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"Mom!"

That's my son, in his half-yell, half-whine voice. It was "crazy hair day" at school.

When I hear this voice, I wince and brace myself for the accusation that's to come. That I missed this very important day and therefore made him stand out to his friends, classmates and teachers in the worst way. It wasn't the first time, and it probably won't be the last.

One of the challenges a Black parent faces when enrolling their children in a school is the ratio of diversity. Not just among the teaching staff and administration, but the students, too.

Is there diversity. And if so, is it as rich in cultural representation as Canada's largest city, or does it look more like a slate of elected officials?

For a Black parent, events like the U.S. Capitol riots bring up some difficult truths. Here's how Tanya Hayles processed it all.

This matters to me, because it doesn't feel as if all cultures are being adequately represented. So when schools come up with "fun" days like crazy hair, PJ day or other seemingly innocuous things, my friend tends to think about the families who look like mine.

I grew up in a suburban town where I was the chocolate chip in the cookie.

Early on, I learned that my hair would never blow in the wind; my ponytails were as stiff as a board.

"Crazy hair day? I wouldn't have dreamed of mentioning such a thing to my mom."

Hair in the Black community is a touchy subject because its care can sometimes be a whole-day endeavour. Our haircare products aren't always found at the corner drug mart and it can take a lot of time and patience to make it look school-day approved.

Crazy hair day? I wouldn't have dreamed of mentioning such a thing to my mom. Decades later, my son with his low fade, would be experiencing the same thing - feeling like an outsider. Did I have temporary hair color? Do I have baby powder? Would putting a wig on him be too much? I didn't have many options.

There are also fairly easy ways to be cast as an outsider when it comes to these sanctioned days.

Here are some reasons why this dad believes all white parents should talk to their kids about racism.

I think of newcomer families, who are acculturating but may not have a grasp on the ways schools are trying to inspire silliness and fun. Who makes a call to these families, explaining what a "crazy hair day" means? What does "PJ day" mean in a house that might always be cold, hot or full of people? In larger families, perhaps PJs are simply old T-shirts and hand-me-down sweatpants. We've all been kids, and we know that it's the little things that they pick up on - they see difference, and aren't always kind. But these days create opportunities for the wrong type of spotlight, which highlights those who are unable to participate.

And you know what? I empathize that it's probably hard to come up with theme days that include all the cultures of the rainbow, that are also safe, easy school board-approved.

But while these days may feel like throwaway, easy wins for student morale, they aren't always. Not unless there is an emphasis on inclusion for a diversity of perspectives and experiences.

"I think of newcomer families, who are acculturating but may not have a grasp on the ways schools are trying to inspire silliness and fun."

By acknowledging the experiences of many, rather than producing events based on so-called average experiences, I believe outcomes will be better. Because every kid wants to feel seen, like they are being asked to participate without an assortment of obstacles beyond their control.

The move to virtual learning doesn't negate these situations.

Demanding video be on doesn't consider the living and housing situations of all families. Impromptu baking lessons are not accessible to everyone - not every family has a stocked pantry.

"The talk: the inevitable conversation when racism comes knocking at our door." As Tanya writes, Black parents know this all too well. Read her advice about broaching the subject here.

For me, this goes well beyond political correctness. It's not a call for participation ribbons. It's just a decent thing to want, for all kids to feel like they can do what is required of them at school. Because I think it's safe to say that we all want kids to show up.

No parent ever wants to be the reason why their child is an outsider at school - whether it's for temporary silly reasons or more important permanent ones. My son's disappointment in me about crazy hair day eventually subsided, but the memory of it may not have. Whether it's crazy hair day, PJ day or whatever, we need to remember that not all hair and kitchen cupboards are created equal.

And not everyone is going to simply understand that something is fun because someone says it is.

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I Don't Think It's A Lot to Ask For Inclusion at School | CBC Parents

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"Mom!" That's my son, in his half-yell, half-whine voice. It was "crazy hair day" at school. When I hear this voice, I wince and brace myself for the accusation that's to come. That I missed this very important day and therefore made him stand out to his friends, classmates and teachers in the worst way.

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A law student at the University of Windsor says he's come face-to-face with what it means to be Black on campus in Canada, and the reality of what that means scares him.

"I started seeing in real time what anti-Black racism can do," Jordan Afolabi told The Fifth Estate. "It can be the difference between me being a lawyer and me being a criminal."

WATCH | The Fifth Estate: "Black on Campus" on Thursday at 9 p.m. ET on CBC-TV or stream on CBC Gem.

Students, staff and faculty at some of Canada's largest universities say they have experienced anti-Black racism on campus, and that they were targeted if they spoke out about their treatment, an investigation by The Fifth Estate has found.

In February 2019, Afolabi was running late for class and ended up in an altercation with a white student on campus. When he opened a door, it struck another student who was trying to enter at the same time.

"The student approached me aggressively asking why I hit him with the door," Afolabi said, and a fight began. "At that point, I defended myself ... I just kept trying to tell him, like, walk away, stop."

This event set off a chain reaction for Afolabi that spanned more than a year and affected his education, he said.

Both students filed internal reports with the Office of Academic Integrity, but only Afolabi was banned from campus, with the exception of attending classes.

"I mean, it's a racial double standard, very clearly ... it's just absurd to me," Afolabi said.

Believing he was unfairly targeted by the university, he launched an internal human rights complaint.

The University of Windsor said it can't comment because of confidentiality and an ongoing investigation.

In July 2019 - several months after the altercation, and after the ban was lifted - Afolabi went to the university's administrative building to follow up on his complaint.

He saw the president's administrative secretary in the hallway and said she seemed agitated upon seeing him.

WARNING: Subsequent sections of this story deal with graphic content and imagery.

'We have a Black male who won't give his name'

"I tried to speak but she just wasn't giving me a moment to speak," he said. "I said, 'Look, I'm going to need you to calm down' ... she kept cutting me off. She felt rather upset that I would tell her to calm down and she turned and walked away."

She told Afolabi to wait in the front lobby of the administrative building. Within minutes, she had called campus police from the president's office.

"We have a Black male who won't give his name or state his business and he's kind of loitering," she said on the call.
LISTEN: Emergency call made by University of Windsor administrator:

She mentioned that Afolabi had visited the office three times, but didn't say that it was his third time in 42 days.

Campus police, with backup from Windsor police, showed up and escorted Afolabi outside.

He recorded the exchange with the administrator on his phone.

"I played the recording for them and they were extremely confused when they heard it," Afolabi said.

He told The Fifth Estate that after hearing that recording, they said they didn't understand why they were called to the scene.

Afolabi was not arrested - he said in large part because of the recording - but was given a trespassing violation by the university.

He said he tried to plead his case to several administrators and was effectively dismissed throughout his ordeal.

"I was pretty certain that anti-Black racism was a factor."

In a statement to The Fifth Estate, the University of Windsor said: "We believe anti-Black racism on university campuses is an important conversation and one Canadians should be having. It is a conversation the University of Windsor is actively participating in and addressing through ongoing and new policy commitments and initiatives."

After an independent investigation, an adjudicator concluded that Afolabi's treatment by the university, "may be the product of subconscious racial profiling and stereotyping."

Afolabi said he received a private apology from the university.

He has now filed a human rights complaint with the Ontario Human Rights Tribunal. He said he wants to seek accountability and effect change so that other students of colour don't experience similar treatment.

Problems on campus

Afolabi's case is just one of several allegations of anti-Black racism reported at the University of Windsor. A website called #ExposeUWindsor was launched in 2019 to highlight racist incidents students say they've experienced on campus and online.

A video from a now-disbanded fraternity circulated showing a mock hanging. It involved two members of the organization who are people of colour. In the video, young men are seen laughing and making fun of the situation while putting one member's head into a noose.

A photo also circulated that showed a member of the same fraternity holding what appears to be a semi-automatic rifle. The caption said he is going to hunt some N-words.

After the fraternity was shut down by the university, there was a litany of posts using the N-word and other racial slurs and threatening retribution.

"Just wait," one such message said, vowing to ensure the campus is "not a safe place" for Black and Jewish students.

Black student leaders say that incidents like these are happening right across Canada.

"Until people saw those messages, nobody believed it," said Kien Azinwi, president of the York Federation of Students.

Azinwi said many in the Black student community feel that Canada's post-secondary institutions aren't doing enough to stop racism in its tracks.

"The blatant fact, the truth, is that racialized, Indigenous, Black students on these campuses that we pay to attend are not safe," Azinwi told The Fifth Estate.

"People need to see it to believe that Black trauma is a thing, that anti-Black racism is a thing. And that's the only way we can prove the really messed up things that are happening to us as a community."

Last September, she led a countrywide strike demanding change at all levels within post-secondary institutions.

"We need to go to the very foundation and start from there," Azinwi said. "You can't keep on repainting the walls and sealing it if the foundation is rotten. You need to rebuild, change the structure, change the policies [and] introduce new policies."

Not just a student problem

Experts and activists say cases of anti-Black racism are plaguing the hallways of higher learning and that students are not the only ones dealing with it. They say systemic racism is prevalent and universities and colleges alike are failing Black Canadians.

The global reckoning on race in 2020 has emboldened those who feel most vulnerable to share their experiences.

Staff and faculty at several of Canada's largest universities have also flagged the problem.
WATCH: Student activist says BLM movement emboldened people to come forward with stories of racism:

Carol Sutherland, a former employee at Ryerson University in Toronto, and Aimé Avolonto, a French studies professor at York University in Toronto, have launched complaints with the Ontario Human Rights Tribunal.

Both said they had been vocal about what they saw as systemic racism on campus but they felt like they were targeted after speaking out. And they said allegations against them started to pile on.

They said they tried to seek remedies within their university organizations but their issues could not be resolved.

Ryerson said that because of confidentiality, it was "unable to provide further information or clarification" regarding the particulars of Sutherland's case.

It added the university "continues to strengthen ... efforts to address racism and discrimination of all forms."

Regarding Avolonto's case, York University said that because of "an ongoing investigation into complaints that engage both litigation and employment matters, we are not able to discuss the details."

Sandy Hudson dealt with a number of grievances from employees of colour as a former CUPE staff member at York. She said she noticed a pattern when dealing with her cases.

"Consistently [administrators] would want to deny the experience of Black people bringing forward their experiences of anti-Black racism," she said. "And if these complaints come up, [they would say:] 'How can we make them go away?' and if we can't make them go away, how can we discredit the person who is bringing forward these claims?"

On Wednesday morning, York University released what it calls its new anti-Black racism framework and action plan designed to help combat racism on and off campus.

"We acknowledge the university's role in dismantling the deeply ingrained structures of power and privilege that allow anti-Black racism to thrive, and we recognize that meaningful transformation requires collective action centred around the input and lived experiences of Black students, staff, faculty, instructors, alumni and other stakeholders with whom we work," the university said.

What are the solutions?

Malinda Smith, the first vice-provost of equity, diversity and inclusion at the University of Calgary, is co-author of the book, The Equity Myth, Racialization and Indigeneity at Canadian Universities.

Smith said universities have made progress with other issues such as gender equity but there's still a large knowledge gap when it comes to addressing racial discrimination.

"There's a gap between ... the principle and the practice, the rhetoric and the action ... the students, the staff and faculty [are] saying enough is enough. We want action, we want change."

She said academic leaders need more "racial literacy," especially around complaints of systemic racism, which is often less blatant.

"If there is denial about racism each and every time and if there are no policies and practices to say here's what racism is ... [and] here are the consequences, most universities don't have that kind of a mechanism," she said.

"We have it for other forms of discrimination, but not racism."
Smith said from what she's seen, some provinces are actually undermining anti-racism efforts and they're defunding anti-racism portfolios, if they have them at all.

"We need to see federal, provincial, municipal governments, all of them, along with institutions ... modelling the change that they want to see in the world," Smith said.

'Supposed to be the leaders'

Troubled by reports of racism on campuses, Ontario Human Rights commissioner Ena Chadha sent a letter to administrators at the province's post-secondary institutions at the end of last year.

Chadha demanded post-secondary institutions do more to address anti-Black racism on their campuses.

"Universities and colleges are supposed to be the leaders," Chadha told The Fifth Estate.

"They're, in fact, supposed to be the ones that have some of the answers on how to dismantle systemic discrimination. And so when parents drop off their children to campuses, they think their children are going to have the world open up to them - a world of education, a world of inclusivity, a world of innovation."

Instead, Chadha said, Black students and faculty have found themselves in "environments that were not inclusive ... toxic and unsafe."

Chadha said the commission will be asking each institution to prove there is "adequate systemic work happening with respect to anti-Black racism, Indigenous racism and systemic discrimination across the board."

Watch full episodes of The Fifth Estate on CBC Gem, the CBC's streaming service.

For more stories about the experiences of Black Canadians - from anti-Black racism to success stories within the Black community - check out Being Black in Canada, a CBC project Black Canadians can be proud of. You can read more stories here.

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Being Black on campus: Why students, staff and faculty say universities are failing them | CBC News

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A law student at the University of Windsor says he's come face-to-face with what it means to be Black on campus in Canada, and the reality of what that means scares him. "I started seeing in real time what anti-Black racism can do," Jordan Afolabi told The Fifth Estate.

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In the opening episode of Netflix's (2017), main characters Andrew (John Mulaney) and Nick (Nick Kroll) are sitting in their health class watching a video about female reproductive organs when Andrew's hormone monster pops out of his desk. Big Mouth has been praised for having women writers and talking honestly about sexuality, puberty, and desire for all genders. While it's not perfect-its definitions of queer sexualities have fallen into binaries and white actor Jenny Slate was cast as Missy, a mixed-race character, for three seasons-the show's animated format allows it to discuss topics like hormones in an entertaining way. This creates conversations that might not be possible in a live action TV show. Big Mouth allows for the exploration of sexuality and desire as teenagers change with their bodies before, during, and after puberty. The show isn't everyone's cup of tea, but it's hard to deny that it's using humor to give adults new ways to discuss sex education with each other and with the children in our lives.

Kids have always been looking for answers about sex ed; they just didn't always have the best or most accessible resources. When conducting research for her 2016 book, , Peggy Orenstein found that it was common for girls to watch pornography to figure out how "things fit together" in an anatomical sense. While various small businesses are attempting to make porn an industry that pays well and respects its performers, there's also an understanding in society that porn can, and in some cases does, teach young men to abuse women and young women to accept that violence. Though our critiques of porn miss the positive benefits, joys, and pleasure it can provide, no one should have to turn to porn, an industry designed more to entertain than inform, to find answers. Caren Spruch, the senior director of arts and entertainment at Planned Parenthood Federation of America, tells Bitch that "many people, especially young people, learn about sexual and reproductive health issues from entertainment media," so none of us are alone.

In 2014, Bitch led a Twitter campaign called #popsexed where we asked followers where they learned about sex in popular culture. Answers ranged from fanfiction and music videos to romance novels, but very few people cited traditional sex education classes. Seeing the same results, Planned Parenthood launched a question bot named Roo whose target audience is teens. After answering a few preliminary questions about their age, race, and gender identity (if they choose to provide the latter two), Roo attempts to answer any general question about sex, relationships, and our bodies. Before launching, Planned Parenthood ran more than 7,000 test conversations to teach the chatbot to recognize language and answer appropriately, and found that the most asked question was "What's the right age to have sex for the first time?" Roo answers millions of questions, and, in the first nine months, over ¾ of its users were people of color, once again illustrating that a free, medically accurate, and judgement-free place to find information about sex education is needed. The chatbot has been taught to provide other resources and leave the user with choices so that they feel empowered by their decision making. Despite all its success, it's still a bot, and it can't tell you exactly what's right for you. Nor can it perfectly answer a specific question or work with a complex one like "What is sex education?"

Abstinence-only, abstinence-plus, and comprehensive sex educations have been the dominate types of education in recent years. Planned Parenthood defines abstinence-only education as a program that teaches that mutual monogamous sex within the confines of marriage is the only "correct way" to have sex and that other ways may be psychologically damaging. According to Orenstein, between 1982 and 2016, the U.S. federal government spent $1.7 billion on abstinence-only sex ed. Abstinence-plus education allows for the fact that the average age for a first sexual encounter is 18 years old. These programs teach that abstinence is the only foolproof way to avoid pregnancy and STDs, but it also attempts to teach students about safe sex. Comprehensive sex education includes medically accurate information about anatomy, birth control, and, sometimes, abortion. However, even a comprehensive education has been known to leave out any talk of female pleasure, general desire, and the location or knowledge of the clitoris. Furthermore, education around gender and sexuality is still hard pressed to move beyond strictures of heterosexuality toward inclusion of LGBTQ folks.

We can argue until we're blue in the face that parents should pick up the slack surrounding sex education, but the truth of the matter is that parents in the United States don't talk to their kids about sex. Orenstein found that it's not because their kids don't want them to. In fact, she says not talking to kids about sex leaves them "unsupported and vulnerable." In 2011, Amy Schalet published Not Under My Roof, a book that investigates the differences between the United States and the Netherlands when it comes to sex ed. She found that "teen sex has been dramatized" in the U.S. to the point of crisis, whereas in the Netherlands many teenagers in romantic relationships have sleepovers at their parents' houses. In other words, when parents and teachers talk about sex with their kids in the United States, they tend to focus on all of the "bad" things that can happen. Instead, parents and teachers in the Netherlands focus on support, consent, and pleasure, and reports of teen pregnancy and more satisfying sexual relationships increase. Regardless of nationality, teenagers are having sex, so how are they informing themselves?

Shows like Netflix's Sex Education, which premiered in 2019, demonstrate the ways that teenagers can be misinformed about topics related to sex despite having sex education on their transcript. The protagonist of Sex Education, Otis Milburn (Asa Butterfield), starts an illicit business giving his classmates advice about sex in the abandoned bathroom at school. Though he has a fraught personal relationship with sex, Otis has learned a lot from his sex therapist mother, Jean (Gillian Anderson), and he shares these facts about masturbation, fetishes, pleasure, and more while he embarks on his own journey toward sexual freedom. Sex Education has been praised for its accurate portrayal of teen sex lives as well as for providing medically accurate and body positive information surrounding sex. The show makes obvious what we already know: Structured sex education has been failing kids for generations by not providing content about pleasure and even misinforming students about anatomy. Like most education standards, sex ed is not regulated at the federal level in the United States. Each individual state decides what kind of sex ed is provided, if any at all, but that leaves room for lessons that aren't scientifically accurate.

Sex education is extremely important, especially if we acknowledge the fact that the U.S. education system has failed to provide parents and grandparents and great-grandparents with comprehensive sex ed. The failure of sex education leaves our society vulnerable to a lack of open conversations between generations, therefore continuing the cycle of parents and children having awkward conversations at best and no conversations at worst. We know that teens who receive comprehensive sex ed are less likely to experience teen pregnancy. In other words, we know that sex education works to alleviate the crises that parents worry about, the same crises that provide excuses for not having sex education or sex talks. Sex educator Charis Denison told Orenstein that kids "abstain with more information because they have options, because they have knowledge" which requires a medically accurate and complete sex education. For some, this means a feminist sex education that talks about queer sexualities and women's pleasure, but those are not quick-acting solutions. Teenagers want knowledge about their bodies and sex sooner rather than later, and they're turning toward the ever expanding world of media answering their calls. Shows like Big Mouth and Sex Education, among many others, make sex "something normal and relatable that everyone has to learn to deal with," as Anna Silman writes in her 2019 article for . These shows are more than entertaining. By airing on streaming services, these shows forgo the need to be advertiser-approved and can appeal to more niche audiences instead of a general broadcasting audience. This allows them to talk more openly and explicitly about the sex and sexuality of teenagers and young adults.

Media isn't just teaching us the fundamental topics of sex such as anatomy and pleasure. TV shows and movies are depicting the reality of what it is like to be a sexually active young person in a society that (still) views any sexual activity outside of marriage as subversive. Hulu's Plan B (2021) tells the story of teenager Sunny (Kuhoo Verma) who has meaningless and unsatisfying sex with her classmate Kyle (Mason Cook). She plans to mostly forget the whole encounter until the condom falls out of her while she's going to the bathroom the next morning. Now Sunny and her best friend, Lupe (Victoria Moroles), must buy the Plan B pill; the only problem is the local pharmacist refuses to sell it to her and the closest Planned Parenthood is a three hour drive. When Sunny and Lupe finally reach a Planned Parenthood, only to find the doors boarded thanks to a lack of funding, reality hits viewers hard. This movie makes it clear that not only are teens misinformed, uninformed, or only partially informed at best, their resources are also being slowly taken away. Without the help of her mother (Jolly Abraham), who Sunny was trying to avoid bringing into the situation, it's likely Sunny wouldn't have been able to obtain the pill at all.

Planned Parenthood has utilized the wide reaching hands of the internet to spread their message as well. In Season 2 of Big Mouth, Planned Parenthood teamed up with show creators to tackle the myth of their organization as an "abortion factory" in the episode "The Planned Parenthood Show." This episode emphasizes the value of sex ed and the ways that Planned Parenthood is trying to combat a general lack of information about birth control among teenagers. Between Planned Parenthood's work and Kroll's attempt to provide both parents and children with sex ed vocabulary through Big Mouth, maybe there is hope for the future of sex ed, but it certainly includes pop culture. Spruch knows that "concepts like managing a birth control method, accessing abortion care, or communicating with a partner about STIs or sexual history, consent, violence and reproductive coercion" are often introduced to kids in media. By working with Big Mouth, Planned Parenthood helped to ensure the producers that they have accurate information and that kids can obtain that information "without shame or judgement." In fact, Spruch suggested that TV shows "can provide numerous teachable moments for parents to talk with their teens about what they're seeing on screen," both positive and negative. Therefore, TV like Big Mouth and Sex Education are indeed helpful for changing national taboos.

Having outlets that provide basic knowledge allows media to address other glossed over topics related to sex-most prominently sexual consent-through shows like Hulu's adaptation of Sally Rooney's novel Normal People. Normal People depicts the lives of Marianne (Daisy Edgar-Jones) and Connell (Paul Mescal) as they move through their on-again-off-again relationship. Almost every time Marianne and Connell enter one another's lives, they have sex, and those sex scenes are graphic. However, they are also realistic. Connell constantly asks Marianne if she wants to continue. Marianne is given the space to explore the type of sex she wants to have outside of her relationship with Connell, and she is able to acknowledge her own trauma in the process. The protagonists grow together and apart to form a narrative actively defining consensual relationships. Normal People reiterates that we have to continuously grow and learn about our bodies, sex, and sexuality, and that fact makes YouTube channels like Sexplanations popular.

On her YouTube channel, Lindsey Doe, a clinical sexologist with a doctorate in sexuality, enthusiastically talks about everything from fetishes and mammograms to UTIs. She is open about her intentions in her introductory video to Sexplanations, but over the last eight years her outward enthusiasm for her work has increased greatly. Not only are her videos often sponsored by sex toys, not unlike Bitch, she has used and done most of the things she promotes, or as she says, she walks the talk. Doe has a professional career doing essentially the same thing that her free YouTube videos do, so why have a YouTube channel? Because sex education fails to provide accurate and/or complete information, and kids don't have money to pay for it. They're on the internet anyway, so Doe becomes a resource that navigates people away from misinformation and towards a free and fun way to learn. What she reinforces is that our language about sex is constantly changing, helped in part by books like The Ethical Slut and popular discourse, and that we are allowed to change with it.

Our desires, knowledge, and experiences about sex can and do change, which leaves a market open beyond sex ed to answer questions like this one that Jaclyn Friedman heard after the publication of her 2008 book Yes Means Yes: "How did you figure out what you wanna say yes or no to?" By providing a place to find answers for this question, Doe promotes positive relationships with our bodies, sex, and sexualities, something sex education may never do in the United States. Sex education disproportionately fails to provide women, women of color, and queer folks with the information we need to have consensual, informed, and safe sexual experiences. While conversations around sex in and out of the classroom are often shut down with double standards based on gender and race, it is the duty of sex education and those who provide it to equally inform students about their bodies. Friedman told Bitch in 2019, "if you are not teaching sex ed, you are just not teaching consent or boundaries at all," and she insists that what we need as a country is "comprehensive, K through 12, pleasure-affirming, shame-free sex education" to combat this ignorance. With this kind of sex education, there's reason to believe that teen pregnancy rates, already on the decline, will remain par for the course and, most importantly, future generations will be educated about their bodies. Until then, until a comprehensive, feminist, pleasure-affirming, medically accurate sex ed is federally mandated and federally funded, a small slice of the internet seeks to be all of these things for kids and young adults alike.

Editor's Note: This story has been updated to correct a misspelling of Caren Spruch's name. (09/01/2021, 06:06 p.m. PST)

Like what you just read? Consider supporting Bitch Media-an independent, reader-supported feminist media outlet-to make more of this feminist analysis possible and accessible to all. Join us as a monthly member or make a one-time fully tax deductible donation today.

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From Fanfiction to "Big Mouth," Pop Culture Fills the Sex Ed Gap

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In the opening episode of Netflix's (2017), main characters Andrew (John Mulaney) and Nick (Nick Kroll) are sitting in their health class watching a video about female reproductive organs when Andrew's hormone monster pops out of his desk. Big Mouth has been praised for having women writers and talking honestly about sexuality, puberty, and desire for all genders.

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Column: Earth, Justice, and Our Classrooms

By Bill Bigelow

"I want you to act as you would in a crisis. I want you to act as if our house is on fire. Because it is."

Those are the words of Greta Thunberg, the 15-year-old high school student whose protests outside the Swedish parliament building helped spark the ongoing student strikes for the climate throughout Europe and Australia. As Jake Woodier of the Youth Climate Coalition, which helps coordinate the strikes in Great Britain, told the Guardian: "The images of what Greta did and then the huge strikes by schoolchildren in other countries have been widely shared by young people on social media and have really inspired people."

This explosion of global youth climate justice activism is an encouraging development. And things are building in the United States, as groups like Zero Hour and U.S. Youth Climate Strike emulate students around the world and are organizing climate strikes here. As U.S. Youth Climate Strike announces in their defiant "Why We Are Striking" statement: "We are running out of time, and we won't be silent any longer."

For too long, the fossil fuel industry has tried to buy teachers' and students' silence by saddling us with a curriculum of climate denialism, funding propaganda like the Heartland Institute's Why Scientists Disagree About Global Warming, distributed free to tens of thousands of teachers, and spreading climate change doubt that made its way into mainstream textbooks. The gulf between the severity of the climate crisis and the curricular response in schools continues to yawn wide. This is where we come in. Social justice educators need to expose the biased and damaging curriculum and construct an alternative.

This spring, Rethinking Schools launches our "Teach Climate Justice" campaign through the Zinn Education Project, which we coordinate with Teaching for Change: bit.ly/ZEP_Climate. Our aim is to create an online library of free, downloadable K-12 climate justice curriculum and other teaching resources, host conversations for teachers to reflect on issues in teaching climate change, offer workshops on climate justice teaching, and promote the urgency of climate justice education. We need to teach like our house is on fire. Because it is.

At the site, we are assembling role plays, poetry activities, simulations, mixers, stories, and curriculum to accompany films. Some of these are lessons that first appeared in Rethinking Schools, like Eric Fishman's "Where Are the Climate Change Superheroes?," which describes an imaginative game he uses with his 4th graders about how climate change is unfolding in Costa Rica, with kids taking on the roles of avocado trees and the quetzal - a revered bird. In "Teaching to the Heart," Michelle Nicola shows how she uses Kathy Jet—il-Kijiner's poignant, student-friendly poem "Dear Matafele Peinam" with her 7th graders. Another lesson, Ursula Wolfe-Rocca's "Standing with Standing Rock," is a role play that helps students see who benefits and who suffers from the Dakota Access Pipeline, and introduces students to those who resist.

We are also adding lessons from our book, A People's Curriculum for the Earth: Teaching Climate Change and the Environmental Crisis. These help students consider the systemic roots of global warming, like the trial role play "Who's to Blame for the Climate Crisis?" and "The Thingamabob Game," a simulation that immerses students in the incentives and pressures that discourage corporations from lowering greenhouse gas emissions.

We also intend for Teach Climate Justice to be a discussion forum. We'll include early drafts of lessons and invite people to test these out and to comment. We are posting a new climate activist mixer that Portland, Oregon, teachers Matt Reed and Tim Swinehart led for 75 teachers at a recent Teach Climate Justice event. In the mixer, participants take on the personas of climate justice and anti-fossil fuel activists from around the world - especially young activists like Xiuhtezcatl Martinez of Earth Guardians and Our Children's Trust and Simmone Ahiaku, a founder of the Fossil Free campaign in the United Kingdom - and learn about the breadth of movement strategies by meeting diverse activists. It's an activity that shows students how climate justice is inseparable from racial justice, gender justice, and economic justice.

Our Teach Climate Justice campaign will offer professional development workshops by some of the teachers and writers featured at our site. These face-to-face workshops engage participants in activities as we would our students, but also allow teachers to air questions and share their own teaching insights. Recently, I led a daylong A People's Curriculum for the Earth workshop at Florida Atlantic University's Pine Jog Environmental Education Center, for about 30 teachers. Days like this - filled with laughter, aha's, teaching stories, and imagination - show that climate justice education needn't be grim.
Why Climate Justice?
It's worth pausing to talk about why climate justice, and not simply climate literacy. In Portland, where I work with the school district's Climate Justice Committee, we frequently encounter people who want to assign climate teaching solely to science classes. If we could reduce the problem to the carbon cycle, then that might make sense. Yes, learning the science of climate change is essential, but that does not automatically help us analyze its causes, its consequences, or its potential solutions. For that, we need a climate justice approach:

Probe its deep causes. If the United States is the richest, most educated, most scientifically advanced society, then what created our current planetary crisis? To answer that question, we need a curriculum that looks critically at the history and present characteristics of the capitalist economic system that prizes profit and accumulation, while sacrificing so many people and entire species in the process. What are the systemic imperatives that have led to our dire predicament? And we need to examine our culture's anthropocentrism, its presumption that humans should dominate nature.

Focus on race and inequality, on "frontline" communities. Our language about the climate crisis can inadvertently, and wrongly, equalize it. The climate belongs to us all; global warming is happening everywhere on Earth - so all must be similarly affected. But students need to see how this crisis is tearing through the world in profoundly unequal ways - with some losing lands and lives, and others cushioned from its effects behind gates of privilege. Just one example: When tropical storm Harvey, bloated with moisture by climate change, slammed into the huge ExxonMobil refinery in Baytown, Texas, those first exposed to the spilled toxic chemicals were the adjoining communities, overwhelmingly people of color.

Student activism. The climate justice resolution passed in 2016 by the Portland Board of Education states that "students should develop confidence and passion when it comes to making a positive difference in society, and come to see themselves as activists and leaders for social and environmental justice." Of course, this would be important even if we were not facing a climate emergency, but when students grasp the enormity of the crisis, it can lead to anxiety and despair. Activism is the antidote. Students need a people's history curriculum that shows them the popular roots of positive social change. But more than that, they need opportunities to feel their own power to make a difference - like those organizing today's student strikes and demanding a Green New Deal.

Focus on deep solutions. A curriculum that engages students in asking about the fundamental social and economic origins of the climate crisis should match that inquiry with a willingness to encourage students to imagine the social changes that would reverse its causes. As Naomi Klein writes toward the end of her book This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs. the Climate, we are not simply talking about recycling or conservation; confronting the climate crisis means joining a "battle of worldviews, a process of rebuilding and reinventing the very idea of the collective, the communal, the commons, the civil, and the civic after so many decades of attack and neglect." This is the utopian (in the best sense of the word), imaginative, hopeful study that our students need to engage in.

These are some of the principles that animate our new Teach Climate Justice campaign.

Please join us in this important work. Visit the site. Download our resources. Comment on lessons. Share this campaign (#TeachClimateJustice) on social media and with colleagues. Contact us about writing up your own climate justice lessons. Consider organizing a climate justice workshop in your school district, university, or community. Our house is on fire. No matter what we teach, this work belongs to all of us.

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Our House Is on Fire - Time to Teach Climate Justice

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In the latest installment of our regular column "Earth, Justice, and Our Classrooms," Rethinking Schools curriculum editor Bill Bigelow writes about global youth activism around climate justice and the urgency of the crisis, and introduces readers to the Zinn Education Project's Teach Climate Justice campaign.

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In Southeast Asia, TikTok has shown its potential as the next platform for political activism.

In Indonesia, young users strategically used TikTok to protest the controversial amendment of the labour law.

One viral TikTok video showing street protests in Semarang, Central Java, has gained 1.2 million likes and 8.6 million views. The video has also received over 11,000 comments and been shared over 14,000 times. Many of the comments showed support for the protesters, including from Malaysian TikTok users.

Similarly, in Thailand and Myanmar, TikTok has helped amplify young protesters' voices. They call for democracy and demand the end of military dictatorships.

My latest case study in Indonesia, Thailand and Myanmar has concluded that TikTok has helped distribute political content and increase awareness among global TikTok users of what is happening in Southeast Asia.

Unique algorithm

I conducted my study from January 15 to February 15 by scraping data on TikTok. Using a snowball technique, I use straightforward keywords like "omnibuslaw", "thaiprotest" and "myanmarprotest" to find videos related to these keywords. I manually scraped trending hashtags on highly viewed videos to identify other trending hashtags.

I chose this technique because, so far, no available tool has been specifically developed to scrape data on TikTok, unlike other social media sites such as Facebook, Twitter, YouTube or Reddit.

