On Dec. 12, members of the Glendon community gathered at the Manor for a Community Book Launch Celebration recognizing faculty who published books or manuscripts between 2023 and the end of 2025. The event brought together faculty, staff and guests to celebrate the breadth, depth and interdisciplinarity of scholarly and creative work produced at Glendon. The evening offered an opportunity for colleagues to connect, explore newly published works and reflect on the collective intellectual life of the campus. Publications on display spanned a wide range of fields, including translation studies, literature, history, political science, environmental humanities, psychology, migration studies, applied linguistics and creative writing.

Among the works showcased was Digital Research Methods for Translation Studies (2024) by Julie McDonough Dolmaya, which examines innovative methodological approaches in translation research. Myra Bloom was recognized for Shelter in Text (2025), a literary work that reflects Glendon’s strong tradition of creative and scholarly writing. Several publications explored historical inquiry and political culture. These included Remembering, Replaying, and Rereading Henry VIII: The Courtier's Henry (2025) by Igor Djordjevic and Political Culture in Louis XIV's Canada: Majesty, Ritual, and Rhetoric (2025) by Colin Coates, both of which revisit power, representation and memory in historical contexts. Themes of migration, identity and social justice were also prominently featured. Lyse Hébert presented two works: TRICK NOT TELOS (2023) and La migration forcée au Canada (2025), while Jean Michel Montsion showcased International Students from Asia in Canadian Universities: Institutional Challenges at the Intersection of Internationalization, Inclusion and Racialization (2024), which examines equity and inclusion within Canadian higher education.

Environmental and feminist perspectives were highlighted through Beyond Human: Decentring the Anthropocene in Spanish Ecocriticism (2023) by Shanna Lino and Countercurrents: Women’s Movements in Postwar Montreal (2023) by Amanda Ricci, both contributing to critical conversations in their respective fields.

Creative and interdisciplinary scholarship was further represented by The Faraway Mountains (2023), a novel by Radu Guiasu, alongside A Good Day (2024), a collection of short stories by the same author. Elaine Coburn was recognized for The Emma LaRocque Reader: On Being Human (2025), an edited volume centring Indigenous thought, ethics and scholarship. The celebration also highlighted work in psychology and law, including Handbook of Psychological Injury and Law (2025) by Gerald Young, as well as literary studies and cultural criticism through Toronto jamais bleue (2024) and Les littératures trash du Québec (2025) by Marie-Hélène LaRochelle.

Collaborative and international research was represented by UEMS (Brazil) – Glendon-żě˛ĄĘÓƵ (Canada): Experiences in Applied Linguistics (2025), authored by Marlon Valencia, Ian Martin and Brian Morgan, reflecting Glendon’s commitment to global academic partnerships.

The Community Book Launch Celebration underscored Glendon’s vibrant research culture and its dedication to excellence in both scholarship and creative practice. Organizers thanked all those who attended and congratulated the authors whose work was showcased for their meaningful contributions to academic knowledge and public dialogue.

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this convivial evening, and congratulations once again to our authors for their inspiring contributions to scholarship, creativity, and community.

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Glendon College proudly congratulates Professor Colin Coates on receiving the Prix de l’AssemblĂ©e nationale du QuĂ©bec for Best Book in Political History for his groundbreaking work, Political Culture in Louis XIV’s Canada: Majesty, Ritual, and Rhetoric (McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2024).

Awarded by the Institut d’histoire de l’AmĂ©rique française, this distinction recognizes Professor Coates’s innovative contribution to understanding the political life of New France under the reign of Louis XIV.

In Political Culture in Louis XIV’s Canada, Coates explores how the French monarchy sought to establish and legitimize its authority in New France—despite the colony’s distance from Europe and its location on Indigenous territory. Drawing on an impressive range of sources, including architecture, art, currency, maps, and ritual performances, Coates shows how French royal power was reimagined and adapted in a colonial context.

The recognition highlights how Political Culture in Louis XIV’s Canada moves beyond traditional political, social, and diplomatic analyses to illuminate the ways in which colonial subjects in the St. Lawrence Valley recognized and enacted royal authority through ceremony, representation, and expressions of loyalty to the monarchy. The book was also commended for its major contribution to the political history of New France, its innovative approach, the depth of its research, and the sophistication of its argumentation.

By tracing the emergence of a distinct colonial political culture, Coates illuminates how the pomp and politics of Louis XIV’s court travelled across the Atlantic—and how encounters with Indigenous nations shaped French understandings of sovereignty and governance in North America.

Glendon College extends its warmest congratulations to Professor Coates on this outstanding achievement.

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For example:

• Presentation
• Posters
• Infographics

Presentations should not exceed 10 minutes.

Submission requirements:

• Research projects can be individual or group submissions.
• Research projects must be compliant with żě˛ĄĘÓƵ Office of Research Ethics.
• Students must provide the name of the course director who taught the credited course offered at Glendon. The professor who supervised the research project will be contacted by the research office to certify the legitimacy of your project.
• Students must present research projects that have been evaluated in a credited course offered at Glendon Campus between September 2022 and April 2024.

We encourage students to showcase their research work in line with the University’s research area of strength, which is reflected by six intersecting areas of research strength:

1. Advancing Fundamental Discovery and Theoretical Research and Scholarship.
2. Illuminating Cultures and Cultivating Creativity
3. Building Healthy Lives, Communities and Reimagining Futures
4. Reaching New Horizons in Science, Technology and Society
5. Pursuing Justice, Equity and Sustainability: From Urban Dynamics to global Challenges
6. Elevation Entrepreneurship Through Socially Responsible Innovation

Learn more about the Strategic Research Plan 2023-2028.
If you have any questions or concerns, please email research@glendon.yorku.ca.

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Radio-Canada has also learned those departments' use of the tools did not undergo a privacy impact assessment as required by federal government directive. 

The tools in question can be used to recover and analyze data found on computers, tablets and mobile phones, including information that has been encrypted and password-protected. 

This can include text messages, contacts, photos, and travel history. 

It's a bit ridiculous, but also dangerous.

-Evan Light, żě˛ĄĘÓƵĚý

Certain software can also be used to access a user's cloud-based data, reveal their internet search history, deleted content, and social media activity. 

