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2017 in Review

The Year in Apocalypses

There comes a moment, and perhaps it has come in 2017, when I need to believe something better is coming.

The Year in Collaboration

Being a woman in male spaces is a gradual, embedded process of disloyalty. When it makes you uncomfortable and sad, that, you are told, is the price of safety.

The Year in Your Future Self

Radical self-care in a randomized order to match all the curveballs coming at us in this new Thunderdome where we are all trapped.

The Year in a Twin Bed

By twenty-seven I was supposed to be well on my way to stability, or at least the illusion of such. Instead, my life had increasingly taken on a scrappy plainness.

The Year in Reconciliation

Canadians want to focus on Gord Downie, on anniversaries, on the prime minister’s photo-ops, on giant rubber ducks—on anything, it seems, but Indigenous people.

The Year in Falling Apart

This year, this prolonged unraveling, is what survival looks like.

The Year in Ugliness

If beauty is in acts of ordinary devotion I think ugliness must be in the acts of everyday neglect.

The Year in Living Alone

I am learning what it is to be responsible for my own warmth.

The Year in Cultivation

One thing I love about many types of guardianship in food is that it requires you watch, but not too closely.

The Year in Tension

Day-to-day, I, a queer Native person leaping around this deeply stolen and homophobic land, try to lessen the ambient tensions floating in my air. Now I had to do the opposite.