The Cost of Dissent
I’m sure you’ve all heard about the cost of the G8 and G20 meetings held in Huntsville and Toronto this past June. Over a billion dollars, most of it on security, and we’re still finding out about more expenses.
Why Protest?
I’m having yet another bout of panicky frustration at the fact that no one is really doing anything about the whole we’re-destroying-the-planet-and-we’re-all-going-to-die-but-less-privileged-people-first thing. Mostly I get frustrated that almost no one seems to care at all – and that the people who do care get vilified and punished for it. For trying to save the planet and everyone’s lives.
A Radical, Rooted Musical
I’m sure your attention has been brought, throughout this issue, to the connection between the words “radical” and “rooted”. Rooted: A New Musical was created in the space where these two words overlap and diverge. It emerged ‘from the roots’, rooted in our own lives and communities and experiences, but stretching beyond these, and seeking to become rooted again in the new community that grew around it, and to spread seeds of change.
False Idol
The crowd pressed forward as the
Worship leaders emerged
To lead them in
Song and Dance,
In honour of the
Red and White…
Bottle.
Discovery
A lot of you reading this are probably about to graduate. If not, read this again in a year or two (or three, or four). You have just spent approximately four years of your life at an institute of higher learning. You have probably taken some classes that you enjoyed, some that you didn’t, some that made you think, and hopefully some that equipped you with at least a couple of tools for making the world a better place, in whatever way you wish to do so. You have probably learned a great deal, whether it seems like it right now or not.
My War
I am at war. My body – my gendered body – is a battlefield. Territory that I fight for sovereignty of every day. My mind is often my only defense against the onslaught of advertisements, overheard conversations, gendered language, and looks and comments from men (and women) that all tell me, over and over, that my body is an object, and that I, as a woman, am little more than my body.
Sex, As Defined by Laurier = My Legs
The latest Blueprint Magazine issue is about Sex. I haven’t read the articles yet, but I’ve looked carefully at all of the images.
First of all, I’m in it. Well, my legs are. Unexpectedly. This photo is on the inside cover.
The photo was taken while still in costume after The Rocky Horror Picture Show on Hallowe’en, 2006.