Radio-Canada has learned other departments have obtained some of these tools in the past, but say they no longer use them.Ěý

Evan Light, associate professor of communications at żě˛ĄĘÓƵ's Glendon campus in Toronto and an expert in privacy and surveillance technology, said he's shocked by the widespread use of such software within the federal government.

"It's worrisome and dangerous," said Light, who filed the original access to information request to find out more about how police agencies in Canada are using the technology.

"I thought I would just find the usual suspects using these devices, like police, whether it's the RCMP or [Canada Border Services Agency]. But it's being used by a bunch of bizarre departments," he said.

According to the documents Light shared with Radio-Canada, Shared Services Canada purchased the equipment and software for the end users from suppliers Cellebrite, Magnet Forensics and Grayshift. (The latter two companies merged earlier this year).

The companies say they have developed strict controls to ensure that their technologies are used in accordance with the law, according to their websites.

After publication of this story, Cellebrite said in an email that its "technologies are not used to intercept communication or gather intelligence in real time. Rather, our tools are forensic in nature and are used to access private data only in accordance with legal due process or with appropriate consent to aid investigations legally after an event has occurred.   The person/suspect does know our technology is obtaining data through court/judicial permission through a search warrant or consent by the individual."

Read the full article .

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Sonya is a fourth-year student in the Honours Trilingual iBSc in Biology at Glendon, but also a disabled and mature student. She is a second-generation Italian-Canadian, a musician, an athlete, a hopeful activist, and an incredibly curious individual, who keeps herself occupied with a wide variety of interests. After graduating from her specialist arts high school in 2017, she took a three-year break to determine what field she would pursue, using that opportunity to work and save money. Her return to education came at a rather unique time, in the fall of 2020, where pandemic restrictions made living off-campus and pursuing a degree online a rather isolating experience. And also a time during which she was diagnosed late and introduced to the neurodivergent community, while struggling with mental health issues.

While she was incredibly anxious to start studying, she found tools and strategies to better succeed in her academic career and having taken the time to be able to address and understand these aspects of herself before undertaking something so demanding as full-time studies, she found her academic performance to be better than it had been in years, fueling her drive to keep learning.

Since starting at Glendon, she has taken every opportunity presented to broaden her horizons, including playing for a competitive inter-collegiate sports club, taking courses with a wide variety of subject matter, internships, hands-on field courses, going on exchange to Nice, France, and studying a course abroad in Taxco, Mexico.

Sonya believes that at the root of this desire to learn more and do more is to better understand our world and the people in it, resulting in tangible changes both on a micro- and macro- scale. She volunteers with the paramedics in her region as part of a pilot project for CPR and AED response prior to paramedic arrival, as she is committed to community care and contributing to positive change around her.

These varied experiences are fundamental to who Sonya is as an individual and, regardless of where she ends up in her academic and professional life, she brings a desire to relate and develop change through others’ growth as well as her own, striving for success in all she does.

While she is not yet certain of what graduate studies she will be pursuing upon graduation, she is certain that her love for science, nature, people and intersectionality will be at the forefront of what she pursues. Whether through the lens of ecology and climate justice by means of decolonization, accessible healthcare for BIPOC, disabled and other marginalized communities, or education through accessible language, she is committed to striving for better in all aspects of her life, and the lives of others.

The post Meet Sonya Morson, Glendon Academic Excellence Scholarship recipient appeared first on Glendon Campus.

This $700 recognises a student with an outstanding, investigative academic essay or digital project which focuses on the theme(s) of inequality, racism, social activism, LGBTQ activism, climate crisis, indigeneity, or global capitalism. Professor Dr. Jack CĂ©cillon nominated Zipporah Davis paper “” which she submitted as part of his course “HIST 4215 3.0 Bottles, Borders and Bootleggers: The Origins, Evolution and Revival of Ontario’s Wineries.” 

Zipporah Davis is a recent graduate from Glendon College who holds a degree in political science with a minor in history. Her university journey was driven by her deep passion for understanding the Canadian legal system and how laws affect various underserved communities.Ěý She has participated in multiple moot competitions and attended her first Model UN conference in 2020 at McGill where she and her partner were awarded for an excellent strategy paper. Outside of the classroom, Zipporah stayed active and coordinated several projects with the Lions Cup Moot, Glendon Student Life, York International, and 1919 Magazine. Currently, she is a Creative Fellow for INKspire where she will explore the speculative side of her writing.Ěý

Having always been interested in BIPOC-led economic initiatives, and understanding how societal disparities often exclude or even discourage us from pursuing such endeavors, were the inspiration for Zipporah to write the award-winning essay.Ěý

 "The Nk’Mip Winery: From Victims of Colonization to Entrepreneurial Powerhouse" delves into the history and economic triumph of the Okanagan people residing in British Columbia. Despite the devasting impact of colonialism, the Okanagan's cultural emphasis on adaptation gave them the leverage to initiate over a dozen entrepreneurial projects--one of them being Canada's only Indigenous-owned winery. This allowed them to effectually become the "Entrepreneurial Powerhouse" we know today. 

“Learning about the success of Nk'Mip gave me newfound hope while also providing an opportunity to expand my understanding surrounding the history of one of Canada's many Aboriginal peoples.”

Zipporah Davis

Upon receiving the news of her nomination, Zipporah expressed her gratitude and stated: 

 Thank you so much for the honours of being the 2023 recipient of the Michael Drache Essay Prize. Your recognition of my work means a lot to me. Glendon has fostered a great deal of intellectual growth and helped me explore my academic potential. My deepest appreciation to you, Professor Jack Cecillon, for believing in my capabilities and introducing me to the rich history of Ontario viticulture.

Zipporah Davis

Zipporah's success is a great encouragement for the Glendon community to continue its quest for academic excellence and to nurture the talents of the next generation of researchers. Congratulations to Zipporah on this well-deserved recognition and on her future legal studies ! 

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żě˛ĄĘÓƵ will lead a new initiative that aims to increase understanding of the impacts of populism on Canadian politics.

Launched Sept. 27 at York’s Glendon Campus, the Observatory of Populism in Canada is a first-of-its-kind research endeavour that will work to generate, support and highlight empirical and theoretical research on populism’s role in Canadian society.

The Observatory is led by Emily Laxer (associate professor of sociology at Glendon and ) in collaboration with RĂ©mi Vivès(assistant professor of economics at Glendon) and Efe Peker (assistant professor of sociology and political science at the University of Ottawa), and supports the University’s priority to advance research on compelling developments of our time.

