in:cite journal

volume 3: rhythm

2020 in:cite journal volume 3

Editors Mahalia Dixon Hadiyyah Kuma (Toronto) Daiem Mohammad Ashna Thaya (Western) Shangi Vijenthira (McMaster)

Mentoring Editors Leila Angod (Bielefeld) Huda Hassan (Toronto) Dhanela Sivaparan (Toronto)

Layout Design Janet Peng

Copyediting Kelsey Adams

Contact incitejournal.org [email protected]

in:cite journal is based in Toronto, Canada, on land that is the traditional territory of nations including the Wendat, Petun First Nation, the Haudenosaunee, and most recently the Mississaugas of the Credit River. This land continues to be a site of Indigenous life and futurity, and a meeting place for First Nations, Métis, and Inuit people.

Cover: Yonder We Sea by Sanaa Bhaidani Table of Contents

2 Editor’s Letter

7 i am a body of buzzing Rochelle Rosales

10 The Student and the Elder SunAMBee/Ann Marie Beals

24 Every Outcome Counts Jeden O. Tolentino

32 Heartbeats&Heartbreaks Hanon Habtemariam

Wounds: Commemorative Tattoos, Collective Trauma, and the 34 Afghan-Canadian Identity Mehdia Hassan

52 Sweet Talk Bethel Samson

Queer Youth on the Move: Gentrification and the Thomas Elias Siddall 54 International in Beijing 劉夢飛

76 Ephemeral Fluid of Reality Melanie Figueiredo

78 I am a Black Woman Rheanna Rookwood

81 If Looks Could Kill Karen Chan

85 The Ocean’s Waves Cassandra Sukraj Editor’s Letter

Rhythm in our lives can mean many different things. Rhythm can be the beat in your chest when you see someone you love. Rhythm can be the heartbeat of a living thing. It can be how you view and handle an issue. “ It can be the rhythm of math or the rhythm of your breath. Rhythm can be the amount of excitement or fear you feel before you find out whether you’ve made the part in your school’ play or not. Rhythm can be the persistency of your schedule. Rhythm is the pulse in the music you listen to. Rhythm is the temptation to dance when your favourite song plays, and although we may not realize it, rhythm is the gleam and glow in our lives. Rhythm creates the feelings we experience and makes life more pleasurable for us even when we are at our lowest. Personally, rhythm means a lot to me. Rhythm is the reason I laugh or cry or feel a certain way about something I cherish. In my opinion, without rhythm in our world we would be partially or almost entirely emotionless. Rhythm is a subject that has excellent significance and value because rhythm is what makes our lives more intriguing and thought-provoking. —Jasmin Kassem, age 14, Mississauga ”

On behalf of the Youth Editorial Board, it is with great excitement and pleasure that we present to you the third issue of in:cite, an annual youth-led journal about the lived experiences and interdisciplinary scholarship of racialized and marginalized youth. We invite you to take some time to feel the rhythm of this issue. As racialized youth ourselves, we bring you this issue from a place of movement, in every sense of the word. Movement as growth, as expanding our knowledge, and our capacity for learning. Movement as protest, as resistance, as an understanding that there will be no change if we do not mobilize together. The authors in this issue remind us of this. The words and artwork within this issue represent the ongoing work we are collectively doing to subvert harmful social structures.

2 Editorial in:cite journal is based in T’karonto on land that is the territory of many nations including the Wendat, Petun, Seneca, Anishnaabeg, Haudenosaunee, the Mississaugas of the Credit River, and many more whose histories, both recorded and unrecorded, continue to live on in the land. This land continues to be a site of Indigenous life and futurity, and a meeting place for First Nations, Metis, and Inuit people.

As a settler and (im)migrant run journal with close ties to a major academic institution with its own perpetuation of anti-Indigenous racism, the in:cite Journal Editorial Board recognizes our own complicity in perpetuating exclusionary systems.

With each issue, our team actively works towards decolonizing our own internal practices in the editing, hiring, and publishing processes. We encourage our readers, as well as other journals, to think critically about how they can begin, or continue to work with, and for, Indigenous people.

Our editors and writers experience the world’s rhythm in various ways. As emotional beings, the energy that emanates from rhythm is present in every facet of our lives. The rhythm of words linking together to create poetry that speaks to the realities of life as 2SLGBTQ+ and Black people, Indigenous people, and people of colour in Canada. Let’s celebrate the way the works in Rhythm challenge society’s harmful norms and inspire us to embrace a critical social justice lens.

Our first piece,I Am A Body of Buzzing, is a poem written by Rochelle Rosales. This piece depicts the rhythmic sense of life, with vivid imagery, oozing with a tranquil energy that flows right off of the page.

in:cite journal vol. 3 3 Next, we have “The Elder and The Student.” This short story written by SunAMBee, brings to us a dialogue between a young person and an Indigenous elder. The story explores themes of colonization, education, integration, and connection to the Earth. The discussion provides a perspective on what it can mean to navigate fitting into “modern” western society while also honouring our roots and traditions. The narrative follows the rhythm of the world, each line comes after the next like the beat of a drum, as the story builds to a crescendo.

Our third piece is an artwork accompanied by a write up from Jeden Tolentino, titled “Every Outcome Counts.” Incorporating aspects of statistical modelling, this piece studies and analyzes the difficult road immigrants face as they come to Canada. The road is arduous, sometimes seemingly leading to dead ends. University-educated or not, the flow of life for immigrants to Canada is often non-linear.

The aesthetic of Hanon Habtemariam’s painting Heartbeats & Heartbreaks, evokes a deeply emotional reaction for anyone that lays their eyes on his piece. Utilizing a visually striking contrast of colour, it emanates feelings of love, pain, sadness, and empathy.

In her painting and accompanying written piece, “Wounds: Commemorative Tattoos, Collective Trauma, and the Afghan-Canadian Identity,” Mehdia Hassan analyzes the intergenerational trauma left by the horrors of war that has impacted so many Afghan- Canadians. She critiques Eurocentric beauty standards and celebrates her identity as an Afghan-Canadian woman as she navigates generational healing.

Sweet Talk is a poem written by Bethel Samson in which she attempts to understand her place in the literary world—a world where so many canonical “classics” tell a homogenized, European story resulting in a singular idea of humanness. She rebels against the idea that academia must remain a white space, and aims to blaze a trail for herself and others that look like her.

4 Editorial Our next piece, “Queer Youth on the Move: Gentrification and the International in Beijing,” written by Thomas Elias Siddall 劉夢飛, is an informative and eloquent essay detailing the decades of gentrification that took place in queer communities in Beijing and the resultant need for ingenuity among queer Chinese youth.

Ephemeral Fluid of Reality is an abstract painting by Melanie Figueiredo that struck our editors in an indescribable way. A striking visual piece that could be interpreted in a myriad of ways, it carries a powerful, emotive energy that imprints itself onto the minds of readers.

With her poem, I Am a Black Woman, Rheanna Rookwood celebrates her identity and who she is as a Black woman. She points to the intellect, strength, and beauty she sees in her role models while grappling with the constant disrespect and appropriation of Black womanhood throughout mainstream media and the over-infatuation of the bodies of Black women throughout history. All while celebrating the power and grace she feels in herself, and the many Black women she admires.

If Looks Could Kill is a piece that embodies the spirit of in:cite perfectly. Addressing the realities of xenophobia towards East-Asian Canadians that was brought to the forefront due to the COVID-19 pandemic, it provides a personal view of the hardships that come from the bigotry and ever present ignorance in our society. The poem flows almost like a song, as the sounds of the city serve as a backdrop to the rhythm of our lives.

in:cite journal vol. 3 5 In our final piece, high school senior Cassandra Sukraj writes a poem titled The Oceans Waves. Bringing together the calmness and serenity of life, it provides a laid back atmosphere, a soothing moment where the world seems to slow down, and there is just you and nature.

We would like to extend our sincere gratitude to everyone that worked on this issue. Our mentoring editors Dhanela Sivaparan, Huda Hassan, and Leila Angod deserve the highest praise for their support and wisdom throughout not only this, but all of our endeavours. Thank you to our copy editor Kelsey Adams for making these pieces shine and to our layout designer Janet Peng for carefully crafting our journal’s aesthetic. Thanks also to Ruben Gaztambide- Fernandez for giving us support and guidance throughout the editorial process. We love you all.

We invite you to enjoy, think about and critically engage with entries in the pages ahead. Their novel interdisciplinary approaches may challenge and in:cite your understandings of intersectionality, or inspire you to formulate your own rhythm!

In solidarity, in:cite Youth Editors 2019/2020

6 Editorial i am a body of buzzing

Rochelle Rosales Keywords McMaster University anxiety, panic, worry

Poetry helps Rochelle feel less trapped in her own mind. She likes to use it to transform the rhythm of anxiousness she feels into something that, perhaps, others can understand a little more.

(cc) 2020 R. Rosales This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0), permitting all non-commercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. in:cite journal vol. 3 7 under my chest thrums the humming hive. pollen-coated vessels carry winged bodies

to my core the bugs burrow hollow through every pore and construct capillaries into waxed nests

i reach into the honeycomb pierce through the sticky veins but bumbles blur my vision, sip sweet sores from my skin. i grip my arms to bruise the buzzing off but frantic flurries numb my fingers lick sugared sweat from my palms with each exhale, small stingers echo in my lungs i try to speak but they crawl on my dry tongue in stumbling syllables, beat their wings against my ribcage, greedy for the nectar in my blood.

8 i am a body of buzzing i want to lock out the bodies, twist the keys to my skin to say i am not your home not your hive, not your body of buzzing let me drown in my own honey, let me breathe from my own heart—

but bees breed in my brain laying larvae in my ears latching onto each thought until i am buzzing and buzzing and buzzing still

in:cite journal vol. 3 9 The Student and the Elder

SunAMBee/Ann Marie Beals Keywords Wilfrid Laurier University Decolonial, Knowledge, Storytelling, Indigenous, Ann Marie Beals/SunAMBee is a Two-Spirit Indigenous- Sovereignty Black L’nuwey – a mixed-blood African Nova Scotian and First Nation Mi’kmaq who hails from Mi’kma’ki territory of the Wabanaki Confederacy. Ann Marie is a graduate student at Wilfrid Laurier University, under the mentorship of Dr. Ciann L. Wilson and all their relations and ancestors. SunAMBee is a storyteller working on the ProclaimingOurRoots.com project. Stories from this project revolve around Indigenous-Black identity and relationships with Indigenous and Black communities, and Truth and Reconciliation. Ann Marie’s research explores the health and wellbeing of Indigenous-Black communities in looking at the effects of colonial legacies of oppression and violence, ongoing structural inequities, and lack of acknowledgment of Indigenous-Black identity in the canadian settler nation-state. SunAMBee shares Indigenous-Black People’s voices in stories of resilience, strength, self-assertion, and consciousness-raising. These sacred stories explore the lived experiences and knowledges of the health and wellbeing of Indigenous- Black communities. We are still here!

(cc) 2020 A. M. Beals This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0), permitting all 10 The Student and the Elder non-commercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. We love our children. We send our children out into the World hoping that they will make it, We hope that our children will have a better life. We send our children to the white man’s school so they can get an education to make it, We want them to make it, We want them to have a better life. But we know that the World is not always a welcoming place for our children outside our wombs, In the bosom of Mother Earth. But… We have the rhythm of our words. The rhythm of our drums. The rhythm of our love. We must share with our children the ways of Old. We must teach them the rhythms. Then, when they go out into the World to make it, They hear the rhythms in the beating of their hearts, They hold the rhythms in their souls—to guide them when they are far from home in the white man’s world. This is a story of teaching the rhythms in a good way. This is a story of the sharing our wisdoms, as we have for thousands and thousands of years. This is a story to guide our children in the ways of the white man, So they can be safe, So they can be protected.

in:cite journal vol. 3 11 The student is a youth in university. The Elder is teaching the youth who believes they have made it because they are learning the ways of the white man. The youth is on their way to a better life. Yet the youth is troubled.