From my study, I found TikTok has a unique algorithm, which enables many views through its organic content promotion. This algorithm has allowed TikTok to become a tool for political activism.

The algorithm also allows for a wider audience range beyond Southeast Asia to engage with popular content with many interactions and likes on TikTok's "for you page", commonly known as fyp.

As a result, political content shared by Southeast Asian TikTokers attracted comments not only from users in the region but also other users, including from European countries and the Americas.

I have seen comments like "What is happening in Thailand?" and "What is happening in Indonesia?" when protest videos shared on TikTok landed on my fyp page.

TikTok users' fyp pages follow a unique "pattern" based on their viewing and liking trends on TikTok. This allows political content generated in Southeast Asia that made it to users' fyp page to receive a greater number of views from TikTok users regardless of their geographical locations as long as the users had viewed or liked similar or related content in the past.

Based on my observations, other social media like Facebook, Twitter and YouTube recorded the same phenomena, but none has provided more reach than TikTok.

I believe TikTok's unique algorithm, which pushes content based on user interaction, preference and exploration on the app, contributed to higher viral traction than its competitors.

Popular among the young and old

Close to five years since its first launch in September 2016, TikTok has become one of the fastest-growing social media platforms. It had about 800 million users worldwide as of January 2020.

In Southeast Asia, the popularity of TikTok can be seen from the rapid increase in new users this year.

In a region with a population of about 658 million people, the application had been downloaded over 360 million times as of August 2020. TikTok is extremely popular among among Gen Z and millennials.

Older audiences have also started to join the app, including politicians and government ministries in Southeast Asia.

For example, Malaysia's former prime minister, Mahathir Mohammad, created a TikTok account to reach younger audiences.

In Indonesia, the Ministry of Public Relations Bureau created a TikTok account in March 2019 with the same intent, reaching out to the youth.

As TikTok continues to gain popularity in Southeast Asia, scholars are becoming more interested in looking at the TikTok phenomenon and its impacts on the region's political scene.

TikTok as the platform for political activism

Given its immense popularity and extensive usage in Southeast Asia, TikTok has proven itself as the current platform for political activism in the region, at least for the younger generations, especially among Gen Z.

The high potential of TikTok as a space for political conversations and activism can also be seen in other parts of the world. This includes the famous case involving Kpop stans versus then President Donald Trump in 2020.

The case indicates that, if used strategically, TikTok has great potential to boost grassroots political activism, not only in the US but even in regions where freedom of expression is limited.

We can also see the increased TikTok content distribution on other social media apps like Facebook and Twitter. News outlets and global media have been extracting content from TikTok as a part of the material they publish.

Despite scepticism about the Chinese app soon after its global release in 2017, today TikTok has proven itself as the current social media powerhouse, not only for fun dancing videos but also for providing its global users' with new space for political expression. Although, ironically, not for its own people in China.

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How TikTok can be the new platform for political activism: lessons from Southeast Asia

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In Southeast Asia, TikTok has shown its potential as the next platform for political activism. In Indonesia, young users strategically used TikTok to protest the controversial amendment of the labour law. One viral TikTok video showing street protests in Semarang, Central Java, has gained 1.2 million likes and 8.6 million views.

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In his book, Why Indigenous Literatures Matter, Daniel Heath Justice explores just that - what Indigenous literatures are. It also looks at the importance of understanding and valuing them in all their forms.

"I always do the plural because our literatures take a lot of different forms," said Justice, a professor in First Nations and Indigenous Studies and English at the University of British Columbia.

"Basically, for me, Indigenous literatures are those embodied, expressive traditions that communicate our understandings in the world."

This includes texts, books, stories and poems, but also mediums such as carvings, basketry and wampum belts, to name a few, said Justice, a citizen of the Cherokee Nation.

"There are all kinds of ways that we have inscribed our realities into other media."

Literary expression before and after colonialism

The term literatures, instead of literature, reflects the multitude of forms which literary expression can take, he said, which date back to long before the arrival and settlement of Europeans.

"I think that we have to get out of the rupture idea that because a rupture has happened in our histories, that somehow everything before then is lost to us and everything that came after is inauthentic," said Justice. "I think that's a very impoverishing view that just isn't reflected by reality."

While Indigenous literatures are getting more attention, Justice said they still are less respected in Canada than they should be.

"I think especially those texts that really challenge settler colonialism in Canada; the literature that really questions the multicultural ethos of a liberalized Canada," he said.

Justice addressed the term settler in his book, describing it as a word that can cause discomfort for non-Indigenous people.

"It is agitating for a lot of people and I think that's OK. I think we can be disturbed by some of this terminology. I don't use it as an insult," said Justice. "I do use it as a way of foregrounding the ... violent histories of settler colonialism."

The term is often criticized for grouping all non-Indigenous people together. "There is a danger in collapsing all of these distinctive experiences into on," Justice explained. "Under settler colonialism, the arrival of so many communities has ensured that Indigenous peoples have lost lands."

One of the questions his book sets out to answer is in the title itself. Why Do Indigenous Literatures Matter? The answer is simple.

"Because we matter," said Justice.

Click the Listen button above to hear his full conversation with Rosanna Deerchild.

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'Our literatures matter because we do,' says Indigenous author Daniel Heath Justice | CBC Radio

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In his book, Why Indigenous Literatures Matter, Daniel Heath Justice explores just that - what Indigenous literatures are. It also looks at the importance of understanding and valuing them in all their forms. "I always do the plural because our literatures take a lot of different forms," said Justice, a professor in First Nations and Indigenous Studies and English at the University of British Columbia.

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Toronto public schools have major and rising student achievement gaps based on race and income, according to a recent landmark report. One of the biggest blocks to closing these gaps is educators' understanding of why these gaps exist and the methods used to try and close them.

Last summer, education researchers, community partners and teachers gathered to address such reports of inequality. One of the main issues discussed was how identity-based data helps to locate and remove systemic barriers.

The action plan for Ontario, which aims to make sure every student has the opportunity to succeed, "regardless of background, identity or personal circumstances," includes an analysis of identity-based data.

Researchers have demonstrated that in Toronto public schools, Black, racialized and lower-income students face significant gaps in student outcomes. Other reports show gaps as high as 30 per cent on standardized test scores. Lower socioeconomic groupings of Black, Middle Eastern, Indigenous and Latino boys were among those most impacted by the achievement gap.

Read more: Why won't Canada collect data on race and student success?

On top of this, racialized students feel less comfortable at school. Black, Latino and (racially) mixed students from lower socioeconomic groups reported lower levels of school satisfaction than all other racial groups. These students felt less comfortable participating in class than students in higher socioeconomic groups.

This data could help Ontario school boards not only identify issues, but also change the systems and structures that cause achievement and opportunity gaps for underserved groups of students.

Factor in historical injustices

For decades, researchers in the United States have used identity-based data to identify achievement gaps between groups of students based on race, gender, language, ability, sexuality and other social identities.

This has not been common practice in Canada. Although some of the U.S. research has been misguided, critiques of these early reports by education scholars has been helpful.

Research attention then turned to opportunity gaps. This framing considers historical structural barriers in schools that produce educational inequities. So instead of focusing on deficits in students, the research focuses on systemic issues such as economic resources, racism and embedded practices in policies.

This research shift was promising, but most discussions of opportunity gaps still fell short. They generally consider only the distribution and access to material goods within different schools, and fail to account for other opportunity gaps denied to students both inside and outside of school, including present-day and historical inequities.

Challenge traditional ways of thinking

As a former TDSB lead teacher in the Model Schools for Inner Cities (MSIC) Program designed to close gaps, and later, as a researcher who studied the MSIC program, I have some insight into how we might begin to tackle these issues in Ontario.

The MSIC program was launched in 2004 to support schools whose students faced the greatest barriers to success. My research analyzes how stakeholder groups like MSIC staff, community partners, district-level staff, school trustees and school principals in the MSIC program made sense of opportunity gaps.

I interviewed people from the stakeholder groups and analyzed program documents to gauge their understanding of the program and how their analysis shifted over a decade. Participants mostly agreed on the purpose of the program (to close opportunity gaps), but they had dramatically different ways of thinking about those gaps.

The two different approaches that emerged are affirmative versus transformative. These are categories defined in the context of international development by political theorist Nancy Fraser. The affirmative approach emphasizes fixing or saving students. This method tends to use language like "empower."

The transformative approach focuses on addressing inequitable systemic barriers as well as challenging ways of thinking that maintain opportunity gaps. This method tends to use language like "support" and "affirm."

These two different approaches to opportunity gaps lead to very different practices, policies and initiatives. Affirmative approaches saw students and families in the MSIC program as "in need," while positioning the program as the "saviour."

Transformative approaches positioned the program as temporary support that aimed to work itself out of existence. Underserved communities were understood to have abundant social, political and cultural resources and agency to ensure their children's success.

Affirm identities

Affirmative approaches work to ensure all students have access to the same experiences and material goods. Equal access to nutrition, technology and health services is also essential in transformative approaches. However, a transformative approach believes opportunity gaps are not fixed by just providing equal resources. Programs should also work to affirm students' identities.

In other words, schools should develop curriculum, field trips and extracurricular activities based on the students' lived experiences, interests and aspirations. Injustices can be addressed by the redistribution of goods, but recognition and representation matter as well.

Affirmative approaches provide parents with opportunities to network, learn about parenting and build workforce skills within the confines of board structures.

Transformative approaches work with parents and caregivers to advocate for their rights and navigate the educational system to support their children.

Teach students to engage critically

Affirmative approaches are related to the purpose of achieving excellence, in teaching and learning, generally in the form of standardized test scores.

Transformative approaches view equity as a prerequisite for excellence, but excellence is not the main point of education. The main point is to support students in engaging critically in a democratic society.

As Ontario school boards begin their project of collecting identity-based data, and as the boards work towards closing the achievement and opportunity gaps, policy-makers and school leaders will need to focus on transformative approaches. Their work needs to understand the relationships between historical injustices and student achievement, engagement and well-being today.

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Racialized student achievement gaps are a red-alert

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Toronto public schools have major and rising student achievement gaps based on race and income, according to a recent landmark report. One of the biggest blocks to closing these gaps is educators' understanding of why these gaps exist and the methods used to try and close them.

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A Winnipeg high school student who was reprimanded and removed from class over her decision not to stand during the national anthem hopes talking about the situation sparks change and awareness.

Each morning, when O Canada plays over the speakers at River East Collegiate, 15-year-old Skyla Hart remains seated.

"This country is a colonized country and I don't want to stand for a colonized country," Skyla said. "People always say, like, it was a long time ago, [but] we're still ... going through it - all the trauma from it."

It's a decision she said she made in Grade 5 to honour her Cree and Ojibway ancestors and her culture, as well as to recognize ongoing injustices Indigenous people face.

The Grade 10 student said the choice not to stand hasn't been a problem - until this fall.

First, Skyla said she was pulled out of class one day by a teacher after refusing to stand for the anthem. She was told to stand in the hallway, she said, but "I would still be standing for O Canada if I stand in the hallway, so I chose to sit down in the hallway."

That's when another teacher came by and yelled at her to get up, she said. She returned to class when the anthem was over.

"It made me feel upset, angry," Skyla said. "The teacher kept on telling me she respected what I do. But if she respected me, she wouldn't have pulled me out of class to stand in the hallway."

A few days later, Skyla said she was reprimanded again on her way to class; when O Canada began to play and she kept walking, a teacher popped out of another classroom and got angry with her for not stopping.

Once she arrived to her classroom, Skyla said the teacher wanted her to stand in the hallway until the anthem finished.

"I went in and sat down respectfully," she said. "I don't think it's right for me to stand in the hallway."

End anthem in schools, mother says

Skyla's mother says the situation is upsetting, but she's not surprised by it.

"To me, this is just an extension of residential school. We're still oppressing our children," who are not able "to practise who they are," said Raven Hart.

She said she is proud of Skyla for having the courage to take a seat - and a stand - against the treatment of Indigenous people.

Indigenous people across Canada still face injustices, Hart said, ranging from microaggressions when they walk into stores to the recent discovery of hundreds of unmarked graves at the sites of former residential schools.

The family knows the painful legacy of Canada's residential school system first-hand.

Raven Hart is a residential school survivor herself, attending her last three years of high school at the Lebret Indian Residential School in Saskatchewan before it closed in the 1990s. Her mother, Lyna Hart, was also a residential school survivor.

No child should have to rise for O Canada in school, said Hart, noting she would like to see an end to the national anthem in schools altogether.

"Everything that O Canada stands for is a lie.... [Canada] was built on, you know, the demise of Indigenous people" and displacement "from their lands, from their language and their culture," said Hart. "We really need to recognize that."

Skyla met with the school's principal last week after teachers reported what had happened. Hart said she was troubled that Skyla was portrayed as acting defiantly, instead of being viewed with compassion for her decision.

Skyla said the principal understood "where I was coming from" and "was very respectful," and invited her to help improve awareness and elevate Indigenous experiences in the school.

The teen plans to take up that offer. "We need to be recognized more in the community," Skyla said. "I would really like the opportunity to educate my school."

Division offers 'complete support'

In an email to CBC News, a spokesperson for the River East Transcona School Division, which oversees River East Collegiate, said it offers "complete support" to the student.

The division's Indigenous academic achievement staff, along with elders and knowledge keepers, will be "working with River East Collegiate to build staff capacity knowledge," the spokesperson said.

Raven Hart said the school principal also reached out to her to express support for Skyla.

She said she will be satisfied when she sees action, including the creation of more Indigenous programming and language education. The division currently offers language classes in English, French, German, Ukrainian, Japanese and Spanish.

"When a child walks into a school and sees nothing that reflects them, it's like ... looking into a mirror and seeing no reflection," Hart said.

Further, as the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation approaches, Hart said she hopes people take time on Sept. 30 to learn.

"Utilize that day to really educate yourselves on what has happened to Indigenous people and why things are the way they are," she said.

Skyla said O Canada would need to be reinvented before she could stand up for it.

"I want them to bring up all the trauma that we've been through," she said. "And that we're warriors."

The teen also encourages Indigenous and non-Indigenous students to take action in their own schools when the anthem plays.

"Don't be scared to sit down," she said.

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First Nations student reprimanded after not standing for O Canada | CBC News

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A Winnipeg high school student who was reprimanded and removed from class over her decision not to stand during the national anthem hopes talking about the situation sparks change and awareness. Each morning, when O Canada plays over the speakers at River East Collegiate, 15-year-old Skyla Hart remains seated.

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In schools across the country, kids who are heavier than their classmates experience size bias from peers and adults. And school health programs can sometimes hurt more than they help. Experts from the size-acceptance community, whose views are often omitted from health debates, offer a fresh perspective: eat healthy foods, stay active, and don't worry about your size.
"I'm the biggest in my family and I have the best cholesterol and blood sugar," announces Kevin, a junior at Sequoia High School in Redwood City, Calif. He has just walked an extra-long distance for a late lunch of salad topped with grilled chicken strips and ranch dressing, followed by chocolate chip cookies. He came to the school's Teen Resource Center to make a point about stereotypes.

"I play three sports, I ride my bike, I walk everywhere and I'm still the same size," he says, insisting his health is better than some of his thinner classmates.

Looking at his larger-than-average size, some doubt Kevin is as healthy as he claims. But Marlene Schwartz, co-director of the Yale Center for Eating and Weight Disorders, says it's quite likely Kevin's weight may not negatively affect his health.

"I believe if a child is eating a nutritionally balanced diet and is active, if he or she has a higher BMI [body mass index], it doesn't matter," says Schwartz.

Schwartz routinely hears people say, " If only fat people worked harder, they would lose weight." But she and others challenge the hysteria surrounding the global "obesity epidemic," which defines 17 percent of children age 2 to 19 as overweight.

Paul Campos, author of The Obesity Myth, argues that Americans are, in general, only 15 pounds heavier than they were 20 years ago. It is public health standards, not our bodies, that have changed, becoming more rigid in defining the majority of Americans as "overweight."

That news is small consolation for students subjected to harassment and prejudice, sometimes unrelentingly, from peers and teachers because they are heavier than others. Many have been frightened into hating their bodies by grim medical reports about childhood obesity. Too many believe that dieting is the only solution, even though study after study shows dieting doesn't work.

Michael Loewy, a psychology professor at the University of North Dakota, paints an unsettling picture in his essay Working with Fat Children in Schools: "It is amazing that so many fat children survive adolescence, given the hatred and meanness directed at them."

'I Put Myself Down'

At Sequoia High School's Teen Resource Center, Dana Schuster, a speaker with the Health at Every Size program, has gathered a group of students to discuss how the war on obesity has taken a toll on their self-esteem.

"In my family they tell me, 'You'd look nice if you were smaller,'" says Celia, 15.

"I think I put myself down more than anyone," adds Rachel, 18, referring to the negative thoughts filling her head about her size.

One girl says she's more confident and accepting of herself now that she's in high school, yet she's just finished a juice fast, essentially starving herself. "I felt good. I lost the 10 pounds," she says.

Naomi, 16, listens quietly to other students' comments about the frustrations of gym class and clothes shopping. Then she says simply, "It hurts when you weigh a lot."

Victims of size discrimination often suffer from depression, anxiety and loneliness. They may also suffer from low self-esteem, voluntarily serving as the butt of jokes -- the stereotypical funny fat kid.

"If they say things to you, it doesn't matter," says Max, one of two boys in the group, shrugging his shoulders. Max says he responds to insults with humor.

Naomi does, too. But she also has a more straightforward comeback: "I tell them, 'It's my body; if you don't like it, don't look at it.'"

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In schools across the country, kids who are heavier than their classmates experience size bias from peers and adults. And school health programs can sometimes hurt more than they help. Experts from the size-acceptance community, whose views are often omitted from health debates, offer a fresh perspective: eat healthy foods, stay active, and don't worry about your size.

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Expanding Our Beliefs and Demands for Inclusive Education

By Emma Fialka-Feldman

Illustrator: Micah Bazant

I grew up in the suburbs of Detroit. In the early 1990s, my family fought to have my brother Micah, who had been labeled with an intellectual disability with needs similar to those with Down syndrome, included in the general education classroom with supports.

My parents are college-educated, speak English, and raised my brother and me with middle-class economic stability. We are white. These privileges meant that my parents could choose where to send my brother to school; they could take time off work without fear of losing their jobs to attend the hundreds of meetings; they could understand the meetings in English (although they didn't necessarily understand the special education jargon). They didn't have to wait months for translation services. They "spoke" the language of school - knowing who to contact when there were challenges and then demanding, year after year, that the school do better.

My family also held the unwavering belief that school would not simply be about providing access to independent life skills, coin counting, and specialized discrete trials. Micah wouldn't go to school to become less disabled. Micah would go to school so that he could reach his full potential. Learning and developing would be a lifelong process. Micah deserved to learn alongside his neighbors and friends with and without disabilities.

Although Micah was successfully included in his K-12 experience, it was often despite the local district. It was only years earlier that students like my brother had been completely denied access to their local public school. They were kept in institutions (or none at all) that believed in a medical model that prioritized compliance and low expectations over learning and community. With the passage of Public Law 94-142 in 1975, students with disabilities were finally guaranteed a free appropriate public education. Laws alone do not guarantee access, but they begin to open doors.

My brother, now 36 years old, is considered part of the "ADA Generation." These are the young people who have come of age since the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) in 1990, which is the most comprehensive disability-focused civil rights and antidiscrimination legislation in our country's history. The ADA passed because of the highly intersectional and radical decades-long organizing of disabled activists, and, at times, in partnership with parents and caregivers of disabled children who were fighting for their child to belong in their neighborhood and community.

The values that guided the passage of the ADA intersect with the inclusive education movement that demands people with disabilities not simply be allowed to go to a segregated school (based on disability), but that the structures and policies in our communities be accessible and barrier free.

The values that guided the passage of the ADA intersect with the inclusive education movement that demands people with disabilities not simply be allowed to go to a segregated school (based on disability), but that the structures and policies in our communities be accessible and barrier free.

Although the full impact of the ADA continues to be seen (and fought for), it led to broader implications for Micah during and after school. There are things he can't do - he can't read in the formal sense, write more than his name, count mixed change, or drive a car. Because of the deep belief that education was a lifelong process, his learning did not get delineated into skills. High expectations allowed for his passions to be nurtured and in turn an interdependent community of support was built. He now works as a teaching assistant at Syracuse University training future teachers.

Although there were incredible teachers and paraprofessionals along the way who nurtured my brother, developed strong family-school partnerships, and sought out resources to expand their professional expertise, my parents often felt like they were fighting simply for his right to grow in his neighborhood school so that he, like all children, could reach their potential. I wonder what our family's journey would have been like if our local teacher's union had said, "We believe in inclusion. We want it to work for all kids in our district. We will fight with you."

Inadequate Inclusion
Overwhelming national research concludes that, when implemented with adequate supports for students and teachers, inclusive classrooms are academically beneficial for students with - and without - disabilities. Inclusive classrooms are generally defined as classrooms in which natural proportions of students with and without disabilities receive supports, accommodations, and modifications to make progress on both Individualized Education Plan (IEP) goals and grade-level standards within the general education setting. Ideally, inclusive classrooms use flexible staffing models where adults use varied co-teaching practices (including station teaching where children rotate among independent, teacher-led, and student-led experiences) and flexible spaces that include opportunities for students to receive 1:1, small group, and whole group instruction. In particular, inclusion ensures that students with disabilities are held to high standards and given access to more opportunities. Inclusive education is not about finding the perfect curriculum, but a deep belief that all children, especially children with disabilities, can achieve at high levels.

In 2013, I became an inclusion teacher in Boston Public Schools (BPS), the same year the district began more systematically increasing the number of inclusive classrooms. However, when I started teaching, BPS inclusive classrooms had one teacher with multiple licenses (e.g., special education and elementary licenses) and one paraprofessional for 20 students. These classrooms had a particular number of students (up to five) with significant support needs (e.g., a student with Down syndrome) in the same classroom with students without significant support needs (i.e., students without a special education plan, students with fewer special education support needs, a student defined as a language learner).

In this model, many classrooms designated as "inclusion classrooms" rely on incredibly inadequate supports. A single often triple-certified teacher (a teacher with their content, special education, and English learner licenses) is responsible for both special education and general education supports: designing lesson plans, modifying the curriculum, conducting the special education assessments, writing the reports, and ensuring all students receive the interventions and supports they need. A job that is often held by multiple, licensed educators is the responsibility of one adult, leaving many paraprofessionals, teachers, and support staff feeling inadequate and ill-prepared - and making learning and teaching incredibly challenging.

As a new inclusion teacher, I struggled with the structural conditions that significantly limited the effectiveness of inclusion. I worried that what families and educators were witnessing would negatively impact their beliefs about the possibility of inclusion. To me, inclusion is not about simply putting students in the same space but about how we answer these questions:

Do students with disabilities and without disabilities have the support they need to grow academically and socially?

Do adults have the supports they need to meet students' needs?

Is the inclusion classroom promoting high expectations and a belief in what is possible?

As I connected with educators across the district and heard stories about inclusion in their classrooms, I also began to question racial inequities. According to the National Council on Disability in 2018, students of color with disabilities are less likely to be in inclusive classrooms than white students. When the location of a school district is factored in, these statistics widen dramatically. These statistics were on loud display in Boston.

As a new inclusion teacher in BPS, I quickly became agitated at the injustices and racism at play among policies around inclusion. Then I learned about the Inclusion Committee, run by and for members in the Boston Teachers Union (BTU), and joined with enthusiasm. I thought back to my brother's story and realized this was historic. Teachers, yes teachers, were fighting for inclusion that supports children growing into their full potential. This committee's initial work helped me, as a young teacher, to realize that unions could be leaders in the fight for inclusive education.

BTU Inclusion Committee
Unions have a mixed history when it comes to racial and social justice, despite their deep commitment to defending the rights of the working class. For example, instead of uniting with the just demands for racial desegregation of schools in Boston, in the 1970s the union took a more narrow approach that put the value of a negotiated contract over the aspirations of the historically underserved communities of color.

In recent years, however, the BTU, along with other teacher unions in Los Angeles and Chicago, have moved from a mostly service-driven union, focusing on enhancing and protecting wages and benefits, to social justice unions, where fighting for the schools our students, families, and communities deserve is matched with the learning and teaching conditions our members deserve. Instead of demanding the closure of inclusion classrooms to protect union members working in these conditions, the BTU Inclusion Committee was formed in 2013 to fight for better inclusion. To the union this meant students with and without disabilities learning in the same classroom with the adult supports required to make inclusion effective - no longer relying simply on multi-license teachers to provide all the special education services.

When I joined the BTU Inclusion Committee in 2017, I connected with union members who had already been engaged in the committee's work to discuss inclusive practices across the city. They had already created surveys to document the teaching and learning conditions across varied inclusive classrooms to try to understand what made the inclusion rollout challenging. They also had created pamphlets to help families navigate the system and learn how to advocate for special education services (e.g., speech, occupational therapy, specialized reading programs). It was clear inclusion wasn't done right but it wasn't clear what role the union would take in this besides addressing grievances that emerged in individual schools.

Inclusion Done Right
In 2018, with the advocacy, data collection, and work of the committee, the BTU made "inclusion done right" a central component of its upcoming contract negotiation with BPS. The union's specific demand was to stop triple-certifying teachers as a cost-saving measure and instead put two teachers in each inclusion classroom to meet student needs.

BTU's two-teacher demand was expensive. I didn't know if we would win it. During contract negotiations, I marched with our union members carrying signs that said "Our students deserve . . . inclusion done right. Our students deserve . . . co-teaching." Testimonies during school committee hearings were filled with the challenges of when inclusion was done wrong and beautiful stories about the possibilities created for kids when their needs were met with adequate teaching supports.

Often special education victories have been individual-family fights for the school/placement a family believes their child is entitled to by law. This was true in my brother's story. Inclusion in Boston, our union was saying, would not be left up to who had resources and privilege; inclusion done right would be the expectation for all kids, especially students of color and others often excluded.

When the district and union settled the 2018-2021 contract in June 2019, it was clear there was no sweeping victory for inclusion. But there were some significant victories around inclusion that showed we were building momentum. For example, students who received English learner services must receive this support from a teacher other than their triple-certified classroom teacher. Students who had resource room minutes in their IEP (students who have disabilities but not significant support needs) must also have their minutes met from a teacher other than their classroom teacher. In addition, a more comprehensive inclusion working group was convened, bringing various stakeholders (parents, teachers, school leaders) together to discuss what inclusion should look like in our district.

Our BTU "Inclusion Done Right" committee and campaign also worked to build coalitions with more union members, families, and community organizers. We continued negotiation with the district and with national inclusion leaders. Instead of advocating only for co-teaching, our demands evolved. Inclusive education and schools that work for all are not about a one-size-fits-all model. Students require that we be creative, flexible, and responsive. We explored additional ways to fight for inclusive education beyond a two-teacher model.

Union President Jessica Tang pledged that we would carry on our fight for "inclusion done right." When school began in the fall of 2019, the BTU launched a campaign that brought together scores of BTU members around the new demands: "More Educators NOT More Licenses" and "Fighting for the Services Our Students Deserve."

Building Alliances
Part of coalition building was creating a common vision for inclusive schools. In fall 2019, participants at "Inclusion Awareness" events held at more than 20 schools across the district talked together about what was working in their inclusion classrooms, what was not working, and what it would take for educators to feel that they could meet the needs of all the students in their school.

At my elementary school, we brought together families and staff to discuss what kinds of classrooms we wanted. Overwhelmingly, families who did not have a child with a disability said, "I want my child to be around kids with disabilities." This statement is radical. For so long, the narrative has been families do not want disabled students in their child's classroom; the false fear that being with disabled kids lowers the rigor of the classroom. After the meeting, I called my parents and cried. I thought about how hard my parents had fought to have my brother feel valued in his school. Here I was with other parents who said they wanted disabled kids in their child's classroom.

Overwhelmingly, families who did not have a child with a disability said, "I want my child to be around kids with disabilities." This statement is radical. For so long, the narrative has been families do not want disabled students in their child's classroom; the false fear that being with disabled kids lowers the rigor of the classroom.

Our "Inclusion Done Right" campaign also held strategic meetings throughout the fall and winter of 2019 and 2020, to continue discussing our campaign's strategy and direction. I rushed into the first meeting late from school expecting to see our small but mighty group of 10 members in our union hall. Instead, I found empty pizza boxes, no empty seats, and more than 75 people. The mobilization was building.

We designed the strategic meetings to be accessible. The union provided interpretation services, childcare, and food. We were able to bring in families that represented the diversity of voices within our district. Just like at my school's inclusion awareness event, there were also families who did not have a child with a disability and teachers who did not work directly with students with disabilities.

We also formed alliances, through meetings and many conversations, with members of the Boston Special Education Parent Advisory Council (SpedPac). SpedPac is a federally mandated support that every school district must support in organizing, and our alliance helped us put parents and students with disabilities at the center of this work. Roxi Harvey, parent leader of Boston SpedPac, recalled: "Our families need their voices to be heard and valued. Many of our families have experienced being devalued during school team meetings and their children have not experienced success . . . We have home data to share . . . It is important for everyone to know that when inclusion is done right, all children receive a challenging curriculum and studies show they have higher self-concepts."

We listened to families' stories. Then we listened to rehearsed testimonies to help people feel more confident sharing their stories publicly. Testimonies included parents from local justice groups and a parent from one of Boston's predominantly Spanish-speaking neighborhoods who demanded, through a Spanish-English interpreter, that her daughter, who doesn't have an IEP, receive a great education by ensuring that classrooms have adequate support to teach children with and without disabilities.

Cross-school teams also hosted their local city councilors for a meet-and-greet to discuss inclusion in our city.

To keep our demand loud during the 2019-2020 school year, we also made a commitment to be at meetings of the Boston School Committee, the mayor-appointed body that oversees the decisions made by BPS. For the first school committee meeting in 2020 we dressed in red, together more than 100 people strong. Families and teachers again shared powerful testimonies.

Inclusion and Black Lives Matter
Then the pandemic hit. Inclusion done right became a stronger rallying cry as we figured out how to support our students, families, and communities during a pandemic. We held our campaign meeting on Zoom in the first weeks during the school closure. More than 60 people attended - including families. We centered the immediate needs of families who were frustrated by the lack and inconsistency of special education services being delivered. Small breakout rooms paired union members with families. We listened.

At our last union membership meeting of the 2020 school year, a group of members quickly collaborated to construct a resolution in the wake of racial justice uprisings after the murder of George Floyd. Titled "Building an Anti-Racist Union" the resolution called for the removal of cops in our schools, the inclusion of ethnic studies curriculum, making the Black Lives Matter at School Week of Action part of the job description of building reps, keeping a union Truth and Reconciliation Committee to address racism that has persisted in the union for generations and healing, and creating a statement about the Inclusion Done Right campaign. It stated:

THEREFORE, the Boston Teachers Union will continue its Inclusion Done Right campaign that has found that Boston Public School students of color are disproportionately placed in segregated settings and overrepresented in our special education system. Inclusion Done Right demands that students of color, particularly African American males, deserve high-quality inclusive schools that include multiple staff, rather than multiple-licensed teachers. All students, but especially those with disabilities, deserve teachers [who] are trained and experienced in de-escalation techniques to access curriculum in the least-restrictive setting possible.

With more than 400 members virtually signing on for the meeting, the resolution passed and now helps guide our anti-racist work, as a union and as educators in our schools. BTU member Natalia Cuadra-Saez said, "When BTU members voted to pass the Resolution for Building an Anti-Racist Union it felt like a historic moment. To me it's part of a historic shift that is happening within the labor movement. More and more unions and rank-and-file members are embracing a social justice unionism model. We're acknowledging as union members that our goal is not just to fight for economic justice, but also for racial justice and social justice as a whole. To include demands from the Inclusion Done Right campaign is part of that acknowledgement. Inclusion Done Right is a civil rights issue. Inclusion Done Right is a racial justice issue. And if we want to build an anti-racist union we know that we can't just use buzzwords or wear a sticker. We need bold demands that tackle the systemic inequalities our members, students, and families deal with on a daily basis. Inclusion Done Right is one of those bold demands."

BTU member Chantei Alves said, "When rank-and-file members came together to write the resolution, in the midst of multiple pandemics that were disproportionately affecting Black and Brown communities, I [as a Black BTU member] felt seen, heard, and valued by my colleagues and union leadership. As a Black inclusion teacher guiding Black and Brown students with learning challenges at the young ages of 4 and 5, including the Inclusion Done Right campaign was just as significant because equitable and high-quality instruction and services for our students and families, as well as consistent support for special education teachers, specifically addresses one of the most racist and segregated structures within the education system."

At the final school committee hearing of the 2020 school year, Tang presented a report the union wrote documenting how racial justice work intersects with the Inclusion Done Right campaign, which calls out the inequities in our district: White students are two times less likely to be placed in segregated special education spaces (Department of Elementary and Secondary Education's District Review Report, released in March 2020). In the district's solidarity statement of Black Lives Matter, we were highlighting how ensuring equitable inclusion is an essential part of Black Lives Matter in BPS.

Toward Disability Justice
Throughout the campaign, union members have had to identify their fears and intentionally support each other. Teachers named fears about administration's retaliation around pushing back against district policies at IEP meetings. Paraprofessionals named fears about job security if they spoke up about poor working and teaching conditions in a classroom. Families named fears about the impact their activism might have on their own children's educational journeys.