“There is a great deal of confusion and debate about what populism means, how it manifests and what its impacts are,” says Laxer. “The Observatory’s overarching objective is to bring clarity and specificity to the conversation about populism in Canada through robust social scientific research, for the benefit of researchers, the media and the interested public.”

Populism, which researchers say is globally on the rise, is the notion that society can be divided into two conflicting groups: the pure “people”; and the corrupt “elite,” who are thought to undermine the general will. Data from Google Trends published in an Observatory brief shows that searches of “populism in Canada” have increased dramatically in number since 2016 – the year that saw Britain exit the European Union (“Brexit”) and the U.S. election of Donald Trump. The highest peaks in interest were recorded in 2018, the year the People’s Party of Canada was founded, and 2022, during the “Freedom Convoy.”

And, despite a growing interest, Laxer says there remains a lack of clarity about what populism means, and about the distinct, context-dependent ways that it manifests in Canada.

“The Observatory of Populism in Canada aims to address this by promoting and generating original research that elucidates the manifold dimensions of populism in Canadian political life,” she says.

The demand for research on the topic is urgent; until recently, a widespread narrative of Canadian “exceptionalism” held that Canada had not seen the rise in populist parties and movements witnessed elsewhere in the world. This, says Laxer, downplays the multiple, ideologically and regionally diverse expressions of populism in Canadian history and precludes a clear understanding of populism’s role in Canada today.

The Observatory grew out of, and is partially funded by, the York Research Chair in Populism, Rights and Legality, held by Laxer. One of its collaborators, Vivès, is working with the Observatory to develop a large-scale database that will enable the use of advanced quantitative analysis techniques to study manifestations of, and support for, populist framing on social media in Canada.

The Observatory team also includes a number of researchers – among them several York graduate and undergraduate students who are pursuing independent research related to the theme of populism, in both Canada and elsewhere.

The Observatory is a public-facing, collaborative endeavour. Further information, including research findings, can be found at yorku.ca/research/robarts/observatory-populism. Members of the York community are encouraged to send any inquiries to observatory.populism@yorku.ca. 

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Jan Mendes is an Assistant Professor of gender and sexuality studies with the Department of Sociology at the University of Amsterdam. Mendes holds a PhD in Social and Political Thought from żě˛ĄĘÓƵ, Canada (2019). From 2019 - 2022 Mendes was a postdoctoral fellow in studies of gender and race with the Centre for Gender Studies at the University of Stavanger, Norway and the 2020-2021 visiting scholar with the Amsterdam Research Centre for Gender and Sexuality at the University of Amsterdam. Previously Mendes has held visiting scholar positions at Uppsala University’s Centre for Multidisciplinary Studies on Racism (2018) and with Stockholm University’s Department of Culture and Aesthetics (2017). Ěý
 Ěý
Mendes is a Black Studies and Media Studies scholar whose research interrogates how affects are machinated against Black and Black Muslim bodies and desires within Northern welfare nations. Invoking frames of analyses from Black political theory, Black visual culture, feminist theory, and Islamophobia studies, Mendes’ past and present work examines themes such as, Black mournability and human exile; the Black womb and reproduction; pedagogies of assimilation and humiliation; as well as the possibilities of willfulness and witnessing found through media and AfroDiasporic visual and performance art. Mendes co-founded and co-hosts the monthly, cross-national reading group “Readings in Critical Race Theory and Gender Studies” which explores themes from visual culture, queer and trans theories, and Black feminist theory. Mendes is also the founder of the international collective “Black Feminist Fridays: Nordic and Beyond” (BFF) which invites junior scholars, grad students, artists, activists, and community members to a dynamic bi-weekly discussion on the Black quotidian. Along with two members of BFF, Mendes is co-guest editor of the lambda nordica special issue entitled, “Troubling Racism: Subversive bodies, Subversive desires” (2024). Mendes’ publications can be found in Souls, Hypatia, the Palgrave MacMillan Handbook on Trans and Queer Performance, Periskop, the European Journal of Women’s Studies, and Ethnic and Racial Studies, among others. Ěý

In your 2022 feature presentation with żě˛ĄĘÓƵ, "Ways of Witnessing Black Motherhood," you described how Black suffering and, in its most extreme, Black death, taints the white public imaginary more than it threatens Northern Europe's non-discriminatory reputation. Having researched in Sweden, the Netherlands and Norway, what were the challenges you faced as a Black woman living in an environment where far-right movements grow ever stronger, denying Black humanity and promoting indifference to anti-Black violence?  

Thank you for the question. First, I need to begin with a slight correction on the question’s formulation of my analysis. I do not argue that Black death “taints” the white imaginary but rather, I contend that the national imaginary that affectively binds together the white citizenry of the white-dominated Canadian and Swedish nation is familiar with Black death and thus often unperturbed by Black suffering. In other words, because it is to Blackness that suffering is understood to normatively belong, suffering is at home in the Black body. Here I am in direct conversation with Black feminist and Black political theorists who have come before me and remain instrumental to my thinking (e.g. Christina Sharpe, Claudia Rankine, Calvin Warren). My recent research, conducted throughout my postdoctoral fellowship in Gender Studies in Norway, has most closely focused on the suffering and mortal threat posed to the reproducing Black body and to Black maternal subjects—which is what I explored through my presentation at the 2022 Annual Lecture for the School of Gender, Sexuality, and Women’s Studies. 

In my lecture, I examined two media cases studies (one from Norway and the other from Sweden) where Black mothers and their children were exposed to very public forms of violence which initially incited a public sense of scandal and yet, were quickly followed by the official condemnation of both Black mothers. Despite the spectacle of distress or the occurrence of death these two Black migrant mothers are held criminally and affectively accountable for the conditions of their own suffering (Feminist Theory, forthcoming). What I argued in my lecture is that these examples witness processes of national assimilation whereby the deviant Black maternal figure is disciplined for the waywardness of her unassimilability while their daughters (as witnesses or survivors of the traumatic event) are disciplined towards becoming properly assimilated Nordic subjects through the cruel pedagogy of their mother’s public chastisement. The Black mothers are made culpable for their pain while being witness to their mother’s distress serves a future good for the daughters, since they are more likely to become the assimilated subjects their bad Black migrant mothers fail to be. Black pain here does not illicit the compassion, horror, or intervention of a dominant Nordic public (which quickly relieves itself of all accountability) but instead becomes utilitarian and justifiable. And, of course, these violent happenings do not interfere with the idealized goodness of either Nordic country since it is the Black mother in her deviance who performs an unkindness against the kindness of the welfare state. 

