Carpool
The streets were eternal back thenback when back seat was a canopy of armsstretched out like the solsticethe thump of tire on chewed cementjolting the deviance from feeble bodiesMomma was no pilot, bu... Read more
Yusuf
trapped in a moving trainknee to knee with an archangel sun radiating off sandy complexionmanicured stubble lining jawline sharp and effortlesstaste of blood floods to my mouth Ya Khaaliq, You are the... Read more
Acknowledging the Land
Land acknowledgments are at risk of becoming quotidian; it’s now standard for Canadian litmags to include one on their inside cover. We wanted to be more intentional in our acknowledgment of the land by featuring a mural co-designed by Indigenous and Western artists. We wanted Indigenous youth to respond to the question: “how do you want settlers to acknowledge the land?” This mural was held on display at 220 King St West for a week, and now resides at the Pins and Needles Fabric Company on Fredrick Street. This collaboration is just the beginning: we will continue to stand in solidarity with Indigenous peoples on this land and internationally. While remaining open to critique so that we may continue to grow, we hope our mural provides a model for how truth and reconciliation can be realized through the arts. Read more
Moose
From the fourteenth floor, you can see how much has changed down at King and Victoria. The skyline is filled with condos. But also, along the plateau of the train tracks: a patch of hill, a shopping c... Read more
Culture
The first time I saw Apo Tudo, The Ilocano rain deity, I swear, he sent mist to that mountain Outside of Baguio Kissing the Filipino soil with sweet promises and tearful memories My grandmother share... Read more
Duality
“Where are you from?” Usually, people don’t believe that I’m Jamaican, on account of me not having an accent, not speaking patwa—and also not being Black. They don’t generally have a probl... Read more
Grieving a Stranger
My parents came to Canada as refugees in the late ’80s for better opportunities and to escape Ethiopia’s hellish dictatorship. Though I cannot know the extent of their struggles, I can speak of th... Read more
Remind Them
Colour: forever reside in my blood will keep me on holy ground colour that lived war inside of her. War: the goodbye kisses, tangible on cheek three years on nothing left to go back too. Hom... Read more
The Mosaic of Brokenness
(today) I cried, driving to the grocery store, for no reason, other than, I remembered (so when does it end?) When I am accomplished and successful, is that when I feel whole again? I desper... Read more
Treatment
It’s six am, I didn’t sleep, I got a dozen phone calls on my cell. She’s ready for treatment. “I’ll meet you at eight,” she said. So I made the phone calls. I fo... Read more
The Boat
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True Blue
Elvis isn’t dead. He lives in Kitchener, Ontario, on a bench outside the grocery store. “One for the money!” I’m always tempted to say, as I dump a pathetic amount of change into his blistery ... Read more
Sacred Spaces
When Indigenous youth began to hold space at O:se Kenhionhata:tie, we knew this was the beginning of a movement that was going to bring about change. We had become a ceremonial gathering space for Two Spirit and queer Indigenous youth and queer settler allies—a place for transformation. Many of the youth who were part of the camp had very little knowledge of their culture and came wanting to learn about their Indigeneity. Knowledge keeper Dr. Kathy Absolon led us one evening in a full moon ceremony and shared teachings about the moon and the water we all carry within us. In a circle we formed around our sacred fire, Dr. Absolon passed a feather to invite us all to share about ourselves. Many youth cried as they spoke—there were tears of happiness and sadness from a longing to reconnect to the land. For some, it was their first time sitting in ceremony. The camp became a refuge where the youth could be themselves, unapologetically Indigenous and/or queer, and free of judgement. The following is a collection of photos I shot at camp, along with words from land defenders who took up space with us. — Shawn Johnston Read more
The Tower
Looking down to the ground below, wind whips around my body. The gravity allures me, asking me to take the step forward, asking me to throw it all away. I am reassured; my heart gives way to apathy. T... Read more
Policing the Pandemic
When the first wave of COVID-19 in March 2020 set off emergency orders in Ontario, police departments were given increased powers to enforce public health measures that called for self-isolation and physical distancing. Neighbours were also encouraged to police each other through the use of “snitch-lines”, and an expanded state of surveillance was assumed as a new normal. This deepened pre-existing police presence and control in neighbourhoods where more poor, Black, Indigenous, and immigrant communities live. KW Article Club, a reading group and art collective based in Waterloo Region, informed by work from local and international Black activists and organizers, sought to address these structural inequities in March 2020 through a zine titled #PolicingThePandemic. The following feature is an adapted version of that zine that adds two pieces that delve into the impact policing has on Black people, making a case for why we continue to strive towards a future where we prioritize care instead of enforcement. Read more
This House
Listen to Yasmeen talk about working with Textile on the Watershed Writers Podcast. I am leaving this house, moving an hour away, trying to feel like I am worth a beginning,my mother tells me I am bre... Read more
I promise we did not gather
When this Eid hits, we know we will spend it alone and at home and it’s fine. My family is safe and together and I am grateful for so much. We make chai and have Eid cookies and there is warmth here... Read more
Grieving a Stranger (Digital Storytelling Workshop)
My parents came to Canada as refugees in the late ’80s for better opportunities and to escape Ethiopia’s dictatorship. Though I cannot know the extent of their struggles, I can speak of their consequences... Read more