Black Lives Matter Historically and Locally

The essence of the broader Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement stems from the enduring struggle the Black community in the United States faces in response to violent systematic racism. BLM as a social movement takes inspiration from the ideologies of queer and Black activists such as those in the Civil Rights movement and the Stonewall riots. The three essential women of colour organizers of the original Black Lives Matter movement were Alicia Garza, Patrisse Cullors, and Opal Tometi (Global BLM 2015). They organized in 2013 in response to the acquittal of Trayvon Martin’s murderer, George Zimmerman. Zimmerman fatally shot 17 year old Trayvon Martin while on neighborhood watch, after perceiving Trayvon as a threat despite evidence of him being unarmed and not threatening (Global BLM 2015). In the aftermath of the tragedy, George Zimmerman was acquitted for murder, sparking outrage against the state-permitted violence against people of colour. This devastating saga reignited the necessity of a movement that calls out the institutional racism and prejudiced police brutality Black folks experience. The continued deadly police brutality that took the lives of many, including: Tamir Rice, Tanisha Anderson, Mya Hall, Walter Scott, Sandra Bland and many other victims, encouraged the political intervention of BLM due to the systematic targeting (Global BLM 2015).

The movement grounds itself in queer of colour theory by centering conversations around the disproportionate violence that Black women and Black trans women experience. The militarized police response to the 2014 Ferguson protests, for the brutal murder of Mike Brown by police officer Darren Wilson, was a larger scale reiteration of the institutional violence to which Black communities are subject. The state-sanctioned use of tear gas and pepper spray against BLM organizers illuminates the ways in which the justice system violently treats people of colour. After this event, the organizers of BLM inspired activists to introduce chapter organizations in cities across America, and now the globe. The rising number of Black folks killed by police officers in the U.S. has, and continues to, stir communities to seek an end to state-sanctioned, racist violence. This has resulted in the proliferation of BLM chapters in most major cities across the U.S., as well as in Canada, Australia, Brazil, South Africa, the U.K. and many more (Christi, 2016). Black Lives Matter came to Vancouver in March of 2016 in order to draw attention to the violence endured by invisible Black communities in the Lower Mainland of British Columbia, as well as to organize in solidarity with other chapters across North America (Vancouver BLM, 2016). The reach of the BLM movement is unlimited and global, because it addresses the problem of systematic police brutality that is faced by people of colour everywhere. In this way, the non-local BLM movement inspired local activism and organizing, in support of a community otherwise rendered invisible and subject to state violence.

In discussing the history of Vancouver’s chapter of Black Lives Matter, it is vital to mention the significance of Hogan’s Alley. Hogan’s Alley, a neighbourhood bordering Vancouver’s Chinatown and Japantown, was destroyed in 1970 as per the construction of the Georgia Viaduct. Prior to its dismantling, this neighbourhood was home to many black families, businesses, and a church. In the context of the Black Lives Matter Vancouver chapter, the history of erasure and displacement of Black bodies in Vancouver cannot be ignored. The dispossession of the Black community living in Hogan’s Alley was just one step in this erasure, along with the erasure of Black citizenship from the public conscious. While it is by no means correct, there is often the assumption that very few black people live in Vancouver or the surrounding Lower Mainland. This ideology detaches the diverse experiences of Greater Vancouver’s black population, and further, overlooks the occurrence of anti-Black police brutality, and the larger anti-Black actions existing in Vancouver. While the elimination of Hogan’s Alley is a shameful part of our history, discourse in Vancouver must recognize the continued erasure, displacement and marginalization of Black people today.

Moreover, the Vancouver chapter of Black Lives Matter takes into consideration their presence on unceded, Indigenous territory. This recognizes that the displacement of people out of Hogan’s Alley is only one narrative of Canada’s larger history of displacement of Indigenous folks, as well as marginalization of minority/migrant communities. In its formation, Black Lives Matter Vancouver addressed the historical and present violence against Indigenous and Black, specifically queer and trans, bodies enacted by the police.

In addition to addressing the connections between Vancouver’s histories of systematically oppressing and erasing Black lives, it is also necessary make connections to other organizations (which do not necessarily have ties to Vancouver) that emphasize mobilizing and organizing Black feminist activisms, such as the Combahee River Collective. It is another group of Black feminists who have been working towards defining the group itself and their interaction with other organizations and movements. Black Lives Matter has commonalities with the Combahee River Collective—in committing to work against oppressions concerning race, gender, sexuality, class, and especially how they work together to affect marginalized groups. BLM Vancouver’s statement on their chapter website specifically state that they aim to “centre the voices of Black folks as well as other folks of colour and hope to lift up those who are queer, women, trans, differently abled, poor, or otherwise marginalized” (Vancouver BLM, 2016). It is pertinent to note that, though BLM has been critiqued for its emphasis on Black lives and has been retorted with “All Lives Matter”, their statement reflects how BLM has never been about valuing only Black Lives. Rather, it is a recognition of those who have been traditionally and systematically devalued, allowing the voices that have been silenced or ignored to be heard—especially those of Black lives because this organization is founded by Black feminists. This statement includes a variety of identities that address not only race, but gender, sexuality, class, able-bodiedness, and other marginalizations, because these are intersections that co-exist rather than categories to which an individual can only belong singularly. One can contend that “all lives matter,” but this is in fact not the case, as is reflected in legislations, statistics, and other experiences that may have gone undocumented. Through law humans may be formally recognized as equal, yet groups like BLM challenge the inequalities that do indeed occur. The Combahee River Collective ends their statement by saying that they “know that [they] have a very definite revolutionary task to perform and [they] are ready for the lifetime of work and struggle before [them]” (Combahee River Collective, 1982, 281). This illustrates how the political work done by activists is part of a larger, broader process. It is a journey, it takes time, and most of all, it takes work.