The Elder speaks of Old, The rhythms of Mother Earth and the Cosmos.

The Student and the Elder

One day, a youth who had just come back from university for break, visited a beloved Elder in their village. The youth felt troubled and needed some advice.

The Elder sat down with the student on the riverbank, and said, “What troubles you?”

The student replied, “I have left my village to go to the school of the white man in the city, and I am learning the white man’s ways.”

“I am troubled because I am not farming and hunting and trapping and providing for my family, and I am failing in my task of taking care of my People.”

The youth was learning the ways of their People before going to the white man’s school, and they knew that it was part of their responsibility to take care of the People of the village, especially the Elders.

Yet, all their life the student saw the white man coming to their village. Sometimes he had a friendly shape, sometimes he was large and bloated, sometimes he was slithery and hidden. Sometimes he shifted his form so the student couldn’t tell how the white man was coming to his People. Time and time again he saw the white man coming, so the student wanted to learn the white man’s ways.

12 The Student and the Elder “Hmmm…” said the Elder.

“I see the white man coming to our village to help our People, yet the People do not get better,” continued the student.

The student pressed on, “My teachers at school tell me that it is okay, because the white man knows better because he has important jobs and makes lots of money.”

“And the teachers tell me that the white man’s way is the best way.”

“So, should I learn the ways of the white man, even though he says things that I sometimes do not understand?”

“After all, the teachers in the white man’s school know best how things should be done, and the white man knows best how to take care of us.”

And though the student was quite sure that the white man’s knowledge was the best knowledge, they were not so sure that they knew the true white man, as they remembered how the white man shifts and changes....

And the student thought out loud, “Though, I never see the same shape of white man come back, because he must be very busy. And because he is very smart.”

Yet the student lamented, “But I do want our People to get better, and if the white man’s ways are the best ways and if the white man’s teachers are the best teachers, then…”

“And who are your teachers?” asked the Elder.

“My teachers are at the university,” said the student.

And the Elder took the hand of the student and said, “Come here.”

And the Elder placed the ear of the student on a Birch.

in:cite journal vol. 3 13 “Listen to the tree. Do you not hear what the tree is saying?”

Rhythm Whispers…

And the Elder took the student’s head and put it on the ground.

“Listen to the land. Do you not hear Mother Earth as she breathes?”

Rhythm Whispers…

And the Elder took the student’s hand and placed it in the river.

“Listen to the river. Do you not hear the water as it rushes over the rocks?”

Rhythm Whispers…

And the Elder took the student’s arms and spread them wide.

“Listen to the wind. Do you not hear the power of the Creator rush over your body?”

Rhythm Whispers…

And the Elder took the student’s face and tilted it high to the sky.

“Listen to the universe. Do you not hear Grandmother Moon as she laughs with the Mighty Hunter?”

Rhythm Whispers…

And the student stated emphatically, “The trees and the land and the water and the wind and the moon and the stars cannot talk!”

“What can I learn from them?” the student asked, perplexed, “What can they teach me?”

And the Elder spoke their words: “There is knowledge in the white man’s school, yes, but there is much

14 The Student and the Elder knowledge to be learned from all the creations and relations around you.”

“There are many ways to seek knowledge and many ways to learn,” the Elder said in a whisper.

“So, are you saying that the white man should not come to our village to make us better?” asked the student. “Because the white man is very smart, and he can fix us.”

“Are we broken?” asked the Elder.

“Well, some of our People are not happy,” quipped the student.

“Why are they not happy?” the student asked, sadly quizzical.

“We were happy,” said the Elder, “My grandmother told me the stories about the times.”

And the Elder shared the stories with the student, who listened attentively.

“We were growing the Three Sisters, fishing the eel, trapping the rabbits, and hunting the deer and moose.”

“But now, it is hard for us to do these things because we have lost our land.”

“Now our People are sick, because we do not have the land to live on.”

“But the white man has medicine!” interrupted the student. “He can help us!”

“Yes,” said the Elder.

“The white man does have medicine, but it is not the medicine we need.”

“Our medicine comes from the land.”

in:cite journal vol. 3 15 “And when the white man comes to help us, he does not ask us what kind of medicine we need.”

“He says, ‘it’s my medicine and it is the best medicine… take it.’”

“And when we ask the white man to sit with us and share with us as we tell our stories, he says he is too busy, and can only come to give us his medicine, which tastes awful as he forces our mouths open to take it.”

“And when we try to show the white man what we know and what we have learned about our medicine, he does not see.”

The student continued to listen intently as the Elder spoke…

“He does not see in his heart the good of the People of our village.”

“We have lived here since the Great Spirit made us.”

“We have lived here since Sky Woman was guided to Great Turtle’s back.”

“We take care of the land. We take care of the water.”

“But we do not own the land and the water and the cosmos, like the white man thinks he does.”

“The white man does not see that we are a strong People.”

“We are the knowledge keepers of Creator.”

“And when the white man speaks, it is from both sides of his mouth.”

“It is hard to trust the white man.”

“But, but, but,” stammered the student, “The white man knows many big words and my teachers talk a lot about theory!”

16 The Student and the Elder “Without theory, we couldn’t do science!” said the student, exasperated by the Elder.

“And what is theory?” asked the Elder, shrewdly, ignoring the irritation in the student’s voice.

“Theory explains how nature works,” said the student, proudly beaming, remembering the A they got on their theoretical conceptual frameworks paper.

But in a lowered voice, the student revealed, “But not everyone knows about it.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh, hahahahaha,” laughed the Elder.

“I think I can explain a theory to you then,” said the Elder, as they continued to chuckle.

“We are the Ancient Peoples, the First Peoples, and we know the ways of Mother and we use our ways of being and knowing for our People, like our medicines and our ceremonies.”

“This is what we do, every day, in our lives.”

“It is a theory of living with the land and all our relations!” cried the Elder, opening their arms to show the beauty and awe of their surroundings—of Mother.

The Elder continued in their teaching…

“ With our theory, we care for all things.”

“The spirit of Creator, all our relations, the land, the water, the four directions, all the creatures, even the rocks and the mountains.”

“They are a part of our theory and how we come to know our World.”

The student thought about all the Elder said.

“So, will the white man not come to help us anymore?” asked the student again, concerned.

in:cite journal vol. 3 17 “Is he not allowed to come to help us because he talks about a different kind of theory?”

“I think my teachers might get angry.”

And the student thought about how they could be punished for speaking out against the white man and the white man’s teachings.

The student really wanted to do well in university, so that Grandmother would be proud. She had sacrificed so much for them to go to university and get an education to make it, to have a better life.

The Elder sat and thought… and thought… and thought…

“Hmmmm…” said the Elder, and puffed on their pipe.

The Elder finally spoke…

“I think the white man can come and be with us, because the white man does have some good words that we can use, and sometimes the white man comes to us with good thoughts.”

“And the white man can be gifted with an Eagle Feather.”

“Oh!” exclaimed the student. “An Eagle Feather! Wow!”

“But,” spoke the Elder in a somber tone, “We must always remember that the white man has tried to kill us so that we no longer exist, and still tries to harm us and does not share with us or give back what he has stolen from us—our children, the land, our knowledge.”

The Elder continued their teaching…

“We were here long before the white man, even though he tries to say that the land was empty when he arrived on these shores.”

“So, he must come to us with a humble heart and be willing to sit with us in ceremony and the sharing

18 The Student and the Elder circle and listen to our stories in our language…”

“… and not talk…though, this may be difficult for him.”

“… and bring a gift of sacred tobacco.”

“He must be willing to come and visit with us and listen to the words that the People of our village are willing to share.”

“And not just one time, but many times.”

“He must earn our trust.”

“He must believe that our knowledge is true, as we use the knowledge our People have received from Creator in ways that we understand.”

“He must understand that the knowledge we hold is for our wellbeing, our rights, and our ability to take care of ourselves and the land.”

“We can show him how we do things, and he must honour our ways.”

“He must honour our ceremony and counsel and honour our medicines that soothe and heal.”

“He must honour our words when we speak of how our lives have come to be through the guidance and healing of the Elders.”

“He must know that we are strong, and that we know how to be with the land in a good way.”

“And because we have good hearts, we can guide and heal the white man too, because he is not in a good way.”

“But, before we help the white man, he must come to understand why he thinks the way he does and be mindful of what he has done and how he continues to disturb and harm us.”

“The white man thinks that we do not deserve to

in:cite journal vol. 3 19 have a better life because he thinks we are lazy, or he thinks we drink too much or believes that we are stupid and we are different.”

“He must speak and acknowledge that harm, and be in a good mind when he comes to us.”

“He must not consider himself to be above us and he must understand that his knowledge is not better than our knowledge.”

“He must give up his power.”

“He must consult with the Elders.”

“He must honour all our relations.”

“These things, are part of his healing.”

The Elder paused and thought some more.

“Hmmmm…”

And then continued…

“And the white man has laws that he is supposed to follow when he comes to us.”

“But he does not always follow them, though he says he does.”

“Forked tongues from a two-headed snake.”

“And sometimes he does not tell us what he is doing, and that harms us.”

“Sometimes he brings in outsiders who look like us, but do not know our ways of being and knowing…”

“…they say they are like us, and they are our relations, but it should be our People ....”

“…and if not us, then ask us if the outsiders can come in.”

“The outsiders must be willing to learn our ways of

20 The Student and the Elder being and knowing.”

“The white man must be patient.”

“When he takes, he must give back.”

“And maybe the white man can come to understand that he is not just one, but a very small part of the many.”

“We will show the white man the right ways.”

“But he must come in a good way, with a good heart.”

And the Elder sat quiet.

And out into the open air, as Grandmother Moon looked on, in a strong, passionate, and resolute voice, the Elder heard the student say, “I could do those things!”

“I can share my knowledge.”

“I can sit and listen to the Elders.”

“I am learning our ways of being and knowing.”

“I can help heal our People.”

“I am one of us.”

“I come with a good heart.”

And the Elder smiled, and said…

“Well! You are very brave, and I think you can go back into the world of the white man and learn the white man’s ways, but keep our People and our ways in your head and in your heart.”

Rhythm Whispers…

“Because you also have a job to do in the white man’s world.”

“You must share your stories with your teachers

in:cite journal vol. 3 21 and the white man about the importance of being respectful when coming to our village.”

“Our Elders and our People must be honoured and not disrespected.”

“Teach them as you learn the good ways.”

“Then you can bring knowledge to us, and take care of our People.”

And the Elder explained in so many words about the rhythms that guide the student’s heart,to be safe,to be protected in the white man’s world.

“But beware,” said the Elder, earnestly. “Take care and do not let harm come to you when your teachers and the white man try to make you think that your knowledge is not good knowledge and your stories are not good stories.”

“I will teach you the sacred knowledge, but do not share the sacred knowledge.”

“That is ours and ours alone.”

And with a big grin, the Elder said, “So, I will help take care of the village while you are away. We all have our place in the village, and I like farming and hunting and trapping and fishing and providing for all the families.”

The student grinned a big grin too, and was very grateful that the beloved Elder had shared with them the knowledge of the Ancestors. The knowledge of the Old. The knowledge of the Rhythms.

And the Elder took the student’s hand once again as they walked back to the village.

And their hearts were full with joy and love, as Father Sun beamed down upon them.

The End.

22 The Student and the Elder Acknowledgements

Wela'lin to our Ancestors who watch over us. Wela'lin to the Elders who guide, teach, and cajole. Wela'lin to M'sit No'kmaq who work in sustaining our Mother who is viciously under attack by those who seek to dominate and keep only for themselves. Welo'lioq

in:cite journal vol. 3 23 Every Outcome Counts

Jeden O. Tolentino Keywords Winnipeg, Manitoba young immigrants, education & training, Jeden O. Tolentino is a historian-in-training. He moved to science in art, art in Canada from the Philippines in 2010. While pivoting from science, STEAM a career in the social sciences to one in the humanities, he has done research on the history of Filipinx immigration to Canada. He intends to pursue a PhD in cultural history.