As we move forward, I hope we can center disabled people and disability justice in our work. Disability justice is designed around principles including intersectionality, leadership of those most impacted, commitment to cross-movement organizing, sustainability, interdependence (not independence), collective access, and collective liberation. Ultimately, disability justice in schools challenges us to move beyond "fitting in," as happened with the initial rollout of inclusion in Boston, to recognizing how our communities and schools must be radically transformed. "Fitting in" means we just place disabled people in inherently ableist spaces. Inclusive education done right means that our schools evolve to meet the needs of all, especially those who have been most marginalized by the system.

As we move forward, I hope we can center disabled people and disability justice in our work. Disability justice is designed around principles including intersectionality, leadership of those most impacted, commitment to cross-movement organizing, sustainability, interdependence (not independence), collective access, and collective liberation.

We need a national network of union members who are committed to broadening their fight for inclusive schools. We have the opportunity to actively undo the racial and social inequities that our schools replicate. Across the nation, 83 percent of students with intellectual disabilities are left out of inclusive settings; among these, students of color with disabilities are disproportionately excluded. We must work to center the demands and stories of those with disabilities and families of color. Our campaign must continue to engage in these difficult conversations and help us all learn that inclusive schools must be for all kids, not just those with privileges. Ultimately, this is a transformative fight for all of us - union members, other adults working at schools, children, families, and our schools.

Resources
National Council on Disability. Feb. 7, 2018. IDEA Series: The Segregation of Students with Disabilities. ncd.gov/sites/default/files/NCD_Segregation-SWD_508.pdf.

Berne, Patty. June 9, 2015. "Disability Justice - a Working Draft by Patty Berne." Sins Invalid. www.sinsinvalid.org/blog/disability-justice-a-working-draft-by-patty-berne.

Massachusetts Department of Elementary and Secondary Education. "Boston Public Schools District Review Report 2020."

Resolution for Building an Anti-Racist Union passed by the Boston Teachers Union on June 10, 2020. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1GhrLqiiAjDACqJJeSoTONM9K0JO2nw5XWgHuthO9Gjs/edit.

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The Story of One Union's Journey Toward Disability Justice

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By Emma Fialka-Feldman Illustrator: Micah Bazant I grew up in the suburbs of Detroit. In the early 1990s, my family fought to have my brother Micah, who had been labeled with an intellectual disability with needs similar to those with Down syndrome, included in the general education classroom with supports.

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Members of IfNotNow and allies protect an antisemitism training from pro-Israel protesters in Toronto

This article is a lightly adapted version of a talk the author delivered on July 18, 2019, as part of the Ontario Coalition Against Poverty's speakers series in Toronto.
IfNotNow Toronto, a group I organize with, is a movement of mostly young Jews working to end the North American Jewish community's support for Israel's military rule over Palestinians. This May, we held a teach-in on antisemitism. As the workshop day drew close, we noticed a surprising entry on our list of online sign-ups for the event: the spokesperson of a new group dedicated to "unapologetic Zionism." This person then announced on Facebook that she was going to mobilize a group of pro-Israel Jews to protest and potentially disrupt our event. So we ended up needing to gather more than a dozen comrades to defend it. We stood outside for hours as our coreligionists - including some far-right Jewish Defence League folks - blared Israeli pop music and screamed at us about the shame that we, as anti-occupation Jews, bring on the Jewish people.

Why would a group of pro-Israel Jews protest an educational event held by another Jewish group? Why is there this struggle over the definition of antisemitism, within the Jewish community and beyond it? Why did we have to defend an antisemitism training from other Jews? (I begin Jewishly by asking questions that breed other questions.)

This puzzle has to do with Israel but isn't reducible to it. To figure out what's going on here, we need to ask:

How is antisemitism showing up today?

First of all, there's been a surge in obvious, explicit forms of it: the Tree of Life synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh, which killed 11 elders in that Jewish community last fall, was the deadliest single antisemitic attack in U.S. history. Jews are the group most targeted by (reported) hate crimes in Canada, and the religious group most targeted in the U.S. The frequency of such crimes has spiked since Trump's election. From 2016-2017, the number of reported hate crimes against Jews climbed by 63 per cent in Canada and by 37 per cent in the U.S.

Yet, at the same time, many of those who are enabling this surging antisemitism - like those who empower white supremacists - are also making a cottage industry of condemning it: right-wing anti-antisemitism is also on the rise. Trump targets U.S. Congresswoman Ilhan Omar, a staunch left anti-imperialist, and calls her antisemitic even as his presidency emboldens people like David Duke, racist conspiracy theorist and former Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan. The British Labour Party under Jeremy Corbyn is regularly accused of antisemitism by the political centre and right.

Yet, unlike a critical or left account, it asserts that anti-Jewish racism is a problem that can be tackled in isolation from other racisms.

What does this do?

Right-wing condemnation of antisemitism can be a tactic that's used to suppress left voices, and particularly left criticism of Israel and American imperialism. It can be a form of ad hominem, a way of disqualifying a speaker, placing their words in a category of speech it's ethically acceptable to censor (so the argument goes).

This right-wing tactic does share a broad definition of antisemitism with left accounts: anti-Jewish oppression. Yet, unlike a critical or left account, it asserts that anti-Jewish racism is a problem that can be tackled in isolation from other racisms. It enters into alliances with institutionalized white supremacy, downplaying the dangers specifically Christian white supremacy poses even to white Jews. And, as we know, it conflates criticism of Israel with bigotry against Jews, claims all anti-Zionism is antisemitism, which erases the many, many Jewish critics of Israel.

So when IfNotNow's teach-in got crashed by other Jews waving Israeli flags, what we witnessed was a competition over the Jewish community's working definition of antisemitism - with all the political consequences that flow from it.

One feature of antisemitism that can make it hard to recognize is that, for a long time, it can look and sound a lot like praise.

Now, for someone who wants to deny the basic unity of anti-racist struggles, antisemitism can be useful, since it can often present quite differently from other racisms. If white supremacist race science positions whiteness as inherently superior to - supreme over - other so-called races, grounding its claim to power in the alleged racial inferiority of others, it frequently works the opposite way with Judaism. It says Jews have superpowers. That we control everything, we're master strategists, shameless marionettists of the economy and the culture. It says we have a unique tendency to transcend the nation, and therefore to reveal the nation's artificial character, how it's founded on lies and plunder: origins that the nation feels must be mystified, never exposed. One feature of antisemitism that can make it hard to recognize is that, for a long time, it can look and sound a lot like praise.

It's praise that turns easily, you might even say inevitably, into murderous contempt. As the New York-based organization Jews For Racial and Economic Justice points out in its pamphlet Understanding Antisemitism, antisemitism is not a fixed hierarchical oppression, but a cyclical one. It moves through cycles of virulence and remission, a deceptive calm. Especially in moments of economic unrest and acute working-class suffering, positive claims of Jewish exceptionalism are liable to dissolve into sneers that Jews are traitors - scheming financiers or communist wreckers of national unity, or both.

As a modern phenomenon, this cycle of antisemitism is embedded in racialized capitalism and its crises of legitimacy. For example, as the theorist Moishe Postone argued, the Nazis may have identified the Jews with the evils of financialized, globalized ("rootless") capital, but only as part of a project of legitimizing and intensifying another equally capitalist organization of work: industrial production, rooted in national soil. This relationship between capitalist crisis and antisemitic surge means capitalism is structurally unable to provide Jews with durable safety or power. Nor does imperialism have more to offer: white supremacist support for Israel, though multi-faceted, inevitably involves a subtext of that familiar bigot's jeer: go back where you came from. Even white Jews will never be white enough for nationalists of a white nation.

Antisemitism and whiteness

But let's linger on this a moment: what is the relationship between antisemitism and whiteness, anyway?

First of all, because it doesn't get said enough: not all Jews are white. There are many Black Jews, and Sephardic or Mizrahi (North African/Middle Eastern) Jews, vulnerable to harassment by racist police and border officials who may presume them to be Muslim. There's also a range of experiences of racialization among Jews who generally benefit from whiteness. Whiteness, as we know, is a social and not a biological category, which means its boundaries move. Who gets included in it, at a given time and place, changes. (Anyway, committed antisemites have always been very talented at distinguishing fair-skinned Jewish from fair-skinned Gentile features: consider the article "How to recognize a Jew," published this year in a Polish newspaper sold inside Poland's parliament, which cited facial features as one important clue.) White Jews in North America are not "white-passing" - in this specific place and historical moment, we're white, period - but we may be less or more Christian-passing, and this kind of passing has (for obvious reasons!) a huge effect on whether we become targets for antisemitic hate.

History demonstrates, however, that such Jews are reliably re-racialized, re-othered, in times of crisis for the ruling class.

It's true that many white Jews, especially those who are more Christian-passing, are tempted (and permitted) to assimilate into the dominant white Christian culture, where they may be granted junior associate positions in the ruling class. History demonstrates, however, that such Jews are reliably re-racialized, re-othered, in times of crisis for the ruling class. A parallel phenomenon, by way of example: the Jewish Defence League has rallied with groups like the Soldiers of Odin ( founded by a self-described neo-Nazi), but when there was dissention in the ranks of the local far-right last summer, the guy who leads the JDL in Canada was swiftly on the receiving end of vicious Nazi death threats (content warning: graphic threats of extreme antisemitic violence in the linked article). Some Jews, especially white Jews, may build alliances with oppressors because they think more safety is available there than in solidarity with other oppressed people. Yet we have no clear example of this cynical strategy producing safety for most Jewish people for more than a few generations at best.

But where is all this antisemitism you're talking about? (we're asked)

It doesn't exist, you're overreacting, it's not happening to you! (we're told)

There's an idea in circulation - a basically antisemitic idea - that only spectacular physical violence is real antisemitism, that every other subjective experience of it is a delusion flowing from a persecution complex. But this misses antisemitism's basic character, evoked by the definition of antisemitism that IfNotNow used in our teach-in:

"Antisemitism is oppression that targets Jews. Like all oppressions, it involves dehumanization and degradation via lies and stereotypes. These myths change and adapt to different times and places, but wherever they appear, they're deployed by the ruling class as a strategy for protecting their economic and political power."

Most of the time, antisemitism operates on the level of the dogwhistle: coded language that affects cultural attitudes and is immediately intelligible to bigots. For example, consider a recent blowout on Twitter. A popular American podcast host used a series of antisemitic tropes in a jokey tweet. He said a "cabal" of "reptilian" "ritual pedophiles" was controlling everything, these words accompanied by a photo of a non-Jewish politician. An accomplished young American Jewish leftist, a woman in New York, replied that she found this language dangerous, wrongheaded, playing into alt-right antisemitic conspiracy theories. The replies to her complaint, mostly from fans of the podcast, were a case study in actually existing antisemitism on the left. She was made fun of, told she was "reaching," just being paranoid. Her use of the word "trope" more or less got made into a snarky meme. This is what antisemitism on the left can look like. Not like Ilhan Omar or Jeremy Corbyn, but like dozens of ordinary comrades swarming a young Jew to tell her she's too sensitive, her oppression is all in her head.

Anti-racist solidarity with Jews means acknowledging that today's antisemitism is both more common and more insidious than that.

The concept of the microaggression, understood critically, is relevant here. Popularized primarily as a tool for naming covert anti-Black racism, sometimes distorted by liberals who use it to suggest oppression is more a matter of individual speech than of systemic policy, this concept describes an act of interpersonal aggression that's oblique enough to be deniable. Most antisemitism has this character. An ethical orientation towards it is therefore similar to other calls we hear to surface hidden oppressions: believe Jews when we tell you we're being made vulnerable. Not blindly or uncritically, but trust that Jewish sensitivities to antisemitic bigotry are not always maladaptive or wrong. Too often, the non-Jewish anti-racist response to antisemitism is to a) acknowledge the general fact of it, but b) deny or minimize any particular instance of it that doesn't rise to the level of an explicit hate crime. Anti-racist solidarity with Jews means acknowledging that today's antisemitism is both more common and more insidious than that.

Left anti-antisemitism and anti-racist struggle today

So what's the way forward for Jewish emancipation as a part of universal emancipation, and for the fight against antisemitism today?

We've seen that our community often allies itself with the ruling classes, with oppressors. It does so because it believes it will find safety there, and because its historic trauma leads it to resist an understanding of itself as weak, marginalized, or vulnerable. Established Jewish communities in North America are as likely to ally themselves with anti-Black police forces as with brutalized Black communities. This has to change, and there are significant forces within the Jewish community - often young, queer, and anti-capitalist - who want it to change, who refuse membership in any Jewish community that positions itself in such reactionary ways.

We need to develop our total analysis as revolutionary agents of change, collective and individual.

The alternative alignment is clear. As Jews, we must understand ourselves as sharing anti-oppressive struggles with other marginalized communities: Black and Indigenous and Muslim, queer and trans and sex-working, disabled and poor - and Palestinian. Many Jews themselves share one or more of those other experiences of oppression, of course. We need to develop our total analysis as revolutionary agents of change, collective and individual: to refine clear, persuasive accounts of capitalism as a global system and imperialism as a management regime for capital, and to understand the specific role that especially white Jewish communities and the state of Israel perform within that system.

Members of IfNotNow march at a #UniteAgainstRacism rally in Toronto

In the Middle Ages, many Jews were employed as moneylenders, an occupation that was both necessary for Christian economies and forbidden to Christians as sinful. This situation enabled a degree of Jewish material prosperity, while it also kept Jews extremely vulnerable to the Christian ruling classes' arbitrary repression. Today's white Jews who have been granted junior partnerships in empire and capital bear a certain resemblance to those Medieval ancestors. Not because they're masterminds of financialized capitalism (call in your comrades who are talking this way - they're normalizing antisemitic slurs), but because such Jews are precarious, their influence lent to them opportunistically by the white Christians who hold the vast majority of economic and cultural power. Leon Trotsky, a Jew, believed there would be no lasting safety for the Jewish people without the abolition of the capitalist system, given the particular compromised place Jews occupy in that system, subject to cycles of incorporation followed by scapegoating, murderous exclusion.

We also need to recognize that not all Jewish people today will be persuaded by arguments about Trotsky. Popular political education in our community is not where many of us would like it to be. That's why I support IfNotNow's big-tent strategy, whereby the organization takes no official line on issues like the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions movement (BDS) or Zionism as such, though individual members have opinions on these matters (I sure do!). This is an acknowledgement that conservative Jewish institutions have done an extremely effective job of stigmatizing BDS in particular, and that slow, careful work is needed to win over Jews who are afraid anti-Zionism is masking antisemitism (sometimes it is!), who fear that if they repudiate Israel they'll have no refuge when Christian society bares its teeth at them again.

I feel that these Jews in my community should not be smeared or written off, but struggled with as well-intentioned people who are letting a project of national self-determination and safety take undue precedence over a properly internationalist and anti-imperialist one.

Theodor Herzl, the father of modern Zionism, was spurred to those politics by reporting on the antisemitic moral panic known as the Dreyfus Affair in France at the end of the 19th century, where trumped-up charges of treason against an elite French Jew revealed the antisemitic rot in French society. Zionism emerged specifically as a reaction to this profound, well-evidenced fear that Jews would never be safe without the protection of a national state project. There are some Jews today who reject the occupation but believe some sort of nationalist project is crucial to Jewish safety, who are therefore Zionists who reject most of the actually existing state of Israel, which they feel is a right-wing distortion of Zionism. Personally I'm not persuaded by this - I mistrust all ethnic nationalisms - but as a socialist I feel that these Jews in my community should not be smeared or written off, but struggled with as well-intentioned people who are letting a project of national self-determination and safety take undue precedence over a properly internationalist and anti-imperialist one.

We can't gloss over such divisions in the Jewish community or the trauma-driven fears they index. We need to make the reality of the occupation real to our community members, combat misinformation, support them to heal their ongoing intergenerational trauma, and guide them - as we continue to guide ourselves - into a different ethical relationship to Judaism, Jewish community, and the struggles of others. That's the work IfNotNow is doing, and the work I want to do personally.

The #CloseTheCamps protest in Toronto

The #CloseTheCamps action two weeks ago, a protest for migrant justice that occupied the intersection at Bloor and Spadina in Toronto and marched to Minister of Foreign Affairs Chrystia Freeland's office, is what I believe our struggles together should look like. IfNotNow, Showing Up For Racial Justice, No One Is Illegal, No More Silence, Climate Justice Toronto, Syria Solidarity Collective, and other groups rallied to condemn the regimes of cruelty to undocumented people across Turtle Island. We deepened our relationships of trust and learned better how to work together across complex coalitions. We used the specificity of our own struggles, our own historic and ongoing oppression, to ground the ethical urgency of our collective demands. We took the streets and spoke in one voice without erasing the complexity of its many constituent voices. We showed up for each other.

I believe that's the way forward, for Jews and for all those who stand to lose in a fascist future, which is most of us. Safety in solidarity. Pleasure and understanding in solidarity, too.

A writer in Toronto, Daniel Sarah Karasik (they/them) organizes with Artists For Climate & Migrant Justice and Indigenous Sovereignty, among other groups.

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This article is a lightly adapted version of a talk the author delivered on July 18, 2019, as part of the Ontario Coalition Against Poverty's speakers series in Toronto. IfNotNow Toronto, a group I organize with, is a movement of mostly young Jews working to end the North American Jewish community's support for Israel's military rule over Palestinians.

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Success, sacrifice, and Indigenous education

Tania Willard

I am often conflicted as an educator. As a Native woman, I consider the current system of education in Canada to be inherently colonial, and I hate my role in perpetuating it.

Many Native people have negative feelings toward the education system, and for good reason. It was one of the main tools of what I call annihilationist policies toward us. (I think the term "assimilationist" is too mild for what was intended.) It continues to be a place where we are forgotten, or actively belittled, as peoples. But the negativity also comes from an awareness that Indigenous ways of knowing are ignored completely by the educational system. We can have all the "Aboriginal content" you can shake a stick at, but ultimately, Indigenous peoples do not pass on our wisdom in this way.

As a Native mother, I want my children to have an Indigenous education. But an Indigenous education is not valued in Canadian society. If I focus all my energy on providing my children with as much of an Indigenous education as possible, I will still have to ensure they succeed in Canadian schools or I will be setting them up for failure. And failure for us is not being unable to be a doctor or an astronaut. It means marginalization, poverty, suicide, death. I cannot allow that to happen.

The reality of our situation is that unless we succeed in Canadian schools, we will never be able to revive Indigenous education. We will never have the capacity to bring back into being a fundamentally different way of learning about the world. We have already been losing pieces, and eventually there will be nothing more to lose.

What is required is nothing short of superhuman effort. Not only do we have to excel in a foreign system of education, we must do so without sacrificing ourselves, without succumbing to annihilation. At the same time, we must root ourselves in traditional pedagogy. We have to do it all.

Right now, many of our communities are in conflict. They want Indigenous education, not "education for Indigenous peoples," which is merely Canadian education with cut-and-pasted medicine wheels or four direction teachings. We often don't buy into Canadian schools, even when they're run by the local band. Knowing that we are not going to be validated, or celebrated, or sometimes even discussed at all, means that we have little incentive. Sometimes we believe that lack of success in Canadian systems means we are more Indigenous, less colonized. We want the system to fail because maybe then it will finally be understood that the system has been failing us all along.

We don't have the capacity yet to create our own educational systems in a way that allows us to send our children out into the world prepared for a reality that places European values above all others. My eldest daughter is almost 11. She can't wait for that capacity to be developed down the road. But she's got to do her best with what exists now.

Idle No More is calling on its superheroes. Rather than waiting for some magical time when Canadians recognize that our ways of knowing are valuable, as though suddenly the "bush PhDs" among us will finally get noticed, we need to first ensure that we value those ways of knowing ourselves. That means doing the difficult work of reclaiming Indigenous pedagogies.

We all have an important role to play. Whether we are setting up language nests in our living rooms or taking kids and parents out on the land, we need to be doing more of it. We must all become students of our own cultures and dedicate ourselves to learning for the sake of our children and grandchildren.

At the same time, we should be supporting our children to excel in the Canadian system. It isn't fair and it isn't right, but it needs doing. Our peoples have shown themselves to be masters at integrating new technologies and adapting to new situations without losing their core values. Shifting our expectations so that we create a support system for our children to succeed in Canadian schools and in traditional settings is how we are going to build this capacity. We need to buy in, while remembering that Canadian education is nothing more than a means to an end.

So let us kick out the substandard teachers and the administrators who do not believe in our kids. Let us bring the parents and the whole community into the classroom. Let us expect more of our kids. Let us expect more of ourselves. Let us expect superhuman effort, knowing we can absolutely rise to the occasion but that we cannot do it alone. We cannot let our hopes for the future blind us to the work we have to do right now.

Chelsea Vowel is Métis from the Plains Cree-speaking community of Lac Ste. Anne, Alta. Mother to four girls, she has a B.Ed. and a bachelor of law and currently lives in Montreal. She teaches Inuit youth under child protection and blogs as âpihtawikosisân. Passionate about law, culture, and language, she tries to deconstruct harmful myths with the hope that there can be a restructuring and renewal of the relationship between Canadians and Indigenous peoples.

Tags: colonization education

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Success, sacrifice, and Indigenous education I am often conflicted as an educator. As a Native woman, I consider the current system of education in Canada to be inherently colonial, and I hate my role in perpetuating it. Many Native people have negative feelings toward the education system, and for good reason.

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How schools shape a future of incarceration for Indigenous youth

Tania Willard

One kilometre west of the city of Prince Albert, the federal Saskatchewan Penitentiary sits on the site of a former residential school run by the Anglican Church of Canada. As in other prisons across the Prairie provinces, the 20-acre facility houses inmates predominantly of Aboriginal descent. This situation is not unique: Indigenous people represent only three per cent of Canada's population yet account for 17 per cent of its prison population. As the last of the residential schools have shut down, penitentiaries have become the new form of containment for Indigenous people in Canada. In a 1988 study prepared for the Canadian Bar Association, Aboriginal rights advocate Michael Jackson stated: "The prison has become for many young native people the contemporary equivalent of what the Indian residential school represented for their parents." Almost 25 years later, young Aboriginal men in Saskatchewan are now more likely to go to prison than to finish high school.

Despite the considerable attention these statistics have received, rarely do we consider them in the context of an ongoing colonial project. We must question how it is that Aboriginal people become tangled up in the justice system at all and why it is that prisons have come to be viewed, in the words of Angela Davis, as an "inevitable and permanent feature of our social lives." How do institutions like schools, which are presented as disconnected from - or even antagonistic to - incarceration, shape a future of imprisonment for Aboriginal youth in Canada?

Dangerous and unruly

Dominant narratives suggest that disparities in incarceration are the result of individual shortcomings and moral deficiencies. One reader's comments on a CBC news article on Aboriginal incarceration nicely summarize common attitudes surrounding the issue: "Excuse me. Who is stopping aboriginal people from getting an education? Who is forcing aboriginal people to break the law and commit crime? If one does not break the law, and if one does not commit crime, one does not go to jail."

Mainstream media plays a central role in driving these discourses. Joyce Green, a researcher on Indigenous-settler relations, says, "For the most part, Aboriginal peoples do not exist for the media, except as practitioners of violence or political opposition, as marketing stereotypes, or as bearers of social pathologies."

The construction of European settlers as benevolent saviours and of Native people as ungrateful degenerates was necessary to justify the theft of Indigenous land and resources. This is all too often forgotten, as are the continued privileges settlers secure from casting Aboriginal people as dangerous and unruly. It is time to shift the focus from the colonized to the colonizers, and to interrogate the interlocking systems that allow the over-incarceration of Indigenous people to continue.

The school-to-prison pipeline

Canada's education system, imposed upon Indigenous people for hundreds of years, plays a powerful role in constructing the notion of public enemies in need of discipline and containment. The assumption that the education system today is devoid of its oppressive and violent past unfairly lets schools off the hook. Links between education and incarceration for Indigenous people in Canada are rarely made beyond pointing out that many Aboriginal people in custody are under-educated, often without high school diplomas. Education is touted as an immediate, attractive, and available alternative to youth wishing to avoid so-called criminal activities. While improving levels of education for Indigenous youth is important, we must also scrutinize the education youth are receiving. By assuming that classrooms are neutral, apolitical spaces, schools risk pushing the same colonial agenda that Aboriginal education was founded on.

For education to truly support a future for Indigenous youth outside prison walls, the carceral elements need to be removed from schools. When ideologies of discipline and punishment are used to govern schools, the education system is complicit in the movement of students from classrooms to prisons. Schools must not be places where Aboriginal youth are constructed as unruly and in need of discipline from white saviours. Research conducted by criminologists Raymond Corrado and Irwin Cohen demonstrated that out of 100 Aboriginal youth in custody in British Columbia, 96 per cent of the males and 85 per cent of the females had previously been in trouble at school.

Getting into trouble at school is often the first slip into the "school-to-prison pipeline." This is a term coined by researchers in the United States, who have been making the links between schooling and prison for several decades. The term describes systemic practices in public schooling such as special education, discipline, and streaming programs that move poor, racialized youth out of school and place them on a pathway to prison.

Prison abolitionist Erica Meiners argues that schools and prisons become interconnected when schools legitimize and enhance select fears that in turn require the intervention of the justice system. This occurs in covert ways, for example, through institutionalized racism, law-and-order approaches to discipline, and the exclusion or negative portrayal of non-dominant groups. Indirectly, these are all processes that can perpetuate fear and encourage discipline and punishment of those students who deviate from the socially constructed and imagined parameters of normalcy.

U.S. education researcher Pedro Noguera points out that racial disparities in school discipline and achievement mirror the disproportionate confinement of racialized people, and that students most frequently targeted for punishment in school often look like smaller versions of the adults most likely to be targeted for incarceration. Noguera further argues: "Schools also punish the neediest children because in many schools there is a fixation with behavior management and social control that outweighs and overrides all other priorities and goals."

Across Canada, Indigenous students are overrepresented in special education and alternative schooling programs. In 2005, a group of educators concerned about the current system of special education for Aboriginal children organized a national symposium at the First Nations University in Regina. The symposium concluded that the current system of providing special education, "based on the Western views of diagnosis and treatment," is - simply put - "a mess."

In British Columbia, one government report notes that Aboriginal students are identified as having severe behavioural disorders 3.5 times as often as the general K-to-12 student population. Teachers, who are predominantly white, frequently have lower expectations for Aboriginal youth than for non-Aboriginal students. Often teachers' only contact with Aboriginal people is inside their classrooms. The same report notes, unsurprisingly, that Indigenous students report frequent incidents of overt racism in school and often feel lonely and isolated while attending school.

Instead of examining factors like those above, we often turn to paradigms of cultural difference as the explanation and the remedy for Aboriginal under-education. This has been happening since the early 1970s, when government officials began to question why high numbers of Aboriginal students were leaving school. The cultural difference theory has since been repeatedly recycled and usually goes something like this: Aboriginal students are culturally different, and the disconnect between their home lives and school lives is so great that they are unable to succeed in school. More cultural awareness is needed on the part of educators, and more Aboriginal culture must be included in the curriculum.

At first, this theory seems to make sense. After all, schools are Eurocentric, and the infusion of Indigenous worldviews is indeed an important part of decolonizing our schools. Yet the recognition and validation of Indigenous culture is but one part of decolonization. When it is viewed as the solution to everything, taking the form of superficial lessons on song and dance taught by a white teacher, significant change is forestalled. An emphasis on cultural differences also allows for the erasure of topics such as racism, discrimination, and violence. And perhaps most importantly, it allows the blame to remain with the Aboriginal Other, whose "cultural differences" have come to signify inferiority.

Refusing to participate

Many predict that the racial disparity in Canada's prison population is set to worsen because of the Conservative government's new crime legislation passed in March. Included in the long list of stiffer penalties composing the omnibus crime bill, otherwise known as the Safe Streets and Communities Act, is the creation of more criminal offences, more mandatory minimums, and the abolition of statutory release with supervision. The legislation has been fiercely opposed by correctional officials, police chiefs, medical associations, victims' advocates, lawyers, judges, and criminologists, who point out that harsher penalties are ineffective in decreasing crime and that such measures systemically target poor and racialized people.

During the 1990s, when the prison population in the U.S. grew exponentially, school suspensions and expulsions increased drastically as well. Punitive measures in the law-and-order system seeped into schools with devastating consequences for racialized youth. With Canada's own regressive reforms to criminal laws that shamefully mirror those that have proven to be a failure in the U.S., we must work to resist similar outcomes.

The suggestion that schools place Aboriginal students on a trajectory to prison is in many ways antithetical to democratic ideals of education. But an important part of redirecting the gaze from the colonized to the colonizer is examining what often goes unquestioned or is accepted as common sense. Although schools can be positive forces in the lives of many youth, the opposite holds true for many others.

The over-incarceration of Indigenous people is not an unassailable reality. It is a violent, colonial project that requires the co-operation and complicity of countless people. Unmaking the situation will require the same sustained and concerted effort. Learning how we are all invited to participate in the colonial project of Aboriginal over-incarceration - and then refusing to do so - is the first step in demolishing the pipeline to prison for Aboriginal youth in Canada.

Amanda Gebhard is an educator and graduate student living in northern Saskatchewan. She is passionate about anti-oppressive education, unlearning racism, and Prairie sunsets.

Tags: colonization education youth

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How schools shape a future of incarceration for Indigenous youth One kilometre west of the city of Prince Albert, the federal Saskatchewan Penitentiary sits on the site of a former residential school run by the Anglican Church of Canada. As in other prisons across the Prairie provinces, the 20-acre facility houses inmates predominantly of Aboriginal descent.

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Educating educators about Homophobia

By William DeJean, Anne Rene Elsebree

Illustrator: Katherine Streeter

Illustration: Katherine Streeter

As queer teacher educators we have come to the realization that our pedagogy is a response to what we didn't receive in school. From kindergarten through high school our schooling experience never included us. We knew of no gay or lesbian students, teachers, or administrators. The curriculum we studied made no mention of our existence. Throughout our school days, we rarely heard the words gay or lesbian spoken; rather, "faggot" and "dyke" were the words of choice. In every aspect of our schooling, our story was never told, and if it was told, it was through rumors and lies.

It was no different when we became high school teachers. In the early years of our career, we knew of no gay or lesbian teachers who were out at school. Many times we were told, often by a gay or lesbian colleague, of the dangers we would face if students, administrators, or parents found out we were queer. If a heterosexual colleague needed advice on how to support a gay or lesbian student, or needed help addressing a homophobic comment made in class, he or she often lowered his or her voice or asked to speak in private before starting the conversation. If memories of our own schooling didn't inform us, our colleagues did: It was not safe to mix teaching with authenticity.

Today as teacher educators, it is not surprising to find that much of our teaching focuses on supporting equitable and socially just learning spaces for all students, parents, teachers, and administrators. What is surprising is having so many other colleagues who often do the same. Yet, even within this environment, when the "queer issue" unexpectedly appears in a colleague's classroom - a homophobic comment is made, a student comes out, class members try to find ways to address homophobia that they encounter while student teaching - our colleagues tend to turn to us. Over the years, we have supported their requests to be guest speakers, to individually support queer or queer questioning students, or to provide resources they can use in response to conversations occurring in their classrooms. We are happy to report that many of these conversations occur in open offices, spoken in full voices.

While we were excited to support the opening of the educational closet, unintentionally we became seen as the "residential experts" for all things queer. That is, while many of our colleagues felt versed to conduct class sessions on topics of race, class, gender, ability, or language diversity, anything queer, if addressed at all, was seen as an "issue" for us to cover. When we mentioned this to a senior colleague, she invited us to conduct a workshop to our faculty and staff during a monthly College of Education meeting here at California State University San Marcos. It was our hope that the two hours we were allotted would provide our colleagues time to think, read, and discuss queer matters in education. In addition, by providing materials they could use in their own classes, we hoped to transform queerness from being seen as an "issue" for us to address into a topic that matters for all of us.

You Gotta Feel It!

From our vantage point, the exploration of topics of equity and social justice is often approached from a distant, hypothetical "objective" point of view - something to read about, to discuss, to observe, but rarely felt. Because of this, we designed the opening of the session so that the approximately 40 participants could feel the effects of having to hide, cover, or censor what they said. We instructed participants to think about the most important person in their lives and to write in detail about an event that captured why that person was so important to them. Once participants finished writing, they were instructed to get into pairs with one person assigned the role of storyteller and one person assigned the role of listener.

We told the storytellers that they had five minutes to tell their partner, without the use of their notes, about the person and the event they wrote about. The storyteller could make no mention of pronouns, proper names, or any other markers that would indicate the gender of the person in the story.

As storytellers began to tell their stories, we watched as a few began to avoid eye contact or lower their eyes as they struggled to find words to tell their story. Others sat with arms crossed, in a pose that suggested heavy thinking. A few others simply stopped speaking all together. Watching this happen reminded us of how we must have looked to our high school students when, early in our career, they would inquire about the simplest of topics such as, "Are you married?" or during a class session asked, "What did you do over the weekend?"