 

References:

Christi, Jeyolyn. “The International Reach of Black Lives Matter.” NAOC, 2016, natoassociation.ca/the-international-reach-of-black-lives-matter/.

global, BLM 2015. blacklivesmatter.com/about/herstory/.

Combahee River Collective. (1982). The Combahee River Collective statement. In Smith, Barbara (ed.), Home girls: a Black feminist anthology, pp. 264-274.

Vancouver, BLM. “About Us.” Black Lives Matter Vancouver, 15 July 2016, blacklivesmattervancouver.com/about-us/.

Land Acknowledgement

Dear Readers,

Welcome to our website!

If you are reading this in the United States or Canada, whose lands are you on, dear reader? What are the specific names of the Native nations(s) who have historical claim to the territory on which you currently read this article? What are their histories before European invasion? What are their historical and present acts of resistance to colonial occupation? If you are like most people in the United States and Canada, you cannot answer these questions. And this disturbs me

                     -Qwo-Li Driskill in “Doubleweaving Two-Spirit Critiques” (pg. 71).

 

Before proceeding further, we would like to acknowledge that the following blog posts are situated and in some way, articulated on the unceded Coast Salish territories of specifically xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), mi ce:p kwətxwiləm (Tsleil-Wauthuthand,) and Skwxwú7mesh Úxwumixw (Squamish) First Nations.

 

Indigenous Lands to what is now Western British Columbia and the Northwest Coast of the United States

As students working within a colonial institution, the University of British Columbia, we reap the benefits of occupation and citizenship within the settler nation of so-called Canada daily, on and off of campus. We recognize that in discussing queer politics, it is of vital importance to recognize the colonial impositions of gender and sexuality forced onto Indigenous nations, which are foundational to the national project of Canada as a country. Heteropatriarchy and heteronormativity are key elements of the production of citizen-subjects. Neoliberal homonormativity changes the terrain by offering citizenship to certain queer subjects, as the content of this blog will illustrate. Queer settler subjects can and do enact colonial violence through their investment in the nation, with or without intention.

With this in mind, we explore on this website how queerness intersects with race, gender, socioeconomic class, diaspora and migration, religion, nationalism, and of course, decolonization. Discussions around queer politics must be grounded in the recognition that our knowledge is inherently mediated by colonial methods of knowledge production in the form of universities, and other institutions.

Going forward, we wish to consider questions such as: Is it even possible to study queer theory while not studying colonialism too? How might we make sense of the fact that the “LGBT” acronym so commonly-used in Canada was not used by Indigenous peoples? Is it even possible for there to be a transnational “LGBT” movement if the acronym is conceptualized from the experiences of colonial countries, such as the United States and Canada? How might a two-spirit or Māhū person resonate with the “LGBT” acronym?  These inquiries bridge together the importance of decolonial practices that intersect and co-construct queer and trans of colour theorizing.  

In Doubleweaving Two-Spirit Critiques: Building Alliances between Native and Queer Studies  Qwo-Li Driskill writes, “Native studies positions itself as activist scholarship that centralizes the relationship between theory and practice.” (Driskill, 2010) This struck us as a particularly valuable sentiment, and one to bear in mind as you engage with the collection of insights on this website. While these scholarly considerations are valuable, they become so only when paired with and incorporated into our everyday political practices and endeavors. It can be illuminating and affirming to research and think through these concerns, but merely considering and disseminating them is not enough. We must act in accordance with these beliefs as well. With that in mind, we hope you enjoy these entries.

 

Works Cited:

Driskill, Q. (2010). Doubleweaving Two-Spirit critiques: building alliances between Native and queer studies. GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies, 16(1), 69-92. doi:10.1215/10642684-2009-013

Indigenous Lands. Adapted from Salishan Languages Map in Barbara Brotherton (ed), S’abadeb: The Gifts, Pacific Coast Salish Art and Artists. Seattle: Seattle Art Museum and University of Washington Press; 2008: xix. Retrieved from: http://www.burkemuseum.org/blog/curated/coast-salish-art  

Justice, D. H. (2010). Notes towards a theory of anomaly. GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies, 16(1-2): 207-242.

Black Lives Matter Vancouver March to Protest Police Participation in Pride 2017

Black Lives Matter Vancouver (BLMV) March, called March on Pride was about the protest of numerous issues that affected QTBIPOC. However, the opposition against uniformed police participating in the Vancouver Pride Parade was central to the march (The Georgia Straight, 2017 & The Vancouver Sun, 2017). Considering the troubled history with law enforcement and queer people of color, the organization used the parade to voice its concerns. These concerns consisted of intimidation, harassment and the enactment of violence by agents of the state, particularly towards Blacks and Aboriginals.

I submit that there is also a problematic history between QTBIPOC and the white LGBT community. Even though the BLM Vancouver stressed the significance of not having uniformed police in the Pride parade, the Vancouver Pride Society allowed it (The Vancouver Sun, 2017). This scenario calls into question which personhood is valued more, whose voices are worthy of being heard and which bodies can occupy the space of belonging. In addition, the protest addresses the matter of the spatialized zones of oppression and trauma and the role of the city’s culpability. Additionally, the group voices its objection of the LGBTQ consumption at the expense of the lives of some queer people of color by blocking corporate involvement (The Georgia Straight, 2017 & The Vancouver Sun, 2017).