(cc) 2020 J. O. Tolentino This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0), permitting all 24 Every Outcomes Counts non-commercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. Artist Statement

I approached the creation of these four graphics as a convergence of the skills and knowledge that I brought from my home country, the Philippines, and those that I have acquired in Canada. Combining abstract mathematics and visual art, I used concepts from graph theory, group theory, and probability theory to show a pictorial flow comparing the muddled situation in which young immigrants to Canada find themselves to the “optimal” albeit assimilated situation of those who have had time to settle (in multiple senses) into their new lives.

First, I used probability theory, which is the branch of mathematics that studies the possible outcomes of given events together with the outcomes’ relative likelihoods and distributions (Weisstein, n.d. a), to control how the lines in each square cell meander and criss-cross. This involved drawing three parallel lines in each cell and then applying the concept of “random walk” to the points of each line so that they moved randomly away from the center in one direction or the other, thus curving the lines. Second, I used group theory, which is the study of mathematical objects that we encounter whenever we add and multiply (Rowland & Weisstein, n.d.), to decide how I would flip and/or rotate each cell. This involved treating each cell as a “dihedral group” that can be rotated up to four times and flipped back and forth. Third, I used graph theory, which is the study of mathematical structures composed of points and lines (Weisstein, n.d. b), to determine how I would colour each cell. This involved using graph colouring theorems to ensure that no two adjacent regions within a cell share the same colour. For both the flipping, rotating, and colouring processes, I used a random number generator to randomize the outcomes.

The message of the four graphics depends on two notions of outcomes. On one hand, I built the graphics by using mathematical theory that considers

in:cite journal vol. 3 25 all feasible visual possibilities. And on the other, I attempted to shed light on the commodification of the educational outcomes (or options) of young newcomers to Canada. My use of the term commodification here relates to the orientation of education systems in Canada towards a capitalist system that appropriates education outcomes as another good that it produces. In both my method and my aim, I argue that every outcome should count.

These four graphics are, thus, my visual representation of the multiplicity of the challenging road(s) that newcomers to Canada are expected to traverse when their skills from their education and training in their countries of origin are not fully recognized (if at all) by Canadian governmental, educational, and capitalist institutions. These same institutions have tackled this issue and have offered solutions. However, their focus has been on the plight of individuals entering the workforce and on how firms can avoid underutilizing or devaluing these individuals’ skills. Regardless of the best intentions of these Canadian institutions, commodification is still a visible aspect of the immigration agenda both at the provincial, territorial, and the national levels. This is manifested in the federal and jurisdictional policies for recognizing the education outcomes of newcomers as well as in published reports. For example, Houle and Yssaad (2010) listed education level as one of the “characteristics deemed to be most likely to increase success in the Canadian economy” (p. 18). Similarly, whereas Wayland and Goldberg (2010) found that discriminatory deficiencies in Canadian immigration policy lead to “a loss to our own Canadian economy” (p. 2), Grant (2016) regarded improvements in learning recognition in terms of its potential to “recognize billions in economic benefit” (Preface).

Less visible in these policies and reports are the cases of younger immigrants who have found their years of schooling and their corresponding earned knowledge and skills discounted by the Canadian education system, if not completely wiped

26 Every Outcomes Counts away. I have encountered a number of these cases in my time working in education in Canada, both in a teaching capacity and in a governmental role working on education statistics over the course of seven years for the province of Manitoba. In the primary and secondary levels, I witnessed how the education of young newcomers entering a Canadian public school system is reduced to a classification (i.e., the number of years near, above, or below the age- appropriate grade level for a Canadian pupil) whereby their entire careers as learners in their countries of origin, with all their inherent social, cultural, and economic specificities, are made to fit the Canadian system that seeks to eventually commodify the students’ outcomes. At the post-secondary level, I witnessed how years of university training, even entire degrees, are othered by academic institutions, forcing newcomers to repeat much of what they accomplished in their countries of origin, often at considerable expense. This doubly disadvantages immigrants as they move from their learning careers to their professional careers in a capitalist society.

As a learner in addition to being a worker, I experienced challenges in accessing continuing education in Canada, particularly at the post- secondary level. These challenges forced me to pursue a re-education, whereby I will hopefully be able to shift towards a career that can challenge the system from the outside. My previous training as an economist and my experience within government have clarified the challenges imposed upon newcomers to Canada by a capitalist system that commodifies education outcomes. As a consequence, I can orient my ongoing training as a historian and vocation as an artist to challenge such a system. I fully recognize the privileged position I have found myself in over the decade I have been in Canada as well as the opportunities that I have received to work and to study. Thus, I aim to draw more attention to the issue with the graphics that I present here.

in:cite journal vol. 3 27 28 Every Outcomes Counts in:cite journal vol. 3 29 References

Grant, M. (2016, January). Brain gain 2015: The state of Canada’s learning recognition system. The Conference Board of Canada. https://www.conferenceboard.ca/e-library/abstract. aspx?did=7607 Houle, R., & Yssaad, L. (2010, September). Recognition of newcomers’ foreign credentials and work experience. Statistics Canada. https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/pub/75- 001-x/2010109/pdf/11342-eng.pdf Rowland, T., & Weisstein, E. W. (n.d.). Group. MathWorld. http:// mathworld.wolfram.com/group.html Wayland, S., & Goldberg, M. (2010, February). The recognition of immigrant skills: A search for best practices. Peel Halton. http://www.peelhaltonworkforce.com/sites/default/files/ The%20Recognition%20of%20Immigrant%20Skills.pdf Weisstein, E. W. (n.d.). Graph. MathWorld. http://mathworld. wolfram.com/graph.html Weisstein, E. W. (n.d.). Probability. MathWorld. http://mathworld. wolfram.com/probability.html

30 Every Outcomes Counts in:cite journal vol. 3 31 Heartbeats & Heartbreaks

Hanon Habtemariam

Hanom Habtemariam is an inspiring filmmaker with an interest in human nature and the relationship between people. Although he is not much of an illustrator, he enjoys communicating his ideas through different creative mediums.

Keywords

reaching into the afterlife

(cc) 2020 H. Habtemariam This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0), permitting all 32 Heartbeats&Heartbreaks non-commercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. Acknowledgements I would like to thank my friend Daiem for bringing my attention to this amazing journal.

in:cite journal vol. 3 33 Wounds: Commemorative Tattoos, Collective Trauma, and the Afghan-Canadian Identity

Mehdia Hassan Keywords OISE, University of Toronto Afghan-Canadian diaspora, arts-integrated inquiry, Mehdia Hassan is a visual artist and researcher collective trauma, identity, with interests in arts-based learning and research sociology of the body. methodologies, youth engagement, mental wellness, equity, and the Afghan diaspora. In Fall 2020, she begins her PhD in Social Justice Education at the University of Toronto’s Ontario Institute for Studies in Education (OISE). Mehdia holds a MA in Social Justice Studies from Lakehead University and a Hon. BSc from the University of Toronto. Her award-winning, interdisciplinary work advocates for underprivileged communities and seeks to address the social inequities that individuals experience. Her doctoral research will examine how Afghan-Canadian youth use arts-based methods to understand and make meaning of their lived experiences, in connection to mental wellness, social inequities, and identities. Read her recent interview with the St. James Town Community Corner about her Master’s Research Project exploring youth mental wellness and community connectedness, using visual-arts-integrated methods: https://www.stjamestown. org/2020/04/04/an-interview-on-youth-leadership/

(cc) 2020 M. Hassan This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0), permitting all 34 Wounds non-commercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. Abstract

The painting Wounds reimagines how non- white and “vulnerable” bodies are expected to exist in society. Inspired by The Tattoo Project and how commemorative tattoos meaningfully integrate love and loss into “good grief” (Davidson, 2016), the painting re-imagines commemorative tattoos as wounds that result from collective and intergenerational trauma. The painting Wounds uses a social justice lens to depict how traumatic histories can be embodied in the cultural identities of future generations of the Afghan diaspora and how tattoos materialize these memories. I demonstrate this by critically analyzing my lived experience of my cultural identity. This collective trauma is so strongly embedded into my ancestors’ collective identities as Afghans, that I also see the traumatic history to be part of who I am. This autobiographical artwork and accompanying critical analysis allow for the reclamation of my Afghan cultural identity by resisting Western pressures to conform. In being vulnerable about my past, I redefine vulnerability. I remember and honour the courage, sacrifice, and resilience of my Afghan ancestors who have endured violence and wars; which has contributed to the formation of my hyphenated, Afghan-Canadian identity. I recognize that the Afghan-Canadian identity is multi- dimensional, multi-faceted, and incredibly nuanced. My own experiences of my Afghan-Canadian identity deeply inform and enrich this critical analysis. In this critical analysis, I am by no means generalizing the experiences of Afghan-Canadians, as every individual’s experience is valid and distinct.

The three commemorative tattoos depict the Canadian maple leaf, my name “Mehdia” written in Persian, and the geographical shape of Afghanistan. The painting reimagines and redefines what it means to collectively heal, both literally and figuratively. It questions whether healing is still necessary because it implies that wounds disappear, and with them, the

in:cite journal vol. 3 35 36 Wounds disappearance of deep social histories that construct my Afghan-Canadian identity. Using my original painting as an arts-integrated method of inquiry, I offer a multidisciplinary portrayal of how memory is materialized on the body. This written analysis and painting creatively and critically articulate the strength and beauty that comes with vulnerability when historical and cultural wounds are resurfaced. This work further provokes deeper discussion and dialogue about the need to make meaning of the collective trauma that is ingrained within one’s cultural identity.

Resurfacing Wounds

Traumatic histories can be inherited. According to Najibullah, in order for social healing to occur, individuals and communities must acknowledge and be willing to explore their traumas (2017). This is part of the reason why it is important for me to explore, in this autobiographical narrative and painting, what it means for the Afghan diaspora and the Afghan- Canadian person to “heal” and be resilient. This healing looks different for each person, since our traumas are also not the same. I am reminded of the great poet Mawlana Jalaladdin Balkhi, or Rumi’s commonly referenced line of Persian poetry, roughly translated to: “the wound is where the light enters you.” Of course, these are not the exact words of Rumi, as this sentence is one of the common English translations floating around the internet of his original line of Persian poetry. The light can be interpreted as the self-knowledge, learning, and social healing that cannot always be done easily when there is compounding trauma involved from past generations. The painting Wounds aims to spark and open such spaces of learning.

According to the results of the 2016 Canadian Census, approximately 84,000 Afghans live in Canada,

in:cite journal vol. 3 37 with almost half of this population living in the Greater Toronto Area (Statistics Canada, 2019). Many Afghan-Canadians experience high levels of social inequity, which is perpetuated by intergenerational trauma. These inequities and unresolved stressors, not limited to poverty, different forms of racism, and gender-based violence, are transmitted from previous historical generations and identified as intergenerational trauma (Khanlou, 2008). Afghan immigrants and refugees arrived in Canada as early as the 1970s, after having their lives violently transformed by the Soviet War in 1979 (Nader & Rastagar, 2018). Following the end of the Soviet War in 1989, the civil war between different political and Islamic groups worsened, resulting in the victory of Mujahideen in 1992, and later, the rise of the Taliban in 1996 (Nader & Rastagar, 2018). War, violence, and political instability continued to deteriorate the country during the Taliban control. After the 9/11 attacks, American forces invaded to topple the Taliban regime. The violence and political instability continues to today, as the Taliban still occupies and controls many areas of the country (Nader & Rastagar, 2018).

