a lively conversation with Vanity Fair, Morgen Fair, and Ivy League, three fabulous local drag queens with a lot to say. A hairdresser during the day, Vanity Fair is the drag mother to both Morgen Fair and Ivy League, acting as their mentor as the two navigate the world of drag. As Vanity strutted confidently around the stage in a large grey wig, it became clear she’s been around the block a few times. After moving to Edmonton from Vegreville, Vanity began doing drag 20 years ago when she was approached randomly at the bar by two queens who wanted to put her in drag the next weekend. From there, she went on to have a prominent presence in the Edmonton drag scene, holding many titles including the 37th Empress of the Court. “I started with the Court 20 years ago because I really wanted to do something positive with drag, and the Court allows you to raise money for organizations you believe in,” she says, jokingly adding: “But I’ve done everything from lesbian weddings to bachelorette parties, whatever pays.” She may rock a beautifully painted mug at night, but you can also catch her during the day with a full face of makeup, a fresh set of nails, and a sparkly accessory or two. Though drag is about performing a character, it also gave Vanity the strength to truly be herself and transcend restrictions. “Sometimes gay men like to be stuck in boxes, but drag queens, we don't give a shit about that,” she says. “People should be free to express themselves 24/7, not just on stage for five minutes.”
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Morgen Fair is the current Empress of the Court, a position she was elected to this past August. While her first name is a nod to her German heritage, the last name of Fair was given by Vanity, who put Morgen into drag for the first time. “We became friends and one crisp August evening she threw me in drag and I ran with it,” Fair says. Like mother, like daughter. In the four and a half years Morgen has been performing, she has also held multiple titles with the court, including the 41st Princess and Entertainer of the Year. Vanity says Morgen used to be reserved and shy, but watching her perform to “Bitch” by Meredith Brooks had me convinced she’s the type of gal who won’t take anyone’s shit. When I picked her brain about performing, Morgen told me it’s almost like an out-of-body experience. “When I’m onstage, I feel nothing. I always get a nervous bug right before I go on, but when I step on stage it disappears,” she explains. “When you’re on stage you’re there to entertain and whatever else is happening in your life doesn’t exist.” The baby of the family, Ivy League is a fourth-year biochemistry student at the University of Alberta. It was on campus three years ago where Ivy got her start hosting a drag show for OUTreach, the university’s LGBTQ+ and Allied social group, when they needed someone from their executive team to host with Morgen Fair. Though she was uncomfortable at first, after the amount of fun she had
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that night, Ivy has never looked back. Her name reflects both her scientific and artistic side, or, as Ivy explains it, “Academia in the front, party in the back.” She currently holds the court title Mz. Gay Edmonton, which is understandable after watching her perform a hilarious number about the mishaps of anal, featuring lots of chocolate sauce. Currently, Ivy is also competing to be Alberta's Next Drag Superstar 2019. As a makeup artist teaching classes at Sephora during the day, one of Morgen’s favourite aspects of drag is her makeup transformation, a process that has become ritualistic for the queen. “I sit down, have everything laid out, and when I start I forget everything else that’s happening,” she says. “I’m so focused on transforming my face that I literally don’t think of anything else, so it’s a really good time for me to digress and not feel stressed out about the day I had at work.” Vanity teases that Ivy loves drag so much she’ll perform at the opening of an envelope, but in her defense, drag is a hobby that Ivy says she enjoys more than most things in life. She especially appreciates the platform it creates for artists of all genders to explore the social constructs we conform to everyday. “There’s so much room for artistic expression and challenging dialogues [in drag]; there are almost no boundaries,” she says. “Drag queens literally warp our bodies to conform to what is considered acceptable and take it to
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the nth degree, but other performers mix and match things to make you question why we stereotypically associate things with the concept of masculinity or femininity.” As another queen entered the dressing room to take off her corset, I was reminded of the physical pain that accompanies the glamour of drag. From tucking their junk to being cinched in and wearing heels for hours, it’s easy to imagine the physical toll drag can take on a body. Yet the most challenging aspects of drag aren’t as visible. For Vanity, drag requires sacrifice, both financial and personal. Now in a strong relationship, she notes dating is not an easy task, requiring partners that can handle dating a drag queen, let alone being left in the crowd every weekend.“There is a big double standard in the gay community,” she says. “Everyone thinks drag queens are so fabulous; they come to shows, but they don’t want to date us for some reason.” Ivy also highlights a challenge many busy queens face: being a full-time student and spending 10 to 20 hours in a lab each week while also working a part-time job, it’s hard to imagine how Ivy still has the time to perform every weekend. There’s no shortage of drag performers within Edmonton, so staying current is crucial for booking gigs. With Ivy’s busy schedule, however, creating new material can be a difficult task. “If you want that platform, you need to stay current and provide content that’s wanted,” she says. “It’s challenging, but having that fire under your ass can really light the creative process.” Regardless of whether she’s performing a groundbreaking routine or revisiting an old favourite, at the end of the day, Ivy’s main goal is to connect with her audience, share her perspective on the world, and ultimately brighten someone’s day.