The march was from Yaletown to the West End on June 25, 2017. The parade route is significant since it represents a space of marginalization and psychological trauma for QTBIPOC. This continues to occur because of the white gay middle class’ performance of homonormativity in order to “belong” through the modes of the family, the state and market sanctions (Agathangelou et al 2008). This agenda is still being accomplished through their privileged status in engaging the city’s authorities in removing “unworthy” bodies such as people of color who were destitute, trans and sex workers. Although these disenfranchised individuals consider this zone their home, the city’s authorities regarded them as a threat to the city’s investments (Paola et al 2015 & Agathangelou et al 2008). Taking into account that these factors are related to social justice, human rights and poverty, the participants assembled at Emery Barnes Park at Davie and Seymour streets, which was named after the first Black male MLA in B.C. These topics were also the focus of Barnes’ personal and professional career.

The parade expressed Barnes’ philosophy by including the themes of safety and the celebration of people of colour. Therefore, it was a proclamation that reframed the Vancouver Pride Parade by making it a more inclusive event for queer, two-spirit and trans people of colour. Bearing this in mind, the organization demonstrates that there was a clear connection between Blacks and Indigenous Peoples. This was illustrated by Kamloops-based two-spirit activist and Thompson Rivers University instructor Jeffrey McNeil from Tk’emlúps te Secwepemc Nation who spoke at the protest about the overrepresentation of black and indigenous communities in jails, child apprehension and abduction cases, and profiling and death (The Georgia Straight, 2017). McNeil reinforced the group’s ideology of deposing of corporate sponsorship. This is because the embracement of capitalism by the LGBTQ community has diluted the original intent of Pride in New York City’s Stonewall riots in 1969. BLM Vancouver reiterated McNeil’s comments that Pride was about queer people of colour fighting back against raids by the police (The Georgia Straight, 2017). These protests, which were viewed through the lens of racism, was a means of coercing queer of colour individuals to confirm to normativity. In the past normativity was achieved through raids, currently one of the main instrument is racial profiling. The leaders of BLM Vancouver demonstrates Paola et al’s (2015) theory of placemaking by the utilising the march as a medium to create a space for their voices. This tactic was also a survival strategy.

The leaders of the organization are Black feminists. As such, they are representatives of the feminist of colour theories of The Combahee River Collection (1982). One of the mandate of the Collection is the establishment of a domain of value for women of colour that takes into account their race, gender, sex, and class. This is accomplished through the mode of identity politics, which states, “personal is my political”.
The Black Lives Matter Vancouver march echoes the mantra of the Black Lives Matter Movement, which is also that of Martin Luther King Jr and Nelson Mandela, which is “no one is free until we are all free”.

Work Cited:
Aagathangelou, Anna, M. Bassicchis and Tamara L. Spira. (2008). Intimate investments: homonormativity, global lockdown and the seductions of empire. Radical History Review, 100:120-143

Combahee River Collective. (1982). The Combahee River Collective Statement. In Smith, Barbara (ed.), Home Girls: A Black Feminist Anthropology, pp. 264-274

Paola, Bacchetta, Fatima El-Tayeb and Jin Haritaworn. (2015). Queer of Colour Formations and Translocal Spaces in Europe. Environment and Planning D, 33(5): 769-778

The Georgia Straight. Black Lives Matter Vancouver march in West End to protest police participation in Pride 2017. Retrieved November 7, 2017 from
https://www.straight.com/life/929181/black-lives-matter-vancouver-march-west-end-protest-police-participation-pride-2017

The Vancouver Sun. Black Lives Matter holds alternate Pride march in Vancouver. Retrieved November 24, 2017 from http://vancouversun.com/news/local-news/black-lives-matter-holds-alternate-pride-march-in-vancouver

Love Intersections; Emergence through disidentification

Love Intersections describes itself as, “a blog and video project dedicated to exploring intersectionality through the lens and language of love. Calling you in instead of calling you out.”

Using multimedia including movies, poems, essays, and academic papers among other narrative forms Love Intersections shares stories with the intention’s of building communities across barriers. I was drawn in by the project of Love Intersections because my own personal activism is also motivated by a deep love. Centering connection and care in our relations is a radical stance in a world that seeks to divide and conquer through with what Agathangelou, Bassichis, and Spira (2008) call capitalism’s seductions of violence or, “the ways we become invested emotionally, libidinally, and erotically in global capitalism’s mirages of safety and inclusion (p. 122)”. Love Intersections inspires me to continue to enact my own activism from a place of love while keeping a critical eye on injustice.

I want to trace the conditions of emergence that formed Love Intersections and then speak to the ways the founders of the project, Jen Sung and David Ng, can be read as utilizing disidenfications towards the creation of Love Intersections. On the Love Intersections blog, Ng (2014) has a piece entitled “The VSB Gender Policy Debates: Discourses on Race and Solidarity” where he recounts the 2014 Vancouver School Board gender policy revisions and the subsequent disputes that arose. The updated policy required the inclusion of a single-stall, gender neutral bathroom in schools. The policy debates are also where Love Intersections as a project developed. In an interview for Talking Radical Radio (2015), Andy Holmes talks about the friction taking shape as “the polarization between the queer community, it seemed, and the other community, the opposition, the predominantly Asian, Christian moms (6:10).”

The two opposed factions of the debate were seemingly racially divided leaving Sung, Ng, and Holmes in the lurch. In Ng’s blog post he talks about the racialized cultures can be viewed as uncivilized when compared to the progressive West.”>culturalization of homophobia that was in part fostered by media representation. A queer ally even asked him “what is wrong with Chinese people that they are so ignorant?” I find Ng’s incisive critique of European colonization and its spread of Christianization to be especially salient here. The sedimented layers of colonialism and racialization that inform one another are obscured in the process of culturalizing homophobia. Ng asks “why is it that when white Christians are homophobic and transphobic, they are ‘homophobic and transphobic Christians’, …when Chinese Christians are homophobic and transphobic, they are ‘Ethnic Chinese’ Christians who are homophobic and transphobic?” We can see Ng’s commitment to intersectionality in his assertion of settler complicity even in the face of racialization. Racialized migrants in settler nation states like Canada are still settlers, and as long as they have an investment in the nation, whether through citizenship, rights and legal discourse, and/or economic interests they contribute to the ongoing dispossession of Indigenous people.

