I don’t get manliness. While I respect it in all of its forms there are things that confuse me. Case in point: the Garlow Hot Wing Debacle of 2011. My
For the first time in twenty years, this fall I went back to the school where I was bullied. As soon as I stepped into the front foyer, traumatic memory
Like many other families on the rez, a lot of my relatives live on a family plot that has been with us for generations. Ours is at the top of
It was a cold and peaceful morning. My alarm went off and gently beckoned me, ‘Rise and shine sweetheart! It’s 7am! Time to get up, turn on the morning news
When I was in high school I became friends with this Iranian kid named Pej. He was first generation Canadian. His parents fled Iran because of religious persecution and somehow they ended up in Brantford. I was the first real native person he’d ever met from Six Nations.
What was probably the most disturbing though was the costume offerings for women. Scantily clad white women in faux leather miniskirts and bouffant hairstyles beckoning you in to touch their exposed skin with titles like ‘Reservation Royalty’ and ‘Huron Honey’. Even worse was the costume entitled ‘Wild Frontier’, worn by an alluring white girl donning a come hither stare – cementing the ever-racist “dark and forbidden” sexual fantasy – that women of indigenous heritage are here for the consumption and satisfaction of everyone’s sexual appetites. Barf.