Many Afghans have had their lives impacted by this seemingly never-ending war and violence, but in different ways. This is why we must consider notions of collective suffering and collective healing, in relation to identity-formation. In addition to being subjects of U.S. imperialism, ethnic and religious minority groups in Afghanistan and in the Afghan diaspora continue to face systemic discrmination and marginalization, since many centuries ago (Nader & Rastagar, 2018). For example, the trauma that the Hazara and Shia communities from Afghanistan already experience from their identities is exacerbated by the state violence and war; the Taliban continue to persecute and commit genocide against the Shia Hazara community (Nader & Rastagar, 2018). I acknowledge that as ethnic Tajiks, my ancestors and I hold certain privileges and experience collective trauma in different ways from ethnic and religious

38 Wounds minority groups in the Afghan-Canadian diaspora. The diapora’s wounds and trauma are painfully deep, distinctively nuanced, and span across generations. Do these wounds, or perhaps, should these wounds, define who we really are and how we collectively identify ourselves to be, as Afghans living in Canada? Identity is more complex than that. By addressing collective trauma, I do not intend to minimize the ongoing systemic oppression and distinct trauma of Afghan-Canadians who belong to ethnic and religious minority groups.

Inspired by Deborah Davidson’s book, The Tattoo Project, on commemorative tattoos, visual culture, and the digital archive, my painting titled Wounds challenges how non-white and “vulnerable” bodies are expected to exist in society. My painting depicts the effectiveness of conceptualizing commemorative tattoos on the body as wounds to honour and publicize these notions of collective trauma, in connection to my identity. I do not have any tattoos myself and do not have the lived experience of getting a tattoo, which influences my perspective on understanding commemorative tattoos. My painting allows me to reimagine wounds to be commemorative tattoos that result from collective and intergenerational trauma—as a kind of metaphor. The painting challenges white hegemonic ideals of the body, specifically the face and certain non- Western physical features. It also depicts my choice to unapologetically resist these pressures of conformity by reclaiming my Afghan-Canadian identity and existence.

in:cite journal vol. 3 39 Reimagining Trauma with Commemorative Tattoos

Wounds explores the interplay between physical and emotional aspects of trauma, along with this externalization of trauma and loss (Kitzmann, 2016). Emotional pain, suffering, and trauma can be physically conveyed and publicized through commemorative tattoos on the body (Kitzmann, 2016). The construction of traumatic memories is an active and ongoing process much like the ever- changing nature of cultural identity (Kitzmann, 2016; Aydin, 2017). Therefore, what makes commemorative tattoos so effective in materializing these traumatic, yet significant, memories and histories is that they reflect the complexity of how the internal and individual dimensions of the body are intertwined with the external, public, and social dimensions of the body (Kitzmann, 2016). There can be so much more to a tattoo than meets the eye. Although this is not always the case, what we choose to express on our bodies can be deeply reflective in nature (Kitzmann, 2016).

The word “trauma” itself originates from the Ancient Greek term meaning “wound” (Aydin, 2017). It was initially used in surgery to describe a physical injury resulting from an external cause, but it is now also used to describe an extreme confusion and uncertainty that is psychological in nature (Aydin, 2017). Conceptualizing tattoos as wounds interestingly plays with the literal and figurative meanings of what trauma is. Tattoos render the wound as something that is restorative, more controlled, and aesthetic (Davidson, 2016). As a result, the phrase that served as the primary inspiration for my painting was by Davidson, who mentions: “tattoos are in a sense wounds” (2016). Davidson highlights tattoos as “powerful markers of the violence of life” (2016).

The use of arts-integrated methods and inquiry, such as painting, offers a multidisciplinary portrayal

40 Wounds of the theoretical notions around the materialization of memories on the body. Viewers are able to meaningfully engage with theoretical concepts in a creative and critical way that encourages deeper dialogue and discussion about these issues. This kind of work in visual sociology pushes boundaries between traditional and non-traditional modes of making, presenting, and transmission to audiences (Jungickel & Hjorth, 2014). My use of visual arts- integrated inquiry also allows for the dissemination of these ideas to reach wider and more diverse audiences, transcending the boundaries of academia. Through various aesthetic and visual elements, Wounds attempts to reverse the dominant narrative of non-white bodies being vulnerable and powerless.

The painting critically engages with important theoretical ideas from the book The Tattoo Project, such as those of cultural reclamation by Pangowish (2016), the externalization of trauma by Kitzmann (2016), the conceptualization of commemorative tattoos by Davidson (2016), and the “social skin” by Turner (2012). This is evident through the wound-like portrayal of three different commemorative tattoos on the skin, the smaller white and golden figures along the border of the artwork, and certain physical features of the face.

On the woman’s cheek, there is a tattoo of the geographical shape of Afghanistan. This symbolizes the collective trauma of my ancestors, who have suffered through the destructive wars and have overcome tremendous levels of adversity. It emphasizes how deeply ingrained the psychological wounds of trauma and loss are within the Afghan national identity; these wounds are intergenerational, inherited from previous generations within the diaspora.

The tattoo meaningfully integrates love and loss, as it is translated into “good grief” (Davidson, 2016). “Good grief” is achieved through grief-work that is shared and negotiated between a group or

in:cite journal vol. 3 41 collective; it is in this way in which grief is woven and integrated into daily life (Davidson, 2014). The embodiment of memories in connection to the motherland is also depicted by the geographical shape of Afghanistan. It represents the collective suffering of Afghans, which has become part of my cultural identity. This commemorative tattoo of the geographical shape of Afghanistan alludes to “good grief” (Davidson, 2016) by honouring the losses that Afghans have experienced, in connection to their forced physical displacement, due to war and violence. Inckle describes how body marks and tattoos are able to effectively embody these types of intense emotions, which may not be easily articulated through language (2014). This commemorative tattoo represents both the physical and emotional grief of missing Afghanistan. For the generations of young Afghans who have grown up knowing mostly of war and violence, it is an embodiment of the collective pain and suffering that their ancestors have overcome. It is a beautiful intertwinement of love for their motherland and loss of their ancestors.

Reclaiming and Critically Reframing my Afghan-Canadian Identity

Furthermore, there is a commemorative tattoo along the young woman’s jawline that spells my name, Mehdia, in the Persian alphabet. Not only is this my signature as the visual artist, but it is a reminder of my Afghan traditions and how my identity is rooted in this reclamation of traditional knowledge. This notion is inspired by Pangowish’s reclamation of her Indigenous heritage; she has three roses tattooed on her foot to refer to her family history and culture (2016). Pangowish honours her ancestors’ traditional ways of knowing through the symbolism of the black and blue roses on her foot; it is a reminder that Pangowish carries her ancestors’ goodness with her (2016). The commemorative tattoo of my name

42 Wounds written in Persian depicts how this reclamation allows me to exercise my agency and pride for my heritage. I use the tattoo here to honour traditional ways my given name is meant to be inscribed, articulated, and understood by my Afghan ancestors and family, rather than by Westernized inscriptions. In this visibly different way of inscribing my name, and throughout this whole critical analysis, I am actively making my past vulnerable. I am allowing for my past to reappear, instead of disappear. It is a reminder of the deep cultural significance of my name and my ancestors’ lasting legacies on me.

The wound-like maple leaf tattoo symbolizes the Canadian aspect of my identity. It is located on the side of the neck, near the vein that is connected to the heart, in order to commemorate my Canadian upbringing. I acknowledge the Canadian values that have shaped my identity. These values, such as freedom, equality, justice, and democracy are important to me, but sit with the dissonance that inequalities in race, gender, and class are increasing in Canada (Thobani, 2000). As a second-generation Afghan-Canadian, I remember and honour the courage, sacrifice, and resilience of my Afghan ancestors that have contributed to the formation of my hyphenated identity. In a country where structural immigration policies have historically worked against racialized people, the label of “immigrant” may be synonymous to being seen as an outsider, who has opposing values to those of Canadians (Thobani, 2000). I recognize that there is privilege to not being labelled by the government as an immigrant, which I benefit from, as someone who was born in Canada. However, I also sit with the dissonance that as a racialized woman, my body makes me visibly labelled or viewed as an outsider-immigrant.

The maple leaf tattoo also stands for a symbol of settler-colonialism. As a woman of colour, I recognize that I will continue to be hyper-visibly labelled and viewed as an immigrant or an outsider

in:cite journal vol. 3 43 to the settler-colonial nation (Thobani, 2000). The ongoing colonization of Indigenous peoples in Canada Turtle Island, by the settler-colonial nation, contributes to racialization (Thobani, 2000). I am reminded that I, along with the previous generation of my Afghan immigrant ancestors, are racialized bodies on colonized land; in many ways, we directly benefit from settler-colonialism. In sitting with the dissonance-producing reality that Canada is not a safe haven for every community, I remind myself of the responsibilities that my community has—as Afghan- Canadians and as a “community of colour”—to help dismantle colonial systems of oppression (Thobani, 2000). Building dialogue and forming strong allyship with Indigenous communities is needed to help dismantle colonial systems of oppression, rather than communities of colour being pitted against Indigenous communities (Thobani, 2000). With the maple leaf tattoo, I am reminded that Canada has a dark history of inflicting pain and trauma to Indigenous communities, through previous and ongoing colonization.

I chose to represent Canada with a maple leaf, instead of the geographical shape of its land, because I want to emphasize the significance that the geographical shape of Afghanistan holds to the Afghan diaspora. This highlights the mourning and the feelings of “good grief” that I experience. When physically disconnected from our motherland of Afghanistan, Afghan-Canadians can simultaneously experience feelings of “love and loss,” while searching for ways they can integrate the grief into their daily lives (Davidson, 2014).

44 Wounds Redefining Collective Healing and Vulnerability

All three of the commemorative tattoos in the painting challenge the healing properties of wounds. If tattoos are wounds (Davidson, 2016), then they would be expected to heal over time. I demonstrate that these wounds may not heal because they are deeply intergenerational. They can develop a degree of figurative immunity to infection and build greater resiliency, but for these wounds to heal, it means that the aesthetics of the commemorative tattoos would disappear, and with them, this part of my Afghan- Canadian identity would also disappear. The wounds also reflect my acceptance that healing is much more complex than it may seem. The Afghan community, as a collective, requires time to properly make sense of the psychological and physical trauma that has come with enduring many decades of war and violence in Afghanistan. The open wounds that are depicted here point to the ongoing pain, and perhaps, the ongoing healing that is required. The painting creates an opportunity for deeper discussion and dialogue about what this healing process means to Afghans in the diaspora, in terms of fostering greater resilience and strength from these histories and memories. The metaphor and symbolism of wounds as tattoos allows me to think more deeply about the significance of scarification and materialization of these memories. They will always be open wounds.

Wounds also explores “social skin” by portraying the social boundary between the individual and other actors (Turner, 2012). The term “social skin” refers to how the surface of the body is seen as the “common frontier of society”; in this painting, this is evident in the externalization of psychological trauma portrayed by the three wound-like commemorative tattoos (Turner, 2012). There is a deep connection between the internal, psychological trauma and the external physical trauma on the skin required to form tattoos. The surface of the body, the skin, can be a space to

in:cite journal vol. 3 45 communicate and share one’s feelings with others (Turner, 2012). The five golden figures lined along the lower neck, near the bottom of the painting, depict the collective nature of comprehending trauma. There is a crucial need for safe learning spaces and supportive allies, in order for these productive discussions to happen. This painting can be a catalyst for those discussions. It depicts the importance of unity and strength inherited from ancestors, in order to be able to resist white hegemonic ideals of how the non-white body should exist.

I am also reclaiming my cultural identity by redefining what a “vulnerable” body is understood to be in society. It is not weak and oppressed, but rather it possesses power from its shining resilience and resurgence. There is power in being authentic, genuine, and fearless in sharing my creative joys with the world; by critically exploring the wounds, trauma, and resilience involved with the Afghan-Canadian identity (Lorde, 1984). This is the erotic power that Lorde describes to be the most self-responsible source of women’s power (1984). By sharing this erotic power of my openness to sharing my creative energy and my knowledge of the world, I am letting this vulnerability empower me and transform into resilience; this is a source of power and information, rather than a weakness (Lorde, 1984). The painting Wounds is a critical catalyst for social change, as it is informed by intense, internal, and creative knowledge (Lorde, 1984). It conveys that this resurgent body is not willing to accept powerlessness and oppression from the external; it is boldly existing and taking up the space that it is meant to have (Lorde, 1984).