I posit that Sung and Ng utilized what Roderick Ferguson calls disidentifications towards both their predominantly white queer allies and the primarily Christian Chinese parents as well. For Ferguson (2004), to disidentify is to “use the code of the majority as raw material for representing a disempowered politics of positionality that has been rendered unthinkable by the dominant culture (p. 4).” By disidentifying with the largely white queer majority who in the heat of conflict espoused anti-Chinese racism and through citing their own selves as queer and Chinese, Sung, Ng, and Holmes dissolve the hermetic constructions of race and sexuality that were circulating in these debates. The assertion of queer and trans POC existence worked to unravel the myths of queer whiteness and Chinese heteronormativity while disidentifying with homophobia within the Chinese community. Ultimately, through utilizing QTBIPOC critique Sung and Ng were able to open up dialogues pertaining to racism in queer communities which they achieved through an attentiveness to love. Through attending to the deep love held by both groups of parents in these debates Sung and Ng created a space for discussion and collective growth which I think all folks doing social justice work can and should take to heart.

REFERENCES:

Agathangelou, Anna, M. Bassicchis and Tamara L. Spira. (2008). Intimate investments: homonormativity, global lockdown and the seductions of empire. Radical History Review100: 120-143.

Ferguson, Roderick. (2004). Introduction. In his Aberrations in Black: toward a queer of colour critique, pp. 1-20.

Neigh, Scott. (2015). Love Intersections: Storytelling, queerness, intersectionality, solidarity, and love. Rabble, February 4. http://rabble.ca/podcasts/shows/talking-radical-radio/2015/02/love-intersections-storytelling-queerness-intersectiona

Ng, David. (2014). The VSB Gender Policy Debates: Discourses on Race and Solidarity. Love Intersections, June 14. https://loveintersections.com/2014/06/11/the-vsb-gender-policy-debates-discourses-on-race-and-solidarity/

“Necessary and Visionary” – Queer People of Colour at the Vancouver Queer Film Festival (2017)

‘Diversity’ in media takes many forms, but a more visible effort at intersectionality (the idea that different oppressed social and group identities combine in important ways) has been made recently. When it comes to queer representation in film and television, the numbers can be discouraging; according to the GLAAD 2017 overview, there has been a notable drop in portrayals of queer people of colour in mainstream media.  This lack of representation is one of the ways that QPoC (Queer People of Colour) experience alienation; too often, QPoC feel the need to ‘choose’ between queerness and their ethnicity. Ferguson (2003) describes some of the intersecting identities of QPoC as being those of “racial difference … gender eccentricity… class marginality,” as well as noting the fact that “[e]ach estrangement [secures] another” (p. 1.)

The Vancouver Queer Film Festival (VQFF) started as a small event among friends in 1988, and since then has undergone growth and change in order to offer a more diverse selection of films. The organizers of the 29th Vancouver Queer Film Festival (2017) state one of their mandates as being the curation of films by and for QPoC, saying that “if ever there was a time to be together in love and resistance, it is now. It is dangerous to be a person of colour. It is dangerous to be queer. To be trans. To be poor. To be an immigrant. To be marginalized. It is dangerous because we are dangerous. Especially when we resist together” (p. 7.)

By acknowledging not only the current difficulties for people who fall under one or more marginalized identities, but also the fact that the stories of such people are often told by others, the Festival performs an important task. It creates a space specifically for queer writers and directors of colour; in an artistic medium that can seem dominated by those with privilege and power, “knowing that there is no one better equipped to tell our stories than ourselves” (p. 28) is more important now than ever. The 2017 VQFF lineup featured almost half of the films having been written and/or directed by queer people of colour. In 2018, its 30th anniversary, it is hopeful that the Festival continues to promote the voices of those that are silenced the most, even within the already marginalized queer community.

______________________________

Works cited:

Ferguson, R. A. (2003). Queer of Color Critique, Historical Materialism, and Canonical Sociology. Aberrations in black: toward a queer of color critique (pp. 1-29). Minneapolis:  University of Minnesota Press.

GLAAD. Overview of Findings. Retrieved from https://www.glaad.org/sri/2017/overview

Vancouver Queer Film Festival. (2017.) 29th Vancouver Queer Film Festival [Program]. Vancouver: Vancouver Queer Film Festival. Retrieved from http://queerfilmfestival.ca/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/VQFFGUIDE_2017_Digital.pdf

“The Sweet Science of Boxing” – BIPoC Boxing 101

Located in what is described as “as one of ‘Canada’s next great neighbourhoods,’ [in a] large multicultural middle-class-mix,” Fox and Unicorn Boxing gym offers a weekly BIPoC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Colour) beginners’ boxing class. The class seeks to take an intersectional approach; Fox & Unicorn specializes in a Queer Boxing Class, but the BIPoC Boxing 101 class is “designed as a space for racialized folks/people who don’t access whiteness to learn the sweet science of boxing.” In Vancouver, the number  of people with European origin is almost half of the city’s population; when it comes to LGBT+ spaces, however, people of colour are very often in the minority.