At the conclusion of the activity, we posted two questions on the overhead for partners to discuss. The first asked them to share about their individual experience with the activity. The second instructed them to talk about what the experience caused them to think about. When we opened for a large discussion many of the storytellers shared how frustrating the activity was for them. They reported the difficulty they experienced filtering their language, thinking through each word before it was spoken, understanding how the altered language changed the meaning and intention of their story, and ultimately managing their anxiety to share a brief story. As one colleague said, "I learned more about the difficulty people face just to be who they are." Another person shared, "I learned how important language is."

We reminded our colleagues that the activity might have felt frustrating, but as the British teacher Clare Sullivan has written, "Psychologically there is a world of difference between choosing not to tell your colleagues, and being worried they will find out." For that reason we hoped that our workshop would offer ideas, support, and resources for their own classrooms.

Anticipating Resistance

Like many teacher education programs, our college's mission statement focuses on social justice. We are lucky to be surrounded by many colleagues whose work reflects this mission. Yet our experiences as both students and now teachers in higher education had taught us to expect some resistance to our presentation. For example, when we chose queer matters as the focus of our graduate dissertations, we struggled to find advisors. During that search, we were warned that queer research might limit where we could get jobs, or worse, be posted on our résumé forever. Today, working in the university setting, if we come out in class, we can expect a few students to post negative evaluations on us because of our supposed "gay agenda." Or, most recently, when our research plan was reviewed, we were asked to consider finding a word to replace "homophobia," because the reviewer deemed the word too negative.

These experiences informed us of the need to think through all aspects of the presentation. For example, we had an outline of the presentation reviewed by a few faculty members asking them to highlight areas they thought might invite resistance. And a few days before the workshop, we asked colleagues who we knew would be supportive of the workshop, to sit at different tables around the room. We wanted them to consider taking leadership during an activity, to respond to any negative comments they heard, or to simply help each activity move along smoothly. We thought these strategies would lessen any formal resistance we might face during the workshop. Yet when in the middle of the workshop, our colleague, a gay Latino, told us he was excusing himself from the rest of the presentation, it was clear we hadn't planned for everything.

Words Matter

"Can I say homosexual, or should I say gay?" "What does queer mean?" or "What is the difference between transsexual and transgender?" are some of the questions we were often asked. To help answer these questions, we began our next activity by providing each participant with a word or definition that we found in Gay, Lesbian, Straight, Education Network's Talking the Talk: A Glossary of LGBT Terminology and Match-up Game. Once each person had his or her word or definition, he or she was instructed to move around the room looking for his or her counterpart. For instance, if a person's word was "heterosexism" they were to walk around the room until they found someone they believed had the correct definition. This process became a lively interaction as our colleagues discussed and debated their understanding of the terminology and matching definitions.

As we watched and listened to these discussions, we noticed no one lowering their voice, nor needing to "speak in private" to have the discussion. We wondered how different our schooling experiences would have been had we heard the words gay or lesbian used. Or how different high school teaching could have been had we had role models, let alone colleagues, who would speak with us about queer matters in public using full voices. Once teams agreed they had the correct partner, we provided them with a packet with a complete list of words and definitions.

We debriefed this activity, by instructing participants to individually record what the activity caused them to think about. As people finished writing, we asked them to share their thoughts with colleagues seated at the same table. When we opened up for a large group discussion, a few colleagues spoke of the importance of vocabulary in addressing topics of social justice. For example, one participant admitted to avoiding the topic in class "because I do not know what language to use." Another person thanked us for providing her with a tangible list of terms that were respectful and descriptive of queer identities.

Knowledge Matters

We wanted our colleagues to feel knowledgeable about queer matters in education, but to also have access to resources they could use for their own professional work. To do this, we found articles on a range of topics that we believed would do just that. For example, we used California Assembly Bill 537 so that our colleagues would learn more about this specific law which protects queer youth and staff from discrimination and harassment in schools; GLSEN's "One Umbrella, Many People" to learn more about diversity found within the gay and lesbian community; and Nick Divito's article about being a gay male high school teacher.

We placed each colleague into evenly divided teams with each team assigned one article to read. Once an individual had completed his or her reading, we asked groups to discuss and take notes on four essential questions: What is the article about? What should others know about this article? What did the article cause you to think about? How could you use this in your classes?

One person commented to his group that he was reminded "how classrooms and schools are not safe environments for all students and the emotional and academic implications of that." While another person pointed to the "extent to which this issue is ignored or overlooked in our schools and the destruction that can result."

As they finished their discussions, we divided participants up so they were grouped with colleagues who had read different articles. Each person was given two minutes to share the answers to the four essential questions.

Watching our colleagues interact in the readings and discussions brought back memories of being students in our teaching credential programs. Like the majority of our schooling, the teaching programs we enrolled in made no mention of the gay and lesbian community. Looking back, it is clear that as queer people, we were simply not supported to negotiate our identity within a high school environment. Because of this, our early years of teaching were spent in search of resources, healthy role models, and a professional community that supported us. We wondered how different our educational journey could have been had just one of these articles appeared or had these discussions taken place during our teaching preparation programs.

To conclude the readings, we hung poster paper around the room and provided Post-it notes to our colleagues. We instructed participants to post a thought, a question, an idea, or a response they had from the readings and discussions. Once completed, participants were given time to walk around the room reading the comments. One person commented that her "students can benefit by having information and experiences and real dialogue on this topic." Another person wrote simply that the discussion of the articles caused her to see that "there are many people thinking and acting in ways that can interrupt homophobia ...and that we must all do our part."

An Ongoing Journey

We were invited to conduct the workshop because many colleagues had asked us to be guest speakers, to help respond to homophobic comments, or to assist in supporting queer students. Today we have had colleagues send us email requesting additional resources for their courses, stop us in the hallway looking for support in using the activities they learned in the workshop, or come to our offices to discuss the successes and challenges they have faced using the reading in their classes. From feedback we continue to receive from many of our colleagues, the workshop established the understanding that the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender community are not "issues" for only the queer educators to address but rather matters for us all to explore.

That exploration has continued for us as well. Our colleague, who left the presentation, later told us that as a gay man of color, he felt excluded from the presentation. And though we had asked him months earlier, he did not remember being invited to participate. This experience highlights other important topics of queer matters. The queer community is heavily portrayed as being young, white, and male. Because of this, we consciously discussed our white privilege from the start of the workshop and used a range of resources throughout the presentation. Yet, because of our colleague's feedback, we continue to wonder if who we are might reinforce that mindset. In addition, this incident again underscores the need of effective and ongoing coalition building between all members of the queer community. And finally, while our heterosexual counterparts are free to publicly disagree, we wonder whether all queers in the faculty need to be seen as getting along.

After the workshop, we were encouraged when a colleague said, "We don't have time to wait around for LBGTQ peoples to step-up... This is 'our' issue. These are our students."

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By William DeJean, Anne Rene Elsebree Illustrator: Katherine Streeter As queer teacher educators we have come to the realization that our pedagogy is a response to what we didn't receive in school. From kindergarten through high school our schooling experience never included us. We knew of no gay or lesbian students, teachers, or administrators.

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Isaac Murdoch

Are Ontario's First Nations child welfare agencies much different than their colonial predecessors?

The first time I met my grandmother, she was crowded into my tiny apartment with a group of Anishinaabe mothers and grandmothers, each family involved in a battle with Ontario's Children's Aid Societies (CAS). She wasn't my grandmother yet - the adoption came later, after her family began to heal from their ordeal. I had been invited to join the group as a writer - a friend struggling with her own CAS case asked me to help them generate media attention. My adoptive grandparents know all too well how important it is to have family that's close, and they invited me into their family when they learned that my own family lives far away. As a white woman, I remain an outsider to Anishinaabe laws and traditions, albeit a well-informed one. But I am also someone whose family is on the line.

At the first meeting of our group, which would come to be called "Anishinaabe Families Talk Back," my grandma barely said two words. I found out later that this was uncharacteristic of her. But with her great-grandson in foster care, torn from her arms some months earlier by a team of police and CAS workers, she couldn't risk speaking up. It's common knowledge among families involved with CAS that any sign of frustration or anger is enough to get one labelled "aggressive"; my grandfather has a note in his police file to that effect, from the day they took his great-grandson away. Others at the meeting spoke for those who were scared into silence: this isn't fair, it hurts so much, I don't know what to do, I thought the Indigenous agencies were supposed to make this better.

Indigenous children account for about eight per cent of Canadian children below the age of 14, but make up over half the number of children in foster care. Ontario's numbers are consistent with the national problem. Although Indigenous children represent only 4.1 per cent of children under 15 in Ontario, they make up 30 per cent of the children in foster care.

Others at the meeting spoke for those who were scared into silence: this isn't fair, it hurts so much, I don't know what to do, I thought the Indigenous agencies were supposed to make this better.

Indigenous child welfare agencies have existed for decades. Originally, they acted as advocates for Indigenous families involved with colonial Children's Aid Societies. Changes to the Ontario child welfare system in 2017 mandated that the province's jurisdiction over Indigenous children would be assigned to the agencies belonging to their nations. This change was supposed to put the well-being of Indigenous children back into Indigenous hands. In early 2018, 105 of these agencies across the country were promised government funding for programs to keep families together. The funding commitment came after the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal ordered Ottawa to end the discrimination that sees it providing less money for services on reserves than elsewhere in the country, a system that incentivizes child apprehension.

But families involved with these agencies say that nothing has changed. "Indigenization" is purported to provide better access to culture, but workers are often white, and a pan-Indigenous approach is often taken instead of a culturally specific approach. For example, families that do not smudge have been instructed to deal with disputes and negative emotions by smudging; Elders in the Anishinaabe Families Talk Back group have reported being disrespected in the agencies and even in their own homes; co-sleeping (a common practice in Indigenous families) is still forbidden by many workers and agencies; and children are disciplined more harshly than Indigenous customs allow. Some urban Indigenous families in the Sudbury area told Anishinaabe Families Talk Back that their children were required to be in foster care on their reserves, meaning the children were moved hundreds of kilometres from home. The superficial trappings of culture, such as Indigenous-sounding names for practices and procedures (think supervisory meetings now being called "sharing circles"), take the place of policies that would grant jurisdiction over Indigenous children to Indigenous families, individuals, and communities.

The superficial trappings of culture take the place of policies that would grant jurisdiction over Indigenous children to Indigenous families, individuals, and communities.

Indigenous children have been stolen from their families for generations, in a pattern of oppression that started with the Indian Act and continued through the reserve system, residential schools, the '60s Scoop, and colonial Children's Aid Societies. A second wave of child apprehensions over the last three decades has been called the Millennium Scoop. As a result of the Millennium Scoop, there are more Indigenous children in foster care today than in the residential school system at the height of its operation. To break the pattern, Indigenous families must have direct control over child welfare policies and practices. Activists across the country are building up their traditional systems so they can do just that.

Five generations of resistance

Interfering with Indigenous family structures has been a part of the colonial agenda since day one. As Anishinaabe artist and activist Isaac Murdoch explains, the Canadian government's "Indian problem" was "free-roaming Indigenous people." The point of the Indian Act, the reserve system, and residential schools was to phase out Indigenous citizenship over time, to free Indigenous land for resource extraction, and to make sure Indigenous children and their families would never repopulate the land. According to Isaac, making Indigenous people rely on government and charitable services instead of their own hunting, gathering, and familial and community practices wasn't a kindness designed to ameliorate the harmful effects of colonization. It was a part of the plan. The colonial state's goal - to "kill the Indian in the child" - wasn't a metaphor. It was genocide.

The Anishinaabe Families Talk Back group knows that the child welfare system has engaged in continuous violence against their nations since colonization began. Some have been involved with CAS and its predecessors for four or five generations, as stolen children, as parents under investigation, or as guardians to family members' children. Misty*, a great-grandmother, remembers being sent to residential school in 1955, at seven years old. Her father, who was also a residential school survivor and had hoped to protect her from abuse, told her not to let them see her cry. But Misty remembers the sound at night of dozens of girls crying in the dormitory. Sometimes they would crawl under the partitions and climb into bed with her so she could hold them while they sobbed.

Misty's husband, Rob*, never went to residential school - when the Indian agent came, his parents sent him to hide in a shed. But he lost his brothers that day, and although he was allowed to grow up at home in Wiikwemkoong Unceded Territory on Manitoulin Island, he was preyed upon by George Epoch, a Catholic priest who is now infamous for sexually abusing hundreds of boys, many of whom were Indigenous, and most of whom were poor or fleeing violence at home. To this day, Rob is angry to know that Epoch is buried beside his parents on Manitoulin Island.

Some have been involved with CAS and its predecessors for four or five generations, as stolen children, as parents under investigation, or as guardians to family members' children.

As some residential schools were closed between the 1950s and 1980s, Indigenous children became the victims of the '60s Scoop, which was the systematic targeting of First Nations and Métis families for child welfare interventions, in which Indigenous children were removed from their homes and adopted into white families. Debbie Lemieux, a tireless Indigenous child and family advocate in and around the Sudbury area, was one such victim. She was two years old when she was taken from her family in Temagami First Nation - one of her earliest memories is of being adopted, of the panic and confusion that she felt. Her adoptive family was often abusive, and she wasn't raised in her culture, so she was forced to relearn it as an adult.

The displacement that began with residential schools has continued through the '60s Scoop to this day. Rachel* was taken from her family as a child, a victim of the Millennium Scoop. Her mother, an Indian day school survivor, struggled with substance use disorders and mental health challenges. Her brother, Tim*, was also taken from the home by CAS. Both had gone through serious mental illness, suicide attempts, and substance use disorders by the time they aged out of foster care. And when they had their own children, they too were taken by CAS.

Rachel's daughter, Jess*, was apprehended as a toddler; Jess's infant brother was taken at the same time. Like Debbie, Jess says her apprehension is one of her earliest memories. Rachel put everything she had into recovery from her mental illnesses and substance use disorder, and she eventually regained custody of her children. "I felt as though I had broken a cycle," Rachel says. "One of my biggest motivators was that I did not want a life for my kids like the one my brother and I had." Determined to help other families break their cycles of trauma and separation, Rachel studied Indigenous social work at Laurentian University and went to work in mental health and harm reduction services.

Today, Jess is 16, living at home with her mother and brother, and her mental health is stable. But this outcome came at an enormous cost. When Jess began to experience psychosis in her teens, Rachel was forced to make a difficult choice: forgo the expensive mental health treatment Jess needed, or sign away her parental rights, so the child welfare system could pay for treatment. It took a year and a half for Jess to get into residential treatment after Rachel surrendered her to care. In that time, Jess was transferred from foster home to group home to group home; she racked up criminal charges, she began using substances, and she was sexually assaulted.

Rachel was forced to make a difficult choice: forgo the expensive mental health treatment Jess needed, or sign away her parental rights, so the child welfare system could pay for treatment.

Like his sister Rachel, Tim began treatment for substance use and mental health issues when his daughter was taken away. Today, he is an outspoken advocate for Anishinaabe traditional medicine and for the potential every Indigenous person has to heal and live a good life. He practises traditional storytelling, and he shares his experiences with audiences across Ontario. Yet his daughter, Darlene*, remains in foster care. Wiikwemkoong First Nation child welfare cases are now handled by a provincially mandated Indigenous agency called Kina Gbezhgomi Child and Family Services. It's an agency that once acted as an advocate for families, but little about child welfare practices has changed since Tim was a foster kid. Tim has fought for months for greater access to his daughter, with little success, often because his frustration is framed as "aggression." He has supervised visits, with Rachel watching over the family. A bid by the family to have Darlene moved from foster care to Rachel's home was denied based on Jess's mental health and criminal record.

Fighting to win

Isaac explains that while good people get into social work, hoping to help, the education system only covers a colonial point of view, colonial laws, and colonial policies and standards. The post-secondary system isn't set up to teach Indigenous culture and traditions to students, and most social work students and professors in Canada are white and have no personal experience of Indigenous ways of life. Because Indigenous laws are based on observations of the land and its inhabitants, it's difficult to write textbooks, or even policies, instructing future CAS workers on how to offer culturally appropriate services. And what's appropriate varies from nation to nation, even within common language groups such as the Anishinaabeg.

Some workers have opposed these colonial practices, both from within the child welfare agencies and from other positions in Indigenous governments. Debbie was one such advocate until very recently. While employed as a band representative at Wahnapitae First Nation for more than 10 years, Debbie advocated against separation on behalf of about 100 families. When families from surrounding First Nations reported that their band representatives were unhelpful, chastising the families and backing CAS, Debbie took their cases on, unpaid and in addition to her regular workload.

Seeking an empowering quote from Debbie's family, I asked her young adult son what she's like and what her work means to him. "She's a nerd," he answered, laughing. And he's not entirely off base. Debbie comes to Anishinaabe Families Talk Back meetings armed with massive binders. She always keeps a copy of the Child and Family Services Act handy, even though she can quote its policies from memory. She carries typed reports of "her" families' experiences, and the emotional weight of someone who sits with people at what is usually one of the worst times in their lives. She's been successful in reuniting dozens of families, and in helping others to access more visitations, and financial and social resources such as temporary care allowances, culturally appropriate daycare, and specialized health care.

Because Indigenous laws are based on observations of the land and its inhabitants, it's difficult to write textbooks, or even policies, instructing future CAS workers on how to offer culturally appropriate services.

Thanks to Debbie's advocacy, Misty and Rob saw their great-grandson returned to their home only three months after he was taken. When children are apprehended, their guardians are often overwhelmed by the paperwork, parenting classes, allegations, court dates, and meetings that CAS requires of them. CAS offers little or no information about its policies or families' rights. Allegations against families are often outright lies: Misty, who takes medication for chronic pain, was accused of having a drug addiction. A child welfare worker asked Misty's granddaughter how she feels "when your grandmother is under the influence." Engaging with CAS can be humiliating, terrifying, and infuriating, but families worry that standing up for themselves will make things worse. Knowing the policies, challenging the lies, demanding respect, and speaking up for families is where Debbie came in.

Debbie called an Anishinaabe Families Talk Back meeting in the summer of 2018, and when we arrived on her sunny back deck, we found her clearly distraught. A meeting had taken place between Debbie's boss at Wahnapitae and representatives of mandated child welfare agencies who felt threatened by her work. "They felt threatened by my knowledge of the new [Anishinaabek Nation] Child Well-Being Law," she said. She expected to be fired. "They told me I was hurting the families. I was too loud, too argumentative. It was getting more children taken away," she told us, and the pain and shame she was feeling were audible in her voice, louder than the words themselves. After losing her job, Debbie turned to her traditional practices for support. She visited my grandparents, and they gave her teachings and supplies for a fast and vision quest in the woods. After four days, she came home with a vision. Paid or not, her path was to fight for Indigenous families caught in the Children's Aid system, and she was going to win.

Treating children as sacred

Although federal funding for Indigenous CAS agencies has recently increased, a patchwork funding and jurisdictional system has contributed to ongoing colonial dominance in the Indigenous child welfare system. Agencies on reserves and in the Yukon are federally funded, while off-reserve agencies serving Indigenous people are provincially funded. However, jurisdiction for on-reserve agencies is typically delegated through provinces, which fund the agencies and seek reimbursement from the federal government. Some on-reserve agencies are integrated with provincial services to care for children off reserve as well, but others are not. All Indigenous agencies are required to follow provincial policies, except in Saskatchewan, where the Indian Child Welfare and Family Support Act, developed by the Federation of Saskatchewan Indian Nations in the '90s, is considered equivalent to provincial policies.

Self-government is what Indigenous activists say will resolve the crisis. But only very rarely has a self-government model been implemented in Canada.

Now, that's seemingly poised to change. At the end of November, the federal government announced plans to hand over control of child welfare services to Indigenous governments. But the specifics are still unclear, and the legislation still needs to be passed. Indigenous nations have a right to be wary, since settler governments have often reneged on promises to relinquish control.

Isaac emphasizes that the system we have today wasn't created by accident. "This was planned," he argues. "The plan is working."

Indigenous nations have a right to be wary, since settler governments have often reneged on promises to relinquish control.

Isaac argues that Indigenous people and allies need to see that land claims, child welfare issues, and resource extraction are not separate issues. They all align to ensure the Canadian state can extract as much profit as possible from Indigenous territory while facing the least resistance possible. No matter what the federal government's new legislation looks like, it's unlikely to fund the traditional and self-governed initiatives that grassroots movements are already implementing without settler government support. If there is funding, says Isaac, it will be used to build up the colonial system, as it trickles down to the Indigenous child welfare agencies already co-opted by colonial policy. The only solution is for families and communities to get Indigenous youth and children out on the land, learning the natural laws that inform Indigenous culture and laws. Too much energy is wasted on tearing down CAS, which isn't going to go away. Instead, Indigenous nations need to build their own capacity to do child welfare themselves.

Through public education and mutual aid, groups like Anishinaabe Families Talk Back and the Justice for our Stolen Children protest camps that appeared in multiple cities last winter are trying to do just that - whether the colonial state is ready for their intervention or not. In practice, this means doing a lot of advocacy that typically goes unnoticed.

Debbie and Isaac say there's no flowchart for how a child welfare case would go under Anishinaabe law because each case is unique. Speaking generally, they say that if someone saw children in danger, they would meet with their clan (extended family and related families), who would arrange either to support the parents or to care for the children while helping the parent learn to take care of them. If more resources were needed, then they would appeal to one of the six other primary clans - since a person doesn't change clans when they marry, each parent would have a clan to offer support. The entire process would be rooted in ceremony and guided by the advice of grandmothers. Treating children as sacred is the first step toward solving the interconnected problems of environmental destruction, economic inequality, and family separations.

The ideal child welfare system, says Isaac, would recognize that it's about more than keeping families together. It's about finding identity, producing a new generation of climate leaders and water protectors, and rebuilding Indigenous governments and family systems.

As Isaac puts it, "We need a fucking revolution."
*Names have been changed

Sarah Mann is a writer, artist, scholar, and activist from Sudbury, ON. She is a member of Maybe Too Loaded, a community-based, mixed-media arts collective, and of the editorial team at Working It, a zine by and for sex workers. Her work often focuses on poor people's cultures, mental illness, sex work, and feminism. Sarah's writing can be found in Briarpatch, This Magazine, rabble.ca, Tits and Sass, Digital Studies/Le champe numérique, and Canadian Theatre Review.

Tags: child welfare colonialism family indigenous politics residential schools

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Are Ontario's First Nations child welfare agencies much different than their colonial predecessors? - In Ontario's Indigenous child welfare agencies, the superficial trappings of culture take the place of policies that would grant jurisdiction over Indigenous children to Indigenous families, individuals, and communities.

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O n September 30, 2016, the mother of a Black grade one student missed several calls from her daughter's school in Mississauga, a suburb of Toronto. When she called back, a school official passed the phone to a police officer, who informed her that her six-year-old daughter had been placed in handcuffs. Upon arriving at the school, the mother learned that the police had been called in by school staff because her daughter had been reportedly acting in a violent manner. The two police officers had handcuffed the girl-who weighed a total of forty-eight pounds and was unarmed-by attaching her hands and her feet together at the wrists and ankles.

According to the Toronto Star, while the girl's mother said that her daughter had been treated like a "dog" or a "monster" and not a human child, Peel Regional Police spokesperson Sergeant Josh Colley defended the fact that a young Black child had been handcuffed by stating that it had been done for "the safety of other students and ultimately the child." School officials issued no immediate apology, and Sergeant Colley told the media that it was "disgusting" that this behaviour could be construed as racist. The family's lawyer, however, alongside the African Canadian Legal Clinic, went on to file complaints against both the school and the police for anti-Black racism.

It is difficult to imagine how any child weighing forty-eight pounds could be thought to pose such a danger to anyone, let alone in the presence of school officials and two police officers. Only by attending to the ongoing governing power of anti-Blackness can we make sense of how two armed men could decide to handcuff an unarmed child, likely one-quarter of their size, in the name of "safety." What this incident illustrates is that, in the eyes of white society and state institutions, Black children are not conceived of as children at all, and supernatural, dangerous abilities far beyond their age, size, and physical capabilities are attributed to them. The way that Black children and youth are treated-and the way that their suffering is largely ignored or unseen-makes clear that anti-Blackness determines their experiences within the education system and beyond.

Education is one of the bedrocks of Canadian society. Legislated as "a fundamental social good," it is intended to provide both socialization and opportunities to develop youth's minds and relationships, and to help them build their futures. This is largely rhetorical; schools continue to be underfunded and under-resourced, and teachers are widely devalued and poorly compensated. Nonetheless, publicly funded education is generally understood to create options and facilitate advancement in society. For many Black students, though, schools are places where they experience degradation, harm, and psychological violence. Even as education environments continue to underserve many communities from different backgrounds, there are unique dimensions to the experiences of Black youth, who experience schools as carceral places characterized by neglect, heightened surveillance, and arbitrary and often extreme punishment for any perceived disobedience. Because Black youth are so often not seen or treated as children, schools too often become their first encounter with the organized and systemic devaluation of Blackness present in society at large.

T hough education is seen as a "public good" and is allegedly race neutral, informal practices throughout the school systems in Canada continue to stream students based on race. Of course, class has also played a significant role in education inequalities for youth of all backgrounds, and wealth disparities reproduce unequal outcomes between children of wealthy and poor families as well. However, while race and class are inextricably linked-Black families being among the poorest in Canada-it would be a mistake to reduce the streaming of Black youth and children to an issue of class. While systemic barriers resulting from poverty have an impact on youth of all racial backgrounds, Black youth face unique and acute disadvantages because of long-standing associations linking Blackness to a lack of intelligence, and inferiority more generally.

Black youth continue to be disproportionately streamed into lower education tracks as a result of both individual prejudice and systemic factors. Racial stereotypes held by teachers play a significant role in the streaming of Black students. Instructors continue to hold racial stereotypes that affect their interactions with Black youth. For example, Black students in Alberta have expressed that instructors give African-descended students the "silent treatment" or try to dissuade these students from higher education by expressing their uncertainty, for example, that "a Black could study to become a doctor." This treatment, widespread in many Canadian cities, has an important role in the experiences and development of Black students and their education.

According to a survey of Black students' needs, teacher expectations play a significant role in the academic engagement of Black students. Black youth in major cities across the country have consistently named their teachers' low expectations as a major factor when it comes to their overall engagement. These youth report that they are pressured into vocational training or into adult education, that they are not encouraged to finish on the regular academic track, and that they are steered away from challenging courses. To use the words of a Black student, Black youth often feel their presence is unwanted: "they don't care about Black students. They don't care if you are there or not." In a 2006 census survey, only 54 percent of Black youth reported that they felt supported by teachers. This lack of support affects more than academic achievement; the Ontario Human Rights Commission states that it is often "in relation to their teachers that children begin to develop a perception of themselves and of the world around them." Discriminatory treatment at this young age, then, can enact lasting damage on development.

When they are being streamed into lower-track education programs, Black students are disproportionately assigned to learning platforms that have inadequate resources. In Quebec, students with Caribbean backgrounds are three times more likely to be identified as shsmld (students with handicaps, social maladjustments, or learning difficulties) and subsequently placed in separate classes for "at-risk" students. This designation is decided by school officials, a practice that, according to the province's Commission des droits de la personne et des droits de la jeunesse (cdpdj), has been associated with racial profiling, as it gives "substantial discretionary power to school personnel in terms of deciding which students it should be applied to." Similarly, Caribbean and other racialized students are frequently placed in closed "welcoming classes" for new immigrants, a practice that the cdpdj found to be ill suited and deficient to meeting students' needs, causing delays in transitioning students into regular classes. In one instance, a Haitian student in elementary school was placed in a welcoming class solely because he was Haitian, without any other evaluation. A judge found him to have been a victim of racial profiling. Following streaming in high school, Black students are then frequently directed, or pushed, into the adult sector to receive their high school diplomas.

The phenomenon of streaming has also been documented in Toronto, where Black students make up 13 percent of the student body but only 3 percent of those labelled "gifted," compared to white students, who are one-third of the student population but more than half of those labelled "gifted."

The informal yet demonstrable practice of streaming students according to race has been aptly coined "second-generation segregation" because of the ongoing inequities that it perpetuates. Streaming students into different tracks is demonstrably inequitable, as students in higher tracks are generally afforded more resources as well as a wider variety of teaching methods. The practice cements inequalities rather than challenges them. This disinvestment in Black youth has definite effects on their future opportunities as well as on their own sense of self-worth. The privileging of the lives and worthiness of white students demonstrates the ongoing societal devaluation of Black childhood. The racially differential treatment experienced by Black youth also demonstrates a concerted lack of empathy for the feelings and dignity of Black students on the part of instructors.

In addition to experiencing a lack of support and active streaming into lower tracks of education opportunities, Black students contend with erasure, which is itself arguably a form of violence. Both invisibility within curricula and the predominantly white demographic makeup of educators continue to negatively affect Black students. Besides one Africentric school established in Toronto, after much community agitating, and the newly available African Canadian studies material in Nova Scotian high schools, most education institutions lack content highlighting Canada's history of slavery and segregation, and they overlook the history of Black institutions and Black resilience more generally. Not only are Black students not seeing themselves reflected and celebrated in the curriculums but the lack of racial representation in school staff is also significant. Quebec, for example, continually misses the mark of its already too-low targets for racial diversity in the makeup of educators. Largely being taught by white instructors and, therefore, being denied positive Black role models within institutions of learning only further cements the lower status of Black students.

B lack students are not only treated as if they are inferior but they are also frequently treated as if they are a threat inside education settings. The presence of Black children and youth remains unwelcome and undesirable in many public schools, and their movements are closely monitored and subject to correction. While racism and harassment from other students has long played a vital role in making Black youth and children feel unwanted in many Canadian public schools, school disciplinary policies have helped to cement the undesirability of Black students that is apparent within the education system. Black youth face heightened surveillance and disciplinary measures at massively, disproportionately high rates compared to their white peers.

In addition to experiencing overtly racist treatment from teachers, Black students have likened their treatment by school officials to their experiences with the police. Montreal-based Black youth frequently report being treated by teachers as if they are in a gang solely because of their skin colour. School and security staff often dissuade these students from gathering in groups and subject them to heightened surveillance and frequent identity checks. In sum, Black youth are often treated as suspects instead of as the children they are, in the very place where children get socialized and educated. Experiencing this typecasting and demonization is deeply harmful to Black youth who are still in their formative years. The feelings of exclusion and pain cause emotional harm and limit Black students' ability to thrive in the public-education setting. Formal and informal school discipline policies are forms of policing and ways of criminalizing of Black children and youth that position them as "captive objects" within schools.

The assumption that Black youth are less innocent than white youth, and that their mere presence harbours danger, colours disciplinary practices in public schools across the country. While repressive school practices affect all youth, racialized youth are most heavily targeted. Handled by school officials as if they are "threatening," Black students are subjected to much more extreme disciplinary measures than white students. In a school in Durham, Ontario, an investigation by the provincial Human Rights Commission found that Black students in the Ontario school system were nearly eight times more likely to face discipline than white students.

Suspension and expulsion play important roles in banishing Black youth, particularly young Black males, from schools. Across many Canadian cities, youth of African descent are suspended or expelled at disproportionately high rates. In schools, as elsewhere in society, race plays an important role in the administration of punishment, even in the case of similar offences. Systemic racism and discrimination, as opposed to a propensity for "bad behaviour," explain the significant differences in the ways that Black and white students are disciplined.

In Toronto, between 2011 and 2012 and from 2015 to 2016, almost half of the students expelled from the Toronto District School Board were Black, and only 10 percent of those expelled were white students. Similarly, during the 2006-2007 school year, Black students in Toronto were three times more likely to be suspended than white students. Age doesn't seem to be a protective factor when it comes to this trend. Younger Black students have not been exempt from punitive treatment either, quite the opposite. In the same school year, nearly half of all suspensions and 14 percent of expulsions in Toronto were doled out to elementary school students. The rates remain particularly high for younger Black students in Toronto. They represented 15 percent of the student body in grades seven and eight, but nearly 40 percent of suspensions. Among this population, one in seven Black students had been suspended at least once, compared to one in twenty white students.

In Halifax, during the 2015-2016 school year, Black students made up 8 percent of the student body but 22.5 percent of total suspensions. The rate of suspensions has changed a little since the 1980s and has been protested as an injustice by the Black community dating back decades. A similar picture emerges in Quebec, where Black and other racialized students also face disproportionately high rates of suspension and expulsion. The cdpdj found that Black students, particularly Haitians, were frequently suspended and expelled in a discriminatory fashion for minor infractions, such as being late. The commission stated that they were subjected to a "zero-tolerance" framework that other students did not face.

This exemplifies perfectly the functioning of racialized punishment: actions that result in a minor sanction when committed by a white youth are punished by extreme measures when committed by a Black child or youth. Indeed, despite favourable comparisons to the United States that are frequently drawn throughout popular culture, the suspension rates of Black youth in many Canadian schools are comparable to those found in the United States; according to the United States Department of Education, Black students are suspended at a rate three times higher than white students.

These expulsions fuel a cycle of miseducation and abandonment. Special schools for expelled students are disproportionately attended by Black students. These schools have been criticized for offering too few hours and classes for students to be able to fulfill the requirements for passing all of their courses, effectively stunting their ability to further their studies or even stay engaged in the education system.

The heightened discipline directed at Black youth that creates a hostile learning environment extends beyond the treatment of Black students into the entire Black family. Black parents, as well, frequently suffer from discriminatory treatment and from the encroachment of policing in education institutions. This was seen most recently when Nancy Elgie, an eighty-two-year-old white school-board trustee, was forced to resign after calling a Black mother named Charline Grant a "nigger" at the close of a York school-board meeting in November 2016. Black parents end up on the receiving end of trespassing orders and have been reported to the Children's Aid Society for "offences" that have included challenging school officials on whether a child needs medication for attention deficit disorder.

