The Right Wing Troll Pocket Guide

Otherwise known as bigoted shortcuts to perceived success in online social justice discussions. The cornerstone of every red blooded, Trump supporting, God fearing, gun loving, straight as they come, white American male. Feeling uncharacteristically generous today, I thought I would offer my secret until now, 11 proven tips guaranteed to leave those Social Justice Warrior types scratching their patchouli scented heads, wishing someone gave them a trigger warning. But seriously, here is your su

Dispatches From 16

The exact location is the south east corner of Dundonald at Yonge, one street north of Wellsley. A flat, two story building, today it is the central storage office for a home gym equipment company. In 1984, it was anything but. From my vantage point on the bench across the street, I have a straight on view of the double, saloon style doors that lead to the second floor. The steep stairwell, covered in a thick black velvet is obscured until someone either enters or leaves. No sign, no logo, just

You Ask Why It Is I Write

It is to capture what is behind the fear of a silence no one dare break. It is to lie awake at 3am aching for a way that might show you why it is someone  cries when all others laugh. It is to construct this sentence and revise it  with that sentence. To remove this word  and find the better word. To find that one  perfect word even though I am aware there  will never be just one perfect word. To write  the book that has never been written even  though it will be a book that will like

The Space Between Brown And Gray

It is snowing softly when  I drop you off a bit past 5 am.  You offer coffee, not persisting  when I decline. Neither of us  warns against it, so I am back on the road. My silent awareness  of being ill prepared to balance  slivers of dark and dawn proves  accurate, when in a flash,  she appears. Eyes close, bracing for an impact  that is not to occur. Her massive chest heaving faster than my count, its hair thick and  coarse, somewhere between brown  and gray I think, for no appa

On James Baldwin And Letting Go Of Whiteness

Today, he would tell you that ones perspective and context change everything. Sure, he had been a minority before. In female and straight circles where he had been the only man, the only gay person. In North America, if you are a minority at a movie theater in Inglewood, you still have the unspoken yet all too real real privilege that accrues to those our culture deems white. That designation comes rich with cultural, societal, and political capital. Today, after developing a few sustained and


I t is 3:10 pm and, in a sixth grade gym class somewhere in the city, the boy whose name will one day grace the walls of the MoMA fails to catch the ball. “Connect with it this time or you’re fucking toast, faggot,” whispers Darrel Darcy. And for the third time that day, Conner misses the serve. Chasing after the volleyball he didn’t connect with, he falls face first onto the gym floor. Collective giggles reverberate throughout the gym as blood drips from the boy’s chin onto the cold, wooden


Walking north on Yonge St. a little after 8 pm, I’m guessing my mood showed. Late, stressed over being back in the grind after time away, a considerable unease over family health concerns, and dealing with what had to be the most vapid person to ever stand behind the counter at the local Wendy’s, were not, I imagine, things that would render me approachable. For reasons that would soon become apparent, they obviously weren’t things that would sway the young girl approaching from my right. “Do


This article is based on personal journal entries kept at the time. While at times graphic and disturbing, these events are extremely relevant in a contextual understanding of the subjugation of women and their resultant lack human rights in a strict and oppressive, fundamentalist regime. In the spring of 2005, working with a medical NGO, I and five colleagues (two critical care flight paramedics, a registered nurse, a primary care nurse practitioner, and a physician board certified in HIV medi


I n the field of education, those of us tasked with imparting knowledge are frequently searching for our pedagogical catharsis; the all too rare moments which validate and affirm our chosen vocation. The times when, through some random set of circumstance, all required conditions have come into perfect alignment and the potential is not simply knowledge attainment, but transformation. The power in that is legend. And to those with a vested interest in maintaining the status quo, it’s dangerous.