QPoC (Queer People of Colour) in Vancouver such as Mari Ramsawakh have experienced feelings of marginalization or ‘not fitting in’ while in queer spaces; or, indeed, that queerness itself is intrinsically tied to whiteness. Ramsawakh writes that “[the] culture, and the alternative culture that it seemed to be intrinsically intertwined with, was dominated by white figures,” a sentiment often echoed by other QPoC in majority white queer spaces. Bacchetta, El Tayeb and Haritaworn (2015) discuss both this outsider status, and the importance of spaces like the BIPoC Boxing 101 class: “[t]he experience of always being out of place – in nation, community, family, club or classroom – produces locally grounded space making as a necessary strategy of survival” (p. 773.)

BIPoC Boxing 101 provides a space structured to address the inaccessibility of boxing to many who are queer and/or BIPoC, in addition to providing the opportunity to learn self-defence – a skill which, for QPoC, is unfortunately becoming more and more important recently.  Aside from learning how to properly “throw a punch,” however, BIPoC Boxing 101 and spaces like it provide an opportunity for QPoC to exist in a space crafted to address some of their unique needs. Scholars such as Bacchetta, El-Tayeb, and Haritaworn; writers such as Ramsawakh; and the success of the BIPoC Boxing 101 class in Vancouver (now in its second year) prove the necessity of being mindful of who is and isn’t included in queer spaces.

________________________________

Works Cited

Bacchetta, P., El-Tayeb, F. & Haritaworn, J. (2015). Queer of colour formations and translocal spaces in Europe. Environment and Planning D: Society and Space Vol. 33(5) 769–778.

Faith Wilson Realty Group. (n.d.) Renfrew, Vancouver Eastside: Neighbourhood Profile. Retrieved from http://faithwilsongroup.com/neighbourhoods/renfrew/

Ramsawakh, M. (Sept. 5, 2017). Why LGBT spaces can be uncomfortable for queer people of colour. Xtra. Retrieved from https://www.dailyxtra.com/why-lgbt-spaces-can-be-uncomfortable-for-queer-people-of-colour-79014

Statistics Canada. 2017. Vancouver [Census metropolitan area], British Columbia and British Columbia [Province] (table). Census Profile. 2016 Census. Ottawa. Released October 25, 2017. Retrieved from http://www12.statcan.gc.ca/census-recensement/2016/dp-pd/prof/details/page.cfm?Lang=E&Geo1=CMACA&Code1=933&Geo2=PR&Code2=59&Data=Count&SearchText=Vancouver&SearchType=Begins&SearchPR=01&B1=Ethnic%20origin&TABID=1

 

Canada’s First LGBTQ2S Youth Homelessness Program: A Look at RainCity Housing

In January 2015, RainCity Housing in Vancouver B.C., opened Canada’s first shelter program aimed to support LGBTQ2S youth experiencing homelessness. While I agree with frustration surrounding the lack of resources for LGBTQ2S youth, in this entry I outline some of the positive steps taken by RainCity Housing. First, utilizing Housing First practices, the program recognizes that homelessness is not only an economic phenomenon, but is a social issue (Munro 2017, p.144). Following the Housing First framework, RainCity moves away from neoliberal frameworks of shelter programs by reducing the barriers LGBTQ2S youth face in accessing their services. For example, Munro et al. explain that the youth are not required to be substance free (2017, p.146), abstinent, on medication for mental-health diagnosis (2017, p.147) or working towards reunification with their families (Hyslop 2015). These tactics are seldomly used in shelter organizations, and are even more rare amongst work with youth (Munro 2017, p.148).

Secondly, while RainCity itself is not a queer oriented organization, the hiring tactics used by RainCity’s LGBTQ2S youth program is commendable. The staff for the LGBTQ2S youth services all identify as Indigenous, two-spirit, trans and/or queer (Munro 2017, p.149). Furthermore, in RainCity’s efforts at space making for LGBTQ2S youth, the presence of mutual support between staff and clients who have gone through similar experiences destabilizes power differentials within shelter services. Drawing on Bailey’s scholarship on space making by and for Black and Latina/o LGBT people in Detroit, the significance of space making processes by RainCity Housing is evident. Trans and queer youth often experience homelessness because living at home with their parents has become an unsafe or unavailable due to their identities (Abramovich 2017, p.4). One of the fundamental ways RainCity promotes safe space making is by fostering youth relationships with adults who have shared experiences with the youth. Though located in different cities, Bailey’s discourse on space making highlights that through the process of forging spaces of safety, in the Vancouver context, RainCity Housing does the groundwork for producing spaces that have not been accessible to these youth previously (Bailey 2013, p.491).

While there are many positives of RainCity’s work, this entry calls for a critical approach, arguing that RainCity’s practices are can be critiqued, and have room for improvement. The youth program is open to youth aged 18-24. The Vancouver Courier and Tyee articles highlight three youth stories. These youth tell narratives of leaving home or facing homelessness for the first time between the ages of 14-16. In a 2014 BC Homeless and Street-Involved Youth survey on Indigenous homeless youth in BC, most participants had first become homeless or street-involved around age 12 or 13 (Saewyc 2017, p.22). RainCity’s structural barrier of age restrictions goes against the framework of Housing First, and simultaneously against the practices of creating spaces of safety for queer and trans people. By narrowing the accessibility of the services to youth 18 years of age or older, younger youth, who are ultimately more vulnerable, are forced into unsafe conditions based solely on structural barriers. Drawing on Cohen’s (2012) articulation of the difference between structural transformation and structural assimilation (p. 21) can be helpful in unpacking RainCity’s age restriction. In enforcing age restrictions, RainCity is failing to be accountable to queer and trans youth’s needs, and subsequently the organization’s commitment to structural transformation is weakened. The reason behind such restrictions needs also to be addressed. RainCity Housing receives a larger portion of its funding from Vancouver Coastal Health and BC Housing, both of which receive government funding. The agenda and services of RainCity Housing are ultimately shaped by the politics of these organizations. While the reasons for age restrictions can only be inferred, I suggest that they are implemented due to the complexity of housing minors under 18. Housing minors and adults together would present possible legal issues, and the age restriction ensures that RainCity Housing prevents illegal interactions between minors and adults.