Even as Black students are targeted with disproportionate disciplinary measures, the same concerted attention is not necessarily granted toward protecting them from the often extreme and daily racism that many Black youth have reported experiencing from their peers. A nine-year-old Nova Scotian Black girl told acclaimed researcher Dr. Wanda Bernard that she often skipped school because of unchecked racism from her peers: "They make me hate myself." In one case in 2017, Adrienne Charles, the mother of two elementary-school-aged Black children in Montreal, was forced to go to the media in addition to filing complaints against the school because school officials refused to take concerted action to address the virulent racism from white students that her sons experienced. While Black youth and children face heightened surveillance and extremely limited tolerance for even minor disobedience, the racist hostility of white students appears to be granted far more leniency.

H istorically, Black communities did not passively accept segregation in schools, but actively contested it until it ended. At the same time, Black families have always, despite enormous obstacles, worked toward finding ways to educate their children formally or informally, regardless of the abandonment of Black youth by wider society. Indeed, Black families and Black educators have played an important role toward redressing the systemic injustices experienced by Black youth and children. Schools founded specifically to address and remedy anti-Blackness, which can be found in Toronto and Halifax, only exist because of decades of concerted organizing.

Toronto's Africentric Alternative School, founded in 2009 as a product of Black community mobilizing and developed to counter the erasure of Black realities found in the mainstream school system, has been remarkably successful. Performance in standardized tests is well above average, with students testing above the provincial average in reading, writing, and math. The "Freedom School" organized by Black Lives Matter Toronto in the summer of 2016, though not a year-round institution, was created to counter the violence enacted by the education system and to teach Black youth about their own histories. The initiative pays great mind to Black folks marginalized by gender, sexuality, and ability as well, unlike other educational settings Black youth find themselves in.

Yet histories of resilience and overcoming obstacles are not nearly enough and cannot stand in for institutional change. "Positive racial identity" and the knowledge of Black history and present-day realities remain important in coping with daily racial hostility and humiliation in schools. But deeper institutional transformations that tackle systemic racism from an intersectional framework are required, both to address the general societal disinvestment in education that affects students of all backgrounds as well as to redress the racism structured into the education system. The realities facing Black youth in the school system are neither well known outside of the Black community, nor widely seen as a crisis, yet they are, to use the words of Afua Cooper, a "national disgrace."

It is urgent to counter the devaluation and vilification of Black youth in the school system with a focus away from carceral trends in the education system and toward a system that invests in nurturing, rather than punishing, Black youth.
Excerpted from Policing Black Lives: State Violence in Canada from Slavery to the Present, by Robyn Maynard. Published by Fernwood Publishing.

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Canadian Education Is Steeped in Anti-Black Racism | The Walrus

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For many Black youth, schools can be places of degradation, harm, and psychological violence

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Nidal El-Khairy

Like many, I watched in shock as the terror attacks unfolded in Paris last November. ISIS, the same group that had killed 43 innocent people in a double suicide bombing in Lebanon the day before, was now attacking Parisians. I checked Facebook to see if my Parisian friends were safe and noticed two things: First, several friends had messaged me to ask if my friends in Paris were safe (I lived there in 2008). Second, there was a feature enabled called the Facebook Safety Check that lets users mark themselves "safe" after an attack, earthquake, or other disaster.

I was relieved to know that my friends were OK, but I also felt the weight of the questions that followed in my mind: Why didn't my family have access to the same safety feature following the bombing in Lebanon? Are some lives more worthy of mourning?

And as an educator, I couldn't help but wonder: What impact would the media's asymmetric attention have on our students who come from countries where this type of violence-whether from U.S. drones, seemingly endless war, or groups like ISIS-has recently been a frequent reality? As one student said: "One of my teachers addressed the fact that Paris was under attack, but didn't mention anything about the rest of the world. It would have helped a lot if she addressed what was going on all around the world."

Students whose families are from Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Tunisia, Pakistan, Indonesia, Nigeria, or other non-Western countries that have experienced terrorist attacks come to class and are part of a collective mourning for French people, knowing full well that similar attacks in their own countries have not received equivalent attention in their schools. It is almost impossible for these students not to draw the conclusion: The death of people who are racialized and/or look like me are virtually ignored-in the media and at school.

When I asked a cousin, 19-year-old Jasmine Bardouh, how she felt on the Monday after the terrorist attacks in Paris, she responded: "Honestly, I had a mixture of feelings running through me. I was sad, frustrated, and scared. Sad because of all the innocent people who died, scared because of all the blame Islam was going to get, and worried that people would target me because of the horrible crimes committed in the name of Islam. Most of all, I was frustrated because of all the uneducated people online cherry-picking quotes that sound violent from the Qur'an and posting them on social media. That caused even more fear and misconceptions about Islam, as if there wasn't enough confusion and hate already. I was also frustrated because the same week as the Paris attack, other countries, including Lebanon, also had fatal terrorist attacks, yet got almost no mainstream media coverage. This made me feel as though the blood of some people is considered more valuable then others, even though we are all human beings. Feeling as though you are less because of your religion and race is a horrible feeling."

On the Monday after the Paris attacks, classrooms across the country were lit up with discussions about what had transpired in Paris. These are valuable discussions, but they must be facilitated carefully if we are to ensure that all students, regardless of their faith or ancestral origin, feel safe in our classrooms. As Jasmine's 16-year-old sister Amel said: "The week after the attack, there were posters all over school saying 'Pray for Paris' but I didn't see one poster that had anything written about Lebanon or Burma or Syria."

According to Elie Fares, a Lebanese doctor interviewed by the New Yorker: "When my people died, no country bothered to light up its landmarks in the colors of their flag. . . . When my people died, they did not send the world into mourning. Their death was but an irrelevant fleck along the international news cycle, something that happens in those parts of the world."

This asymmetry of care and concerns is but one of the many faces of Islamophobia.

"I'm Afraid to Leave the House in My Hijab."

This article is dedicated to my mother. She is a remarkable French and resource room teacher. She is also a tireless advocate for social justice in her community. Her efforts include running a refugee welcoming committee and founding a group that works to build interfaith awareness.

The day after the Paris attacks, my mom and I were going to go to the mall. As I was getting ready to go, I could sense that she wasn't in the mood. Thinking she was worried about our family in Lebanon and the rising threat of ISIS, I asked her what was bothering her.

What she said was so disturbing and shocking: "I am afraid to leave the house in my hijab."

The person I look up to most didn't want to leave the house because she felt people would associate her with the terrorist attacks in Paris? I couldn't believe it. I haven't been able to stop thinking about my mother's words, and the paradox of her being associated with ISIS, the very group that had put her own family in danger only a few days earlier.

This is a direct effect of Islamophobia: the drastic, ignorant misinformation that links people like my mother with those who carried out the attacks. An oversimplification that leaves someone like my mother, who faces the same fears as the Parisians, uncomforted by and even excluded from the solidarity of public mourning that is the privilege of nonracialized groups.

If a woman as strong and politically centered as my mother can feel shame after a terror attack, many of our students and their families are likely to feel the same way. When I asked 19-year-old Hania how she felt after the attacks, she said: "I felt like I had to go on a mission to prove that I was against these attacks: 'Yes, I'm against people getting killed.' I felt like I had to prove that I'm a decent human being."

Islamophobia spikes after terror attacks are carried out in the name of Islam. According to an article by Andy Campbell for the Huffington Post in December 2015, hate crimes against Muslims in the United States have tripled since the attacks in Paris. Canada is no exception. For example, in the days following the Parisian attacks, a Muslim woman was attacked by two men as she picked up her children from a Toronto school. They pulled off her hijab, punched her, stole her phone, called her a "terrorist" and told her to "go back to your own country." This is not an isolated instance; walking down the street has become an even more charged activity for Muslims.

It seems absurd to associate the KKK with Christianity, but the same distinction is rarely made for Muslims. According to student Wajahat Ali in Mislabeled: The Impact of School Bullying and Discrimination on California Muslim Students, "Your existence is always interrogated, investigated, and questioned."

What Can Teachers Do?

As educators, we know that our words carry a powerful weight. Although we can't control how the media portrays Muslim people, we can encourage our students to think critically about the messages that they receive from the media. We must also protect our students from classroom debates where they are singled out and feel like they have to defend their faith. As 12-year-old Farah told the Guardian, "Before the attacks I was mostly treated like everyone else. But now I'm having to answer questions about my religion and the actions of people I don't even know. It's a lot of pressure. I mean, I'm only 12." Acknowledging one terror attack while ignoring others, debating whether or not Islam is inherently a violent religion, or asking Muslim students to defend their faith can result in Muslim students and their families feeling even more alienated in a society that already stigmatizes them.

One way to mitigate the impact of Islamophobia is to teach our students about it. We need to expose and critique the myths being constructed about Islam all around them in the media, in public discourse, and even in their classrooms.

For example, I teach at an alternative program in Vancouver for young parents from ages 13 to 19. Many of my students are raising their children independently while going to school. They know all too well the need to think critically and challenge stereotypes.

In the week after the Paris attacks, I asked my students if they had been following the news and encouraged them to discuss what had transpired over the weekend and how it was portrayed in the media. After expressing sorrow and outrage about the attack, they made the connection between stereotypes they face as young mothers and stereotypes that Muslims face. Earlier in the year, we had watched Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's "Single Stories" TED Talk. They recalled Adichie's talk, and noted that the media coverage of the Paris attacks reinforced the "single stories" we hear about Muslims.

I often tell stories about my father so that I can humanize and debunk myths about Muslim men. For example, during a unit on healthy relationships, I told my students how he worked to put my mother through school so that she would never have to be dependent on him.

Moving past my own classroom, I'm in the anti-racist action group of my union, the British Columbia Teacher's Federation (BCTF). We are a social justice union, so after the Paris attacks, I emailed our social justice director and asked if I could work on some lesson plans to help teachers broach the subject of Islamophobia in their classrooms. The union supported me to create a primary and intermediate lesson plan as well as a resource list for teachers (see Other Resources).

As my wise friend and fellow teacher Ryan Cho recently reminded me: "It is hard to recognize your historical moment when you are in it." As anti-Muslim sentiments continue to deepen, particularly after recent terror attacks and the rise of Donald Trump's anti-Muslim campaign, we must use our position as educators to ensure that our students have a critical eye and are able to separate the violent actions of ISIS from the lives of the one billion Muslims who exist across the world.

We cannot leave our students in a situation in which they have to defend themselves in the face of racism and religious discrimination. We can, and must, draw the ties between Islamophobia and other forms of intolerance. This is a crucial moment in history: We can choose to be true allies and fulfill our commitments to make our school communities nurturing spaces for all students, teachers, parents, and staff. The need for self-reflection has never been greater.

References

Chin, Jessica. Nov. 17, 2015. "Muslim Woman Attacked While Picking Up Kids from Toronto School." Huffington Post Canada. huffingtonpost.ca.

Council on American-Islamic Relations. 2015. Mislabeled: The Impact of School Bullying and Discrimination on California Muslim Students. Download PDF.

Irshad, Gazala. Dec. 21, 2015. "How Anti-Muslim Sentiment Plays Out in Classrooms Across the U.S." The Guardian. theguardian.com.

Other Resources

Elbardouh, Nassim. 2015. Islamophobia Lesson, Part I. Download PDF.

Elbardouh, Nassim. 2015. Islamophobia Lesson, Part II. Download PDF.
These lessons for high school students were created for the British Columbia Teachers' Federation. They incorporate a number of the resources listed here:

Adichie, Chimamanda. 2009. "The Danger of a Single Story." TEDGlobal. ted.com.
Our lives, our cultures, are composed of many overlapping stories. Novelist Chimamanda Adichie describes how she found her authentic cultural voice-and warns that if we hear only a single story about another person or country, we risk a critical misunderstanding.

Dazed. 2015. Do You Know Who I Am? How It Feels to Be a Young British Muslim in 2015. Video directed by Camilla Mathis. youtube.com.

The Narcicyst with Shadia Mansour. 2015. "Hamdulillah." Music video. youtube.com.
This video is a global collaborative effort by 10 photographers-from London to Lebanon, Cairo to Canada, Abu Dhabi to the United States-to represent the diversity of Muslims worldwide. Images include DJs, MCs, poets, architects, teachers, doctors, parents, and children.

Rao, Sameer. Oct. 20, 2015. "#DoIMatterNow Campaign Promotes Indigenous-Muslim Solidarity in Canada." ColorLines. colorlines.com.
The #DoIMatterNow campaign was started by Inuit women in Canada who donned makeshift niqabs and took pictures decrying the systematic disenfranchisement of Native people while expressing solidarity with Muslim women.

Bazian, Hatem, and and Maxwell Leung, eds. Fall 2015. Islamophobia Studies Journal. Download PDF
This journal is a helpful resource for educators seeking more background information.

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As a Teacher and a Daughter: The Impact of Islamophobia

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Nidal El-Khairy Like many, I watched in shock as the terror attacks unfolded in Paris last November. ISIS, the same group that had killed 43 innocent people in a double suicide bombing in Lebanon the day before, was now attacking Parisians.

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Watch quality Canadian documentary, animation and fiction films online

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Facing History's engagement with teachers and schools exists on a continuum, from providing professional development, educational resources and support to individual teachers, to implementing a robust whole-school model, which impacts the culture of the entire school.

What We Offer

When Facing History works with schools to offer curriculum development, school-wide programming, and whole-staff engagement, the result is a school community that takes issues of ethics, social responsibility, prejudice, and justice seriously. Teachers and students then share a common language to help them identify and discuss these issues-in the classroom, in student advisory, in staff meetings, and in the broader community.

To have the deepest impact on school and classroom climate, student engagement, and social-emotional learning (SEL), Facing History's staff works with whole schools in a range of areas, including

providing professional development, curriculum resources, and ongoing coaching for teachers who are implementing Facing History's social studies, history, civics, and ELA content in the classroom

advising on overall course curriculum sequencing in order to realize the greatest impact

providing counsel to the school principal and leadership team on civic and character education and SEL, in the context of local, state, and national standards

facilitating on-site professional development for the whole staff to encourage everyone in the school community to develop a shared set of values and common language

supporting student advisory sessions with resources to explore identity, group membership (and inclusion/exclusion), issues of justice and fairness, and ways of "choosing to participate"

providing assistance with service learning projects, including frameworks for thinking about the complex issues they are investigating

supporting the development of student leadership groups

providing guidance in developing new systems of school discipline based on fairness, reconciliation, and restorative justice

providing (or supporting students in providing) sessions for parents and community members on Facing History's case studies and pedagogical approaches

recommending speakers (including scholars, civic leaders, writers, activists, witnesses to history, and upstanders) for school-wide speakers' series

Impact on School Climate

Evaluations of Facing History's whole-school efforts have captured positive impacts on school climate. Students and teachers report improvements in how students speak with and respond to one another as they internalize a new set of behavior norms. Teachers reported that their school community responded more constructively to conflict, including

increased collaboration to develop a community response

reframing an incident to address it constructively and

reacting non-defensively and using behavioral incidents as teachable moments

In another school, students praised the open, safe classroom environment and reported that respect permeates the school:

95% of students observed ways in which Facing History has positively impacted the school

93% of students agreed or strongly agreed with the statement, "Facing History's presence in my school has increased my capacity to understand and feel for people who are different from me"

students noted zero tolerance for bullying

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Facing History's engagement with teachers and schools exists on a continuum, from providing professional development, educational resources and support to individual teachers, to implementing a robust whole-school model, which impacts the culture of the entire school.

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We are always looking for teachers to help test resources and be the first to give feedback on our new materials. We truly value the opportunity to work with educators to make our resources better and to learn more about the kinds of materials that would support digital media literacy programming in the classroom.

MediaSmarts works with Teacher Champions in the following ways:

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On this page, you can find links to all of our resources for teachers and classroom tools.

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First Time Here? Welcome to the Diverse BookFinder - Diverse BookFinder

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We’ve looked at over 2,000 children’s picture books to understand who is represented and how. Find out what we’ve found.

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Where can you find diverse books? Right here! We've compiled the following list of sites that offer recommendations for diverse titles. Our list is not exhaustive, and we welcome suggestions ...

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T he ongoing scourge of police terrorism has reinvigorated an important national conversation about policing and incarceration - their history, purpose, and practice. While some have called for reforms, like stricter use-of-force policies and enhanced body cam protocols for officers, others have demanded more sweeping change.

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The "Problem" Woman of Colour in the Workplace

A couple of years ago, COCo discovered an earlier version of this tool, which depicts a common experience for women of colour (and especially Black women) working in the nonprofit sector. The diagram, which was originally developed in the United States, really struck us. It spoke to many of the stories employees in the nonprofit sector had told us about their own experiences; it also told the 'story' of much of the data we were reading from other research into racism in nonprofit organizations, not to mention the data we were collecting ourselves as part of our Diversité d'Abord research project (more on that in a minute). About a year after we started using it in trainings and discussion groups, it went viral on social media, with thousands of shares- another sign of its continuing relevance in 2018. Since then, we've been inundated with interest and inquiries about this tool and what it means.

How does this relate to COCo's research on racism in nonprofits?

In the coming months, COCo will be releasing our own research into the question of racism in the nonprofit sector. In the meantime, there has been so much interest in this tool that we felt it was time to make it publicly available.

Our own research involved 2 online surveys and a series of focus groups. From what we already have seen in the data we collected, much of the survey findings support empirically what the tool depicts about the experience of women of colour in nonprofits. For example, within the last 3 years, ~30% of our racialized survey respondents said they had left a job due to an unwelcoming racial environment. At the same time, the data also shows that white respondents gave different reasons why their racialized colleagues had left their jobs, for example, thinking their colleagues had left because "they got a better job," or "they want to spend more time with their family,". Overall, white respondents underestimated how many people of colour were leaving their jobs because of discrimination by 15%. In contrast, the rate at which people of colour working in nonprofits reported witnessing their racialized peers leaving the sector because of unwelcoming racial environments was pretty much on par with the actual rate of people leaving.

How to Use the Tool in Your Nonprofit Organization

Throughout our workshops, we have asked:

What is the impact of this dynamic on the woman of colour in the organization?

What is the impact of this dynamic on the organization?

What is the impact of this dynamic on the community sector at large?

These questions can be a great starting point to start discussing this tool within your own organization. The tool can be used for workshops or discussions of different lengths, broadly to discuss race dynamics in an industry or area of work, or to explore specific policies and practices within your organization. If the environment you are working in is supportive enough, talking about the specifics of this pattern in your nonprofit, rather than in general, can make it a lot easier to identify real changes. We are experimenting with developing worksheets that can help people deepen their analysis, name their experiences, and use this tool more effectively in their workplaces. Most importantly, the tool invites women of colour to share their stories and to be believed BECAUSE it centres their experiences.

A few notes

We adapted this tool with permission from the Safehouse Progressive Alliance for NonViolence. One of the changes we made was to have the "woman of colour" be represented as wearing a hijab. While we understand that women who wear hijab can have many different racial backgrounds, we felt that this image allows us to make an explicit connection between racism and Islamophobia in Quebec- a connection that many women live every day.

We also know that while our own work centres in Quebec, and on nonprofits, this tool is also relevant outside of the nonprofit sector, and we're totally happy to see people using this wherever it feels appropriate.

Overview

Below is an overview of the outlined trajectory in the "Problem" Woman of Colour in the Workplace tool. This narrative begins when a racialized woman is hired into an organization where the leadership and/or staff are predominantly White. She is excited to explore her new position and feels welcomed in her new workplace. This is also known as the honeymoon period. However, soon the hire is experienced as tokenism. Even if she was employed because of her skills and qualifications, the hiring process may be perceived as such by colleagues, community members, etc. Further, how her racial identity is used in the context of her position will impact this perception.

After a period of time in her new position, where weeks, months or even days, the reality of a white dominant space becomes apparent. The racialized woman experiences recurring microaggressions and structural barriers. For example:

heightened surveillance of her work and interpersonal relationships

repeated comments about her body and physical presentation

expectation of her addressing internal race dynamics

These dynamics are further complicated by the fact that if she were to explicitly name her experiences with race, both the organization as a whole and individuals within it will deny her experiences of racism. In fact, her attempt to address these dynamics can often become the arsenal for retaliation: the racialized woman becomes the source of the problem. She is viewed as no longer being "a good fit" or "not qualified". She is then targeted and attacked by the organization by both formal and informal mechanisms (comments by co-workers, HR practices). In response to these experiences, the racialized woman leaves the organization, having been fired, quitting, finding a new job or going on sick leave.
Download (PDF, 61KB)

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The "Problem" Woman of Colour in NonProfit Organizations - COCo

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A depiction of a frequent experience of women of colour in nonprofit workplaces. This tool is called "The "Problem" Woman of Colour in the Workplace".

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On December 5, 2012, a man walking his dog found the murdered body of 16-year-old Summer Star (C.J.) Fowler in a ravine near the British Columbia (BC) town of Kamloops. The Gitanmaax teenager from Hazelton in northern BC, remembered as a sweet girl with a beautiful smile by her family, had been visiting friends a few days previously and was just hours away from taking a bus back home when she disappeared and was ultimately killed in circumstances still under investigation by police. Speaking at a news conference, her father said, "We would just like to stop this violence ... We want some answers and we don't want this case to be another they stick under the rug."

C.J. Fowler is just one of several hundred indigenous women and girls who have been murdered or gone missing across Canada over the last several decades. By the time government funding for data collection on missing and murdered indigenous women and girls ended in 2010, the Native Women's Association of Canada (NWAC) had documented 582 such cases nationally. Many happened between the 1960s and the 1990s, but 39 percent occurred after 2000, or about 20 a year. If women and girls in the general Canadian population had gone missing or been murdered at the same rate, NWAC estimates the country would have lost 18,000 Canadian women and girls since the late 1970s.

The province of British Columbia has been particularly badly affected by violence against indigenous women and girls and by the failure of Canadian law enforcement authorities to deal with the phenomenon. Cutting through the small communities policed by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) in northern BC is the Highway of Tears, a 724-kilometer stretch of road which has become infamous for the dozens of women and girls who have gone missing or been murdered in its vicinity.

The high rates of violence against indigenous women and girls have drawn widespread expressions of concern from national and international human rights authorities, which have repeatedly called for Canada to address the problem. But these calls for action have not produced sufficient change and indigenous women and girls continue to go missing or be murdered in unacceptably large numbers.

The failure of law enforcement authorities to deal effectively with the problem of missing and murdered indigenous women and girls in Canada is just one element of the dysfunctional relationship between the Canadian police and indigenous communities. This report addresses the relationship between the RCMP and indigenous women and girls in northern BC and documents not only how indigenous women and girls are under-protected by the police but also how some have been the objects of outright police abuse. The report further documents the shortcomings of available oversight mechanisms designed to provide accountability for police misconduct and failure to protect.

In ten towns across the north, Human Rights Watch documented RCMP violations of the rights of indigenous women and girls: young girls pepper-sprayed and Tasered; a 12-year-old girl attacked by a police dog; a 17-year-old punched repeatedly by an officer who had been called to help her; women strip-searched by male officers; and women injured due to excessive force used during arrest.

Human Rights Watch heard disturbing allegations of rape and sexual assault by RCMP officers, including from a woman who described how in July 2012 police officers took her outside of town, raped her, and threatened to kill her if she told anyone. Human Rights Watch strongly urges an independent civilian-led investigation of these allegations with the aim of achieving criminal accountability for the alleged crimes. Human Rights Watch would eagerly cooperate with such an investigation to the extent we are able to without compromising the safety and privacy of victims.

For many indigenous women and girls interviewed for this report, abuses and other indignities visited on them by the police have come to define their relationship with law enforcement. At times the physical abuse was accompanied by verbal racist or sexist abuse. Concerns about police harassment led some women - including respected community leaders - to limit their time in public places where they might come into contact with officers. The situations documented in this report - such as a girl restrained with handcuffs tight enough to break her skin, detainees who had food thrown at them in their cells, a detainee whose need for medical treatment was ignored - raise serious concerns about tactics used in policing of indigenous communities in BC and about the police's regard for the wellbeing and dignity of indigenous women and girls.

Incidents of police abuse of indigenous women and girls are compounded by the widely perceived failure of the police to protect women and girls from violence. Not surprisingly, indigenous women and girls report having little faith that police forces responsible for mistreatment and abuse can offer them protection when they face violence in the wider community. As a community service provider told Human Rights Watch, "The most apparent thing to me is the lack of safety women feel. A lot of women, especially First Nations women we see, never feel safe approaching the RCMP because of the injustices they've experienced...The system is really failing women."

One aspect of this is the apparent apathy of police towards the disappearances and murders of indigenous women and girls that has been such a persistent and well publicized stain on Canada's human rights record. Less well-publicized but equally pernicious have been the shortcomings of the police in their response to domestic violence.

The RCMP has instituted progressive policies addressing violence in domestic relationships, but it appears the police do not apply those policies consistently when policing in indigenous communities. According to survivors of domestic violence and the community service providers who work with them, indigenous women and girls often do not get the protection afforded by these polices. Women who call the police for help may find themselves blamed for the abuse, are at times shamed for alcohol or substance use, and risk arrest for actions taken in self-defense. Similarly, despite policies requiring active investigation of all reports of missing persons, some family members and service providers who had made calls to police to report missing persons said the police failed to promptly investigate the reports.

When they experience abuse at the hands of the police or when the police fail to provide adequate protection, women and girls have limited recourse. They can lodge a complaint with the Commission for Public Complaints against the RCMP, but the process is time consuming and the investigation of the complaint will likely fall to the RCMP itself or an external police force. Fear of retaliation from police runs high in the north, and the apparent lack of genuine accountability for police abuse adds to long-standing tensions between the police and indigenous communities. The title of this report "Those Who Take Us Away," is a literal translation of the word for police in Carrier, the language of a number of indigenous communities in northern BC.

The Independent Investigations Office (IIO), a recently established provincial mechanism for civilian investigation of police misconduct, offers some promise, but most complaints will fall outside the office's mandate, which is limited to incidents involving death or certain serious bodily injuries. The exclusion of rape and sexual abuse from this definition represents an unacceptable discriminatory omission on the part of the provincial legislature. It sends a loud message that assaults on women are not important.

Canada has strong legal protections around violence against women and the federal and provincial governments have made some attempts to address murders and disappearances of indigenous women through studies, taskforces, and limited funding initiatives. However, the persistence of the violence indicates a need for deeper, coordinated interventions to address the systemic nature of the problem.

To the government of Canada:

Establish a national commission of inquiry into the murders and disappearances of indigenous women and girls before the end 0f 2013; ensure the inquiry's terms of reference are developed with leadership from affected communities and that they include the examination of the current and historical relationship between the police and indigenous women and girls, including incidents of serious police misconduct, and the systemic socio-economic marginalization of indigenous women and girls that predispose them to high levels of violence;

With leadership from indigenous communities, develop and implement a national action plan to address violence against indigenous women and girls that addresses the structural roots of the violence as well as the accountability and coordination of government bodies charged with preventing and responding to violence;

Establish independent civilian investigations of reported incidents of serious police misconduct, including incidents of rape and other sexual assault, in all jurisdictions;

Cooperate with the United Nations Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women's inquiry into the issue of missing and murdered indigenous women and girls, including by granting permission for a site visit, and provide similar cooperation to other international human rights bodies that may seek to engage the government on these issues;

Ratify the American Convention on Human Rights and the Inter-American Convention on the Prevention, Punishment, and Eradication of Violence Against Women (Convention of Belém do Pará).

To the provincial government of British Columbia:

Ensure that a public inquiry takes place into the violence experienced by indigenous women and girls in northern British Columbia. The inquiry could be part of a national commission of inquiry or a standalone inquiry for the province. The inquiry should include both the murders and disappearances of indigenous women and girls along Highway 16 and police abuse of indigenous women and girls. The inquiry's terms of reference should be defined in cooperation with indigenous communities, and adequate financial and victim supports for non-government community participation and interests should proportionately equal those provided for government and police;

Expand the mandate of the Independent Investigations Office to include authority to investigate allegations of sexual assault by police;

Provide adequate shelters and social services for victims of violence, including in rural areas and with specific culturally-sensitive services;

Renew the commitment to implementing the recommendations of the 2006 Highway of Tears Symposium, updated, as necessary, in cooperation with northern indigenous communities;

Expand non-incarceration options for publicly intoxicated individuals, including sobering centers where medical personnel can provide appropriate care.

To the Royal Canadian Mounted Police:

Collect and make publicly available (as ethically appropriate) accurate and comprehensive, disaggregated data that includes an ethnicity variable on violence against indigenous women and girls in cooperation with indigenous community organizations and the National Centre for Missing Persons and Unidentified Remains (NCMPUR); the development of NCMPUR should be part of a national RCMP strategy for the elimination of violence against indigenous women and girls that ensures consistency in data collection, immediate reporting, and access to information by police, coroners, and medical examiners;

Expand training for police officers to counter racism and sexism in the treatment of indigenous women and girls in custody and to improve police response to violence against women and girls within indigenous communities; such training should be developed through collaboration between indigenous and human rights organizations, the Canadian Police College, and the Department of Public Safety Canada; and focus specifically on Canada's colonial history that has predisposed indigenous women to suffer from gross levels of violence and on human rights norms, including women's and girls' rights to live free from violence and discrimination and be treated with dignity and respect in custody;

Ensure that properly trained officers are stationed at detachments in the north for a sufficient amount of time to develop strong relationships with the local community;

Eliminate searches and monitoring of women and girls by male police officers in all but extraordinary circumstances and require documentation and supervisor and commander review of any such searches; prohibit cross-gender strip searches under any circumstances;

Prohibit the use of conducted energy weapons (Tasers) on youth and re-examine the rules for the use of police dogs and pepper spray on youth with a view to limiting their use to extraordinary circumstances that are then documented and subject to supervisor and commander review; all RCMP and municipal police policy on conducted energy weapons, police dogs and pepper spray should be made publicly accessible;

Enforce existing rules mandating that parents or guardians be contacted immediately in the case of their child's arrest and that youth not be detained in cells with adults or children of the opposite sex;

Consider, in consultation with indigenous communities in northern British Columbia, changing the criteria for cases to be investigated by the E-PANA task force to include a greater number of the murders and disappearances of women in the north;

Develop a timeline for NCMPUR to complete and implement specialized and standardized protocols for police response when indigenous women and girls are reported missing or found murdered; these protocols should be part of the national RCMP strategy and be made in cooperation with indigenous organizations; protocols should include:

Oversight, accountability mechanisms that track a police investigation of a missing or murdered indigenous women or girl from the time such an incident is reported;

Clear, publicly available communication standards for informing family and the general community about the progress of an investigation as it proceeds, and what they can or are expected to do to contribute to an investigation during its different phases;

Goals to involve an Aboriginal liaison officer in all cases of missing and murdered indigenous women and girls to work with affected families and the police;

Goals to review police response to missing and murdered indigenous women and girl cases at regular intervals to compile and make public a report on best practices and lessons learned that can then contribute to more successful police investigations and community response in the future.

To the UN Human Rights Council:

Raise the issue of violence against indigenous women and girls in Canada as part of the United Nations Human Rights Council's Universal Periodic Review;

Encourage Canada to launch a national inquiry into the murders and disappearances of indigenous women and girls.

Human Rights Watch undertook the research on which this report is based after Justice for Girls (JFG), a Vancouver-based organization advocating for the rights of girls in British Columbia, submitted a briefing paper to Human Rights Watch in November 2011 describing human rights violations against indigenous teen girls in northern British Columbia. In collaboration with JFG, Human Rights Watch conducted five weeks of field research in British Columbia in July and August 2012, most of which was spent traversing Highway 16 from Prince George to Prince Rupert, and Highway 97 between Prince George and Williams Lake. The Carrier Sekani Tribal Council passed a resolution welcoming Human Rights Watch into the territory and supporting the research. Human Rights Watch attended the annual general meeting of the Carrier Sekani and spoke with community members about police treatment of girls and women, and the murders and disappearances along Highway 16.

In total Human Rights Watch conducted 87 interviews for this report. We spoke with 42 indigenous women and 8 indigenous girls, ranging in age from 15 to late 60s, in the communities we visited. The interviews were arranged with the assistance and coordination of advocates, organizations, and local community members who connected us to individuals they believed to have information pertinent to police treatment of indigenous women and girls. Human Rights Watch also interviewed19 community service providers, including staff at domestic violence transition houses and homeless shelters, and youth outreach workers; community leaders; and family members of victims of violence or police mistreatment. In addition, we spoke with seven current and former officers of the "E" Division of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) in three interviews arranged through unofficial channels.

Human Rights Watch researchers were assisted by two indigenous leaders and women's rights experts: Mavis Erickson and Sharon McIvor. Erickson is an attorney, former Elected Tribal Chief of the Carrier Sekani Tribal Council (CSTC), and representative for the CSTC on issues related to missing and murdered indigenous women. She is a Nadleh Whut'en band member and a citizen of Nak'azdii near Fort St James. McIvor is an attorney, co-founder of the Canadian Feminist Alliance for International Action, and an instructor at the Nicola Valley Institute of Technology. She is a Lower Nicola Band member and brought a ground-breaking constitutional challenge to sex-discrimination in the Indian Act in McIvor v. Canada.