When it comes to these nations' “non-discriminatory reputation,” as you mention, the conundrum for Canada, Sweden, and Norway is how to reconcile the racial paradox of the national imaginary. That is, the national imaginaries of these Northern welfare states continue to simultaneously (1) invest in the supremacy of whiteness, long for a return to a mythical white homogeneity, and conceive of the authentic national subject as being white; and, (2) champion ideals of anti-racism or non-racism, tolerance, multiculturalism as well as a unique capacity for humanitarianism. In short, the anti-racist goodness that shapes a dominant sense of the nation sits oddly with the ongoing resentment, hatred, fear, and suspicion of people who are not white, and of Black people in particular. What I put forth in my PhD dissertation and in the articles that have since followed it is that fear of Blackness (alongside convictions of the cultural unassimilability and fiscal burden of Black people) is part of what helps to resolve this conflict between love and hate. By building on feminist readings of affect theory, particularly the astounding work of Sara Ahmed (2014), I contend that: fear, terror, and other commonsensically “bad feelings” can feel good since the sense of vulnerability these affects stimulate legitimizes the more covert desire for white apartness, while still preserving ideals of tolerance. Here we could almost imagine a chorus reciting in the voice of the national imaginary: “It is because we are so good that we have so much to fear” or, “We would be willing to accept you if only your badness didn’t make you so dangerous to accept.” Fear must then be kept alive. In dialogue with Black feminist theorists who remind us that racism reaches into the very insides of Black people (e.g. Simone Browne 2002; Saidiya Hartman 2016; Jennifer C. Nash 2021; Christina Sharpe 2016), I argue that fear of Blackness is not only of the Blackness that is, but also of the Blackness that could be in a way that renders the Black womb, what I call, a “death machine”: reproducing more unwanted Black life and those who prophesies the death of social order (see Mendes 2020). 

Fear of Blackness if not only of the Blackness that is, but also of the Blackness that could be, rendering the Black womb a "death machine."Ěý

Jan Mendes

Turning to your question about my personal experiences as a Black feminist scholar and Black woman living and working in Northern and Western Europe there are of course a litany of challenges that have become a part of my quotidian Black life. I remember giving a lecture in Sweden while I was a Visiting Doctoral Student at Uppsala University where the audience could readily engage with art-based images of Black women’s pain alongside my analysis of the consumption of Black suffering in Stockholm and its punishment of non-assimilating subjects. Yet, this same audience went completely blank when I presented examples of how the continuous act of staring performs another kind of racist consumption and assimilatory disciplining of Black women in white-dominated Swedish public space. This inability to reconcile between theoretical or abstract understandings of what racism is and the ways anti-Black racism manifest in everyday social life—and thus shapes how Afro-Swedes and Afro-Norwegians move through and think of themselves in Nordic space—is perhaps one of the most persistent points of frustration. What this then entails is the constant work of insistence and repetition as I seek to convey that anti-Black racism and Islamophobia is not only isolated to the most extreme instances of right-wing white supremacist violence and anti-immigrant populist rhetoric (that the Nordic nation can at once collectively decry and ideologically distance themselves from) but occurs constantly through the smallest of encounters and gestures. There is just so much doubt that surrounds Black experience, especially when (1) it contradicts normative imaginings of what racial violence and humiliation looks like and, (2) is in opposition to white Norwegians' and Swedes’ dominant sense of their almost innate commitment to progressiveness and equality—despite the empirical evidence to the contrary. 

In 2019, you obtained your PhD in Social and Political Thought from żě˛ĄĘÓƵ. Your dissertation was "The Affectivity of White Nation-Making: National Belonging, Human Recognition and The Mournability of Black Muslim Women," in which you argued that Canadian and Swedish media solely mourn the suicides of Black Muslim women, because this ultimate form of self-renunciation symbolically rejects their incongruous Muslim faith and eliminates the threat of Black reproduction. In so doing, they are assimilated into the White normativity of Eurocentric institutions and narratives. How can young Black feminist scholars today challenge such imaginaries, while working to protect Black Muslim women and their wombs, towards a world where they are inherently valuable?  

Thank you for the question. I do need to begin again with a small correction. The twinned refusal of Black humanity and the denial of Black and Black Muslim belongings to white-dominated social welfare states are conditions that have long occupied my thinking, as has the politics of assimilation. Drawing Judith Butler’s (2009) concept of “grievability” into conversation with Black political theory’s analyses of the non-mournability of Black death, what I contemplated in my dissertation is how Black Muslim might be able to borrow from the conditional grievability given to non-Black Muslim women who perform witnessable acts of assimilation—following the neo-imperial and neo-colonial logics bound up with the Islamophobic trope of “saving Muslim women” (see Yasmin Jiwani 2009; Sherene Razack 2004). In addition to the requisite acts of un-veiling and denouncing one’s affiliation with Islam, Muslim women and girls’ supposed commitment to projects of cultural and national assimilation has, at times, been read through the very event of their deaths, as seen through highly publicized cases of so-called “honour-killings” in Sweden and Canada. Here women and girls are mourned as properly assimilating subjects who are lost as they were becoming like “us.” However, their deaths are useful and continually exploitable for keeping fear of unassimilated Muslims alive through these examples of violence (see Jasmine Zine 2012).   

What I then argue both in my dissertation and 2020 article published with ł§´ÇłÜ±ô˛ő Journal is that Black Muslim women who symbolically kill their intolerable and dangerous strangeness can convey their assimilatory potential (becoming like “us”) and therefore begin to approach the grievability that a white citizenry already possesses and uses to recognize their fellow authentic national subjects (see Sunera Thobani 2007). It is not a literal suicide that I explore but rather what might be promised to come from the symbolic or performative death of one’s Black and Muslim self in the desire for both national and human membership. I have taken up this concept of symbolic suicide through media case studies from Canada and Sweden, including through close analyses of right-wing and mainstream media interviews of the infamous ex-Muslim, ex-Somali refugee Mona Walter in Sweden. To your point about the threat of Black reproduction, I contemplate how Walter’s public statements deriding Muslims, Islam, and other Somalis not only puts her Muslimness to death but also enacts an assimilatory promise as her words metaphorically sterilize her womb of the dangerous and burdensome excesses anticipated from Black reproduction. Even so, the sense of national belonging that a symbolic suicide might offer is impermanent as one is continuously haunted by the ghost of what they no longer wish to be. That is, the reminder of one’s unassimilability sticks to the dark surface of the skin and thus must be continuously exorcised to again approach the white body of the nation. This is not a restful place.   