Statistics show that in the first year 50% of the youth using the programs services identified as Indigenous (Munro 2017, p.137). Yet, neither the website, nor the newspaper articles, nor the scholarly article by Munro et al., provide an intersectional approach that incorporates racialized youth, beyond those that identify as Indigenous. By not developing their mandate and services to address the vulnerability of racialized queer and trans youth, RainCity subsequently inhabits exclusions, whereby gender and sexual normativities result in certain queer and trans bodies being viewed as worth supporting, while others are made more precarious. As Bacchetta et al. explain, “racial and colonial violence is often legitimized in the name of protecting [LGBT] spaces from dangerous and degenerate hateful others” (770). In the case of RainCity racial and colonial violence takes the form of a lack of racial dialogue that addresses the specific needs of different communities.

Additionally, discourses that lack proper interaction with an intersectional analysis, leaving out the intersecting oppressions of race, gender and sexuality, can participate in problematic dialogues that label racialized subjects to be uniformly straight and cis (Bacchetta et al. 2015, p. 769). In order to address the needs of Canada’s queer and trans youth, the organization needs to participate in racial discourses within the larger queer and trans dialogue. This website entry argues for future research that examines the unique ways that racialized youth experience lack of support from their family based on their sexual or gender identity.

References:

Abramovich, A., & Shelton, J. (Eds.). (2017). Where Am I Going to Go? Intersectional Approaches to Ending LGBTQ2S Youth Homelessness in Canada & the U.S. Toronto: Canadian Observatory on Homelessness Press.

Bacchetta, P., El-Tayeb F., & Haritaworn, J. (2015). Queer of colour formations and translocal spaces in Europe. Environment and Planning D, 33(5): 769-778.

Bailey, Marlon. (2014). Engendering space: ballroom culture and the spatial practice of possibility in Detroit. Gender, Place and Culture,  21(4): 489-507.

Housing First – Principles into Practice. (n.d.). Retrieved November 03, 2017, from http://www.raincityhousing.org/hf-p-into-p/

Hyslop, K. (2015, June 24). A Foot in the Door: Homeless Youth in and out of the Closet. The Tyee. Retrieved November 03, 2017, from https://thetyee.ca/News/2015/06/24/Homeless-Youth/

LGBTQ2S* Youth Housing. (n.d.). Retrieved November 03, 2017, from http://www.raincityhousing.org/what-we-do/lgbtq2s-youth-housing/

LGBTQ2S* Youth Housing – more info. (n.d.). Retrieved November 03, 2017, from http://www.raincityhousing.org/lgbtq2s-youth-housing-more-info/

Munro, A., Reynolds, V., & Townsend, M. (2017). Youth Wisdom, Harm Reduction & Housing First: RainCity Housing’s Queer & Trans Youth Housing Project. In  A. Abramovich & J. Shelton (Eds.), Where am I going to go? Intersectional Approaches to Ending LGBTQ2S Youth Homelessness in Canada and the US (pp. 135-154). Toronto: Canadian Observatory on Homelessness. Retrieved November 03, 2017.

Rossi, C. (2015, July 14). RainCity housing youth program provides more than shelter. Vancouver Courier. Retrieved November 3, 2017, from http://www.vancourier.com/news/raincity-housing-youth-program-provides-more-than-shelter-1.2000462

Saewyc, E., Mounsey, B., Tourand, J., Brunanski, D., Kirk, D., McNeil-Seymour, J., Shaughnessy, K., Tsuruda, S., & Clark, N. (2017). Homeless & Street-Involved Indigenous LGBTQ2S Youth in British Columbia: Intersectionality, Challenges, Resilience & Cues for Action. In. A. Abramovich & J. Shelton (Eds.), Where am I going to go? Intersectional Approaches to Ending LGBTQ2S Youth Homelessness in Canada & the U.S. (pp. 13-40). Toronto: Canadian Observatory on Homelessness. Retrieved 6 Nov. 2017.

Wahab, A. (2016). Calling ‘Homophobia’ into Place (Jamaica). Interventions, 18(6), 908-928. doi:10.1080/1369801X.2015.1130641

Positive Living Society of BC

The Positive Living Society BC is a non-profit organization in Downtown Vancouver that provides services for people with HIV/AIDS. Its founding purpose is to “provide a forum for people living with HIV/AIDS to advocate for their rights and their health issues” (as stated on their website) (Positive Living BC 2017). The board consists of members only, meaning an individual with HIV/AIDS. This illustrates the importance of whose voices are involved: it is a space consisting of and providing services for people with HIV/AIDS. It is necessary to create a space for oneself and mobilizing because of shared identities and goals (Combahee River Collective 1982). Positive Living created the project History Alive, documenting the history of the organization since its inception in 1986 by founder Kevin Brown.