The individual women, girls, and family members interviewed for this report were fully informed about the nature and purpose of our research and how we would use the information they provided. Human Rights Watch obtained verbal consent for each of the interviews. No incentives were provided to individuals in exchange for their interviews. The majority of the interviews were conducted in private with only the researcher and a single interviewee present, but in a number of cases interviewees chose to speak with family members or advocates present. Four of the interviews were conducted by phone; the rest were in-person. The interviews with individual women and girls were open-ended discussions of the experiences the women, girls, and family members had had with the police and what, if any, recommendations they had for improvements in policing. Care was taken to ensure that interviews about past traumatic events did not further traumatize interviewees, and where appropriate, Human Rights Watch offered interviewees referrals to local organizations providing counseling and other services.

In several towns we visited, women and girls who expressed interest in meeting and talking to Human Rights Watch later withdrew their request to be interviewed. They cited fear of exposure and potential retaliation from police as inhibiting factors. Community service providers noted that the fear of exposure is particularly acute in the small towns of the north where police and community members would be likely to identify a person by a few details of their story. Consequently, Human Rights Watch has not identified the precise location of interviews, and where necessary we have also redacted details from victim and witness accounts in order to reduce the risk that they will be identified. We have also used pseudonyms for all victims and family members interviewed. Nonetheless, certain accounts in this report that have previously received public attention may be recognizable, a possibility which was discussed with the women and girls involved as part of their full and informed consent to their participation in the research. The names of community service providers and others have also been withheld where their relationship with police would otherwise have prevented them from speaking freely.

Due to concern for the privacy and security of interviewees, Human Rights Watch did not inform the RCMP of our intention to conduct the research in advance or approach detachments for interviews during the field research. In September 2012, Human Rights Watch wrote to the RCMP to advise the national headquarters and the "E" Division in British Columbia of our research and to solicit the police force's input to a series of questions raised by the research. The RCMP responded in November 2012 with answers to our questions and associated policy documents. Human Rights Watch reviewed those materials and they have been taken into account in the report's analysis. Human Rights Watch did not include details of particular incidents in its letter on September 2012 due to the deep seated fear of retaliation on the part of victims if they were identifiable to those accused of perpetrating the abuses. Human Rights Watch is committed to pursuing the issues raised by this report with authorities and to addressing particular situations of concern with British Columbia's Independent Investigations Office (IIO) to the extent we are able to without compromising the safety and privacy of victims.

We have also communicated with the British Columbia (BC) Minister of Justice and Attorney General Shirley Bond and IIO Director Richard Rosenthal regarding the limitations of the mandate of the IIO.

Indigenous communities, peoples and nations are those which, having a historical continuity with pre-invasion and pre-colonial societies that developed on their territories, consider themselves distinct from other sectors of the societies now prevailing in those territories, or parts of them. They form at present non-dominant sectors of society and are determined to preserve, develop, and transmit to future generations their ancestral territories, their ethnic identity, as the basis of their continued existence as peoples in accordance with their own cultural patterns, social institutions, and legal systems.

¾Martinez Cobo, Special Rapporteur of the Sub-Commission on Prevention of Discrimination and Protection of Minorities, United Nations Commission on Human Rights

This report primarily uses the term "indigenous" to refer to the women and girls interviewed for this report. We recognize, however, that other terms, such as "First Nations" and "Aboriginal" are commonly used in British Columbia and Canada. We also recognize that there are many unique identities and cultures within the indigenous communities of British Columbia which are not captured by a single term. We have chosen to use "indigenous" because it is the terminology used by the United Nations and applicable human rights standards.

In order to ensure accuracy, we have not changed the terms used by interviewees and in source material. For example, we refer to the number of Aboriginal women and girls in Canada, because that is the term used by Statistics Canada in the study cited. For ease of reference we include the following definitions of relevant terms, excerpted from a glossary provided by the government of Saskatchewan:

Aboriginal: The term "Aboriginal" is appropriate when referring to matters that affect First Nations (Indian) and Métis peoples. The word is most appropriately used as an adjective (e.g., Aboriginal person).

Aboriginal Peoples: Section 35 of the Constitution Act, 1982 recognizes three groups of Aboriginal peoples -- Indians, Métis and Inuit peoples.

Band: As defined by the Indian Act, a Band is a body of Indians for whose common use and benefit lands have been set aside or monies held by the Government of Canada or declared by the Governor in Council to be a Band. Today, many Bands prefer to be known as First Nations.

First Nation(s): A term that came into common usage in the 1970s to replace the word "Indian". Although the term First Nation is widely used, no legal definition of it exists. The term has also been adopted to replace the word "Band" in the naming of communities.

Indian: The term "Indian" is narrowly defined by the Indian Act. Indian peoples are one of three groups of people recognized as one of Canada's Aboriginal peoples in the Constitution Act, 1982. There are three legal definitions that apply to Indians in Canada: Status Indians, Non-status Indians and Treaty Indians.

Inuit: An Aboriginal people in northern Canada, who live above the tree line in the Northwest Territories, and in Nunavut, Northern Quebec and Labrador. The word means "people" in the Inuit language - Inuktitut. The singular of Inuit is Inuk.

Métis: The term refers to Aboriginal people of mixed First Nation and European ancestry who identify themselves as Métis people, as distinct from First Nations people, Inuit or non-Aboriginal people. The Métis have a unique culture that draws on their diverse ancestral origins, such as Scottish, French, Ojibway and Cree.

Native: A term used to refer generally to Aboriginal peoples. The term "Aboriginal person" is preferred to "native."

Non-status Indian: An Indian person who is not registered as an Indian under the Indian Act. This may be because his or her ancestors were never registered, or because he or she lost Indian status under former provisions of the Indian Act. Bill C-31 in 1985 has restored Indian status to those who lost it through marriage.

Status Indian (Registered Indian): Refers to an Indian person who is registered (or entitled to be registered) under the Indian Act. The Act sets out the requirements for determining who is a status Indian.

Reserve: Land set aside by the federal government for the use and occupancy of an Indian group or Band. Legal title rests with the Crown in right of Canada.

Treaty Indian: A person affiliated with a First Nation that has signed, or whose ancestors signed, a treaty with the Crown and who now receives land rights and entitlements as prescribed in a treaty.

© 2013 Human Rights Watch

Violence against Indigenous Women and Girls in Canada

The Native Women's Association of Canada (NWAC) collected data showing that nationally, between the 1960s and 2010, 582 Aboriginal women and girls went missing or were murdered in Canada. Data collected as of March 31, 2010, indicate that two-thirds of the cases logged were murders; one-fifth were disappearances; and the remainder were suspicious deaths or unknown. Some cases date back to the 1960s and 70s, but 39 percent occurred since 2000. NWAC's data indicates that the majority of the victims were under the age of 31 and many were mothers. According to NWAC's data, Aboriginal women are more likely to be killed by a stranger than non-Aboriginal women, and nearly half of the murders are unsolved. Amnesty International published a report on Canada's missing and murdered indigenous women in 2004 that, among other findings, concluded that "Despite assurances to the contrary, police in Canada have often failed to provide Indigenous women with an adequate standard of protection."

The collection of data about the levels of violence against indigenous women is essential for developing an effective response to the violence, but in 2010 the government stopped funding NWAC's data initiative on the murders and disappearances of indigenous women. The government is funding related initiatives as part of the "Missing and Murdered Aboriginal Women strategy," as well as the NWAC "Evidence to Action" project, but it did not renew funding for the organization's statistical monitoring of cases of missing and murdered indigenous women and girls. As a result, no comprehensive sex - and race - disaggregated data to track the numbers of missing and murdered indigenous women and girls since 2010 are available. The government contends that the responsibility for continued data collection will be assumed by the National Centre for Missing Persons and Unidentified Remains (NCMPUR) run by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP). The NCMPUR, according to the government, will include "one resource, linked to National Aboriginal Policing S ervices, to ensure a focus on the specific issue of missing Aboriginal persons." However, there is currently no precedent for the standardized collection of ethnicity data by police forces in Canada. Consequently, it is unclear going forward how the government and the public will have access to information comparable to what NWAC had provided about the number and circumstances of these cases.

Government studies have found that violence against indigenous women and girls is linked to broader, long-standing patterns of discrimination faced by indigenous women and girls in British Columbia and in Canada at large. Although a thorough discussion of these well documented patterns is beyond the scope of this report, it is important to note that the context in which indigenous women and girls are subjected to violence is one of structural discrimination linked to social and economic inequality, according to government and academic experts. In 2006, 35 percent of Aboriginal women over 25 had not completed high school, compared with 20 percent for non-Aboriginal women. When asked why she did not complete high school, nearly one in five women cited "pregnancy or to take care of children," according to the 2006 Aboriginal Peoples Survey. Also in 2006, 8 percent of Aboriginal girls aged 15 to 19 were parents, compared to 1.3 percent of non-Aboriginal girls in the same age bracket. In British Columbia, the Ministry of Children and Family Development reported that, while Aboriginal children constitute only 8 percent of the province's children, they were 52 percent of all children in government care in 2007-08.

Residential Schools

Residential school attendance, particularly when accompanied by physical and sexual abuse, has been linked to problems of alcoholism, drug abuse, powerlessness, dependency, low self-esteem, suicide, prostitution, gambling, homelessness, sexual abuse, violence, and, as this paper argues, missing and murdered women. Some Survivors and/or their descendants have been in conflict with the legal system, including the criminal justice system and the child welfare system.

Alcohol and substance use is a problem for indigenous communities in Canada, including in northern BC. Aboriginal youth are at two to six times greater risk for alcohol-related problems than non-Aboriginal youth, and the rate of death due to alcohol use in the Aboriginal population is double the rate in the general population. Many of the police abuses documented in this report occurred in the context of the policing of public intoxication. While public intoxication can give rise to legitimate safety concerns, especially when children are involved, it is no justification for mistreatment of individuals in custody. Furthermore while incarceration may not always be the most appropriate and effective way of dealing with the problem, in many parts of BC the authorities have failed to provide alternative remedies. A report by the British Columbia Civil Liberties Association (BCCLA) noted the lack of sobering centers in the north, finding that "the challenge for police of dealing with those who are drunk or high in public is a major issue across the north.... Police have become de facto medical practitioners across the north for people suffering from alcohol overdoses or acute drug intoxication."

The Shadow of Past Abuses

Beyond the legacy of the residential school system, to understand the relationship between the RCMP and indigenous girls and women in northern British Colombia today, it is important to acknowledge the impact that several historical policing failures have had on the lives of indigenous women and girls.

Judge Ramsay and the legacy of sexual exploitation in Prince George

At age 13, Celynn Cadieux became one of Ramsay's victims. She died in April 2007 at the age of 22. Her father Bob Sandbach told Human Rights Watch that police officers were involved in the sexual exploitation of his daughter:

We were sitting in the car driving to Rock Creek, going to church, she was starting to cry. The only way I can explain it is if your child came to you and said the neighbor's kid took her favorite toy. She is sobbing - the sincerity in her body told me exactly what she said happened... For sexual favors [the police] would stop her on the road and put their hands down her pants saying they were searching her [for drugs] ... She was 18, 17.

Long after the Ramsay case came to light, reports continue to circulate in Prince George about connections linking the law enforcement and legal establishments with use of children in sex work and other forms of child sexual exploitation. An indigenous woman who had spent a lot of her youth in group homes for children in the custody of child welfare services told Human Rights Watch that four or five years ago she went with a girl from a group home to that girl's court appearance:

My "sister" worked in the shacks [as a prostitute]. I was waiting for her for 45 minutes to say goodbye to people at the courthouse. I asked, "How do you know these people?" "They're my regulars," she said. Judges, lawyers, police... She killed herself a month before her 19th birthday.

Earlier Incidents of Police Abuse

In the course of our research into the current relationship between police and indigenous communities in British Columbia, Human Rights Watch spoke to several women whose alleged experience of abuse at the hands of the police dated back decades, but who were still waiting for their cases to be taken seriously so they could see justice. The scarring of their experiences and determination to seek redress has not waned as the decades have passed. For example, Human Rights Watch interviewed Georgia I. who wants British Columbia's attorney general, in whose department the IIO is based, to provide justice for her rape almost 40 years ago:

When I was 16 I was raped by a police officer and became pregnant. I got an abortion because otherwise I would have done it to myself with a coat hanger.... I was working for a police officer who had a pizza joint. Some of his young officers would come in to eat and one night one offered me a ride home. That was the first time he raped me. The second time he caught me. I didn't ask for a ride, but he got me.... I'm looking at filing an application to the Attorney General about the rape. He [the perpetrator] is still on the force ... how many other young girls has he hurt, as he hurt me....

Likewise in a series of incidents in 1990 and 1991, Elaine H. said she was harassed by one police officer and then by a second officer. She described the daily harassment of the first:

At the time I was a single aboriginal woman from here. I was freshly divorced.... I hadn't dated in 11 years. I went out to a pub with a friend. A gentleman came up trying to be really cute and I said, "I'm sorry, I'm not ready to meet anyone. I'm not interested in male companionship." He was a police officer and he stalked me for a year and a half. He would park outside of my house or pull up next to my car. He'd pull me over anytime.... It got so bad I couldn't go to the grocery store because he'd park behind my car ... if I was at the bank, he'd park behind my car ... if I was at the video store ... anywhere my vehicle went ... this man would pull behind me ... he phoned me on my birthday to tell me he was leaving town and to apologize for being a nuisance, as he would call it, I said ... a nuisance ... you stalked me, I became a mom who couldn't even come out of my house because I was too scared to come out....

Elaine H. reported the stalking to the Commission for Public Complaints against the RCMP, but they were dismissive of her complaint and failed to take remedial action.

Human Rights Watch researchers were struck when carrying out this research by the high levels of fear of police among the women interviewed, levels of fear that Human Rights Watch normally finds in communities in post-conflict or post-transition countries such as Iraq where security forces have played an integral role in state abuses and enforcement of authoritarian policies. The palpable fear of the police was accompanied with a notable matter of fact manner when mentioning mistreatment by police, reflecting a normalized expectation that if one was an indigenous woman or girl police mistreatment is to be anticipated.

Missing and Murdered Women in BC and the Highway of Tears

The Native Women's Association of Canada documented 160 cases of indigenous women and girls who went missing or were murdered in British Columbia between the 1960s and 2010, significantly more than any other province or territory in Canada. The province also had the highest unsolved rate of murders of indigenous women and girls. The 724-kilometer stretch of Highway 16 that runs through small rural towns between Prince George and Prince Rupert has come to be called the Highway of Tears, because of the murders and disappearances that have occurred in its vicinity. Since 1969, dozens of women and girls - perhaps more than 40 - have gone missing or been murdered in close proximity to three highways in northern and central BC (Highways 16, 97, and 5). The RCMP includes 18 murders and disappearances in its roster of Highway of Tears cases. However, indigenous community estimates have always been higher than the numbers maintained by the RCMP due, in large part, to the RCMP's requirement for the disappearance or murder to have happened within a mile of Highway 16, 97, or 5 to be included in its E-PANA project, a special task force formed to investigate unsolved cases related to the Highway of Tears. A 2006 report by several indigenous groups about the Highway of Tears referenced community activities in memory of 32 victims. Later estimates have topped 40. Media reports highlight the fact that a number of the victims were hitchhiking at the time of their disappearance, but circumstances in other cases have varied. Indigenous women are disproportionately represented among the missing and murdered. Of the 18 Highway of Tears victims identified by the RCMP, 10 are indigenous.

Investigations

Human Rights Watch did not conduct a case-by-case review of the Highway of Tears murders and disappearances. We interviewed family members of several victims and community members familiar with the cases (including some that are not on official Highway of Tears lists). We also reviewed media reports about the investigations of cases of missing and murdered indigenous women and girls in order to identify persistent problems in police response. Family members reported their experiences with the police, telling us that they felt the investigating officers were biased against the victims because they were indigenous women and girls. As indicated above, this distrust has roots in experiences of discrimination and neglect that stretch back decades. One woman whose sister was murdered in the late 1960s told Human Rights Watch that "[the police] assumed because she was Indian that she went out drunk and went out and asked for it. She had a tampon and they played it up that she used this for birth control.... Why not treat everyone's case the same way?"

The sister of another young woman who went missing and was ultimately found murdered in the 1990s, said that discriminatory police assumptions misdirected the focus of the search:

The police said, "Oh, she probably just needed a break from you guys. She probably just ran away." We tried to say that this was out of character, that she could leave any time she wanted and say where she was going. So they never believed us. They had my mom on this wild goose chase. She thought she was going to go to Vancouver because they put it into her head that she might be there. We would have looked local. That really threw things off, instead of looking in our own hometown where she was [found murdered].

Accountability

Unless we have accountability there will be no justice, no closure, no equality.

¾Family member of a Highway of Tears victim

The resignation of Robyn Gervais, the inquiry's first appointed independent counsel for indigenous interests, over the lack of attention to indigenous communities' concerns - including the entrenched discrimination, poverty, and economic and social inequalities that contribute to indigenous women's exposure to violence - further undermined the inquiry's legitimacy. Gervais told Human Rights Watch:

We need a national inquiry that really looks at the issue of why are so many indigenous women going missing. We could hear strategies from different provinces, hear from First Nations around Canada about what will work in their communities. We could address the RCMP. Something like the truth and reconciliation commission around residential schools, in a format that would work for communities - meetings, not like a trial - to look at different needs of the communities. Transport and hitchhiking may be problems in one community but not in another.

Policing in British Columbia

The "E" Division has been heavily criticized for its policing practices by civil liberties advocates and others. The British Columbia Civil Liberties Association conducted a series of workshops in communities across northern and rural BC and released a report in 2011 identifying problems in policing, including poor treatment of aboriginal people, inadequate police accountability, inadequate holding cells in police facilities, and a lack of de-escalation skills among officers for resolving confrontations with members of the public with a minimum use of force. Human Rights Watch saw evidence of the persistence of all these problems while researching this report.

Police Complaint Mechanisms

In British Columbia, three bodies with varying jurisdiction handle complaints of police misconduct. First, the provincial Office of the Police Complaint Commissioner addresses complaints against police officers belonging to members of municipal police forces.

Second, the national Commission for Public Complaints against the RCMP (CPC) has jurisdiction over complaints against RCMP members. Since our research took place in areas policed by the RCMP, the CPC would be the option available to the women and girls interviewed for this report. The CPC's role is primarily to monitor the processing of complaints by the RCMP. The main investigative authority resides with the RCMP and the RCMP ultimately determines what remedial action will be taken. When a complaint is received, the RCMP arranges for an investigation according to its procedures (outlined below) and reports back to the complainant. If the complainant is not satisfied, the CPC reviews the RCMP's report and if they find it unsatisfactory, they can investigate the complaint themselves, ask the RCMP to investigate further, hold a public hearing, or review the complaint without further investigation. After taking whichever step is chosen, the CPC prepares an interim report for the RCMP Commissioner who then informs the CPC what actions, if any, will be taken. That result is included in a final report by the CPC, which marks the end of the process.

The Canadian authorities need urgently to address this omission if they are to ensure accountability for the worst cases of officer misconduct. The legislation creating the office provided for a potentially broader mandate, stating that reporting to the IIO would be required when a police officer "may have contravened a prescribed provision of the Criminal Code or a prescribed provision of another federal or provincial enactment."

However, no regulation exists prescribing the particular provisions, which means that portion of the act is not operational. Minister of Justice and Attorney General Shirley Bond has indicated that the government "will wait until the IIO has been in operation for a sufficient period of time to assess its workload and capacity before deciding whether to expand the IIO's mandate through regulations. Prior to January 1, 2015, a special committee of the Legislative Assembly will review the general operations of the IIO and make recommendations as it sees appropriate."

The following chapter presents qualitative data about police abuse gathered by Human Rights Watch in 10 towns in northern British Columbia, from Prince George to Prince Rupert and as far south as Williams Lake. Human Rights Watch does not contend that this information proves a pattern of routine systematic abuse, but when such incidents take place in the context of an already deeply fractured relationship with the police they have a particularly harmful, negative impact. Some of the accounts of harm done to women and girls by police appear to be the result of poor policing tactics, over aggressive policing, and insensitivity to the welfare and vulnerability of the victims. Others however, such as the alleged sexual assaults of women by members of the police, are deliberate criminal acts and could only be perpetrated by the particular officers in the expectation that they will never have to answer for their crimes.

Obstacles to documenting police abuse include victims' fear of retaliation by police and fear of public exposure, particularly in small towns where victims who provide information may be easily identified. While the testimonies that Human Rights Watch gathered do not establish the prevalence of abuse, they do, together with other studies, raise serious concerns about police practices, police misconduct, and mistrust of police, all of which impact the safety of indigenous women and girls.

Indigenous Girls and Women in the Criminal Justice System

In British Columbia, as in Canada as a whole, disproportionate numbers of indigenous youth, and indigenous girls in particular, come into conflict with the criminal justice system. According to Statistics Canada, in British Columbia Aboriginal girls, although 8 percent of the overall girl population, make up 54 percent of girls held in pretrial custody, 50 percent of girls sentenced to custody, and 48 percent girls on probation.

Harriet J., a victim service provider in another town, observed that police routinely incarcerate indigenous girls for intoxication if they are found to have consumed alcohol and are in need of transportation home (a particular challenge in northern communities with almost no public transportation), while white girls in the same situation are likely to be driven home by the police. While it is appropriate for police to intervene when children are intoxicated in public because they are in a vulnerable state, the insistence on incarceration with respect to indigenous girls appears to reflect a discriminatory approach.

Stark as they are, the statistics on the disproportionate numbers of indigenous women in sentenced custody fail to capture the full extent of the problem. Not included in these numbers is the regular temporary detention of women in the "drunk tank" who are not charged. In community after community visited by Human Rights Watch, women, girls, advocates, and service providers reported that the police appeared to target indigenous people for public intoxication arrests. In some reported incidents, the police abused their discretion by detaining people who were not intoxicated.

One indigenous woman, Jennifer R., told Human Rights Watch:

Three years ago we were coming home from fireworks. I was with my hubby [then boyfriend]. There were these cops picking on these native guys and girls and they were just throwing them around. They were yanking them around. One would go to walk away, saying, "I'm going home," and they'd pull her back. Another said, "Yeah, sure, I've had some drinks. I'm just trying to make my way home." The officers just talked over them... I've known [those girls] since I was a little girl. I know they are good girls...I felt for them. I know that they are fragile people.

I piped up - I should have listened to my boyfriend, but I knew them. I said, "Let me take them home with me. I'm sober, I don't do drugs." But they ended up taking me too. They held me to the next day (from 11:30 p.m. to 8am). It was cold. And I hadn't eaten and I was so hungry. Didn't give me any food. Just told me to shut up. Only thing she gave me was a cup for water. It just so happened to be me and my boyfriend's first date. Our first date and we went to the drunk tank and we weren't even drunk. They threatened to keep us over the weekend - said something about "fucking natives."

Community service providers decried the reliance on jailing as a means of addressing public intoxication in communities plagued by high alcoholism rates linked to decades of trauma. "The former [head of the local police detachment] would just pick up intoxicated individuals and throw them in the drunk tank," said one provider who had seen the "drunk tank" become a revolving door. "What is going to happen down the road?" The aggressive policing of public intoxication also breeds hostility and creates more occasions for outrage to boil over into violent confrontation. When survivors of the residential school system have interactions with police related to their alcohol use, those interactions may be particularly fraught given the abuse they have suffered by authorities.

Providers lamented that police did not have more knowledge of First Nations history, including residential schools, so that they could see individual behavior and current community problems in context. A lack of appreciation for the context was linked both to over-policing as well as to police misconduct. "When we talk about the RCMP and police brutality [against First Nations women], there is a lack of knowledge of the bigger picture," said one social service provider in northern British Columbia working with the homeless and domestic violence survivors. "Why is she there? She's there because our system has failed her. She may be there just coping."

Abusive Policing Tactics

Excessive Use of Force against Girls

Human Rights Watch documented eight incidents in which police physically assaulted or used questionable force against girls under the age of 18. In four of those cases, the girls themselves described the events to us; in the others, our information came from eye witnesses or from parents or service providers with knowledge of the events. The incidents occurred in seven different communities in the north, and four of the eight occurred in 2012. In two of the cases, the police injured girls who they had been called in to protect.

17-year-old girl assaulted by an officer in the back of a police car, 2011

Sophie B. reported to Human Rights Watch that she was walking through a field from a friend's house when she heard people screaming, and shortly after found herself being chased by gang members. Passing a woman on a balcony she asked her to call the police before she hid behind a fence. More than four police cars came, with at least two police officers in each car. "The cops came. They lifted me up and threw me to the ground... they put my arms behind my back and slammed me on the ground," Sophie said. Sophie's mother, Kathryn S., whom she had called earlier because of the gang, arrived at the area soon after. She told Human Rights Watch, "When I got there [Sophie] was laying down on the ground. I noticed she was in a panic attack. When she saw I was there, she calmed down. But the police officer wouldn't let me take her. That got her upset. They said she was violent because she was kicking around and intoxicated." The police officers then picked Sophie up and dragged her to the back of a police car.

Sophie told Human Rights Watch:

I was yelling at them saying: "I was the one who called for help. Why are you guys chasing me?" And they didn't say anything else... They roughed me up. They handcuffed me and put me in the back of the police car and would not allow my mother to come see me... One of them came up and said [through the police car window], "Keep kicking and see what happens." ... He punched me in the face more than six times. Half of his body was in the police car. Both my mom and sister saw him punch me. Then my mom came over and saw my face swollen up. I said, "Look what they did to me!" My mom said, "It's going to be okay."

But her mother was not sure it was all going to be okay. Following the beating Sophie endured while handcuffed in the back of the police car, the police took Sophie back to city cells for the night. "All that night I couldn't sleep wondering what was going to happen to her. I kept looking at the clock, counting the hours," she recalled. At city cells, male officers pulled the elastics out of Sophie's hair when they brought her in. She remembered that one said, "Stupid Indian," and that another laughed at her. The next day the family picked her up from jail and they went straight to the hospital. Young Sophie's face was swollen and there were cuts all over her gums and cheek from the impact of the punches hitting her face and shredding the inside of her mouth against the braces on her teeth. "I was walking around with a bandana over my face," she told Human Rights Watch. "It was pretty bad... My face was so bad that they let me go at my job at [a restaurant.]"The family filed a complaint and the RCMP detachment initially retaliated by filing charges against Sophie B. for assaulting an officer. The charges were later dropped and, following an investigation by an external police force, the officer was charged with criminal assault. Those charges are currently pending.

A 15-year-old girl's arm broken by police officer during response to domestic violence call, 2012

I will never forget that day. It's the worst thing I ever did. I wish I didn't call [the police].

Lena G., British Columbia, July 2012

Lena G. called the police and asked for their help in the spring of 2012 when it seemed that an argument was out of control between her 15-year-old daughter, Emily G., and Emily's 22-year-old boyfriend who had a history of abusive behavior. Police had previously been called regarding incidents in which Emily's adult boyfriend-the father of her infant daughter who had been committing statutory rape by having a sexual relationship with Emily-had strangled and assaulted her. On this occasion, Lena told the operator that her daughter had said that she would rather die than live in her mother's house, but Lena specifically told the operator that she believed this was a teenage expression of frustration rather than a genuine indication of suicidal feeling. By the time the police responded to the call, the argument had settled down, and Emily and her boyfriend were sitting on opposite sides of the room. Emily described how the situation escalated:

One of the cops saw me and asked what was happening. I said it had calmed down. I was calm. The cop asked if I was taking anything. I guess he saw [my baby's] medicine on the ground. After [telling him no], I told him that I'm really mad, angry, and stuff and I needed to go for a walk. I went to get my purse and he told me to get my jacket so he could bring me outside. He said he was going to take me to mental health. I told him in a raised voice that I didn't need a jacket. I guess I raised my voice.

The officer who had been talking to [my boyfriend], Constable [Name], told me to calm down. He stopped me by stepping front of me. He was holding the curtain open between the part of the room where I was and where [my boyfriend] was. He had his finger in my face in front of my eyes. I was yelling and telling him to fuck off. He just barely touched my face and I pushed it away. I barely moved his finger. He grabbed my arm and pushed me up against the wall. He pulled my arm way back and pushed it so I was up on my tip toes and that was when my arm broke... He let go and the cuffed arm fell with the cuff and then I felt all the pain. I yelled, "What did you do to my arm?" three times. He handed the cuff over to the other cop and he held it while we walked out.

After some discussion among the officers, an ambulance was called to take Emily to the hospital where an x-ray showed that her arm was broken. Later she had to travel with her family to another city for surgery on her arm. "When we left every single bump on the road was like killing me," Emily said.

Although Emily and Lena reported that police made no mention of concern for her mental state at the hospital, the RCMP subsequently told the press that the officers responded to a suicidal teenager and arrested her under the Mental Health Act as well as for assaulting an officer. An external police investigation into the incident is underway.

A 12-year-old girl injured in attack by police dog, 2012

Police arrested Mary H. after an incident in May 2012 in which she reportedly sprayed someone with bear mace at a fair. Her mother, Rachel H., who was present during Mary's police interview, told Human Rights Watch about the incidents surrounding the arrest, during which Mary was wounded by a police dog:

I'm a mother of five. She's my youngest. She's had some trouble - run-ins with the police over the last year or two [for theft, mischief, non-violent offenses] ... She just turned 13, she was 12 at the time...With this incident, it seems that the police knew who they were looking for - they knew she was 12. They had to have talked to the people she allegedly assaulted, [who] knew her older sister... The officers knew that the bear mace had been used on the victims. She said she had thrown it away when she was running.

She fled the scene and was hiding. She saw the cops with the dogs coming. She shouted, "I'm only 12 years old." The cops didn't give her an opportunity to give herself up. They didn't warn her that they were going to let the dog loose. The compound she was in was behind a locked fence. They had to use a bolt cutter. She was hiding inside a wooden box. She saw a handler with a ball cap. The dog jumped into the box. The officer looked into the box. The box fell over. The dog was on top of her and started to attack her leg... The photos show punctures from the dog's teeth. Her leg was so swollen. It was more than just a dog bite, it was an attack... She couldn't walk or even hop because of the pressure ... She had to stay on the couch for a week and had to go to the hospital to have the bandages changed... the scars are going to be there (on her upper left leg) forever.

According to Rachel, the police failed to immediately inform her that her daughter had been arrested, as required by law. After arresting Mary at about 11:30 p.m., the police transported her to the hospital where she requested the officers call her mother. They did not call her mother until she was transported to the jail around 2 a.m.

Additional Cases

In addition to the incidents described above, Human Rights Watch learned of other cases of the use of force against girls. They include:

In April 2012 police officers detaining a 13-year-old, applied the handcuffs "so tight it was peeling the skin off her hand," according to a witness.

In July 2012 police hit Grace F.,a slight 16-year-old, on the back of the head and on both of her legs with a baton, after she and a friend had a verbal confrontation with a couple of officers.

In 2010, police pepper sprayed the then 14-year-old Hayley A. after a verbal confrontation with officers escalated. Hayley A. had yelled at police officers from the back of a car that had been pulled over during a traffic stop. After they pepper sprayed her in response, Hayley A said, "I couldn't breathe and I couldn't open my eyes."

Use of Tasers

Police use of Tasers - electroshock weapons, frequently referred to as conducted energy weapons - which are considered firearms pursuant to regulations under the Criminal Code of Canada, in response to low level threats has drawn substantial criticism in recent years. Public Safety Canada guidelines state that use of a conducted energy weapon on a young child should be avoided. However, the Commission for Public Complaints against the RCMP has documented extensive police use of Tasers on teenagers, with 194 recorded uses on youth aged 13 to 17 between 2002 and 2009. In 2009, 8.3 percent of reports of the use of conducted energy weapons involved female youths. The analysis did not disaggregate by ethnicity.

Following an investigation into the death of man Tasered at Vancouver International Airport in 2007, the RCMP reported that, among other steps, it was emphasizing de-escalation in training and that its April 2010 policy on conducted energy weapons clarified they may only be used in situations in which a subject is causing bodily harm or when it is reasonably believed the subject will cause bodily harm imminently.

Despite this a representative of an advocacy group who facilitated a meeting among indigenous girls, ages 12 to 15, reported that two of the girls said they had been Tasered in separate incidents between 2009 and 2011 when each was about 12.

Cross-Gender Searches

Human Rights Watch interviews confirm that cross-gender searches take place, although it is unclear whether this is due to female staffing shortages or if the absence of female guards is used as a pretext in some situations. In either case, reports of irregular, inappropriate searches of women by male officers point to the need to correct this policy "hiccup."

Police picked up Jan K. during an altercation in 2010 and took her to the "drunk tank." She told Human Rights Watch that at the police station two male cops took her to a room that appeared to be a janitor's closet where there were no cameras visible. They told her to remove her clothes except for undergarments. Afterwards they gave back the clothes but said she could either have her sweater or a t-shirt but not both.

Conditions in City Cells

Community service providers said that women transferred to city cells for trial, among whom indigenous women are disproportionately represented, can be held four to five days without access to washing facilities. "That's a lot of abuse, especially when they're on their cycle [menstruating]," said one provider. "[They] wear the same clothes that length of time so they are not ready to go to court to defend themselves...You're a mess when you go into court and they're in the same cells as the drunk tank so you could get into a fight with a drunk and then you have more charges."