46 Wounds Resisting Eurocentric Beauty Ideals

The small white figures around the edges of the artwork represent the pressures from society to conform and erase my Afghan cultural identity. This painting challenges the notion of domination over non-white bodies through its clever application of the visual element of proportion. By making the portrait of the young woman much larger than the white figures along the border, I am depicting how vulnerable bodies of colour are able to regain control and ultimately, reclaim their cultural identities on their own terms. The red glitter, which is spread along the edges of the painting and connects the figures together, portrays how these traumas and society’s pressures have the potential to be seen in a positive light, through this kind of unapologetic resistance.

As the artist and researcher, it is important for me to acknowledge how my lived experiences and positionality strengthen and enrich my work (Taber, 2010). The painting portrays my own resistance to white hegemonic ideals of the body by proudly displaying tan skin, thicker eyebrows, imperfect hairline, and a larger nose, with its noticeable bump. Despite the many pressures that are placed to conform to more Eurocentric preferences of what the body should look like, such as a smaller and straighter nose, the work continues to resist and to embrace these features. For example, the nose and its shape reflect the social histories of my Afghan ancestors. It is an important reminder of my roots and heritage. Embracing these physical features allows me to embrace my Afghan cultural heritage. It is important to note the painting, Wounds, does not attempt to generalize the physical characteristics portrayed as universal to every Afghan-Canadian woman. I acknowledge that Afghan-Canadian women are an incredibly diverse demographic, who have diverse physical features, which may largely vary from my physical features and my painting. The unique nuances in my identity inform my knowledge of how

in:cite journal vol. 3 47 women’s bodies are judged by Eurocentric beauty standards (Taber, 2010).

In my daily life as an Afghan-Canadian woman, I do notice myself unconsciously and consciously conforming to Eurocentric beauty ideals. While, in the painting Wounds, I address the thicker and bushier eyebrows as resisting white hegemonic beauty, I also recognize that thicker eyebrows are now on-trend and widely celebrated as attractive by Eurocentric beauty standards. The eyebrows in the painting are still very well-groomed, the eyes are shaped to be larger and almond-like, facial hair is limited, and the lips are slightly flushed and plumper. I recognize that by creating this painting with the intention to address my body’s resistance to Eurocentric beauty standards, I have also unconsciously conformed to making the painting Eurocentrically “attractive” and “beautiful.” I have been so deeply socialized to believe that a beautiful female body or a beautiful female face is one that is light-skinned, hairless, with almond eyes and plump lips. It is salient the toxic ways in which anti-Black racism is so deeply perpetuated through Eurocentric body ideals and also existent in the Afghan diaspora; I recognize that I have the responsibility to continue to unlearn the anti-Black racism embedded within our society.

Therefore, my Afghan female body is one that holds different degrees of power. First, it is a younger and youthful body that is ultimately favoured over older bodies. I have the privilege to have certain physical features that are deemed to be Eurocentrically “beautiful,” such as larger eyes, on- trend thick eyebrows, and relatively lighter skin; this is not the case for every Afghan woman or woman of colour. In contrast, the noticeable bump on my larger nose, my thinner lips, and my imperfect hairline are some of the aspects of my physical appearance that are deemed to be less “beautiful” by Eurocentric beauty standards. I proudly resist some of these characteristics in my painting, while unconsciously conforming to certain beauty standards. Upon

48 Wounds reflection, I notice that my lips are depicted larger and plumper than they actually are. As the artist and researcher, it is critical that I learn to narrate and visualize my identity in the way that I choose to, rather than Western society’s problematic attempts to do this for me.

Reflections of Resilience

In conclusion, the painting Wounds boldly puts pressure on how non-white and “vulnerable” bodies are supposed to exist in society. It reverses power dynamics and gives me back the control to reclaim my cultural identity, allowing me to define my Afghan heritage and physical characteristics on my own terms. The painting applies notions of traditional and ancestral knowledge (Pangowish, 2016), the integration of love and loss (Davidson, 2016), the externalization of trauma (Kitzmann, 2016), and seeing skin as a way of socially communicating with the world (Turner, 2012). In these ways, Wounds depicts the rich complexities and effectiveness of using tattoos to commemorate intergenerational trauma embedded within one’s cultural identity. It does this through a critical analysis of my own lived experiences as an Afghan-Canadian. Using an arts-integrated method allows for deep critical engagement with theoretical notions in a multidisciplinary way by provoking meaningful conversations and dialogues about ideas around identity and collective trauma. The painting allows me to publicize this internal- external dimension of the body. It is an effective example of how identities are produced through this kind of autobiographical work (Letherby & Davidson, 2016) and how commemorative tattoos can preserve personal memories on the physical body (Quan-Haase, 2016). The red glitter from the tattoos in my painting occasionally glistens in the light, reminding me of the possibility that trauma, as a site of knowledge, holds the potential to be enlightening.

in:cite journal vol. 3 49 References

Aydin, C. (2017). How to forget the unforgettable?: On collective trauma, cultural identity, and mnemotechnologies. Identity, 17(3), 125-137. Davidson, D. (2016). Introducing the Tattoo Project. In D. Davidson (Ed.), The Tattoo Project: Commemorative Tattoos, Visual Culture, and the Digital Archive (1-13). Toronto, CA: Canadian Scholars. Inckle, K. (2016). “Physical words”: Scars, tattoos, and embodied mourning. In D. Davidson (Ed.), The Tattoo Project: Commemorative Tattoos, Visual Culture, and the Digital Archive (113-124). Toronto, CA: Canadian Scholars. Jungnickel, K. & Hjorth, L. (2014). Methodological entanglements in the field: Methods, transitions and transmissions.Visual Studies, 29(2), 136-145. Khanlou, N. (2008). Psychosocial integration of second and third generation racialized youth in Canada. Metropolis Canada, 6(2), 54-57. Retrieved from http://canada.metropolis.net/ pdfs/vol_6_2_spring08_e.pdf. Kitzmann, A. (2016). Between the inside and the outside: Commemorative tattoos and the externalization of loss or trauma. In D. Davidson (Ed.), The Tattoo Project: Commemorative Tattoos, Visual Culture, and the Digital Archive (39-46). Toronto, CA: Canadian Scholars. Letherby, G. & Davidson, D. (2016). Tattooing as autobiographical method and practice. In D. Davidson (Ed.), The Tattoo Project: Commemorative Tattoos, Visual Culture, and the Digital Archive (57-61). Toronto, CA: Canadian Scholars. Lorde, A. (1984). The uses of the erotic: The erotic as power. In A. Lorde (Ed.), Sister Outsider (87-91). Berkeley, CA: Crossing Press.

Nader, Z., & Rastagar, H. (2018). Afghan Canadians. The Canadian Encyclopedia. Retrieved from https://www. thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/afghan-canadians Najibullah, H. (2017). Reconciliation and Social Healing in Afghanistan. New York: Springer Pangowish, S. (2016). I am. In D. Davidson (Ed.), The Tattoo Project: Commemorative Tattoos, Visual Culture, and the Digital Archive (145-147). Toronto: Canadian Scholars.

50 Wounds Quan-Haase, A. (2016). The coming together of a community of practice: Commemorative tattoos as visual culture for community engagement and identity formation. In D. Davidson (Ed.), The Tattoo Project: Commemorative Tattoos, Visual Culture, and the Digital Archive (183-189). Toronto: Canadian Scholars. Statistics Canada. (2019). Census profile, 2016 census. Retrieved from https://www12.statcan.gc.ca/census- recensement/2016/dp-pd/prof/details/page. Taber, N., Howard, L., & Watson, G. (2010). Researcher subjectivities as a conceptual frame in collaborative research: How exploring the experiences of adult educators led to examining researcher lenses. Canadian Journal for the Study of Adult Education 23(1), 39-54. Thobani, S. (2000). Closing ranks: Racism and sexism in Canada’s immigration policy. Race and Class 42(1), 35-53. Turner, T. (2012). The social skin. Journal of Ethnographic Theory, 2(2), 486-504. Wagner, J. (2014). Visual sociology. Visual Studies, 29(3), 311-315.

Acknowledgements

I am deeply grateful to Dr. Pam Wakewich for introducing me to Deborah Davidson’s book “The Tattoo Project: Commemorative Tattoos, Visual Culture, and the Digital Archive” (2017). This critical analysis and painting were also inspired by some of the concepts in her graduate course called “The Sociology of the Body.” In Fall 2017, I was enrolled in the course, as a graduate student at Lakehead University. Dr. Wakewich’s generous feedback and support for my project has allowed me to truly reflect upon and expand this creative work beyond the structures of a course assignment. I am also grateful for receiving additional critical engagement in the forms of valuable comments and questions from colleagues, after presenting this creative work at two graduate student conferences, at the University of Toronto and the University of Alberta. All of these things have made it possible for this meaningful project to evolve and expand over the past few years.

in:cite journal vol. 3 51 Sweet Talk

Bethel Samson Keywords McMaster University systematic racism, academia, poetry Bethel is a second year student at McMaster University in the Bachelor of Health Sciences program. In her free time she enjoys making music, reading, playing skribbl.io, and changing her Zoom background image. Her art was inspired by a second year course that she recently took on arts-based research.

Acknowledgements

I’d like to thank my arts-based research professor for encouraging creativity, even when our ideas were absurd!

I read your words No, I stand amongst them And I listen to the trees I smell the pollen, the sweet nectar of flowers I listen to the bees That you have silenced.

(cc) 2020 B. Samson This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0), permitting all 52 Sweet Talk non-commercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. I hear your words No, I see them Seeping from your mouth Like fresh, golden, honey pouring from a newly picked comb The sickly sweetness leaving a bad taste in my own.

You say you are writer, a poet, a knower.

You write of worlds that eliminate my own You make books of fake histories You engrave them into stone

Your history is now truth, Your lies permeating the now Because that is what you do.

You say you are a writer, a poet, a knower.

You tell me these things, You wish to restrict my words with your power.

I reject your books, I write my own.

Perhaps it is a good thing that I am not naive. Perhaps it is a good thing that my people’s history has taught me to see, but not always to believe.

in:cite journal vol. 3 53 Queer Youth on the Move: Gentrification and the International in Beijing

Thomas Elias Siddall 劉夢飛 Keywords University of Toronto Migration, Gentrification, Queer Communities, Thomas is an undergraduate student and researcher Youth, Beijing. at the University of Toronto. They research community and solidarity as movements of postmemory and respacialization, in the Sinosphere and across the global Chinas. They are interested in queer politics and how the global politics of space, border and belonging shape narratives of home.

(cc) 2020 T. E. Siddall This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0), permitting all 54 Queer Youth on the Move non-commercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. Abstract

This article presents an autobiographical study of shifting queer formations in northeastern Beijing where the author participated in clubbing rituals and lived amongst members of Beijing’s queer communities. This resulted in a study of globalization and the Chinese state’s gentrification tactics which co-opt transgressive energy to infiltrate and dominate local queer spaces. Local and migrant queer bodies are using transnational means and techniques in claiming autonomy while continuously forming social spaces that subvert central power structures through affective power. These reterritorializations are then subject to global LGBT discourse, which uses gentrification of space as a form of constituting proper behaviour. Gentrification, as an international process, demands subversive energy and action in response, which ultimately defines queer youth as worthy of autonomy. These findings have research possibilities in developing Sino-queer migration within a post-positivist international relations and multiplex theory research program.