HIV/AIDS has been predominantly framed in media as an issue concerning specifically white gay men, though it affects a variety of people. In 2015, Women made up 24.1% of HIV cases. Most common exposure is men who have sex with men (45.1%), heterosexual contact (31.9%), and injection drug use (16.3%). Divided racially, white individuals made up the largest category (45.6%), then Black (18.7%), and Indigenous (17.5%) (Government of Canada). There is a lack of representation of queer, transgender, Black, and Indigenous people of colour (QTBIPOC) (despite making up a substantial amount of cases of HIV in Canada) in this framing, and even in the beginnings of the organization’s history. The History Alive section of the website refers to individuals affected by HIV as gay men in posts describing the earlier years of the organization, emphasizing who is represented in the struggle with HIV. Many of the photos also depict these men as either white or white-passing. Kevin Brown, Positive Living’s founder, became the face of the organization, further reproducing the image of the white gay male. We must think intersectionally and to include the voices of those who have been marginalized. The whiteness prevalent in the history of the struggle with HIV/AIDS evidences who is given more representation. Currently and historically, however, QTBIPOC have been and continue to be a significant part of the organization and of communities of people with HIV/AIDS. To give recognition, however, should not be confused with giving a voice. Giving recognition is listening to the voices that are already present yet have been ignored or repressed. Doing so recognizes the
agency
of those who have been marginalized. There is importance in naming and identifying oneself; “[n]aming is how [one] make[s] [one’s] presence known” (Anzaldua, 1994 p.164). The use of “person with HIV/AIDS” is part of that naming. In an interview with Kevin Brown, he states that this is preferred over using the term “HIV/AIDS victim” (Positive Living BC 2017). This naming reflects the agency of the organization’s members and the community that has been built. Those who have this commonality within Vancouver are able to connect with each other through Positive Living.

The timeline that documents the organization’s history on the Positive Living website shows videos of interviews with some members, which noticeably lack racial diversity. Due to the stigma that surrounds HIV/AIDS, this lack can be attributed to the fact that publicly sharing one’s status as a person with HIV/AIDS. We must understand the salience of survival. Not all members have the same privileges as others (which is why thinking intersectionally is crucial). Because one must be a member living with HIV/AIDS in order to join the organization, this puts individuals in a position of vulnerability and may choose not to make themselves so visible within the organization and rather, choose to be part of Positive Living (or rather publicly represented) without having to be so easily targeted in the public eye. In addition, some individuals may not be “out” (to use a Western concept) to all others in their lives and choose to keep that private. This is a method of survival that is necessary in order to navigate society while minimizing risk.

History Alive in its current state aims to display more of its diversity by incorporating more QTBIPOC members in interviews and photographs. This is the goal set for future posts (i.e. photos and videos) that will be available on the website in the near future, as confirmed by the project’s communications assistant. These interviews illustrate the individual stories of the members, placing faces and stories to each one. It is important to recognize the stories of the members that have not been heard or have been able to tell their stories in the past. Doing so adds to the process of creating a space – a QTBIPOC space. What makes a space QTBIPOC is not inherent nor is it within the location itself – rather, it is the individuals that make the space QTBIPOC.

 

Sources

Anzaldua, Gloria. (Originally 1991). To(o) queer the writer: loca, escritora y Chicana. In Keating, Ana Louise, The Gloria Anzaldua Reader, pp. 163-175.

Combahee River Collective. (1982). The Combahee River Collective statement. In Smith, Barbara (ed.), Home girls: a Black feminist anthology, pp. 264-274.

Positive Living BC. (2017). History. Retrieved from https://positivelivingbc.org/about/history/

Dancing to Eagle Spirit Society – a Vital Alternative to Settler Colonial ‘LGBTQ’ Spaces

“Our Elders tell us of people who were gifted among all beings because they carried two spirits—that of male and female” (dancingtoeaglespiritsociety.org, 2008). Within the span of queer and trans theorizing, the perspectives of people of colour are often times sidelined. Yet, within queer and trans of colour theorizing itself, Indigenous folks also experience being sidelined—mainly because the concept of Two-Spirit stands contrary to the idea of North America being ‘postcolonial.’ As a response to the intersection of Indigeneity and queer, Two-Spirit bodies employ agencies that have resulted in the formation of a variety of groups and organizations.

Because of the socio-economic predicaments and traumas the Two-Spirit community faces on a daily basis, such as the discrimination and criminalization of sex work, the Dancing to Eagle Spirit Society was created by founder Sandra Laframboise as a local resource group in Vancouver in the early 1990s. This was the time period where the term “Two-Spirit” began to be recognized by tribal nations across (so-called) North America, in accordance with the quote used above. It was a particularly troubling time in Vancouver, especially as Downtown Eastside’s public health epidemics reached crisis levels. Its key mission is “dedicated to the healing and empowerment of aboriginal and non-aboriginal two-spirit individuals, their friends, and their allies” (dancingtoeaglespiritsociety.org, 2008). The organization utilizes traditional Indigenous lessons and rituals as a means to cultivate an emotional and spiritual wellbeing for its members. Some of these traditions include: sweat lodge ceremonies, monthly smudging circles with other groups, annual “vision quests/spiritual fasts,” as well as the Eagle’s Nest Market, where Indigenous folks can sell regalia, art, and medicines.

Groups like the Dancing to Eagle Spirit Society exist, in part, as an ongoing reworking of both the cis/heteronormative leadership of Indigenous rights groups and the homonormative/settler colonial leadership of LGBTQ rights groups. Two-Spirit scholar Qwo-Li Driskill, as well as other Indigenous scholars, emphasize that Two-Spirit narratives pose as alternatives to the systems of heteropatriarchy and heteronormativity into which mainstream LGBTQ groups seek assimilation (Driskill et. al, 2011, 33). These systems have historically been utilized to oppress and eradicate non-normative sexual and gender identities, throughout the span of the settler colonial project. Settler colonialism necessitates the disappearance of Indigenous bodies to pave the way for land to be to “inherited,” and bodies that are queered via the Eurocentric gaze demand that disappearance even more so (Driskill et. al, 2011, 36).