“With other art forms you may need a couple of years of education to understand what that little brushmark on a canvas means, but with drag it’s in your face and interactive,” she says. “The audience is a part of the number and they’re expected to cheer and be present. It’s an honour to have a platform for exploring the world as I perceive it and presenting it through drag.” Despite all the trials and tribulations drag entails, earning respect in the local drag scene boils down to remaining humble. For Vanity, the most respected queens earn their status by how they treat their fans offstage. “In the end we’re men in dresses and taking it too seriously doesn’t serve any purpose,” she says. “You’re much better off to be an approachable, humble person. I think that gets you further in the scene than giving people attitude.”
Last year was exceptionally successful for the Court, raising over $50,000 for the Elizabeth Fry Society and the Pride Centre of Edmonton. Putting on drag shows almost every weekend to fundraise, local drag queens work tirelessly to economically uplift their community. “We’ve donated a lot of money over the years to charities that would not necessarily be able to function without the money we work all year long to donate,” Morgen says. “All of our money goes towards charities that support LGBTQ initiatives, so our organization plays a huge part in keeping that going.” As Morgen beams, telling me about the thousands of dollars the court raises for charity, it’s clear she’s proud to be this year’s figurehead. Drag is expensive and definitely doesn’t pay the bills, but the charity aspect fuels these queens to keep going. “We don’t do drag to make money, at least not for ourselves,” Morgen says.
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PICTURED ABOVE MORGEN FAIR, VANITY FAIR AND IVY LEAGUE
For Vanity, this commitment is only natural, as drag queens have always been an active voice in the community. As she sees a new wave of complicity settle upon the gay community, she insists that drag queens continue to be the doers, not afraid to be vocal about issues. When you’re in drag, there is no hiding, especially when you’re in hair teased up to the gods and wearing five-inch stilettos. “Drag is almost a forceful, in-your-face way of making people realize our community is here,” Morgen says. Drag is also one of the most enjoyable ways to give straight people a taste of LGBTQ culture. When Ivy hosts drag shows at Have Mercy Tavern, she says most of the crowd are heterosexuals who unknowingly come to the bar. “Regardless of how uncomfortable they are with it, they come out willing to be more open,” she says. “I think that it’s a nice open door for those who don’t have a lot of exposure in the community — we can be a stepping stone to greater understanding.” There’s no question drag has become one of the most celebrated and recognized aspects of the LGBTQ community, a shift heavily attributed to shows like RuPaul’s Drag Race, which has been airing for 10 years. It wasn’t that long ago, however, that drag was tucked away deep within the queer community. “Drag is so mainstream, its messages get even farther now than they did 20 years ago when I started,” Vanity says. “We were performing in the dark recesses of private gay clubs that weren’t accessible to everyone and now we’re able to perform on the streets.” RuPaul’s Drag Race will always have a special place in my heart, but I’m not blind to the controversy it can stir up. When I asked the queens how local drag is affected by RuPaul’s Drag Race, our quick-witted conversation hit a
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wall of hesitation. Careful to set a disclaimer of gratitude for their local fan base, they explained how drag becoming mainstream poses a dilemma. On the one hand, it has increased drag queens’ platforms, creating more space for visibility and acceptance. Yet, while there’s no denying their talents, idolizing those queens may have cast a shadow over local drag. “If the bar books one of the RuPaul’s Drag Race queens, the bar is sold out and people are throwing money at the queens hand over fist,” Vanity says. “We get a lot of support from places like Evolution, which give us a place to perform, but getting support from the community can be difficult for sure,” Morgen adds. “Tonight’s show had a good crowd, but it could’ve been a lot bigger.” If you’re looking for reasons to attend a show, local queens are not only cheaper to see, but are just as entertaining as a Drag Race queen, if not more. “There’ve been a lot of times when the opening local queens have put on a better show than the paid act,” Vanity says. “But that’s because we’re always trying to prove something, so whenever we go onstage before one of these queens we always bring our A-game.” So maybe next time, skip the Netflix binge of RuPaul’s Drag Race and take a gander around Edmonton’s drag scene. Whether you want to ponder the nature of gender or simply have a good time, the versatility of local drag means there's something for everyone. “There are so many different styles of drag, whether it's dancy, comedic, theatrical, political, wacky, or flat-out bizarre… You don’t get to see all that on TV,” Ivy says. “Going out to local drag shows can really broaden your perspective, not only as a drag patron but as a person in general.” g
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REQUIRED READING
Poetry previously published in PRISM International POETRY SCOTT JACKSHAW ILLUSTRATION JESSICA TANG
unknown consecration to the church monster
this is my body in twelve shapes / this is my body in eleven shapes / this is my hung with its suds fallen out / this is my razor burn / my gashgaped holy side / my excoriate rinse / this is my mirrored blister / this is my bad faith & the rub of its towel
before its speech I shrieked bright red sound & passed myself
over porcelain where hollows a figuration of clotted desire / I sent wild televangelisms & soaked in wandering my lost rib which shook with words I dug & when coming into body a skinned mystery where I am all hearing & sightlessly tactile in my inhabitations / it said out from the shower curtain my watered blood / regret-swallowed spit / clogged drains / waterlogged oath / soap-scummed touch
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REQUIRED READING
MARCH 2019 | 33
DIVER SIONS
HOROSCOPES TEXT KYLE MONDA VISUALS JESSICA TANG
Aries Straight people are cancelled. March is for queer friends only.