“I know. It’s not fair that the word laughter is trapped inside slaughter.” “ — Ocean Vuong ”

in:cite journal vol. 3 55 Getting off the Beijing Subway’s Line Ten at Liangmaqiao Station 亮马桥占, one of Beijing’s ring road subways, places you just north of glittering Sanlitun, Beijing’s highlighted nightlife core that is a manifestation of China’s rapid development in the past 40 years. Walk twenty minutes from here through a few alleyways, however, and you will find the lights of gentrified Sanlitun Village三里屯 and Taikoo Li 太古里—which exemplifies the repurposing and renovation of space into one suitable for valorized lifestyles and the subsequent psychological changes that people endure— go from coloured and bright to the yellow-tinted streetlamps of Chinese cities indicating that northeast Beijing at night is not for tourists. This area of Beijing was formerly the Dashanzi 大山子 industrial area. Sixty years of history in this area, applying the narratives and experiences of gentrification, highlight how the Chinese state’s renovation of its capital intersects with queer migration and subversion through nightlife; these intersections capture, territorialize and reterritorialize creative and transgressive energy. Gentrification is a result of Chinese globalization, which also subjects local queer communities to global LGBT discourse which challenges local identities. Through these experiences, displacement and resistance are at the core of local queer community-building.

An installation in a 798 gallery

56 Queer Youth on the Move The Gentrification of 798: Intrusion, Transition, Expulsion

798 Art District 七九八艺术区, a constituent of Dashanzi in northeastern Beijing, is backdropped against a Mao-era factory park. It serves to centralize the context of this article and presents us with a developmental story that highlights the rapidness of state-led gentrification in Beijing. Dashanzi’s subsequent metamorphosis into its present cosmopolitan space is a result of increased consumption, but also reflects and produces a specific heteronormative history of contemporary China. 798 is a story I have experienced and, in my memory, its history Mao-era factory in Dashanzi highlights the political context of Chinese gentrification in a world that has imposed new neoliberal visions of modernity as the responsibility of a hegemonic state that dominates space and time.

During the Great Leap Forward (1958–1962), state-led development prioritized urbanization through the production of steel and other manufactured textiles, which saw the rise of Dashanzi as a result of rapid migration from rural areas to urban cores. Critically, this project saw one of the worst human-made famines due to reductions in labour on farms, communal dining practices, and the “deprivation of peasants’ rights to exit from the commune,” which had the effect of destroying productivity (Li & Yang 2005). With the opening of China after the death of Mao, Chinese steel production slowed down and the eventual surplus of steel brought many of these factories to a close. These factories became dilapidated once they fell out

in:cite journal vol. 3 57 of use, and Dashanzi eventually became populated by artists, queer people, and other migrants attracted by cheap land prices and proximity to the capital. The area is one of migrants and it is a fully functioning community. Ai Weiwei 艾未未 (b. 1957) was one of the area’s most notorious residents and his home and studio employed many migrants. Other migrants work in informal work. In 2006, I remember this area still being “antiquated” and the central government did not have any incentive to gentrify the area, opting to let the residents live outside of the state’s gaze.

Backdropped against Maoist slogans, cultural occasions such as the Beijing Queer Film Festival, proliferated a culture that appeared organic in its autonomy but laid down the roots and precedence for the encroachment of the state into the affairs of people who lived here. By the end of 2006, developments for the 2008 Beijing Olympic games saw the rapid closure of factories to clean Beijing’s notoriously bad air pollution. The subsequent rapid urban gentrification that happened came in the context of a complex and violent capitalist political economy that was directly related to China’s position within the global economy. China would be the first “developing” country in the world to host the Olympics, and so it needed to showcase its “modernity,” with a clean and developed city. Ai Weiwei became the artistic consultant for the Bird’s Nest 鸟巢 (now the National Stadium 国际体育场) bringing attention to a prolific artistic movement in Beijing. This coincided with a transition from the industrial manufacturing sector to an economic model that turned artists into the primary economic model for Dashanzi and helped to bring about a renaming of this area as the “798 Art District.” This model borrows from Richard Florida’s Rise of the Creative Class (2012), where he posits that the creative class (artists, tech designers, LGBT people, etc.) are the key to growth in post-industrial cities. For 798, the economic model posited by Florida is clearly applied as it transitions from an industrial site into one where factories

58 Queer Youth on the Move became galleries and workshops for artisans, which supports the economic hub of Guomao 国贸, just south of 798.

In 2015, gentrification continued in 798 and resulted in the demolition of migrant homes and the development of art galleries as shopping centres. Ai Weiwei also left China in 2015. This shift, which brought state intrusion into northeastern Beijing, took less than a decade. It occurred at the same time as the priorities of the central government moved from an investment-driven economy into one that was driven by consumption. Not just in 798 but in cities across China, the sheer number of advertisements highlight how capitalist advertising replaced Maoist propaganda. Interestingly, a form of Chinese Pop Art that was centred upon minions, who are yellow alien-like characters from the movie Despicable Me, was painted on renovated factories an art gallery in a Mao-era as a political statement factory in 798 against gentrification which turned migrant homes and artist workshops into copy and paste shopping malls that dot Beijing’s and other cities’ landscapes, while simultaneously mocking the design of this gentrification.

Consumption became a significant issue for the central government because as China’s economy began to show signs of a slowdown, the increasing inefficiency of investments towards low-end goods production led the state to supplement these declining investments with domestic consumption. Most economists agree that consumption as a percent of income needs to be expanded from its present levels of around 29% to 60% by 2027. That level of consumption would require income inequality to be

in:cite journal vol. 3 59 level so that China not be constrained by the middle- income trap (Glawe and Wagner 2019; Zhou 2018; Huang 2015). The gentrification of Dashanzi serves a political purpose for the central government as a means of avoiding the middle-income trap in order to maintain consent for the increasing domination of state hegemony as the state produces visions of economic success through the renovation of its cities.

By 2019, 798 visibly had more shops than art galleries. It is a place where you can expect to shop for Louis Vuitton rather than taking in art; the art galleries that do exist hold art for sale, with an equal amount of QR codes, which have proliferated as point-of-sale tools in China due to the lack of credit cards, as installation. I went into a tiny gallery with two sculptures in it, one of the only galleries to not have a QR code and I asked the artist why she did not sell her work, and she said because her “art was for art, and this is a form of subversion in China’s market economy,” where citizenship, personhood and recognition is necessarily dependent upon purchasing power. The gentrification of 798 effectively destroyed the socialization and solidarity between artists, migrants and queer people by turning “third spaces,” of which the feeless art galleries used to be, into places inaccessible to people living in the area, who cannot afford access. The complexities that create this state-led capitalist system have brought about an extraordinarily simplistic and brutal destruction of a known way of living for residents of 798/Dashanzi. To put on an art show rejecting the market co-opts energies of expulsion, which is the same energy that gentrification uses. Northeast Beijing has shown itself to be a site of protest for bodies against an intrusive gentrification that expels those who have made community there; it is ultimately a subversion of hegemony, the same which queer youth are continuing with their presence and protests in northeastern Beijing by building their autonomy in a newly dominated territory.

60 Queer Youth on the Move Laughter: Tactics of Building Local Queer Space for Globally Minded Youth

Zhaodai 招待听 (which means guesthouse), a queer club, is part of the rebirth of the protest of the new political economy in northeastern Beijing. One night my friends, who attend Renmin University, invited me to an underground rave held by the Beijing LGBT Center to celebrate the beginning of Pride month. Zhaodai is an informal space where local Chinese queer communities come to be themselves. They are part of a significant global trend away from the “gay club” to the “queer space,” partially as a result of global patterns of gentrification. However, engendering queer spaces bring about a necessity to connect to the world as uniquely queer and Chinese is necessitated by an ever-encroaching

Zhaodai an informal queer celebrating the beginning of state. The mission of Zhaodai is to “cultivate club Pride Month culture and strengthen the community behind it.” Part of the queer milieu in today’s China is looking to the artistic roots of northeastern Beijing in the formation of symbols and signs such as Ren Hang. Zhaodai, as a queer space, is a technicolour shrine to Ren Hang 任航 (1987–2017) who died at age 29, sending shockwaves throughout international artistic

in:cite journal vol. 3 61 communities, but went relatively unknown in his native China. Ren’s photos are filled with shock value: they express sexuality, contortion, nudity and are raw yet playful. Never personally political, he has said that “my pictures’ politics have nothing to do with China. It’s Chinese politics that wants to interfere with my art.” (Kane 2015). Supported by Ai Weiwei, Ren was part of the generation of queer artists based out of 798 who used art for activism, and yet became lost along with 798 and its gentrification. Queer youth at Zhaodai signify using Ren’s art as a declaration that autonomy of artists, of migrants, and of queer people has come to an end; to be queer in today’s Beijing is to territorialize both the space and bodies of formerly autonomous peoples.

Zhaodai was evidently trying to be hidden, given its placement in the basement of a soba noodle restaurant, its two sets of staircases, three sets of blackout and soundproof doors, a lack of signage, and its purposeful distance away from any subway line. However, it was still navigable by locals and foreigners alike. That June night was the beginning of Pride celebrations in Beijing, which still carry the grassroots formations and local queer cultures that many other cities’ Pride festivities lack. Zhaodai and the Beijing LGBT Center organized this night without any local permits. Getting into the club, fluorescent paint was smeared with a powerful stroke onto patrons’ faces. My friends and others went into the bathroom to change their earrings to ones that would have marked them as different outside of this space. This powerful moment of transition and change is representative of the power held within spaces of solidarity built by and for local queer youth. This simple yet powerful transition of changing clothes occurred often, yet paradoxically, friends have told me they could have dressed up in public, but it would have been considered odd.

Foreigners who come to Zhaodai are rarely tourists but are more likely to be queer youth from

62 Queer Youth on the Move around the Sinosphere. Even though this place was hidden, Zhaodai did have an online following through Instagram, which allowed it to connect to an Internet that was not easily accessible to many mainland Chinese people. This brings an international dimension to Beijing queer youths’ subversiveness. The use of Instagram and other nominally blocked off social media by queer youth in Beijing and China alike is widespread, and it is done to become informed of the transnational aspects of community building. With this, Zhaodai allows you to explore an informal side to the queer communities of Beijing, one deeply marked by transnational migration and organization through digital spaces. By existing in the digital space while hiding in an increasingly gentrified social space, queer youth are exhibiting an act of power by reterritorializing a dominant territory without demanding to be heard—only to reclaim a rapidly declining autonomy. This digital space, as a way of bringing in non-Beijing queer youth, links the overall global resistance to gentrification with new modes of counterhegemonic organizing.

While the digital space is an attractive motivator for queer youth to move to or even visit Beijing for an extended period, there are numerous other reasons that queer youth are moving to Beijing, which include the recognition and understanding of pluralistic gender identities and geopolitical circumstances. One patron said that they came to China from California because it was more comfortable to express their non-binary gender identity here than back home with a mother who did not accept or make an attempt to understand them. They were an androgynous presenting person, and they said that they felt androgyny while being fetishized in Western queer spaces created a voiceless position for them. The existence of androgynous people in China has been commonplace amongst queer and non-queer spaces. The 2SLGBTQ+ movement in the United States has had a particular exclusion of non-binary gendered people/agender people, which is foiled directly by the

in:cite journal vol. 3 63 American understanding of gender and sex as existing in a binary. We later met Taiwanese patrons whom my friends had met on Blued, a Chinese dating/hookup app for gay men, and even though Taiwan is a beacon of LGBT rights in Asia, geopolitical circumstances are still bringing queer Taiwanese people to China. Taiwanese people can find employment in Beijing, and the linguistic barrier is minimal. However, the profound presence of Taiwanese people in these Chinese spaces provides the possibility of analysis of Sino-queer movements based on cross-strait migration. Zhaodai finds itself with a diverse group of people, signalling that solidarity, outreach and informality bring an energy to northeastern Beijing that makes it a transnational migratory hub for the world through complex respacialization, which redefines the space and its purpose.

Queer transnationalism is a diverse process that uses varied tactics to carve out space, and it is a necessity for the survival of local queer spaces in Beijing. Queer transnationalism in the West is understood in the form of asylum claims for queer- as-LGBT people. However, there are deeper economic ties that shape communities abroad through the economic proliferation of queer people.