I encourage Black feminist students to attend not only to the more riveting spectacles of willfulness and anti-racist resistance but also to the rebellions of the ordinary and the types of insistences that occur through the quieter moments of Black life.Ěý

Jan Mendes

If part of what I am attempting to interrupt in my research is the recycling of the familiar trope of the oppressed Muslim woman who is re-made into a tolerable subject through witnessable acts of assimilation, it would then figure that any project that begins with the intention of “protecting” Muslim woman is at once inappropriate and contradictory to such a critique. I think a more productive and imaginative place to start a discussion of opposition to anti-Black racist and Islamophobic logics begins with attending to the ways Black and Black Muslim women are describing and interrupting their subjugations and already enacting these refusals. For instance, in both the fieldwork interviews I conducted in Stockholm for my PhD dissertation and in my analysis of Black Canadian visual culture found in my 2021 article published with Hypatia, I investigate how Black Muslim women play around with the signifiers for their strangeness. Here, they confuse the qualifiers of their difference through sometimes-sneaky, sometimes-confusing embodiments of Black Muslimness and not-quite-humanness as they become what I call “slippery subjects” who leak out of the frames that are meant to make their non-belonging or assimilatory (im)possibilities readily familiar for the white racist imagination. More recently, however, I have begun to ask questions about ways of witnessing Black life, Black pleasure, Black mournability, and Black reproduction that do not filter Black existence through the register of white response. Learning much from Saidiya Hartman’s book Wayward Lives (2020) and Jennifer C. Nash’s (2014) work on Black ecstasy, I encourage Black feminist students to attend not only to the more riveting spectacles of willfulness and anti-racist resistance but also to: the rebellions of the ordinary and the types of insistences that occur through the quieter moments of Black life, in ways that nod to the Black witness and seek affinity or pleasure with the Black spectator.  

As for working for a world where Black Muslim women are understood to be inherently valuable, I first linger on the fact that Black Muslim women are not outside of the white supremacist logics that determine that (all) Black is without value. What this means is that the tactics that we might enlist to disrupt the forms of anti-Black subjugation Black Muslim women endure would be the very tools we would employ to disrupt a global white supremacy. The question is then whether we can indeed imagine such a world where white supremacy is absent and where Black life has inherent value and is fully recognized among the human. I am not a hopeful person nor am I a very optimistic thinker when it comes to finding comfort in these kinds of imaginings even so, I leave this as an open reflection for all Black feminist students who yearn for the elimination of anti-Black racism.  

Xaneva Elorriaga George is a fourth year International Studies undergraduate student at żě˛ĄĘÓƵ. She is interested in Black womanhood, especially in the contexts of Canada and Western Europe.

The post Engaging Critically with the Intersection of Blackness, Womanhood and Islam in Canadian and Nordic Society: An Interview with Professor Jan Mendes Ěý appeared first on Glendon Campus.

On March 29th, the Dahdaleh Institute for Global Health Research held a collective discussion, led by Carol Devine and Yasmin Al-Sahili. Devine is a Community Scholar at the Dahdaleh Institute working on a framework for Planetary Health Advocacy. Al-Sahili worked on the Planetary Health Advocacy Framework, as a research assistant, with Devine.

The question that animated the group is: how do we build strategies to frame and communicate knowledge about planetary health? The aim is to develop principles that further advocacy in the areas of humanitarianism, global health, planetary health, and climate change.

What began as a framework has evolved, Devine and Al-Sahili emphasize, more into a "tool for advocacy" that explores the impacts of climate change on health. The tool is meant to inform operational programs to mitigate climate change and advocacy for new ways of living that are sustainable for humans and for other life on earth.

As a living tool, it is constantly and sometimes rapidly changing in response to dialogue from a wide range of actors. This dialogue is vital. As Devine paraphrases Indigenous Planetary Health leader Dr. Nicole Redvers, climate change will not be resolved by technical fixes. Instead, “what will solve the climate crisis is language and dialogue”.

While developing the tool, a major question is figuring out how to effectively communicate knowledge to diverse audiences. A circular design with multiple rings, for instance, seeks to show the interconnectivity of different elements. This recalls the relationships between human health and the wellbeing of the natural world, as well as known solutions among and across different actors.

Indigenous peoples and local communities are especially important, Devine emphasized, to biodiversity stewardship and knowing climate change solutions.

Al-Sahili echoes this view. She emphasizes the importance of understanding colonialism and colonial practices in exacerbating climate change-associated health consequences. Those who have been subject to colonialism suffer the most immediate effects of climate change," Al-Sahili observes," but they have contributed the least to global warming. The voices of those with non-western worldviews, and specifically Indigenous knowledges, perspectives, and ways of doing, are critical to decolonizing planetary health tools."

This means recognizing that we live in a pluralistic world, where many different ways of knowing co-exist.

Many Western-trained scientists understand the world in terms of systems and variables. This may be very different from how other communities and cultures make sense of themselves and their environments. Despite the diversity across and within their communities, many Indigenous peoples, for instance, understand the world as embedded in strong, even sacred responsibilities to the lands that have been theirs from time immemorial. Indigenous scientists may bring their Indigenous knowledges to problem-solving as they seek to understand and mitigate climate change.[1]

The framework must respond to competing paradigms. As a living tool, it always has room for change, updates and improvements.

Participants at the seminar had many ideas they contributed to the conversation.

Some suggested that it would be useful to add stories to the tool to illustrate and communicate knowledge to broad audiences. Stories represent us and are central to who we are as human beings. As Professor Orbinski observed, “While we have a lot of science about climate change, we don't have many stories”.

Compelling narratives, as much as or in combination with science, are necessary to help us to understand the challenges that climate change represents.

Others proposed developing a certificate program within the Institute for Global Health Research to share knowledge within academia about the critical importance of planetary health.

In addition, the tool for planetary health needs to be relevant beyond academia. To be meaningful, participants emphasized, the tool has to be understandable for many people. Some participants suggested building a website to make the tool interactive, dynamic and accessible to a wide range of users.

