Ask questions about Indigenous issues & realities? Yes. Questions are good and welcome. Also, read and explore recommended resources so that we can have a discourse and engage EACH OTHER. In other words: Do your homework.
Here is my article published by @CANADALAND. A very big maarsii!
See these links to find skilled BIPOC writers writing about what matters, like racism and cultural appropriation:
Chelsea Vowel is âpihtawikosisân
Dr. Adrienne Keene, Native Appropriations
Desmond Cole, Activist & Journalist
This week I met with Andrew Philips, the Toronto Star’s editorial page editor, who has essentially served as my boss at the newspaper. Phillips called me in regarding my political disruption of the April 20 meeting of the Toronto Police Services Board. Phillips said this action had violated the Star’s rules on journalism and activism. He didn’t discipline me or cite any consequence for my actions—Phillips said he just wanted me to know what the Star’s rules are.
I have no formal employment with the Star. I’ve never signed any contract or agreement, and no one ever directed me to any of the policies Phillips cited. However, I knew my police protest was activism, and I could have guessed the Star wouldn’t appreciate it.
At no time during this week’s meeting did Phillips try to tell me how I must conduct myself in the future. He did say he hopes…
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On Twitter and in the media, the Joseph Boyden thing caught fire, was doused with fuel, and even more fuel. And as my eyes opened that much more to indigenous concerns, I could see Joseph Boyden turning on the spit.
Wow. Ageism. That smarts.
Art gallery jobs are rare. To be around art all day, looking at it, hanging it, speaking about it… it’s certainly a dream job next to writing a book and making my own art without the need to sell it to make ends meet. So when the art gallery I applied to called me about an assistant position, I almost fell off my chair in excitement.
The female manager started to ask me questions, general at first, then by about the third or fourth she directly asked me, chuckling, how old I am. I was in disbelief and it was really a reflex when I said “43”. She was evidently shocked as well because she gave a laughing howl and exclaimed “you’re older than me!” Continue reading
I was the new girl, soon to be the bad girl.
Some years ago, when my husband was my boyfriend and I didn’t have children, he took me to the birthday party of a long-time friend. It was one of those first dates: meeting the circle of friends. I was confident and nervous at the same time. Upscale neighborhood, lots of smiles and handshakes, champagne and canapes. Continue reading
Yesterday evening I sat with my family at our dinner table, watching them do the same old thing: fork, eat, repeat… and I was bored out of my skull. I’m not a person who gets bored, or I never used to be. My mind was always curious, always turning, wondering about life and the situations that arise within it and between people. But in this instance, I was stiff with disinterest. I wanted to run out of the house and down the street, tear my own hair out while screaming at the top of my lungs “get me out of here!”…or just go into my bedroom and hang out on my phone. Continue reading