At Zhaodai, I met an English-speaking patron from the Philippines and a bartender from Gansu province, both of whom were in sex work. When asked why they would come to Beijing, both mentioned that they were no longer working in the construction labour field where many migrant workers find employment within China, but still stayed around because they made more money and had community ties, which was more than what they had back home. When asked about their family situations, they mentioned that being away had helped their family to begin to understand them and to accept their queer identities. Migrant economic gains and remittances show that queer transnationalism in Beijing is part of a global remittance system of

64 Queer Youth on the Move poverty relief. This system directly affects migrants’ social situations at home as remittance payments from migrating workers back to their country of origin can have a positive effect on offsetting poverty (Wood 2016). Through this rationale of queer transnationalism, sex workers and the queer club in Beijing become centres for changing attitudes about queer people in other places around the world.

By connecting to transnational queer flows through the rise of digital connectivity, Zhaodai and queer youth in Beijing are building spaces that verify themselves as connected to the artistic movement in northeastern Beijing. This verification is seen in the development and communal understanding of signs, such as in Ren Hang’s work, which marks off queer spaces. However, the gentrification of 798 and the subsequent death of a non-consumerist based artistic movement can simultaneously be seen as an encroachment on queer community building. Gentrification deserves more attention when noting that once it becomes saturated with global discourse, such as LGBT discourse, it takes on a new and violent meaning that marginalizes certain bodies for needing to improve themselves.

Other (Global) Queers: The Normalization of LGBT Discourse

While the informal queer club of Beijing exemplifies how migration has played a role in creating a hotbed of activity, neoliberal globalization demands the categorization of “normal” queers through the proliferation of LGBT discourse which seeks to know diverse sexualities through LGBT lenses. This occurs through gay tourism and/or temporary work permits in fields like English teaching. As a result, local queer communities are being remoulded by the demands of the renovating and globalizing state.

in:cite journal vol. 3 65 In learning more about gentrification, I visited another club called Destination, which is licenced. I met up with a Shanghai and Hong Kong-based model from Grindr, who was from Ottawa, as well as two people from Macao, three from Hong Kong and one from South Africa — all of whom were there temporarily. It is not so much the space of Destination that makes it an inviting space, but instead what it is not. When Destination closed for the night, we left for a closed off-site of what was the old location of an informal club called Kai for an afterparty at the recommendation of one of the club attendants. Kai was shut down as a result of gentrification and was now a construction site. The act of having an afterparty on the graveyard of an old, favoured gay club is an act of protest and an act of informality in the reclamation of safe spaces. Kai, as of writing, has reopened but remains an unlicensed club in a new location in the northern part of Dongsi 东四, a central area of Beijing. The world’s penetration into informal spaces in Beijing Bar Street 酒吧街, Sanlitun District. well-lit area in contrast is a function of China’s integration into the world to Destination. migratory system and it also speaks to the openness to migrants of local queer youth in China. However, this openness does not extend to Western and LGBT actors whose proliferation has led to a crackdown on local queer spaces.

Gentrification works as a policing mechanism in which local queer solidarity and community-building is broken down. Queer solidarity and community is broken down, simplified into, and replaced by a global discourse of LGBT categories. As more LGBT people explode onto the world stage and in Beijing, global

66 Queer Youth on the Move and local queer, non-LGBT sexualities, and gender identities conform to LGBT categories. In allowing for the physical presence of LGBT queer people while destroying non-LGBT spaces, gentrification as a policing mechanism comes in the form of “educating” local queer bodies into “normal” LGBT bodies.

There is a difference in the “normal” LGBT and the “perverse” queer. Cynthia Weber (2016) charts the proliferation of the LGBT as a “normal” category which became globalized as such with Hillary Clinton’s Gay Rights are Human Rights speech. The LGBT citizen is figured as a homonormative, neoliberal, consuming, family-valued, (inter)national person; in contrast, the queer person, who does not conform to the strict categories of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual or Transgender, is figured as deviant and needing to be fixed—for us this means gentrified. This is particularly interesting in two ways: firstly, “normal” LGBT folks are still subject to some forms of social discrimination, and secondly, gentrification processes that are designed to remove local queer built spaces, like Kai, are being transitioned into legally regulated LGBT spaces. This allows security relations to be built and fixed; the Chinese national vs. the Chinese local queer person vs. the Gay/LGBT tourist. Each of these relations is evaluated based on their economic value.

The club, Destination, provides a good example of looking through relations on forms of queer identities and their intersections with globalization and gentrification. The first relation I will analyze is the Chinese national vs. the Chinese queer. My mother, who is originally from Beijing and lived in this area, tells me that Sanlitun was the site of industrial and residential buildings, which is the opposite of what it is now. Sanlitun Village 三里屯, where Destination is adjacent to, was respacialized through gentrification as a shopping and tourist complex for the “New China.” Sanlitun now is home to the famous Taikoo Li 太古里 and SanlitunSOHO 三里屯 shopping malls (though they are more like one vast street complex of

in:cite journal vol. 3 67 stores), a vast majority of foreign embassies to China, multicultural recreational sites and numerous bars and nightclubs that light up what is colloquially called “Bar Street” 酒吧街. This appears to be a successful application of the 11th Five-Year Plan (2005–2010), which expressed that one of its goals was to turn China’s capital into a global city, along with the idea of becoming an appealing travel destination (Martínez 2016, 48). Alongside Sanlitun, other communities mentioned in this article have all been subject to regimes of gentrification that have been rationalized by the same logic in the 11th Five-Year Plan, yet northeastern Beijing’s own gentrification, alongside other parts of Beijing, have brought in new regimes of legalities. Destination is the only licensed gay club in the newly built Sanlitun Village, yet Sanlitun is increasingly unwelcoming to queer communities. To get to Destination either involves walking from Sanlitun, which is accessible to LGBT tourists, or ordering a Didi 滴滴, a ride-hailing service like Uber, to the nearest straight club (which is across the street from Destination) and then walking. The placement of Destination, across the street from these clubs, so close to the Workers Stadium speaks to the activities in which ‘the people’, who are figured as China’s patriotic and consuming nationals, partake in this new China, where queer people are marginalized from participating in full.

The proliferation of LGBT discourse under increasing globalization becomes the basis for the possibility of their acceptance in Chinese society. However, the second relationship, the LGBT tourist vs. the local queer person, also intersect at Destination. Queer youth are forced to translate their identities into LGBT ones, and yet still find themselves subject to regimes of policing. Destination’s primary customer is an older and financially dependent LGBT tourist. Their presence at Destination is psychologically built to “improve” younger queer folks through the emulation of the global LGBT identity. This logic assumes that acceptance within greater Chinese

68 Queer Youth on the Move society through translating of queer identities into LGBT ones is part of a wider national performance in the achievement of national goals, but for this very reason, Destination has never been popular with younger queer people in Beijing and is increasingly being disassociated with by that group. Furthermore, the relationship between queer youth in Beijing and the global LGBT is challenged when noting that local queer bodies may not be explicitly policed in China anymore. However, the rise of the technological police state has transversed into new forms of policing that oversee the demolition of informal queer spaces as a form of social control under the guise of social etiquette, but are ultimately done to make way for institutions like Destination which are designed to ‘fix’ queer bodies. Local queer nightclubs and spaces are areas of solidarity and rebellion, and Destination’s purposeful closing at 2 am as a form of social policing of queer bodies is even more evident and unmistakable considering the (straight) nightclubs in Sanlitun remain open until 6 am. Thus, the relationship between the LGBT and queer youth intersect in violent ways where queer youth see that spaces for themselves are being demolished to make room for new spaces for themselves that they never really wanted—and that these new spaces are filled with non-locals and arbitrary rules that are designed to hinder their solidarity and socialization.

If the gentrification of Beijing’s northeast for relies on the normalization of local queer cultures, solidarity, and spaces through LGBT discourse, then it speaks to how the formations of the post- industrial city which promise freedom and liberty are counterintuitive since they demand conformity to categories that have been predetermined by Western interests. It also speaks to the violence that the normalization of global LGBT discourse means for local queer comm unities around the world. This also means that the ways in which we begin to critique other nations’ ways of respecting other bodies must account for power interests. However, all

in:cite journal vol. 3 69 understandings of power relations also recognize the constantly shifting nature of reclaiming identity, and as I conclude this article, I will go into the ways that Beijing’s queer communities are countering global hegemonic forces that demand their gentrification.

From Solidarity to Slaughter to Survival

The physical gentrification of places like Dongsi and Sanlitun resulting in the removal of informal spaces for queer people, such as Kai, is not unlike other forms of demolition around the world that are unequally applied onto the backs of queer people. In Toronto, we are seeing the closing of some of Church-Wellesley’s most famous gay clubs in the name of gentrification. In response, newer collectives like Yohomo and New Ho Queen are appearing in the reclamation of the queer space, understanding that the gay club is no longer a possibility. Solidarity amongst queer communities in Toronto and Beijing speaks to a broader global process of how queer transnationalism intersects with the globalization of capitalist gentrification practices. Queer bodies are not necessarily accepted bodies, and they are saturated with prejudice that demands they conform. China’s rise has come with gentrification of urban spaces in the name of modernity, which are part of international capitalist trends that have engendered a set of conforming demands along lines of consumption, but also of sexuality. Party rule, which is based on developmental performances, employs gentrification as a ruling mechanism at the expense of difference in queer spaces. This runs against a development for all message, that the Chinese Communist Party espouses, by disallowing the materialization of diverse sexuality, gender, and expression.

For the international and its repercussions, the rise of China and these performances appear

70 Queer Youth on the Move as justification for other developing nations that their development does not need to follow the Western Model, one defined by free trade and small government, which are known to infringe upon state- sovereignty. Western capitalism and sovereignty in a global capitalist system are deeply affected by flow dynamics in the capital and migration, which in turn are deeply affected by international economic trends (Sassen 1991). This Western model does not afford queer bodies valid spaces because it also pursues a model of gentrification that ties spaces to economic value.

The Chinese model of urban development utilizes the same properties of land value and speculation that western cores utilize in the performance of the modern, shining, glimmering, and bustling city, but uses its social credit system as a form of homogenizing its population while breaking down the autonomy of Chinese citizens from state forces. Both these models tear down marginalized peoples’ housing and communities for the creation of spaces designed for a neoliberal cosmopolitan- minded milieu, leading to developmental patterns that do not allocate resources on the basis of the recognition of different expressions in society. Both systems are actually not that different, because economic, environmental, and human rights are not afforded to all bodies. The gentrification of queer youths’ spaces is viewed as an act of kindness by the central government, given to them by the benevolent state. In queer youths’ experience, benevolence is a mode of violence that seeks to alter their socialization by policing and changing their spaces of expression, ultimately showing how successful gentrification is one that creates conformity most of all.

The gentrification of spaces is a mode of the de-socialization of queer communities, and in turn, queer communities around the world are looking to the Internet as a space that can be claimed, and where group consciousness can be developed. In

in:cite journal vol. 3 71 Beijing this has manifested in gathering in informal spaces, such as Kai and Zhaodai, as physical spaces to memorialize an untold queer history that is being removed from Chinese Internet servers at breakneck speeds. The Beijing LGBT Center is memorializing local queer artists and migrants lost in the gentrification of 798 and throughout China by organizing physical socialization as queer histories become increasingly more challenging to uncover. At present the Chinese government has an implicit Three Noes Policy toward the local queer community—no approval, no disapproval, no promotion (不支持, 不 反对, 不提倡 | bù zhīchí, bù fǎnduì, bù tíchàng), which is a policy that acts as though local queer identities do not exist. However, as LGBT discourse aligns with China’s global ambitions, the normalization of same- sex relationships is becoming increasingly prominent on ads, which can only happen in conjunction with the rules set out by the state-media apparatus. In countering the realization of queer group consciousness, gentrification is being weaponized as a measure for a class of Chinese citizens deemed worthy of state performances and modernity, of which queer people are not considered worthy.