Out of the lively discussion, the relationship between global health and well-being and planetary health was emphasized again and again. We will only become healthy, as communities, when we live in healthy ecologies. That demands that we do what we can to mitigate climate change and prevent more negative impacts, suffering and loss, while simultaneously advocating to secure more ecologically sustainable and equitable futures.

[1] See, for instance, Anishinaabe scientist Dr. Myrle Ballard: 

The post The Planetary Health Advocacy Framework and the Importance of Dialogue appeared first on Glendon Campus.

Celia Haig-Brown is a Euro-Canadian ethnographer committed to respectful and reciprocal research and practice. Her first book (1988), a retrospective ethnography of the Kamloops Indian Residential School, was based on interviews with former students. A new and updated edition, TsqelmucwĂ­lc: The Kamloops Indian Residential School, Resistance and a Reckoning, with Indigenous collaborators, was launched on September 30, 2022 at the Tk’emlups te Secwepemc grounds in BC. She co-directed two documentaries with the children and grandchildren of the KIRS students. Her recent film Listen to the Land addresses the complexities of the Naskapi Nation’s commitment to land and caribou in the reality of open pit mining (). She has completed two shoots for her next film, Rodeo Women: Behind the Scenes ()

Since the 1980s, you have been researching Indigenous histories in Canada and the struggles of Indigenous communities as a result of colonial racisms and associated violence. What drew you to these concerns, and led you to undertake research, writing and documentary film-making in this field? And can you tell me a bit about how these questions are understood differently now compared to when you began to investigate them 40 years ago? 

I was raised — I would like to say, I was raised properly! — by a family who taught me serious respect for Indigenous people and helped me to understand about colonization and the taking over of Indigenous land.  That was always part of my understanding. But the research that I did in the 1980s was as a result of the friendships that I had, including with people in rodeo, and the people with whom I worked at the University, who told me stories about their experiences in residential schools.  

Among others, I worked with people involved in a University of British Columbia programme called “The Native Indian Teacher Education Program,” now known as the Indigenous Teacher Education Program, that supports teachers in bringing Indigenous ways of knowing into the classroom. It was through these friendships with people and through my work that I came to hear the stories of people who had attended residential schools. And I have to say, in the 1980s, no one was talking about those stories.  

I learned through late-night conversations driving back from the rodeos with a friend of mine called Julie Antoine, who has remained a friend in all the years since. And I thought, “If I don't know these stories, then who else doesn’t know about them?” I had never read about these stories in any literature, anywhere. The focus, for me, was then on the people who had survived the schools and who were now living full lives. They had come back to school, they were involved in rodeo in various ways, they were becoming teachers and they were restoring their families that had been torn apart by residential school. So I was keen to talk about the resistance that people had shown. 

This is a really fundamental piece of the story of residential schools, the strength of Indigenous people at this time, because they — or their parents, or their grandparents — survived the horrors. In some cases, they flourished in the residential school, because of the way they came there, and how prepared they were by their parents. But this rootedness in their own families, this rootedness in their own communities is where their strength comes from in resisting colonization and the experiences at the residential schools. 

Your film, Pelq'ilc (Coming Home) (2009) focuses on the lives of children and grandchildren of survivors of the Kamloops Residential School. In this film, as in much of your other work, you take up the heartbreak of intergenerational trauma caused by Canada's long and ongoing history of colonialism. Given these long histories of violence against Indigenous peoples, do you believe that reconciliation is possible? What steps are necessary towards healing our relationship with Indigenous people? 

The focus I have in my work is not specifically on the heartbreak of intergenerational trauma but rather the survival and the survivance,  that is the “active sense of presence, the continuance of native stories…” and refusal to repeat stories of “dominance, tragedy and victimry,” as Gerald Vizenor (2010) writes. The first book I wrote is called Resistance and Renewal: Surviving the Indian Residential School (Haig-Brown 1988) That book was published in 1988 and is still in print, so we are now some 16,000 copies later. The book was taken up by people in communities and organizations outside the university, as well as being taught inside the university. I like the fact that the work went in both directions, both inside and outside community and inside and outside of academe. 

I don't want to spend time, as they say, "having people bleed on the floor in front of us." I don't think that's helpful.

Celia Haig-Brown

After Resistance and Renewal, I published two books with the University of British Columbia Press, Taking control: Power and Contradiction in First Nations Adult Education (1995) and Making the Spirit Dance Within: Joe Duquette High School and an Aboriginal Community (1997). I had written many chapters, such as “Border Work” in Native Writers and Canadian Writing (1990), and they weren't getting the same readership that Resistance and Renewal was getting. I thought that if I turn to film, then that will make this work available to people in their communities, and that for me, is important. I want my work in the academy to be useful to communities. 

But rather than focusing on the heartbreak of intergenerational trauma, whether in my books or in my films, what I am focusing on is the strength of intergenerational survival and flourishing. In the film and in an accompanying film called Cowboys, Indians and Education (2012), the focus is on the many Indigenous people who are bringing the strength that they have into family and into schooling and so on, in order to regenerate Indigenous knowledges and language. And the Social Science, Humanities, Research Council (SSHRC) grant that funded this film was focused on exactly that: the regeneration of language and culture. That's where my focus goes. I don't want to spend time, as they say, having people bleed on the floor in front of us. I don't think that's helpful.  

In terms of reconciliation… First of all, we now know the word reconciliation is very problematic. It suggests that at some point there was a conciliatory relationship. The relationship between the colonizers and Indigenous people has been one that has been fraught with stealing, disrupting culture, explaining to people that they're less than human because of their spiritual practices, because of the way they live, etc., not one of respect.  We really need to rethink the notion of reconciliation. 

The biggest and most important step is for non-Indigenous people to listen to Indigenous people — to just be quiet and listen to the particular people who are speaking — and I mean really listen. Listen to the podcasts, listen to the films that have been made by Indigenous artists, filmmakers, and authors. Read the Indigenous texts that have been written by many Indigenous scholars.  There's a wealth of information available in all spaces you can imagine, from the Internet to the library and all the spaces in between: you just have to seek it out. 

Your latest film, Listen to the Land (2018), focuses on the Naskapi Nation's struggle to honour and renew their culture while remaining involved with open pit mining. You use filmmaking to show the coexistence but also tensions of traditional ways of living with the land and the ecological and social costs of mining.  As a scholar, why did you choose to explore these questions in a film instead of a book or article? 