Fights in city cells take place and women reported a failure on the part of guards to intervene.:

One night a week ago I ended up in the drunk tank... This lady attacked me in the same cell. There were three of us. She was talking something about her boyfriend and must have thought I said something and came and attacked me. She grabbed me by my hair and pounded me against the cement and I stopped her and then she kicked me and started dragging me around by my hair. And they didn't do anything. They have cameras there. The night guard didn't even come to see what was going on. It was loud. There was screaming... I yelled for help. Guess no cops were there and the night guard never did a thing.

Women reported that they were placed in the cells after suffering injuries and were not provided with medical attention. Anna T. was "jumped" in May 2012 and knocked unconscious with a beer bottle. When the police responded, they took her to the city cells rather than the hospital. She told Human Rights Watch:

I woke up in cells, I'm covered in blood... A cop came over and said, "[Anna], you've been assaulted. We don't know what happened. You got verbal with one of the officers so we detained you." They let me out at 5 a.m. and said, "We'll give you a ride to the hospital." They let me out the door and then just shut it. I waited five minutes and no one came. My nose was broken. I had two black eyes. My hair was balled up in blood... If you have an injured woman, take her to the hospital.

Sexual and Physical Abuse by Police

Rape and Sexual Assault

In 5 of the 10 towns Human Rights Watch visited in the north, we heard allegations of rape or sexual assault by police officers. Human Rights Watch was struck by the level of fear on the part of women we met to talk about sexual abuse inflicted by police officers. Even though Human Rights Watch conducted outreach to women and girls through trusted service providers with long histories of working in these communities, on several occasions, women who initially expressed interest in talking with Human Rights Watch about their experiences of police sexual abuse later declined to speak or did not appear for interviews. Fear of retaliation, a frequent reason why women and girls do not report police abuse in general, is compounded by fear of stigma and feelings of shame in cases of sexual abuse. As a consequence, it was very difficult to gather first-hand testimony to support the allegations we heard.

However, in one town, Human Rights Watch met Gabriella P., a homeless woman, who reported that in July 2012 she had been taken to a remote location outside of the town and raped by four police officers whose names she knew but would not provide. "I feel so dirty," Gabriella said through tears, the first time she spoke with Human Rights Watch. "They threatened that if I told anybody they would take me out to the mountains and kill me and make it look like an accident." Gabriella said that she had been raped by police in similar circumstances on previous occasions. Human Rights Watch was able to find and photograph the remote location, which is inaccessible by public transportation, that Gabriella described. In a brief second meeting with her almost a week later, Gabriella reviewed the photographs and reacted with visible fear and distress. Pointing to details in the photographs, she further explained that the officers had made her stand with her hands against the side of a building while she was being raped. Human Rights Watch is not publishing the photos or further details in order to protect her identity.

In addition, in the second meeting, Gabriella said that she had been raped by police again two days earlier in a different location outside of town and that the officers had taken her underwear after she was assaulted. Human Rights Watch was unable to ask for further details about this rape because Gabriella abruptly ended the conversation out of fear of being seen talking to the Human Rights Watch researcher.

A community worker in the town said that she keeps packages of underwear for women living on the streets because other women have reported to her that they have been sexually assaulted by police and had their underwear confiscated. These allegations are deeply disturbing and demand action. Respecting Gabriella's wishes that an individual complaint to authorities not be made on her behalf, Human Rights Watch coordinated with a community worker to ensure that Gabriella had housing through friends and family that would limit her risk of further abuse. However, the lack of faith that victims have in the safety and effectiveness of current complaint processes, coupled with the exclusion of rape and sexual assault from the mandate of the new BC Independent Investigations Office, leaves victims of egregious abuse without a place to turn. As it stands, it also limits the options that human rights groups have to take these matters to the authorities, including in situations that raise concerns about ongoing abuse. Due to victims' fears of retaliation, Human Rights Watch did not alert authorities to the details of these allegations. Human Right Watch strongly urges an independent civilian-led investigation of these allegations with the aim of achieving criminal accountability for the alleged crimes. Human Rights Watch would eagerly cooperate with such an investigation to the extent we are able to without compromising the safety and privacy of victims.

Another allegation of police rape and sexual assault involving multiple officers is in the public record. A civil suit filed in August 2012 alleges that in the city of Prince George in August 2010, members of the RCMP took a woman they had arrested to a basement where they physical and sexually abused her. The civil complaint alleges that in the basement of a private house, the woman was:

i)Forcibly confined in the basement against her will;

ii)Repeatedly struck, punched, and kicked while verbally denigrated and threatened with the death and disappearance from her family;

iii)Forcibly stripped to a state of nakedness, sexually assaulted and sodomised.[150]

Human Rights Watch was also told of indigenous women and girls being sexually abused in city cells after passing out due to intoxication. In 2007, when Hannah J. was 25, police put her in city cells when she was intoxicated. She woke up to find herself naked from the waist down:

I remember [two male officers] putting me in the cells and I passed out. I woke up with my pants and panties off. I asked the lady guard if I could look at the cameras. She asked why. She didn't let me look at the tape.... My pants were in the cell beside me. My panties weren't there... I felt funny, wet down there [pointing to between her legs]. I just went home and cried... Why did this happen to me? Why didn't they just leave me on the street?

A representative of an advocacy organization recounted a similar incident in another town reported by a young woman who had been between 13 and 15 years old when it happened to her between 2006 and 2008. The young woman said that it had happened when she had been brought to the cells while she was intoxicated. She described attempting to pull down her shirt to cover herself after regaining consciousness to find that she had nothing on her bottom half and was being watched by a male guard.

Physical Abuse of Women

Human Rights Watch received 15 reports of police physically mistreating women in cells and on the street in the communities we visited in the north. The reports ranged from routine rough handling during arrest to an outright beating in cells. Abuse and mistreatment occurred at all stages of the women's interaction with the police, including when they were arrested, while they were in custody and upon their release. Eleven women told us directly about physical abuse and additional information was taken from eye witnesses and community service providers.

Abuse During Arrest

Rough treatment during arrest at times results in injuries beyond bruises. In 2006, an ex-boyfriend of Dina A. called the police and on his own admission falsely accused her of being violent towards him. Officers arrived on the reserve, found Dina, took her into custody but did not tell her why. "A cop handcuffed one wrist and banged it against the bun wagon... [He] put me in handcuffs and put me in the back and took me to the station." They kept her at the station for 8 to 12 hours, a portion of which was spent with a woman who "was shouting and violent and enraged." They refused Dina's requests to be separated from the woman, as well as her request that they take her to the hospital for an x-ray. "I had to walk up there myself after I was released (about a kilometer walk). The x-ray showed that the smaller bone was broken and the bigger bone was fractured. I had to have a cast for eight weeks." When Dina complained, the police took eight months to investigate and concluded that the other woman in the cell had broken her wrist, even though Dina told them the woman had not touched her.

Abuse While in Custody

Women also reported aggressive treatment after the arrest, during the process of being searched and physically placed into holding cells. Joy I. described how her experience in 2011 went beyond a routine search:

I was in a fight and getting beat up. [The police] picked me up. They tore my sweater off and jeans off in the holding cell. There were three or four of them - men - a female guard was watching. I tried to sit up and they pepper sprayed me twice. They kept pushing me down and tearing my clothes off. I was all dressed up before I went in there. They ripped off my jeans and put them in a bag.

She was left without her jeans, but with her underwear, that night. They released her the next morning without charges, and did not allow her to put her jeans back on. "The next day I had to walk back to my brother's like that - no pants; clothes in bag."

In Anna T.'s case, the police told her that they were going to beat her before putting her in cells in early 2012. Anna had called the police because a friend was being beaten by her boyfriend. Intoxicated and angry because the police had failed to come out on another occasion, Anna spit on one of the officers when the police arrived. They took her into custody and brought her to the police holding cells. Anna explained to Human Rights Watch what happened:

"Here's your choice, [Anna], you either get charged with assaulting an officer or you take the beating," [said one of the officers.] Stupid me I said, "I'll take the beating." She grabbed me, slammed me up on the wall and I hit my head. Then she slammed me on the ground. A male cop drove his knee into my back while she stripped earrings out of my ears and elastics out of my hair. "Have you had enough?" "Yes, I've had enough. I'm sorry."

Women and Girls' Lack of Confidence in Police Protection

What would they do to me if I need to call the cops? Police officers - you're supposed to look up to them. I needed help and they didn't help me. We've been having gang people come to our house. Who do we call? It's just pretty sad. We've got nobody to go to for help.

¾Sophie B., who was assaulted by a police officer when he responded to a distress call

Police abuse undermines women and girls' safety far beyond the direct physical consequences of any physical mistreatment. The impact is felt in the reticence of indigenous women and girls to call the police for help when they fear or have experienced violence. The problem is not limited to those who have experienced police abuse directly. According to a youth service provider, addressing the exploitation of girls by other youth in co-ed programs run by some organizations has been challenging because the girls do not trust the RCMP enough to report. The possibility of abuse in cells also inhibits some community members from turning to the police when they see youth in a compromised position. One woman whose sister was raped by a police officer decades ago and who since has received periodic reports of police rape from others told Human Rights Watch:

Every time we see drunk kids stumbling around the streets it's hard to know whether to let them stay on the street vulnerable to what can happen on the street or to call the RCMP, given my brother's and my sister's experiences. I remember all the things that have happened. What do you do? Leave them vulnerable to perverts on the street or call the RCMP and risk that they could be abused sexually or physically?

Police Response to Disappearances and Murders

This concern was echoed by others. According to a community provider of services to domestic violence survivors, the reaction of the police to missing person reports depends on the officer and whether the missing person is a repeat criminal offender or known to the criminal justice system. The community service provider told Human Rights Watch about reporting a woman missing in 2011 who had previous contact with the criminal justice system:

We reported a young aboriginal woman missing this past fall and it took three weeks before they even started to look for her. The police officer called and asked questions about her after three weeks. There was no explanation of why he'd taken that long. But all of a sudden he needed this and this. I thought: "Why am I doing your job for you?"

Police Response to Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault

Several service providers told Human Rights Watch that RCMP officers responded dismissively to calls from indigenous women out of apparent frustration with seeing women remain in violent relationships. They complained that the abuse was taken less seriously when the police had responded repeatedly to a particular household, and that officers lacked an appreciation for the financial and other barriers that make it difficult for women to leave abusive men.

[My sister and I] got into my cousin's vehicle [which she was driving] - she was begging me to go for a ride. My cousin's boyfriend was there and he said to her, "Hey, you know how we were talking about suicide? Why don't we do it now with these two bitches in the car?" I buckled my sister's seatbelt in fast... He reached over and grabbed the wheel and turned us into the ditch... [After the crash,] my sister dragged me out of the vehicle. We went to the house of people we know and called a cab and went to the hospital. I was in and out of consciousness for 4 to 5 hours. I had a head injury - 24 stitches on the side of the head. I lost so much blood. They had to give me two and a half pints of blood...

The next day I went to the police to report in the morning. There were three cops standing there. I said I'm here to give my report about the accident I was in last night because when [the police] came to the hospital they only asked about who was driving and whose vehicle it was. The police officer was just like, "You guys were intoxicated." They didn't even want to listen to me.

When investigations do occur, victim-blaming by police officers is a problem. One service provider told Human Rights Watch:

I had a woman about two years ago who decided to report to the RCMP - very rare. I have worked with many women sexually assaulted and only a handful go forward with charges. She was made to feel that she was to blame. "Why had you been drinking with him?" I had to work triple time to work through her natural feelings of guilt... You have a system of authority that puts the blame on the victim.

Cara D., a 17-year-old victim of attempted rape in 2012, reported the crime to the police and became the subject of scrutiny. After an initial visit by a female officer who took pictures of bruises on her leg and arm, Cara received a succession of visits from male officers questioning her story:

The cops came to the house to talk about it at all hours... earlier than 6 a.m.... Different cops, same questions. They were all male and you could tell they didn't believe me. They acted like they wanted to leave. "Are you lying to us?" They basically said I might have to do a lie detector test, but it didn't happen. They took [the perpetrator] in for questioning and he refused to make a statement. They let him go. There was a two-month investigation and they dropped all the charges. The guy had charges of sexual assault before but it was still not enough for them to not drop the charges... What was I supposed to do - let him rape me so you would have evidence?

The man who attacked Cara was originally charged with attempted rape but the charges were later dropped and temporary restrictions which had been imposed on his movements were lifted. However no one told Cara. "I found out that he got off because I saw him out," she said.

As noted in the background section of this report, most complaints of police misconduct are investigated by police themselves. RCMP policy calls for complaints of misconduct to be investigated by an independent provincial body or, failing that, an external non-RCMP police department. If neither of those is available, another RCMP detachment will investigate, or as a last resort, the detachment at issue will conduct an internal investigation.

Although a civilian complaints commission monitors the processing of public complaints against the RCMP and external police teams investigate the more serious allegations, the practice only provides an independent civilian accountability mechanism for a small portion of the complaints of police misconduct. Some hope that British Columbia's new civilian Independent Investigations Office will end impunity for police abuses in the province. But, as discussed, the limitations of the office's mandate mean that it holds little promise of justice for victims of sexual assault. Recourse for many complaints will be limited to the existing complaint mechanisms.

Five women and girls we interviewed filed complaints about RCMP officer misconduct, including physical assault and sexual harassment. Two of the complaints were being investigated by external, non-RCMP police forces at the time of the interview. Responses to the other complaints raise concerns about all the different types of investigative mechanisms. Dina A., whose wrist was broken by an officer during her arrest in 2006, made a complaint that was investigated by the local detachment. The investigation took more than eight months and the detachment did not question any witnesses at the scene of the arrest, instead blaming another woman held in city cells that night.

As noted above, in Sophie B.'s case, an officer was eventually put on trial for assault following an investigation by an external police department. However, before that happened the detachment to which the officer belonged launched its own investigation and laid assault charges against the girl who had filed the complaint. The charges were later dropped.

I have not seen the complaint process go forward. We have suggested that to people before. People don't trust that. Where's that going to go? There's great mistrust in that. No feeling of safety in doing that. When you don't have that sense of safety, I wouldn't want to come forward and complain. Who do you go to then?

Elaine H. told Human Rights Watch that her local police told her to take her complaint about the officer who was stalking her to the Commission for Public Complaints against the RCMP:

Well, there really aren't any systems in place because I phoned the police department, who then said, sorry this is happening to you, you need to call the police complaints center, so I called them and wrote several letters... On the phone the woman asked for a description. "Well I'm five feet eight inches, 130 pounds, I've got dark hair. I'm told I'm pretty attractive." The response was: "No wonder why this is happening."

A year and a half later the officer was transferred, but it was not clear whether her complaint had triggered the transfer. Shortly after that, a second police officer began harassing her but she did not bother to make a complaint because after the response to the earlier situation "it seemed pointless to make a complaint."

The Responsibility to Address Violence against Women and Girls

Determining whether Canada has exercised due diligence in this context requires assessing the government's performance of a number of duties. Chief among these is the duty to investigate cases of violence against women and girls. An effective investigation, according to international human rights tribunal case law, is one capable of leading to the identification and punishment of those responsible. Police omission of basic steps like interviewing key witnesses or following up on tips limits the effectiveness of an investigation. International standards also apply to how authorities should treat victims and their families in the course of investigations. The Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) has commented on the need for those involved to have access to information about the progress of an investigation and to be treated with respect by authorities. Young victims and witnesses are due particular attention and support appropriate to their age to avoid further trauma. Victim-blaming in particular can alienate people from the justice system and deprive them of redress for violence. The UN special rapporteur on violence against women recommends training of law enforcement personnel to sensitize them to the needs of women as one component of due diligence. Holding police officers to account for demonstrating that sensitivity and following through with effective investigations constitutes another complementary piece.

Broader prevention efforts are also required that address domestic and sexual violence. The Declaration on the Elimination of Violence Against Women calls on governments to "[d]evelop, in a comprehensive way, preventative approaches and all those measures of a legal, political, administrative and cultural nature that promote the protection of women against any form of violence, and ensure that the re-victimization of women does not occur because of laws insensitive to gender considerations, enforcement practices or other interventions." The Canadian government has made some efforts in this regard but has yet to develop a national action plan to address the high levels of violence against indigenous women and girls.

The Responsibility to Protect the Rights of Persons in Custody

The Responsibility to Address Discrimination

The disproportionate rates of violence against indigenous women and girls, as well as the socio-economic indicators and historical context that predispose those same women and girls to be at an increased risk for police abuse, call for an examination of the government's fulfillment of its duties to address discrimination.

The government has a responsibility to address any differential treatment of indigenous women and girls by law enforcement and the criminal justice system, especially when the over-policing of indigenous women and girls is linked to incidents of police abuse. In 2012, the Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination expressed concern "at the disproportionately high rates of incarceration of Aboriginal people including Aboriginal women, in federal and provincial prisons across Canada" and recommended that the government "reinforce measures to prevent excessive use of incarceration of indigenous peoples."

Human Rights Watch would like to express our deep appreciation to the women and girls who came forward to speak with us for this report. We are also grateful to the family members, community service providers, police officers, and others who spoke with us. We would like to thank the indigenous communities of the north for their support and cooperation in our research and would particularly like to express our gratitude for the Carrier Sekani Tribal Council's resolution welcoming us onto the territory to conduct this research. We thank the RCMP for its response to our inquiry about the policies and practices that relate to its policing and protection of women and girls and for the ongoing dialogue about the issues raised in this report.

We would like to recognize the great contributions to the research made by Mavis Erickson, representative of the Carrier Sekani Tribal Council; Annabel Webb and Asia Czapska of Justice for Girls; Sharon McIvor and Shelagh Day of the Canadian Feminist Alliance for International Action; and David Eby of the British Columbia Civil Liberties Association. In addition, we thank JFG, FAFIA, BCCLA, and the Native Women's Association of Canada for providing feedback on drafts of this report.

Human Rights Watch gratefully acknowledges the generous financial support of Donna and Gary Slaight, Kathryn Cottingham, Carol Gray, Nancy Hamm, The Joan and Clifford Hatch Foundation, Linda Haynes, Michelle Koerner, Nancy Lang, Trish McCain, and Sarah Milroy.

This report was written by Meghan Rhoad, women's rights researcher. It is based on research conducted by the author and Samer Muscati, women's rights researcher. Samer Muscati took the photographs in this report's photo essay. Lara Yeo, intern with the Women's Rights Division, provided extensive research and editing support. At Human Rights Watch, the report was reviewed by Liesl Gerntholtz, director of the Women's Rights Division; Samer Muscati; Elizabeth Calvin, senior advocate with the Children's Rights Division; Aisling Reidy, senior legal advisor; and Tom Porteous, Program director. Matthew Rullo, coordinator with the Women's Rights Division, and Camille Pendley, associate with the Women's Rights Division, assisted with final proofreading and formatting. Ivy Shen provided assistance with the photo essay. Layout and production were coordinated by Grace Choi, publications director; Fitzroy Hepkins, administrative manager; and Matthew Rullo. Jasmine Herlt, Canada director, and Kathryn Semogas, consultant, coordinated communications and advocacy outreach and strategy.

http://www.globaltvbc.com/national+chief+keeps+up+calls+for+inquiry+after+aboriginal+bc+teens+murder/6442768931/story.html (accessed December 17, 2012).

In 2009, the BC Court of Appeal ruled in McIvor v. Canada that section 6 of the Indian Act was unconstitutional and discriminatory under section 15 of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. McIvor v. Canada ( Registrar of Indian and Northern Affairs), 2009 BCCA 153, http://www.courts.gov.bc.ca/jdb-txt/CA/09/01/2009BCCA0153err2.htm (accessed December 18, 2012). This litigation resulted in 2010‑2011 court‑ordered legislative reform process that has made 45,000 indigenous women and their descendants newly eligible for status registration. Notwithstanding this ground‑breaking litigation victory, thousands more were left behind by the 2011 legislative amendments to the Indian Act. The case of McIvor v. Canada is the subject of an ongoing petition under the complaints protocol of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. Sharon McIvor and Jacob Grismer, "Communication Submitted for Consideration under the first optional protocol to the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights," November 24, 2010, http://povertyandhumanrights.org/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/McIvorApplicantsPetition1.pdf (accessed December 18, 2012).

"Letter from Minister Nicholson and Minister Ambrose to the Native Women's Association of Canada," Status of Women Canada news release, November 24, 2010, http://www.swc-cfc.gc.ca/med/news-nouvelles/2010/1124-eng.html (accessed December 13, 2012); Native Women's Association of Canada, "Small Steps on a Long Journey," December 2011, www.un.org/esa/socdev/unpfii/documents/EGM12_NWAC.pdf (accessed December 13, 2012), p. 5; Native Women's Association of Canada, "Evidence to Action," undated, http://www.nwac.ca/programs/evidence-action (accessed December 13, 2012).

"Backgrounder A: Addressing the Issue of Missing and Murdered Aboriginal Women," Department of Justice Canada news release, October 2012, http://www.justice.gc.ca/eng/news-nouv/nr-cp/2010/doc_32564.html (accessed December 13, 2012); " Letter from Minister Nicholson and Minister Ambrose to the Native Women's Association of Canada," Status of Women Canada news release, http://www.swc-cfc.gc.ca/med/news-nouvelles/2010/1124-eng.html. The "National Police Support Centre for Missing Persons" noted in the Status of Women Canada news release refers to NCMPUR. (Royal Canadian Mounted Police, "Canadian Police Centre for Missing and Exploited Children," February 23, 2012, http://www.rcmp-grc.gc.ca/cpcmec-ccpede/index-eng.htm (accessed January 30, 2013).) On January 31, 2013, the RCMP launched a website, www.canadasmissing.ca, to "engage the public in reporting tips and information related to ongoing cases." The new site contains a sampling of missing persons and unidentified remains cases from across Canada. (Royal Canadian Mounted Police, "RCMP Launches National Public Website for Missing Persons and Unidentified Remains," January 31, 2013, http://www.rcmp-grc.gc.ca/news-nouvelles/2013/01-31-ncmpur-cnpdrni-eng.htm (accessed February 4, 2013).)

Fiske, Jo-anne. "Political Status of Native Indian Women: Contradictory Implications of Canadian State Policy," in In the Days of Our Grandmothers, Mary-Ellen Kelm and Lorna Townsend, eds. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2006), p. 338; Government of Canada, House of Commons Standing Committee on the Status of Women, "Interim Report Call into the Night: An Overview of Violence Against Aboriginal Women," March 2011, 40th Parl., 3rd sess., http://www.parl.gc.ca/HousePublications/Publication.aspx?DocId=5056509&Language=E&Mode=1&Parl=40&Ses=3 (accessed September 26, 2012), p. 10, 31.

Beverley Jacobs and Andrea Williams, "Legacy of Residential Schools: Missing and Murdered Aboriginal Women," in Marlene Brant Castellano, Linda Archibald, and Mike DeGagné, eds., From Truth to Reconciliation Transforming the Legacy of Residential Schools (Ottawa: Aboriginal Healing Foundation, 2008), pp. 119-142; also available online, london.cmha.ca/download.php?docid=294 (accessed December 13, 2012), p. 126.

Among Aboriginal People in Canada," 2007, http://www.ahf.ca/downloads/addictive-behaviours.pdf (accessed January 1, 2013), pp. 25-26.

"RCMP's internal probe fizzled," The Vancouver Province, November 27, 2007, http://www.canada.com/story_print.html?id=601f98b1-eddd-43a0-9809-fd7e04f9a17a&sponsor (accessed December 18, 2012).

Jessica McDiarmid, "B.C. Highway of Tears: RCMP accused of not taking women's disappearances seriously," Toronto Star, December 28, 2012, http://www.thestar.com/news/gta/article/1308261--b-c-highway-of-tears-rcmp-accused-of-not-taking-women-s-disappearances-seriously (accessed January 25, 2013); Wendy Leung, "B.C. Hitchhikers Left to 'Highway of Tears' Mercy," Women's eNews, November 18, 2007, http://womensenews.org/story/the-world/071118/bc-hitchhikers-left-highway-tears-mercy (accessed January 25, 2013).

Lori Culbert, "Thirty-nine years later, family of Highway of Tears victim Gale Weys hopes for answers," The Vancouver Sun, September 26, 2012, http://www.vancouversun.com/news/family+highway+tears+victim+gale+weys+appeals+tips/7303801/story.html (accessed December 13, 2012).

Ian Mulgrew, "MULGREW: Break with aboriginal community destroys inquiry's credibility," The Vancouver Sun, March 6, 2012, http://www.vancouversun.com/life/MULGREW+Break+with+aboriginal+community+destroys+inquiry+credibility/6262051/story.html (accessed December 13, 2012).

Commission for Public Complaints Against the RCMP, "Complaint and Review Process Flowchart," December 7, 2012, http://www.cpc-cpp.gc.ca/cnt/srv/sta-norm/cp-pp-eng.aspx (accessed December 13, 2012). See also RCMP Act, RSC 1985, c. R-10, http://laws-lois.justice.gc.ca/eng/acts/R-10/ (accessed December 13, 2012). Parts VI and VII of the RCMP Act detail the duties of the CPC.

Bill 12 - 2011 Police (Independent Investigations Office) Amendment Act, was given Royal Assent on June 2, 2011 (Votes and Proceedings of the Legislative Assembly of British Columbia, "Progress of Bills," October 3, 2011, http://www.leg.bc.ca/39th3rd/votes/progress-of-bills.htm (accessed December 13, 2012)). The duties of the IIO are now provided for in Part 7.1 of the BC Police Act.

See Paul Kennedy, "Bill C-42 fails to provide real accountability over the RCMP," iPolitics.ca, October 29, 2012, http://www.ipolitics.ca/2012/10/29/paul-kennedy-bill-c-42-fails-to-provide-real-accountability-over-the-rcmp/ (accessed December 18, 2012); Government of Canada, House of Commons Standing Committee on Public Safety and National Security, Minutes of Proceedings, 41 st Parl., 1 st Sess., Meeting No. 55, October 29, 2012, http://mppac.ca/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/Bill_C-42_MPPAC_Presentation_Committe_Oct_29_-2012.pdf (accessed December 18, 2012), p. 12.

Commission for Public Complaints Against the RCMP, "Chair's Final Report After Commissioner's Notice - In-custody death of Mr. Robert Dziekanski, October 14, 2007, involving the use of a conducted energy weapon at the Vancouver International Airport," February 10, 2011, http://www.cpc-cpp.gc.ca/cnt/decision/pii-eip/dziekanski/facn-faac-eng.aspx (accessed October 23, 2012). See also, "Operational Manual - Conducted Energy Weapon," Royal Canadian Mounted Police, April 29, 2010, http://www.rcmp-grc.gc.ca/ccaps-spcca/cew-ai/operations-17-7-eng.htm (accessed October 23, 2012). The change came in response to the Tasering of Robert Dziekanski, a man who was acting erratically in the international arrivals section of Vancouver International Airport, after what the Commission for Public Complaints described as "a very brief encounter." Shortly after he was Tasered, the man died in custody. The Commission concluded that the Taser was deployed prematurely and without appreciation for its nature as a weapon "[b]ecause the RCMP positions the CEW as an intermediate weapon and trains its members that it is appropriate to use the CEW in response to low levels of threat because it is a relatively less harmful means of controlling a subject..."(Commission for Public Complaints Against the RCMP, Chair's Final Report After Commissioner's Notice - In-custody death of Mr. Robert Dziekanski, October 14, 2007, involving the use of a conducted energy weapon at the Vancouver International Airport, February 10, 2011, http://www.cpc-cpp.gc.ca/prr/rep/rev/chair-pre/dziekanski/facn-faac-eng.aspx (accessed October 23, 2012).) A provincial commission of inquiry also found that the use of force was unjustified.(Braidwood Commission of Inquiry, "Use of Taser on Robert Dziekanski not justified, says commissioner Thomas Braidwood," June 18, 2010, http://www.braidwoodinquiry.ca/whats_new/press_release_10-06-18.pdf#zoom=100 (accessed October 23, 2012).) The Braidwood Commission of Inquiry into the use of conducted energy weapons in British Columbia also concluded in 2009 that the threshold for use be revised from "active resistance" to the much higher standard of "causing bodily harm." Although this recommendation was made at the end of the first phase of the Braidwood Commission's Inquiry, which was supposed to exclude the RCMP, the Commissioner said that it would be incongruous for the recommendation not to apply in most of the province which is policed by the RCMP. (Braidwood Commission, "Commissioner's comments on phase one report of Braidwood Inquiry into Taser use in British Columbia," July 23, 2009, http://www.braidwoodinquiry.ca/whats_new/press_release_09-07-23.pdf#zoom=100 (accessed October 23, 2012).) In May 2012, the Legislative Assembly of British Columbia formed a special committee to monitor the implementation of the recommendations from the Braidwood Commission's phase one report (Legislative Assembly of British Columbia, "Special Committee to Inquire into the Use of Conducted Energy Weapons and to Audit Selected Police Complaints," Terms of Reference, December 3, 2012, https://www.leg.bc.ca/cmt/39thparl/session-4/rpa/5-39-4-41-2.htm (accessed October 23, 2012)). In addition, in April 2011, RCMP officers in Prince George, British Columbia, used a Taser on an 11-year-old indigenous boy after an altercation at a group home resulted in the stabbing of an adult employee. An investigation by an external police department found the officers acted appropriately, but no further details about the incident have been disclosed. The Commission of Public Complaints Against the RCMP and British Columbia's Representative for Children and Youth are conducting separate investigations into the incident. "RCMP Taser Case: No Charges For Using Device On 11-Year-Old B.C. Boy," The Canadian Press, September 15, 2011, http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/2011/09/15/no-charges-for-using-rcmp-taser-bc-boy_n_965098.html (accessed October 23, 2012).

See amongst others, the European Court of Human Rights' (ECHR) decisions in Kaya v. Turkey, judgment of 19 February 1998, (1998) Reports 1998-I, para. 107; Hugh Jordan v. the United Kingdom, judgment of 4 May 2001, no. 24746/94, ECHR 2001-III (extracts), para. 107; Finucane v. the United Kingdom, judgment of 1 July 2003, no. 29178/95, ECHR 2003-VIII, para. 69; Isayeva v. Russia, judgment of 24 February 2005, no. 57950/00, para. 212; Adali v. Turkey, judgment 31 March 2005, no. 38187/97, para. 223; all ECHR decisions available at http://www.echr.coe.int/ECHR/EN/Header/Case-Law/Decisions+and+judgments/HUDOC+database/.

UN Committee on the Rights of the Child, "Consideration of reports submitted by States parties under article 44 of the Convention Concluding Observations Canada," CRC/C/CAN/CO/3-4, October 5, 2012, http://www2.ohchr.org/english/bodies/crc/crcs61.htm (accessed October 15, 2012), paras. 48 and 49(b); UN Committee against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment of Punishment, "Consideration of reports submitted by States parties under article 19 of the Convention Concluding observations of the Committee against Torture Canada," CAT/C/CAN/CO/6, June 25, 2012, http://www2.ohchr.org/english/bodies/cat/cats48.htm (accessed December 16, 2012), para. 20; UN Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination, "Consideration of reports submitted by States parties under article 9 of the Convention Concluding observations of the Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination," CERD/C/CAN/CO/19-20, March 9, 2012, http://www2.ohchr.org/english/bodies/cerd/cerds80.htm (accessed October 29, 2012), para. 17(b); UN Human Rights Council, Report of the Working Group on the Universal Periodic Review Canada, A/HRC/11/17*, (Eleventh Session, 2009), http://www.ohchr.org/EN/HRBodies/UPR/Pages/CASession4.aspx (accessed September 21, 2012), paras. 86 (33), (35), and (36); UN Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women, "Concluding observation of the Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women Canada," CEDAW/C/CAN/CO/7, November 7, 2008, http://www2.ohchr.org/english/bodies/cedaw/docs/co/CEDAW-C-CAN-CO-7.pdf (accessed October 18, 2012), paras. 32 and 53; UN Human Rights Committee, "Consideration of reports submitted by states parties under article 40 of the Covenant Concluding observations of the Human Rights Committee Canada," CCPR/C/CAN/CO/5, April 20, 2006, http://www2.ohchr.org/english/bodies/hrc/hrcs85.htm (accessed October 22, 2012), para. 23.

Criminal Code, RSC 1985, c C-46, s 271-273; UN Committee Against Torture (CAT) decision in V.L. v. Switzerland found that "sexual abuse [multiple rapes and other acts] by the police in this case constitutes torture even though it was perpetrated outside formal detention facilities," (CAT/C/37/D/262/2005, November 20, 2006, http://www.unhcr.org/refworld/docid/47975afd21.html (accessed December 16, 2012), para. 8.10); Inter-American Court of Human Rights, Raquel Martí de Mejía Case, Case 10.970, annual report 1995, OEA/Ser.L/V/II.91. Doc. 7. rev., endnotes, p. 9 (Report No. 5/96, Inter-Am.C.H.R., OEA/Ser.L/V/II.91 Doc. 7 (1996)), see http://www.cidh.org/annualrep/95eng/Peru10970.htm (accessed December 16, 2012), endnote 47; and UN Human Rights Council, Report of the Special Rapporteur on torture and other cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment, Manfred Nowak, Promotion and Protection of all Human Rights, Civil, Political, Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, including the Right to Development, Summary, A/HRC/7/3, January 15, 2008, http://ap.ohchr.org/documents/dpage_e.aspx?m=103 (accessed December 16, 2012), para. 34.