In responding to their forced conformity in an artificial Chinese social space carved out by gentrification, queer people in Beijing are using class signifiers as a way of controlling their narratives. English knowledge in China is genuinely sought after and has become a class signifier—parents of wealthy children will enroll their children in English language classes from a young age. The use of English by a large portion of queer people in Beijing stems from the profound use of symbolism as an identification mechanism that has become globalized due to Western, English-language, queer popular culture. This plays a role in queer youth in Beijing imagining themselves as part of an international milieu. The widespread use of VPNs to access shows like Pose, a show about the complexities and nuances of the New York City ball scene in the 1980s, further backs the

72 Queer Youth on the Move idea that youth are looking to the international in their reflexivities and subversities. From my discussion with one partier about Pose, he shared that it led to him learning how to do Waacking, a dance style that arose in racialized queer communities in Los Angeles in the 1970s. It is slowly becoming an alternative- mainstream dance style amongst Chinese youth, with Waacking competitions being held throughout Beijing for all to participate in. On the same night we went to Zhaodai, one of my friends pulled out a packet of Lucky Strikes, a cigarette brand that in recent days, has carried a connotation of freedom for youth due to the song of the same name by Troye Sivan, a singer who is gay. The chorus, “‘Cause you’re safe like spring time/Short days, long nights, boy/Tell me all the ways to love you/’Cause you taste like Lucky Strikes/ You drag, I light, boy/Tell me all the ways to love you,” definitively marks it as a queer anthem. Eventually, I asked him whether he liked Troye Sivan—and he said no, but that he did go to his Shanghai concert in 2019. Sivan came out in public on YouTube in 2013, which instantly turned him into a globalized LGBT figuration. This symbolism is only accessible with an ability to comprehend the English language. These symbols are mainstream amongst the queer communities in Beijing who are taking advantage of the explosion of LGBT discourse to claim their own local spaces. However, the co-opting of the English language-as-class-signifier, which is fortified by access to foreign media by queer communities, is a result of repurposing the artificially developed fetishization of English as a means of civility. In this way, reiterating gentrification practices is becoming more and more unstoppable, yet language, transnational ties and co-opting LGBT globalization offers the opportunity for local queer people around the world to organize against their forced translation into LGBT discourse.

in:cite journal vol. 3 73 Conclusion

Gentrification begs us to wonder how local queer youth are playing a role in building this new China, even though their spaces and identities are being challenged through gentrification of their spaces and bodies. The internationalization of China has given new symbols to the Beijing queer community, whether the central government chooses to control Internet access or not. These symbols are coming together with their homegrown ones, such as with Ren Hang. Queer youth in Beijing are making a reflexive claim as part of a cosmopolitan- minded generation that recognizes the transnational nature of its existence. Queer youth in Beijing are reterritorializing themselves within a dominant territory carved out by hegemonic gentrification by giving themselves the tools they need to fit into a high position in Chinese society. They get well-paying jobs, however, their queer existence, whether kept secret from family and working circles or not, subverts strict definitions of new class developments created and normalized by gentrification in capitalist China. Northeastern Beijing is a hotbed of queer activism and community-building that is looking to the inter and transnational and the local against gentrification, and these youth have proven their capability and are deserving of their autonomy.

Acknowledgements

I am grateful to the many individuals in Beijing for whom this piece is for, and for who have allowed me to find a home in place that I’ve considered home for a while but has become more foreign as a result of my years of distance. I would like to firstly thank the Asian Institute at the University of Toronto for supporting this work. I want to thank Dr. Dylan Clark for his unending belief and passion for his students, of which I consider myself humbled and lucky to be

74 Queer Youth on the Move included. As well, I want to thank Dr. Joel Faflak for his suggestions towards the final structure and content of this piece, as well as the lively conversations we continue to have every week. Finally, above all else, I would also like to thank my 妈 for her support and belief in me. There is no word in the English language that adequately captures the amount of gratitude, love and respect I have for her and her ability to make everyone around her feel valued, not less her children.

References

Florida, R. (2012). The rise of the creative class, revisited. New York: Basic Books. Glawe, L. & Wagner, H. (2019). China in the Middle-Income Trap? China Economic Review 2019. https://doi.org/10.1016/j. chieco.2019.01.003 Huang, Y. (2015). Can Chinese escape the middle-income trap? China Economic Journal, 9(1), 17-33. Kane, A. (2015). Ren Hang on nature, nudity and censorship. Dazed and Confused Magazine. Li, W., & Yang, D. (2005). The Great Leap Forward: Anatomy of a Central Planning Disaster. Journal of Political Economy, 113(4), 840-877. Martínez, P. (2016). Authenticity as a challenge in the transformation of Beijing’s urban heritage: The commercial gentrification of the Guozijian historic area.Cities 59, 48-56. Sassen, S. (1991). The Global City. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Weber, C. (2016). Queer International Relations: Sovereignty, Sexuality, and the Will to Knowledge. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Wood, S. (2016). Migration, Mobility and Marginalisation: Consequences for Sexual and Gender Minorities. Institute of Development Studies (IDS) Policy Briefing 118. Zhou, H. (2018). Will China Avoid the Middle-Income Trap? The Chinese Economy, 51(6), 483-502.

in:cite journal vol. 3 75 Ephemeral Fluid of Reality

Melanie Figueiredo McMaster University

For fluid paintings, acrylic colours are mixed and poured onto a canvas, and then blown air is used to spread the paint out. It is difficult to predict and plan what the painting is going to look like, even with great precision when blowing the air. To me, that is what rhythm in everyday life is- unpredictable, adaptable and hectic.

Keywords

fluidity, liquid art, acrylic pouring, abstract painting

(cc) 2020 M. Figueiredo This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0), permitting all 76 Ephemeral Fluid of Reality non-commercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. in:cite journal vol. 3 77 I Am A Black Wo m a n

Rheanna Rookwood Keywords

My name is Rheanna Rookwood. I am 16 years old. I Black women, racism, will be going into grade 11. My favourite hobbies are empowerment, poetry reading, listening to music and dancing. Currently, I am an ambassador at my school. What I like most about being an ambassador is that I am a part of a team and I enjoy working with people. This experience has helped me develop my communication skills and has helped me become a leader. When I leave high school I plan to pursue sociology because I want to understand human social behaviour.

(cc) 2020 R. Rookwood This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0), permitting all 78 I Am A Black Woman non-commercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. I am a Black Woman. I am proud of who I am and I have great admiration for strong Black Women who do not put themselves in a box and conform to what society wants them to be. They are in control of their own lives and have voices. They believe in change and are setting standards that represent what I strive to achieve.

The eyes of Eartha Kitt

The voice of Ella Fitzgerald

The legs of Noami Campbell

The Moves of Izzy Odigie

Athleticism of Wilma Rudolph

Strength of Serena Williams

Style of Aaliyah

Flow of Missy Elliot

Courage of Winnie Mandela

Grace of Michelle Obama

in:cite journal vol. 3 79 Stance of Rosa Parks

I am the past, present, future

I am an empowered Black Woman

I never give up when things get too hard

When I walk by people they bow to their knees, because I am a queen.

All these Black Women are from different generations but convey similar messages. They make it known that they can not be defined by their skin tone or their physical attributes. They have all made a name for themselves by being who they are; strong, confident, powerful, and insightful women who have made a difference in society. In this piece, I want to highlight the struggles of Black Women and show that Black Women are self-assured and driven.

80 I Am A Black Woman If Looks Could Kill

Karen Chan Keywords McMaster University poetry, racism, coronavirus

Karen is a second year at McMaster University pursuing her Bachelor’s in Life Sciences. She loves to write poetry and has an interest in spoken word.

Abstract For me, rhythm means having consistency. The piece highlights my own experience with the disruption of my daily rhythm due to COVID-19. The first half shows my routine and interactions prior to COVID-19 while the second half shows my experiences in the present day. Prior to the virus, I had a day to day routine that was filled with noise. Everyday moved quickly and I established a daily rhythm. However, when COVID-19 spread, it changed everything. I felt like I didn’t have a routine anymore because I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere. Time was moving much slower and worst of all, xenophobia was growing at a significant rate. As a Chinese Canadian, this was the first time I truly felt the weight of the color of my skin. COVID-19 changed the way that I consistently assumed that the color of my skin wasn’t something that strangers would significantly care about. However, as I got on a bus, I unintentionally scared a woman simply because of my skin color. From that point, I knew that xenophobia would affect the way people perceived me everyday. The woman was scared of the virus— which in turn was scared of me—and I was scared that she would thwart her anger towards me because I am Chinese. If looks could kill, then the woman and I ironically both feared each other. Now, due to COVID-19, I am adapting to a new routine. A routine where the color of skin rings louder than any other sound.

(cc) 2020 K. Chan This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0), permitting all non- commercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. in:cite journal vol. 3 81 Hop, skip, jump

Time skips by without me even blinking an eye Bring Bring

Time to open my eyes Chirp chirp

Baby robins start my day

Patter patter

My feet pacing down the stairs Drip drip

The melodious tick counting down to my cup of coffee Click click

Two clicks and a phone screen away from the world Clink Clink

As I brush over to grab my keys Morning, Morning

Common catchphrase for a bus driver Hello, hello

Figures merging together Creak Creak

The bumps and bruises of the road shaking the bus

And again.

82 If Looks Could Kill And again. Hop, skip, jump

Time skips by without me even blinking an eye. What time is it? Thump

Was that a racoon on my porch? Click Click

Two clicks and a phone screen away from my family Shuffle

The sound of my feet dragging down the stairs

in:cite journal vol. 3 83 Click Click

Two clicks and a phone screen away from breaking news Good Night, Afternoon, Morning

I wonder what time it is in China? Thwack Thwack Thwack

One thwack for the mask and two for the gloves Clink Clank

As I grab my keys I smile through the mask My bus driver can’t even see it. There’s a figure Slide

The shift of their hand to their mouth as I walk by. Stuck like two magnets Ahem

My throat clears A disgusted glance shot at me A glance that pierces through a paper mask And skids through the thick air I guess looks can kill

And again. And again.

84 If Looks Could Kill The Ocean’s Waves

Cassandra Sukraj Keywords

Cassandra is 17 years old and grew up in Toronto, always poetry, anxiety, emotions, taking to poetry and other creative forms to convey her symbolism thoughts and emotions. She uses poetry as an outlet to express herself unapologetically - directly enough to get things off her chest, but symbolically enough to allow others who read it to have their own perceptions and connections to her work.

Acknowledgements

I’d like to thank all those who have supported me, and who continue to support my writing to this day.

(cc) 2020 C. Sukraj This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0), permitting all non-commercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. in:cite journal vol. 3 85 There is a lovely little rhythm to life Steady fluctuations as known as rolling dice Emotional combinations that overwhelm us every time Stop, take a breath, there is no finish line You woke up this morning, what are you doing tonight? You live like an ocean with a creative appetite

The rising and falling Of the waves with your chest They move a little faster when you’re happy or distressed So predictable, isn’t it? Like a game of chess Until there’s a storm, now you’re a chaotic mess

The winds are picking up The clouds are turning grey You’re hyperventilating, that’s not a very nice display There’s rolling thunder as your voice cracks And now here comes the rain So many tears in a sea full of pain

This may be hard to go through But like a river, you still must flow It may feel like you’ve reached the cliff, But there’s a ledge to catch you two feet below

86 Ocean Waves Just as the sun wakes up and falls to sleep At the end of every day You too, will reground, you will be okay As you view the stars in silence As if they are your burning thoughts You see how something that was so violent

Is now delicate and soft

As you focus on the moon before you As darkness envelops your eyes Remember that these storms are no accident They are created by design Your calmness will return And with it your peace of mind

You are a tableau panoramic In constant inharmonic motion You are infinite and dynamic The waves within an ocean

in:cite journal vol. 3 87 Twitter @incite_journal

Instagram @incite_journal

Facebook @incitej