Once I became a full professor, I felt like I could go in whatever direction works best for my scholarly work. Sometimes the university is very conventional in what they recognize as scholarship. That's expanding now and there's a slightly better job of recognizing that scholarship and the outputs of people doing research can take various forms, but I felt: “Now I can move into doing what I really want to do.” 

I had made the other two films with the Kamloops people, and I went to the Naskapi Nation. I went as part of a larger research project with a man from the Schulich School of Business. The late Wesley Cragg , who worked with the Canadian Business Ethics Research network, had asked me to come to Northern Quebec to meet with the Naskapi. I don't like to do research by dropping in and saying, “Here I am to do some research!” So, I spent time coming to know the school in particular. Wes had asked me to come and work with the school because I'm in the Faculty of Education.  

Once I got to Kawawachikamach — which is the name of the community — it became clear that this was a very important community in challenging stereotypes of Northern communities, and the struggles they're having. This community is very well positioned. They've engaged in open pit mining as a way to maintain their economy so that they can stay in the North and thrive. Primarily, they run secondary industry related to the mines, so they do things like maintain the airport, roads, etc. They live that contradiction of the open pit mining and their commitment to their traditional culture: for instance, they are 96% fluent in their language. 

I love the ability that film has to move beyond the academy.

Celia Haig-Brown

Their school has been a provincially run school for a long time. In contrast to those communities that have had day schools, or that have had residential schools in the past, they have control over their school. If you walk in the hallways of their school, everyone is speaking in the Naskapi language: the people answering the phones, the people in the office, etc. When you speak only English, it's a bit of a detriment, which is a lovely reversal of the usual situation. 

I thought it was important to get the word out there about the community, and again to challenge stereotypes. I was surprised when I approached the Chief and council and told them what I was thinking of and found out that they were really receptive to the idea of a film. It was only after the film was launched — we were actually at a launch at żě˛ĄĘÓƵ — and I said to the Chief, “I don't understand why you let me do this! I came as an outsider to your community, and knowing this, you let me go ahead and make this film.” He said, “The reason that we did that is that we want people to know about our community."  I felt fantastic at that point. What that meant is that I was useful to them. They saw me come into that space, having some skills, and they said, “Go for it, because this is something that we want.” That is how I got there. Again, a film is accessible; it can be used in the university; it can be seen elsewhere. 

This film went to the Irvine International Film Festival in California. People there saw what the Naskapi are doing, and I love the ability that film has to move beyond the academy. 

Finally, I understand that you are currently working on a film about rodeos and the women who work behind the scenes to make them happen. What can you tell us about this documentary, so far, and how you got interested in cultural and sporting phenomena?

Well, my life has been a very interesting set of lives. When I married, I married a rodeo cowboy. He was in the position of taking over a rodeo business with one of his friends, as well as a backer who had some money to buy the rodeo outfit. To help pay the bills, while he was setting up the rodeo business, all week I was in school teaching. Eventually, I was working with the University of British Columbia and the Native Indian Teacher Education program. On the weekends it was rodeo time, so I would drive the tack trailer to the rodeo, and I would take some of the kids from school whose families were working with rodeo. I did all the kinds of work that you can imagine: feeding stock, secretarying, all kinds of behind-the scenes work.  

In some ways I got a bit disillusioned because the people who are recognized in rodeo are the boys with the belt buckles. People see the competitors. Sometimes they notice that there's a woman who does barrel racing who is similar in some ways to the boys. In truth, like many other institutions, rodeos have all sorts of women working — feeding stock, raising bucking horses, looking after the children, feeding everybody, driving to the rodeo, taking care of horses, etc. This work is invisible, so I thought it would be interesting to make a film that honoured those women. I still stay connected with rodeo people and I mentioned this idea to them. 

What's interesting about rodeo is it's a very small culture, a very small community. I can be away for 20 years, and everybody knows who I am and who my children are. They want to know what my children have been doing. My late ex-husband was admitted into the Canadian Rodeo Cowboys Hall of Fame. Everyone knows who he is, even though he has passed away now and is no longer around. It is a very intense little culture.  So, when I mentioned the possibility of this film to some of the women that I knew, and some of the women that I met when I went back to watch some rodeos, they were very excited. And I have to say, some of the cowboys were as well. They said, “It's long overdue. These women — the women doing this work should be recognized.”  

I've done two shoots so far. I don't even know how many people I interviewed, but last summer I interviewed a lot. I probably have 15 interviews, I think, and a whole lot of footage at rodeos, at the ranch of a woman who's raising bucking stock, around various people's homes and places. Most of my winter is about to be spent reviewing that footage and deciding what gaps need to be filled in, and then I will have at least one more shoot this coming summer, and then move into post-production. I guess I am in some sort of in post-production now, because I am looking at film that we have already taken. 

How did you get started in rodeos? 

I just fell into rodeo, but what really brought me there were the horses. I have had horses my whole life. I do not have one now, but I love horses.  At first, I was actually reluctant to be involved with rodeo, because I had the thoughts that many people do, “Oh, it's so cruel!” And “Those poor animals," etc. But then I got to know those horses. Bucking horses are amazing athletes. If they are not athletic, they won't buck. They will buck a couple of times, and then they will not want to continue. It's like “I don't want to be a marathon runner, I'm gonna just eat my hay and let somebody ride me." The bucking horses themselves are lovely, free, and independent spirits. Some of them are very tame and sweet until you put a person on their backs, and then they go, “Not doing that.” So I really like that part of them. And I just love horses. That's what brought me in there to rodeo, along with this man that I married.  

I’m really interested in the latest film that you are working on about rodeos. I have only the stereotypical idea about rodeos, the idea of cowboys on horses. Can you tell me about the behind the scenes work that you and other women participate in? Is it like looking after a show horse?  

Well, horses in rodeos are not like show horses. Yes, the horses have to be fed and watered every day, and they have to be fed and watered after the rodeo. They've done their work for the day, and somebody needs to make sure they get fed and watered because they'll be there for another day, probably.  But the horses themselves, when they're not at the rodeo, during the week, they're turned out so they're in a big field. Somewhere where they're able to run free. They're not stuck in little box stalls where they get turned out for twenty minutes a day. They're actually running around free and in a herd as horses do. They're kind of close to what their natural state might be. So that's maybe where we might start. When the horses are out running around free in a field, it's quite a big field, because there are thirty or forty of them. You have to get them. You have to round them up. You have to bring them in. So one of the jobs I had would be going with the other cowboys. 