Reconciling these oppressions synthesizes into ways that traditional storytelling and rituals, along with the dimensions of the Two-Spirit subject itself, can produce novel ways of imagining identity and belonging, as well as organizing as a whole. Often times religions or spiritualities are demonized by LGBTQ groups because of the traditions they made pertain towards queer and trans bodies, but the Dancing to Eagle Spirit Society shows that not all belief systems function that way.

dancingtoeaglespiritsociety.org. (2008). Retrieved November 08, 2017

Driskill, Q., et. al (2011). Queer indigenous studies critical interventions in theory, politics, and literature. Tucson: University of Arizona Press.

Place-making of QTBIPOC at VanCAF 2017 and Beyond

The Vancouver Comic Arts Festival (better known as VanCAF) was launched in 2012, as a two-day celebration centered on comics and the illustrative / visual and literary arts more broadly (Demonakos, 2016). While VanCAF does not specifically focus on QTBIPOC issues and activism, the space itself has been made a
translocal
and transnational space through artistic disidentifactory practices that rewrite common narratives of comic storytelling and the mainstream comic art environment. As described by Bachetta et al. (2015), placemaking is the actual reconceptualization and materialized production of space for QTBIPOC and by QTBIPOC subjects (p. 775). By highlighting the interconnections between the emergence of imagined worlds, material spaces and cyber spaces, the placemaking of QTBIPOC at VanCAF shows the importance of difference and moves us beyond Vancouver (Bachetta et al., 2015, p. 773). While the festival takes place in Vancouver, the festival ultimately brings together indigenous artists as well as settlers of colour from various diasporic communities across spaces, exceeding the limited notion of the ‘local’ as removed from globality.

One of the workshops featured at VanCAF 2017 was “Queer Witches of Colour: How Fantasy Can Empower Us All.” Panelists included Joamette Gil, Der-Shing Helmer, Judy Jong, Jayd Aid-Kaci and Jade Feng Lee—all of whom have explored the possibilities of reimagining fantasy in their work despite and as a result of the genre’s Eurocentric reputation (Young, 2015, p. 1). The event’s description states: “[f]antasy is a genre that lets us escape into worlds of magic and supernatural possibility” (Hamada, 2017). Disidentification from the norms of fantasy storytelling (e.g. centering of whiteness and cisheteronormativity) is ultimately descriptive of the survival practices that are taken up in navigating the constraints presented by dominant interrelated systems of oppression (Munoz, 1999, p. 4). As pointed out by scholar Helen Young, the racial, as well as sexual and gendered discourses that circulate in fantasy works often invisibilize whiteness as a racial position, as it is constructed as the default or norm (2015, p. 1). Through queering, the escapist tendencies of fantasy are used as a means of imagining alternate spaces, futures and ways of being in the world for QTBIPOC as a site of ‘re-humanization’ including through realms of the non-human or less-than-human.

Cover of Eidoughlons, featuring an East Asian (Chinese) dumplingmancer, smiling at the new dumpling friend they have made.

Debuting at VanCAF 2017, Feng Lee’s zine Eidoughlons: A Field Guide for the Aspiring Dumplingmancer catalogues various types of dumplings, simultaneously disidentifying with quest fantasy or heroic fantasy and ethnic storytelling (i.e. the centering of food and mythologies in storytelling) by the joining of the two into one form. Eidoughlons highlights the significance of the intergenerational transmission of knowledge in a fantastical manner, imagining other ways of being in the world and presenting alternate spaces for processes of identity recovery for QTBIPOC that do not necessitate rejecting our families and cultural backgrounds.

Cover of Power & Magic, featuring art by Ashe Samuels. Three brown and black witches surround what appears to be a cauldron or vessel of some sort.

The creation of cyberspaces by and for artists of colour—particularly QTBIPOC—have created spaces for collaboration and community-building. In an interview, editor, artist, owner of Power & Magic Press—a QPOC-operated publishing house—Joamette Gill (one of the panelists) points to the formation of online groups for women and non-binary people of colour to collaborate that led to the production of Power and Magic (Moondaughter, 2016). The formation of cyber spaces invokes the queering of space by and for QTBIPOC, particularly through the navigation between queer and trans of colour imaginaries, cyberspaces and lived reality. The retooling of space across different mediums—cyber, fantastical and material spaces—as the non-human and more-than-human (both tending to be racialized sites) are invoked as routes of rehumanization.

The presence, projects and work of QTBIPOC that has emphasized placemaking that moves beyond hegemonically defined notions of space, as the place of QTBIPOC at VanCAF 2017 is entangled in a broader web of diasporic and colonial formations that operate across a multitude of spaces.

References:

Demonakos, A. (2016, November 1). VanCAF returns with a new festival director and advisory board. Vancouver Comic Arts Festival. Retrieved from http://www.vancaf.com/2016/11/01/vancaf-returns-with-a-new-festival-director-and-advisory-board/

Hamada, J. (2017, May 11). Vancouver comic arts festival 2017. BOOOOOOOM. Retrieved from https://www.booooooom.com/2017/05/11/vancouver-comic-arts-festival-2017/

Bacchetta, P., El-Tayeb, F., & Haritaworn, J. (2015). Queer of colour formations and translocal spaces in Europe. Environment and Planning D, 33(5), 769-778.

Munoz, J. E. (1999). Performing disidentifications. In Disidentifications, 1-34.

Moondaughter, W. (2016, February 1). Creating queer and POC-centric comics: Joamette Gil. Sequential Tart. Retrieved from http://www.sequentialtart.com/article.php?id=2877

Young, H. (2016). Race and popular fantasy literature: Habits of whiteness. New York: Routledge.

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