Virgo Don’t even think about buying a coffee that isn’t iced.
Cancer Find a queer story to read/ watch with a happy ending. It’s what we deserve.
Pisces Stream the music your gay friends recommend and help reclaim the charts for pop girls. (If you’re gay, keep up the good work.)
Leo Every body is a crop-top body. Go for it.
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Taurus Buy something obnoxiously rainbow. It might be pink capitalism, but it’ll look super cute.
DIVER SIONS
Aquarius Still have THAT striped Zara shirt in your closet? It doesn’t spark joy and it’s time for it to go. Scorpio Love yourself! Start wearing broadspectrum SPF 30 every day… before it’s too late. Sagittarius Don’t be afraid to sit in chairs improperly in class too, you’ll learn more.
Libra Gays can’t drive, so send a letter to your city councillor asking them to fix ETS. Capricorn Be ambitious. Invest in Grindr Xtra or Tinder Gold, and find the catch you know you deserve. Gemini Post a nice selfie to Instagram with a hashtag for your community, and let the self-affirming likes roll in. g
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DIVER SIONS
CROSSWORD TEXT KYLE MONDA
ACROSS 4 This legendary but often-problematic TV host once observed a boat capsize but sent loving energy instead of calling the authorities. 5 First name of this outspoken and controversial rapper who is now selling a line of soap designed for gay men. 8 Love, ______, groundbreaking film adaptation of novel ______ vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda. 9 Miss _____ had the most meme-worthy exit from RuPaul’s Drag Race. 12 TV show featuring the popular lesbian ship Choni. 16 Last name of Lesbian Jesus, who popularized the term “20 gayteen.” 18 Breakthrough single of Calgarian pop icons Tegan & Sara. 19 Last name of gay Olympic snowboarder who is well known for his thirsty tweets.
Find answers on our website, gtwy.ca
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DOWN 1 The first openly gay K-Pop idol, who shares a name with a region of the Netherlands. 2 This indie pop star released a Halloween EP, her first name is Kim. 3 Music by this PC Music-affiliated producer has been compared to clanging pots and pans. 6 First name of Chilling Adventures of Sabrina character who astral-projects to go on a date. 7 Polarizing Netflix comedy special that resulted in too many thinkpieces. 10 Name of a large boy band which famously stated their show was a “gays only event!” 11 First name of Orange is the New Black star featured on the cover of TIME Magazine. 13 Album by Troye Sivan, title track is a bottoming anthem. 14 Last name of the man who incorrectly claimed to be the first gay man to win an Oscar. 15 Dirty _____, an album but also an “emotion picture.” 17 CBC’s punny _____ Creek features a dysfunctional family.
Gateway March 1
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Across
Down
4. This legendary but often-problematic TV host once observed a boat capsize but sent loving energy instead of calling the authorities.
1. The first openly gay K-Pop idol, shares name with a region of the Netherlands. 2. This indie pop star released a Halloween EP, first name Kim.
5. First name of this outspoken and controversial rapper who is now selling a line of soap designed for gay men.
3. Music by this PC Music-affiliated producer has been compared to clanging pots and pans.
8. Love, ______, groundbreaking film adaptation of novel ______ vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda.
6. First name of Chilling Adventures of Sabrina character who astral-projects to go on a date.
9. Miss _____ had the most meme-worthy exit from Drag Race. 12. TV show featuring the popular lesbian ship Choni.
7. Polarizing Netflix comedy special that resulted in too many thinkpieces.
16. Last name of Lesbian Jesus, who popularized the term 20gayteen.
10. Name of large boyband which famously stated their show was a “gays only event!”
18. Breakthrough single of Calgarian pop icons Tegan & Sara.
11. First name of Orange is the New Black star featured on the cover of TIME Magazine.
THE MOUNTAINS ARE CALLING
19. Last name of gay Olympic snowboarder who is well known for his thirsty tweets.
13. Album by Troye Sivan, title track is a bottoming anthem. 14. Last name of the man who incorrectly claimed to be the first gay man to win an Oscar. 15. Dirty _____, an album but also an “emotion picture.” 17. CBC’s punny Creek features a dysfunctional family.
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DIVER SIONS
The Life of a Box
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By Jeraldine Chong
VOLUNTEER WITH US. The Gateway is the official student media source at the University of Alberta. We are run by students, for students. Our magazine is published once a month during the academic year (September to April) and we publish daily news, arts, and opinion content at gtwy.ca. Drop by our office at SUB 3-04 to volunteer or just hang out! No journalism experience necessary. We love making new friends. Weekly Meeting Times News: Mondays, 3:00 PM Arts & Culture: Mondays, 4:00 PM Design & Illustration: Mondays, 5:00 PM Opinion: Tuesdays, 4:00 PM Photo: Wednesdays, 4:00 PM
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