We kept them at a very large ranch called the Douglas Lake Ranch. This was  hundreds of acres. The horses would be out there and then it would be time for the rodeo, so we'd have to go out. There'd be three or four of us on horses, and out we would go, and find them, and they would hide in the trees, and you have to be sure you're looking everywhere and gathering them all because they all need to come. And then what's really exciting is, once they get moving as a herd — they're not cows, they move fast — somebody has to be in the front, for instance, if they're going through a gate. There's always a lead mare, and if you get the lead to control the others, then all the horses will go where you want them to go. 

One day, I remember being at the ranch, and I was the person that had to be with the lead mare. So I was riding my horse at 100 miles an hour and with the lead mare, we got to the gate that all the horses had to go through.  And she turned the other way, and away they all went. We had to go back and gather them all again and get them going.  That was the really fun stuff. I love that part, although it's scary — you're going 100 miles an hour. 

So the work was chasing horses, loading horses and steers and bulls into the trucks. The bulls are ferocious, so you have to watch them. At the same time, they understand what their work is, they understand what’s going on. So, they don’t tend to be cranky all the time. But you have to pay attention. They’re big and if they start pushing and shoving each other they can smash into you quite easily. 

When I mentioned the possibility of this film to some of the women they were very excited. And I have to say, some of the cowboys were as well. They said, “It's long overdue. These women — the women doing this work — should be recognized.”  

Celia Haig-Brown

Once you’ve got the horses gathered, you need to load them into the trucks. I never did drive the big trucks because I had enough work to do and I thought if I drive that truck once, I’m going to end up driving that truck a lot and I didn’t really want to. I never did. One of the guys working for us would drive the truck. And then we get to the rodeo.

Once you get to the rodeo you have to sort stock, sort them into particular pens so that they're ready to go into the chutes for the guys to get on them. And it is a show, so everything has to be timed carefully. You want to make sure the horses are in place for the cowboys to get on, so that for the audience it's a show that moves along.  Because people can stall forever. The horses can stall. Anything like that can happen. I would often be involved in sorting stock. This one goes in section one, this one goes in section two, this one goes in section three… This means moving the gates back and forth and a whole set of pens at the rodeo grounds itself. 

The other thing that I was really involved in was being the secretary of the rodeo. There’s now a central entry system that's computerized. That makes everything much simpler. But in my day — in the old days! — we would go to the town where the rodeo was going to be held on a Thursday night. Cowboys would phone in to the rodeo entry office from all over Canada and you'd have to take their name, you'd have to note the day that they wanted to to ride their stock. If it was a Saturday/Sunday rodeo, they might want to be on Saturday because they're going to be in another rodeo already on Sunday. You take down the events that they want to enter, etc. You have all of that information on these little cards, and by the the next day, Friday, you sort through the entry forms and draw the list of all the cowboys who are going to ride bareback horses or all the cowboys who are going to ride broncs, or all the cowboys who are going to ride bulls. 

And then the stock contractor comes. That was my late ex-husband with the various animals that are going to be there, and you draw stock. We literally had a tin can with the names of the horses. I would say the name of a guy, and they would pull the horse's name out of the hat and so they would be paired over the time. Then  you develop a programme which is ready for the people coming to the rodeo the next day. 

So then the cowboys all come, and they all had to pay their entry money, and you have to keep track of their money. 

Oh, and the judges!  You have judges, cards. The judges each have a card where they score the man and the horse — the person on the horse was usually a man. Each contestant is given a total score out of a one hundred. You have to track those cards, make sure they've added things up properly, and then you see who's won. Once you've done that, then you have to divide the prize money, and that’s  complicated since the distributions depend on how much prize money is available. It’s a certain percent for first, for second, for third, etc. You add together the entry fees, the prize money and distribute that. At that time, we wrote out checks sitting there and then by the end of the rodeo, the guy who's the boss of the rodeo committee, the local person wants to make sure all the money balances.  

And then somewhere in there you feed the horses. After the rodeo on Saturday, make sure they've got water and food and Sunday night it's time to drive home. So you load up the tack trailer, or whatever, and home you go. 

 I was really super involved before I had children. Once I had little children I was less involved in that way. I would be secretarying, but I didn't do as much driving of this, that and the other things. When I had two babies in a row, I took a year off, but other than that, I worked. I worked in the teacher education program during this time as well. So yes, it was complicated, and sometimes, once I had kids,  often I would stay home on the weekends and look after any horses or bulls that didn't go to the rodeo. Then I would be in charge of feeding them, so I would gather my three little kids and we would go down and feed the hay and make sure the kids didn't get in bull pen. 

I'm assuming your kids also love horses. 

Yeah, they're rodeo kids. And later, I left my rodeo, my husband, and went back to do my doctorate. And I took my three kids to the city with me, to Vancouver, they still talk about how that was really hard for them, because they felt like they were rodeo kids and suddenly they were in the city, and they had to make these adjustments. Now I think it served them well, because you know, they've learned and they’ve got jobs, and they're doing fine. But they do talk about how hard that transition was — and now and again they go to the rodeo. People know who they are. “How are you?” “How are your kids?” “Good to see you!”  “How's your mom?” 

One of the questions that I'm asking people in this latest documentary is “What keeps you coming back? Why do you do this?” Because it’s a really hard life. I mean, I'm talking with great great glee about running those horses in, but if your horse trips and falls, down you go. It's not running around in an arena that's all nicely manicured. It can be dangerous  and it's a rough life in a lot of ways. It’s a culture unto itself.  â€ŻPeople know everybody. They know each other. It's a very small world. 

Alyssa Ramos is a third-year student at żě˛ĄĘÓƵ in the political science program, specifically at Glendon College. As a research apprentice in the Research Apprenticeship Programme, she is interested in researching peoples’ effects on the world and how their efforts impact the groups they sought to help. Using her political science background, she attempts to understand the impact of capitalism on society and the failures of developed countries in the global south. She aims to continue her education after completing her undergraduate program by obtaining a master’s degree in public policy, administration, and law to continue furthering her understanding of the effects of capitalist policies on society.

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