United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), adopted September 13, 2007, G.A. Res. 61/295, U.N. Doc. A/61/L.67 and Add.1 (2007), www.un.org/esa/socdev/unpfii/documents/DRIPS_en.pdf (accessed January 30, 2013), art. 22(2).

International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights , 19 December 1966,

993 3, Can. T.S. 1976 No. 46, 6 I.L.M. 360 (entered into force 3 January 1976) [ICESCR],

http://www.unhchr.ch/html/menu3/b/a_cescr.htm (accessed December 19, 2012).

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On December 5, 2012, a man walking his dog found the murdered body of 16-year-old Summer Star (C.J.) Fowler in a ravine near the British Columbia (BC) town of Kamloops.

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Jump to: Teaching Resources * Teacher Stories * Share Your Story * Pledge * Donate

The climate crisis threatens our students' lives. And yet, throughout the United States, schools have failed to put environmental justice at the center of the curriculum.

To address this gulf between the climate emergency and schools' inadequate response, the Zinn Education Project sponsors a campaign to "Teach Climate Justice."

How do we teach the unfolding environmental crisis in a way that also confronts racism, economic inequality, misogyny, militarism, xenophobia, and that imagines the kind of world that we would like to live in?

We offer classroom-tested environmental justice lessons, other teaching resources, workshops for educators, and a sample school board climate justice resolution.
Please use these lessons and recommended materials, send us your teaching stories, and spread the word on social media (#TeachClimateJustice).

The climate crisis is not going away. That means that teaching for climate justice is work we all need to do. Join us.

CONTINUE READING
By Bill Bigelow
For too long, the fossil fuel industry has tried to buy teachers' and students' silence. But teaching climate justice has never been more urgent. Read more.

Lessons

Additional Teaching Resources

Teacher Stories

Read more teacher stories.
Share Your Story

Stories from the classroom can inform and inspire more teachers to use lessons on climate justice. We invite you to share your story. Selected responses will be posted at the Zinn Education Project website.

We will send you a copy of Paradise on Fire by Jewell Parker Rhodes in appreciation for your teaching story. Learn more.

Pledge to Teach Climate Justice

A recent CBS poll found that 48% of respondents wrongly believe that scientists disagree about the human role in climate change. They don't.

It is sad - and outrageous - that almost half the people in the United States have been influenced by media silence and climate denial propaganda in schools - from textbooks, Heartland Institute handouts, and fossil fuel company misinformation.

Teachers can turn that around. Please sign the pledge teach climate justice today.

See highlights from the pledges and read all pledges to date to see why and how educators are teaching climate justice.

Organizing

School District Resolution

As a result of grassroots organizing, the Portland, Oregon, school board passed a sweeping "climate justice" resolution that commits the school district to "abandon the use of any adopted text material that is found to express doubt about the severity of the climate crisis or its roots in human activity." The resolution further commits the school district to develop a plan to "address climate change and climate justice in all Portland Public Schools."

Here is how they did it. Let us know if you get a similar resolution passed. We'd love to feature more success stories on this page.

Global Climate Strike

In September 2019, millions of people walked out of schools and workplaces to demand an end to the age of fossil fuels. Find out how school staff and students can participate in future strikes at globalclimatestrike.net.

Students from the Climate Strike Youth Coalition in Portland, Oregon, wrote a letter to the school district superintendent about their intention to strike on September 20 and their demands of the district. This could be a useful reference for students in other school districts. View letter.

Workshops

The Zinn Education Project team offers workshops for schools, teacher unions, pre- and in-service courses, and other settings with classroom teachers. The facilitators engage participants in a hands-on introduction to climate justice lessons. We are most interested in sessions with teachers who are committed to playing an active role in promoting climate justice education in their school district. An honorarium is required.

Most of our workshops are online.
Workshop Request Form
Youth Engagement

There are many opportunities for young people to engage in climate justice actions beyond the classroom. Learn more.

Donate

The Teach Climate Justice campaign is made possible by support from individuals like you. Please donate today so that more teachers receive free lessons, books, and workshops to support Climate Justice teaching in their classrooms. The future depends on your support. Donate now!

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Teach Climate Justice Campaign - Zinn Education Project

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Jump to : Teaching Resources * Teacher Stories * Share Your Story * Pledge * Donate The climate crisis threatens our students' lives. And yet, throughout the United States, schools have failed to put environmental justice at the center of the curriculum.

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First Nations Child & FamilyCaring Society

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Welcome to the Indigenous Knowledge Portal (IKP), a searchable database and related links that provides access to a variety of annotated literature reviews, reports, guides, films, booklets, studies, journal articles and presentations all related to Aboriginal children and families in Canada and similar countries. The Caring Society follows OCAP principles and provides open access to all the documents included here.

Please browse the content by format (below) or enter a search to find entries in our database.

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The First Nations Child & Family Caring Society is a non-profit organization that works with Indigenous and non-Indigenous people of all ages and organizations to ensure First Nations children and young people have the same opportunities as others to grow up safely at home, be healthy, achieve their dreams, celebrate their languages and culture and be proud of who they are.

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Network

Resources

Annual Report
2018-2019

As the NETWORK turned 10 years old in 2018, we embarked on a collective effort to look back at our past and inspire our relaunch into the future.

To download the NETWORK Annual Report 2018-2019, CLICK HERE.

Indigenous Ally Toolkit

In this Indigenous Ally Toolkit (2019), you will learn the role that an individual occupies and plays within the collective experience and SO MUCH MORE!
Indigenous Ally Toolkit
Seeking printed copies (pamphlets) of the Toolkit? Order Pamphlets here

Strategic Directions 2018+

In 2018, with our members, the NETWORK has initiated a collective process to back at our past in order to launch into the future. The Strategic Directions 2018+ aims to celebrate the work accomplished and the progress made over the last decade, and to highlight important elements on which we can build the future.

NETWORK Strategic Directions 2018+

Cultural manual

This manual was developed to support the foster and adoptive parents of Aboriginal children. It is our hope that the practical information and cultural insights contained in this document will facilitate and strengthen the bond between child and caregiver.

Cultural Manual for foster and adoptive parents of Aboriginal children

Reference Guide

The creation of this reference guide aims to help Indigenous People who recently arrived to Montreal find the appropriate services and programs that will meet their needs. Start your path to advance your education, acquire more skills and find a job with the help of this guide.

Montreal Aboriginal Reference Guide

Network

Documents & Reports

Housing Needs

Housing Needs and Preferences of Indigenous people using community resources in Montreal
Presentation of results
Full report available in French only
Media letter
Cabot Square

Learning from Cabot Square - Developing the Strategy for Community Safety and Wellbeing
Canadian Case Studies Review of existing data, research, and safety action plans and strategies
Health Needs Assessment

Montreal Urban Aboriginal Health Needs Assessment
Bibliography
SPVM

Indigenous Cultural Awareness Guide for the SPVM

Collaborative Agreement with the SPVM and the NETWORK

DestiNATIONS

DestiNATIONS : Lieu culturel et artistique des Premiers Peuples
desti-nations.ca
Strategic Plan 2012

Improving our Quality of Life Together : 2012-2017 NETWORK Strategic Plan

Terms of Reference

NETWORK Terms of Reference

Justice Research Report

Executive Summary: Aboriginal Justice research project
Full report justicemontreal.ca
Audit Report 2020

Audited financial statements of the NETWORK's 2020 fiscal year

Audit Report 2021

Audited financial statements of the NETWORK's 2021 fiscal year

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Network As the NETWORK turned 10 years old in 2018, we embarked on a collective effort to look back at our past and inspire our relaunch into the future. To download the NETWORK Annual Report 2018-2019, CLICK HERE.

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The Canadian Centre for Gender and Sexual Diversity

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volunteer

This year, the Centre is looking for remote volunteers to help with outreach and promotion of our online programming. If you are interested in volunteering, gaining valuable and marketable skills in such areas as event coordination, fundraising, public speaking, database management, networking, and social media.

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CCGSD | For a world without discrimination

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This year, the Centre is looking for remote volunteers to help with outreach and promotion of our online programming. If you are interested in volunteering, gaining valuable and marketable skills in such areas as event coordination, fundraising, public speaking, database management, networking, and social media.

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Edutopia is a free source of information, inspiration, and practical strategies for learning and teaching in preK-12 education. We are published by the George Lucas Educational Foundation, a nonprofit, nonpartisan organization.

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National Association of School Psychologists (NASP)

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Two lesson plans were formulated by NASP's Social Justice Task Force and are intended to guide conversations and activities related to race and privilege. While each lesson plan is designed for the school context, they may be modified for use in other settings.

Lesson Plan for Secondary Students
This lesson plan is designed for use with middle and high school students to explain the concept of privilege and how privilege impacts individual opportunities and society at large. The lesson plan includes lecture, interactive exercise, group reflection, and written activity components.

Lesson Plan for School Staff
The adult lesson plan should be utilized with school staff and contains interactive exercises and discussions to increase awareness related to privilege, assumptions, and implicit bias.

Supplement for Facilitation
These Suggestions for Challenging Conversations aim to provide additional guidance on the preparation, initiation, and facilitation of such activities, especially those related to race and privilege.

Racism, Prejudice, and Discrimination Position Statement

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Two lesson plans were formulated by NASP's Social Justice Task Force and are intended to guide conversations and activities related to race and privilege. While each lesson plan is designed for the school context, they may be modified for use in other settings.

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Our K-12 curricula provide an understanding of diverse perspectives, strengthen critical thinking skills, challenge the development of emerging biases and build skills and motivation to take action against injustice.

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Educate2Empower Publishing is an international award winning niché children's book publisher who specializes in children's books on Body Safety, Consent, Gender Equality, Respectful Relationships, and Social and Emotional Intelligence.

Our books combine beautiful illustrations with key educational concepts capturing the child's imagination as well as teaching them messages crucial to their development and safety.

Empowering children through age-appropriate stories, activities, important lessons and skills, and the encouragement of communication and discussion. The books can also be used to help prevent or overcome bullying, whilst promoting mental health, equality and diversity. Ideal for use and purchase by anyone who cares for children, including parents, school/kindergarten teachers, social workers, psychologists, community health services, family support services, and many more!
> Visit our Online Bookshop
Customer note: We ship our products worldwide from Melbourne, Australia. Individual books (including some non-English versions) are also available to purchase from , which may provide more economic shipping cost to US, UK and other Northern Hemisphere locations.

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FREE RESOURCES - Educate2Empower Publishing

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Educate2Empower Publishing is an international award winning niché children's book publisher who specializes in children's books on Body Safety, Consent, Gender Equality, Respectful Relationships, and Social and Emotional Intelligence. Our books combine beautiful illustrations with key educational concepts capturing the child's imagination as well as teaching them messages crucial to their development and safety.

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why media matters

Key facets of identity - like gender, social class, age, sexual orientation, race and ethnicity, religion, and disability - play prominent roles in the media we consume and create, determining how we see, understand, and experience the world and those we encounter in it.
Learn More

praise for critical media project

"

Critical Media Project provided me the framework to create a unit on identity and the power of media messaging. My students are thinking critically about their world because they now understand their own biases and identity. The seniors in my classroom feel empowered by their work with the Critical Media Project.

Mara Gellman
English Teacher, Canoga Park High School

More Testimonials
Keep Critical Media Project Going!

Demand for Critical Media Project services outpaces current resources. With new funding CMP could expand our outreach, grow our resources and content, develop training modules for teachers, and assess our impact and value. Please consider donating today! And thank you!

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Key facets of identity -- like gender, social class, age, sexual orientation, race and ethnicity, religion, and disability -- play prominent roles in the media we consume and create, determining how we see, understand, and experience the world and those we encounter in it.

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Skip to main content

From film kits and lesson plans to the building blocks of a customized Learning Plan-texts, student tasks and teaching strategies-our resources will help you bring relevance, rigor and social emotional learning into your classroom-all for FREE.

Not sure where to begin? Get to know our Social Justice Standards, anchor standards and age-appropriate learning outcomes divided into four domains-Identity, Diversity, Justice and Action. The Standards provide a common language and a road map for anti-bias education at every grade level.

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From film kits and lesson plans to the building blocks of a customized Learning Plan-texts, student tasks and teaching strategies-our resources will help you bring relevance, rigor and social emotional learning into your classroom-all for FREE.

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WhoAskedHer is a podcast by Papua New Guinean women.

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This is an Indigenous podcast about the warrior life - featuring the voices of Indigenous warriors, advocates & leaders on the front lines of Indigenous resistance, resurgence and revitalization, who

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Listen to The Sanskaari Sass Podcast on Spotify. Join an urban Indian women and a lot of sassy guests for intimate conversations about feminism, living with the patriarchy, dealing with the patriarchy, unlearning patriarchy, fighting patriarchy all while keeping it sassy.

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A podcast by two queer african girls just trying to get through life. The Wildness with Tiff and Manda is here to chat about sex, existence, politics, the every day and everything in between.

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The Henceforward is a podcast that considers relationships between Indigenous Peoples and Black Peoples on Turtle Island.

Through this podcast series, we take an open and honest look at how these relationships can go beyond what has been constructed through settler colonialism and antiblackness, we investigate what our mutual obligations and possibilities for contingent collaboration are, and much much more.

We aim to approach these charged questions with generosity and complexity.

We reconsider the past and reimagine the future, in The Henceforward.

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The Henceforward is a podcast that considers relationships between Indigenous Peoples and Black Peoples on Turtle Island. Through this podcast series, we take an open and honest look at how these relationships can go beyond what has been constructed through settler colonialism and antiblackness, we investigate what our mutual obligations and possibilities for contingent collaboration are, and much much more.

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And we are SO EXCITED OMG.

We have been talking and dreaming about this day for so long and we finally decided to JUMP IN. Starting a podcast means us having a bigger and deeper reach for the work that we do to share our experiences and to give voice and agency to marginalized stories. Nothing makes us happier than thinking about all of the good we can do with an outlet like this and we can't wait to get started.

We've learned that through stories and personal connection, we all learn the most about compassion, and this is why supporting our podcast is truly important. At the end of the day, we are storytellers, giving voice to our stories and to the stories of others who deserve to be heard. This gives direct access to others into the lives of those, whose stories may otherwise be silenced. In educating others, we aim to develop a more compassionate community of people who can go out into the world and use the stories they connect with to create local and wide-spread change. We want people to be armed with important information so that they can walk through the world with the confidence that is often times needed to confront racism, sexism, transphobia, ableism, anti-blackness, and other forms of oppression faced by those living in the margins of our communities.

Expanding into the world of podcasts is so important because it is such a widely followed and intimate outlet for spreading messages that can change the world! Or at least change the way our listeners see the world around them. And that is what we want to see and that is the change we want to make.

Our Podcast is now LIVE and you can find us on iTunes and on Spotify! Please go take a listen and leave your love and thoughts in a review. Your feedback is what makes our work better, because our content is serving you! Our followers and our fans.

If you want to continue supporting our project financially, please click the button below to be redirected to our Patreon page where you can make small monthly donations to help us keep our website up and to help us continue doing the work we love!

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Social Justice - Three Token Brown Girls

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And we are SO EXCITED OMG. We have been talking and dreaming about this day for so long and we finally decided to JUMP IN. Starting a podcast means us having a bigger and deeper reach for the work that we do to share our experiences and to give voice and agency to marginalized stories.

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Co-Hosted by Money and Nikeeta

Syracuse, NY

Welcome to "QueerWOC: The Podcast". Join Money and Nikeeta, two Black Queer Troublemakers, on this biweekly insurgent audio syllabus that unites, ignites, and excites the queer women of color community. QueerWOC is a space for queer women and folks of color rooted in reimagining healing, organizing, and community. Join the conversation by sliding in the QueerWOC.com DM's! Follow @QueerWOCpod on IG and on Tumblr | @QueerWOCpod on Twitter Follow the creator: @moneymc.jpg Follow the curmudgeon: @afroblazingguns

QueerWOC: The Podcast's tracks

published on

published on

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Welcome to "QueerWOC: The Podcast". Join Money and Nikeeta, two Black Queer Troublemakers, on this biweekly insurgent audio syllabus that unites, ignites, and excites the queer women of color community. QueerWOC is a space for queer women and folks of color rooted in reimagining healing, organizing, and community.

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Nancy: Episodes | WNYC Studios | Podcasts

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Stories and conversations about the queer experience today. Prepare to laugh and cry and laugh again.

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Momentum: A Race Forward Podcast | Race Forward

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Art and Culture As The Ultimate Form of Resistance, with Ralph Remington

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Please support Making Gay History's mission.

Donate Now!

Thank You for Helping Us Match $35K in Challenge Grants!
We're incredibly grateful to the many donors who collectively donated $35K to match the $35K in challenge grants from Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS and the Calamus Foundation. Your donations go to support the production of MGH's current season and our upcoming fall season.

Making Gay History is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization that brings the largely hidden history of the LGBTQ civil rights movement to life through the voices of the people who lived it.

Season 9

Coming of Age During the AIDS Crisis - Chapter 4

"I hope you both die of AIDS," the young man in the pickup truck yells at Eric and Barry as they wait for the light to change while on a run in Central Park. By 1985, the AIDS crisis has arrived on their doorstep.

Keep Listening
Season One Season Two Season Three Season Four Season Five Season Six Season Seven Season Eight Bonus Episodes

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Donate Now! Thank You for Helping Us Match $35K in Challenge Grants! We're incredibly grateful to the many donors who collectively donated $35K to match the $35K in challenge grants from Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS and the Calamus Foundation. Your donations go to support the production of MGH's current season and our upcoming fall season.

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Intersectionality Matters! is a podcast hosted by Kimberlé Crenshaw, an American civil rights advocate and a leading scholar of critical race theory.

Intersectionality Matters! is a podcast hosted by Kimberlé Crenshaw, an American civil rights advocate and a leading scholar of critical race theory.

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‎Intersectionality Matters! on Apple Podcasts

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Intersectionality Matters! is a podcast hosted by Kimberlé Crenshaw, an American civil rights advocate and a leading scholar of critical race theory. Intersectionality Matters! is a podcast hosted by Kimberlé Crenshaw, an American civil rights advocate and a leading scholar of critical race theory.

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Welcome to Gender Reveal, a podcast about nonbinary and transgender folks. Join us as we interview notable trans guests, analyze current events, answer advice questions and get a little bit closer to understanding what the heck gender is.

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Welcome to Gender Reveal, a podcast about nonbinary and transgender folks. Join us as we interview notable trans guests, analyze current events, answer advice questions and get a little bit closer to understanding what the heck gender is.

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This is life from a disabled lens. Disability Visibility is a podcast hosted by San Francisco night owl Alice Wong featuring conversations on politics, culture, and media with disabled people. If you're interested in disability rights, social justice, and intersectionality, this show is for you. It's time to hear more disabled people in podcasting and radio. Named one of the 15 best podcasts by women that you're not listening to by Refinery 29 in 2021.

The podcast ended with episode 100 in April 2021 with possible audio stories coming in the future so do not unsubscribe! You can download the Disability Visibility Podcast Resource Guide, a list of all episodes with links in a PDF.

Disability Visibility is a production of the Disability Visibility Project, an online community dedicated to creating, sharing, and amplifying disability media and culture.

Alice Wong, Writer, Audio Producer, Host

Geraldine Ah-Sue, Audio Producer

Cheryl Green, Audio Producer and Text Transcription

Sarika D. Mehta, Audio Producer

Lateef McLeod, Introduction

Mike Mort, Artwork

Wheelchair Sports Camp, Theme Song
EPISODES Ep 100: Podcasting with Geraldine Ah-Sue, Cheryl Green, and Sarika Mehta Ep 99: Online Activism with Andrew Pulrang and Gregg Beratan Ep 98: Disabled Students with Alena Morales Ep 97: Disabled Refugees with Mustafa Rfat Ep 95: Black Doctors with Disabilities Ep 94: Healthcare Rationing with Britney Wilson Ep 93: Indigenous Disabled Creators with Johnnie Jae Ep 92: Disabled Afro-Latina Artists with Jen White-Johnson Ep 91: Disabled Engineers with Emily Ackerman Ep 90: Disabled Immigrants with Conchita Hernandez Legorreta Ep 89: Museums with Amanda Cachia Ep 88: Policy with Liz Weintraub Ep 87: Climate Action with Kera Sherwood-O'Regan Ep 86: Transportation with Maddy Ruvolo Ep 85: Fat Liberation with Max Airborne and Caleb Luna Ep 84: Anthologies with Kelly Jensen Ep 83: Disabled Dancers with India Harville Ep 82a: Americans with Disabilities Act with Conchita Hernandez Legorreta Ep 82: Americans with Disabilities Act with Alice Wong Ep 81: Bioethics with Joe Stramondo Ep 80: Fashion with Stephanie Thomas Ep 79: Disabled Candidates with Amanda Siebe Ep 78: Hate Crimes with Sachin Pavithran Ep 77: Mental Health Advocacy with Kathy Flaherty Ep 76: Film Festivals with Alex Locust and Karen Nakamura Ep 75: Coronavirus and Disaster Planning with Germán Luis Parodi and Valerie Novack Ep 74a: Coronavirus and Spirituality with Elliot Kukla Ep 74: Coronavirus and Caregiving with Heather Watkins and Dawn Gibson Ep 72: Disabled Curators with Anna Berry Ep 71: Games with André J. Daughtry and Cherry Thompson Ep 70: Black Deaf Filmmakers with Jade Bryan Ep 69: Theatre with Jason Dorwart and Samuel Valdez Ep 68: Accessibility with Shannon Finnegan Ep 67: Disabled Actors with Liz Carr Ep 66: Cyborgs with Ashley Shew and Jillian Weise Ep 65: Black Mental Health with Imade Nibokun Ep 64: Disabled Teachers with Travis Chi Wing Lau and Dayniah Manderson Ep 63: Climate Change with Layel Camargo & Elena Aurora and Alex Ghenis Ep 62: Black Disabled Women in Media with Kym Oliver and Jay Abdullahi Ep 61: Poetry with Khairani Barokka Ep 60: Travel with Bani Amor and Srin Madipalli Ep 59: Comics with Ashanti Fortson and Leroy Moore Ep 58: Twitter Chats with Dawn Gibson and Alex Haagaard Ep 57: Disabled Writers with Nina G Ep 56: Parenting with Eliza Hull and Heather Watkins Ep 55: Self Advocacy with Finn Gardiner and Noor Pervez Ep 54: Disabled Scientists with Gabi Serrato Marks and Lisette E. Torres Ep 53: Disabled Editors with Elsa Sjunneson-Henry and Dominik Parisien Ep 52: Podcasting with Bri M. and Thomas Reid Ep 51: Disabled Artists with Jeff Thomas Ep 50: Disabled Lawyers with Hamza Jaka and Britney Wilson Ep 49: Young Adult Literature with Marieke Nijkamp Ep 48: Care Work with Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha Ep 47: Design with Liz Jackson Ep 46: Disability Studies with Subini Annamma and Sami Schalk Ep 45: Mental Health and People of Color with Dior Vargas Ep 44: Disabled Writers with Carly Findlay Ep 43: Disabled "Fakers" with Doron Dorfman Ep 42: Employment with Rooshey Hasnain and Kate Caldwell Ep 41: Deaf in Prison with Claudia Center and TL Lewis Ep 40: Disabled Writers with Keah Brown Ep 39: Sex Education with Julia Bascom and Robin Wilson-Beattie Ep 38: Food Accessibility with Shona Louise Ep 37: Political Participation with Reyma McCoy McDeid and Sarah Funes Ep 36: Disabled Entrepreneurs with Tinu Abayomi-Paul and Mary, Hannah & Emma Layden Ep 35: Mentoring with Yolanda Vargas and Judy Heumann Ep 34: Intersectionality with Sandy Ho and Jean-Luc Pierite Ep 33: Disabled Musicians with Gaelynn Lea Ep 32: Disabled Refugees with Mansha Mirza Ep 31: Disabled Inventors with Jane Hartman Adamé Ep 30: Film Criticism with Kristen Lopez and Angelo Muredda Ep 29: Robotics with Kavita Krishnaswamy Ep 28: Disabled People in STEM with Liz Henry, Jennison Asuncion and Josh Miele Ep 27: Chronic Pain with Alecia Deon and Sarah Blahovec Ep 26: Future of Independent Living with Allie Cannington and Eli Gelardin Ep 25: Disabled Actors with Shannon Devido and Ryan J. Haddad Ep 24: Disability Justice and Community Organizing with Sarah Jama Ep 23: Paratransit with Denise DiNoto and Jess Moye Ep 22: Public Transit with Alejandra Ospina and Maria Sotnikova Ep 21: Disabled Comedians with Maysoon Zayid and Danielle Perez Ep 20: Asian American Women and Mental Health with Emily Wu Truong and Jessica Gimeno Ep 19: Storytelling with Cuquis Robledo and Emily Ladau Ep 18: Accessibility and the ADA with Lia Seth and Dara Baldwin Ep 17: Invisible Disabilities with Tiffany Peterson and Linda Williams Ep 16: Disabled Filmmakers with Jen Brea and Jim LeBrecht Ep 15: Star Trek: Discovery with Day Al-Mohamed and Andrew Pulrang Ep 14: Emergency Preparedness with Alecia Deon and Angela Wrigglesworth Ep 13: Autonomy and Disabled People with Kim Sauder Ep 12: Advocacy, Intersectionality and Mental Health with Victoria Rodríguez-Roldán Ep 11: Crip Bodies and Crip Aging with Patty Berne and Leroy Moore Ep 10: Deaf and Disabled Women on YouTube with Rikki Poynter and Annie Segarra Ep 9: Medicaid and Community Living with Dominick Evans and Andraéa LaVant Ep 8: Disabled People in Public Service with Maria Town and Walei Sabry Ep 7: Violence and Disabled People with Mahdia Lynn and Dustin Gibson Ep 6: Labor, Care Work, and Disabled Queer Femmes with Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha and Stacey Milbern Ep 5: "Orphan Black," Reproductive Justice, and Disabled Women with Maelee Johnson and Rebecca Cokley Ep 4: Disabled People in Media and Journalism with s.e. smith and Vilissa Thompson Ep 3: Assistive Technology with Lateef McLeod and Jessie Lorenz Ep 2: Immigration and Disability with Alicia Contreras and Michelle Garcia Ep 1: Activism and the Disability Community with Gregg Beratan and Andrew Pulrang

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This is life from a disabled lens. Disability Visibility is a podcast hosted by San Francisco night owl Alice Wong featuring conversations on politics, culture, and media with disabled people. If you're interested in disability rights, social justice, and intersectionality, this show is for you. It's time to hear more disabled people in...

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Episode 10 Surface Tension

Is anyone responsible for a hate crime beyond the person who committed it? Hannah and Denise visit Sutton, Ont., where a racially-motivated act 10 years ago resulted in a tragedy that changed lives forever.

Warning: This episode contains racist language

We talk to:

Suggested reading:

Guest episode The Cajun Reconnection

We're taking a break this week to share an episode of Gravy, a podcast by our friends at the Southern Foodways Alliance. The Cajun Reconnection explores the culinary and cultural connections between the Cajuns of Louisiana and the Acadians of eastern Canada.

Get more Gravy here. Colour Code will return next week.

Episode 3 Pop, Power, Privilege

This episode features an intimate, one-on-one conversation with British-Sri Lankan musician and pop provocateur M.I.A. From living through war as a child to performing at the Grammys and the Super Bowl as an adult, M.I.A.'s experiences transcend many identities at once.

Suggested reading:

Podcast teaser Introducing Colour Code

Welcome to The Globe and Mail's new podcast series about race in Canada. For hosts Denise Balkissoon and Hannah Sung, it's first things first: What is race? And why do we need this conversation right now?

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Colour Code: A podcast about race in Canada

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Is anyone responsible for a hate crime beyond the person who committed it? Hannah and Denise visit Sutton, Ont., where a racially-motivated act 10 years ago resulted in a tragedy that changed lives forever.

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CANADALAND is Canada's top news and current affairs podcast, giving Canadians their weekly dose of media, politics, and the stories that matter. Listen now.

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Episode Fifteen: "Where Does The Gay Go?"

Episode Fourteen: "Bury Your Heroes"

Episode Thirteen: "Nice For Nothing"

Episode Twelve: "If You Had My Loroco" (Feat. Daniel Alvarenga)

Episode Eleven: "Don't Be Electric Sheep"

Episode Ten: "It's Not My Fault I'm Not Happy"

Episode Nine: "Dónde Estan Los Cabrones?"

Episode Eight: "Portions for Xicanxs"

Episode Seven: "Have Yourself A Merry Little Chisme"

Episode Six: "Corazón Skipped A Beat" (Feat. Yesika Salgado)

Episode Five: "What's His Age Again?"

Episode Four: "The Women You Stole"

Episode Three: "Chavez, We're Going Down!" (Feat. Gabby Rivera)

Episode Two: "Curse of Virgo"

Episode One: "Welcome to the Brown Parade"

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Episode Fifteen: "Where Does The Gay Go?" Episode Fourteen: "Bury Your Heroes" Episode Thirteen: "Nice For Nothing" Episode Twelve: "If You Had My Loroco" (Feat. Daniel Alvarenga) Episode Eleven: "Don't Be Electric Sheep" Episode Ten: "It's Not My Fault I'm Not Happy" Episode Nine: "Dónde Estan Los Cabrones?"

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Bitch Media's Mission is to provide and encourage an engaged, thoughtful feminist response to media and popular culture.

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An audio series from The Times observing the 400th anniversary of the beginning of American slavery.

An audio series from The Times observing the 400th anniversary of the beginning of American slavery.

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In August of 1619, a ship carrying more than 20 enslaved Africans arrived in the English colony of Virginia. America was not yet America, but this was the moment it began. No aspect of the country that would be formed here has been untouched by the 250 years of slavery that followed.

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Find your next great read with our guide to 2021's best books.

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Social Justice Books for Teens - The Seattle Public Library

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Social Justice Books for Teens by ChiPubLib_Teens - a staff-created list : If you're interested in social justice, check out these titles that explore how race, class, gender, size, sexuality and other factors can affect our lives. Picked by Chicago Public Library's Teen Services librarians.

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Strong Nations - Indigenous and Native American Books, Aboriginal Kids Books, First Nations Kids Books, Inuit, Metis - Building Strong Nations Together!

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Strong Nations offers the best selection of Indigenous, Native American, Aboriginal, First Nations, Inuit, and Metis books for all ages.

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To view a complete list of the 354 titles currently in the database, please go to Browse Series.

Mission

Our mission is to facilitate access to comics that contain queer representation. This includes:

Comics published in print and on the web.

Comics from major publishers, independent publishers, and self-published comics.

Comics for children, teens, and adults, as well as all-ages comics.

Representation from across the LGBTQIA spectrum, as well as intersectional representation.

Scope

Our focus is on the content of the work, rather than on the creators. Whether a work is "own voices" is beyond the scope of this site. If you are looking for a database of queer-identified creators, we recommend the Queer Cartoonists Database.

Although we strive for accuracy, our focus is on substantive representation. The site is not intended to be comprehensive, and there may be partial or incomplete information, especially regarding content warnings. This is not a recommendations site, and inclusion in the database does not represent an endorsement of any creators or content.

If you have any feedback or would like to submit a correction, see our Contact form.

If you've read a comic with LGBTQIA representation that's not yet in the database, let us know via our Submissions page.

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Queer Comics Database - Discover your next queer read

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To view a complete list of the 354 titles currently in the database, please go to Browse Series. Our mission is to facilitate access to comics that contain queer representation. This includes: Comics published in print and on the web. Comics from major publishers, independent publishers, and self-published comics.

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This website seeks to be a comprehensive list of all LGBTQIAP+ YA titles published between 2000 and 2020. It includes all major and indie US presses and selective self-published material. This website is not meant to act as a list of book recommendations, although we provide best of lists for those who seek recommendations. These lists were commissioned from experts who share that identity and feature what they felt were the best representations that specific set of identities.

When looking at the filters you may notice that there are fewer published books for certain types of representation, especially books representing characters with multiple marginalized identities, for example queer people of color, queer Muslims, queer people with disabilities and more. We hope that seeing the reality of these numbers encourages publishers to seek out and publish more titles that represent the intersections of marginalized identities, especially when those titles are #ownvoices. If you have titles for us to add, please contact us!

Please check out our updates and changes page to see what we are working on and how we have progressed.

Thanks for stopping by!

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This website seeks to be a comprehensive list of all LGBTQIAP+ YA titles published between 2000 and 2020. It includes all major and indie US presses and selective self-published material. This website is not meant to act as a list of book recommendations, although we provide best of lists for those who seek recommendations.

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Parents for Diversity | Ottawa | Equity in Education

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We are a collective of parents committed to achieving inclusive and non-discriminatory learning environments that allow children to fulfill their true potential in this world. We advocate for schools and families to promote diversity and inclusion and to take meaningful steps to address and eradicate discrimination

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More than 100 carefully selected lists of multicultural and social justice books for children, young adults, and educators. When you find a book at this site, please purchase it here. Our titles are linked to Bookshop. A portion of your book purchase helps sustain our work. New Releases Activism and Organizing Africa Afro-Latinx American Indians Arabs […]

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The world's largest collection of books and movies for smart, confident, and courageous girls