A WALK ON HEALTH VALLEY TRAIL WITH SARAH THOMPSON

When pandemic restrictions began to lift, Sarah Thompson, founder and host of Lavender Fizz Comedy, realized her world had gotten too small and took action to create new experiences for herself.  

“I made the conscious choice to meet more people and get myself out there,” Thompson said. “So, I just started taking classes in anything I was interested in.”  

The decision to try new things led Thompson to the Pinch Cabaret, a local monthly variety show, after a friend gave her tickets. That decision profoundly shaped Thompson’s artistic pursuits, introducing her to a community of performers and collaborators and setting her on the path of standup and improv comedy.  

“Comedy is the way that I process all of my varied…particularly awkward social interactions,” Thompson said. “I love to make people laugh, and I love making people happy…I am reconnecting with the part of me that is really light and fun and funny.”  

It was also during the pandemic that Thompson discovered the Health Valley Trail where we met for our walk. The trail connects North Waterloo to St. Jacobs, and in 2021, with limited options available for activities, Thompson began exploring the space. She was immediately drawn to the trail’s playful elements, such as the carved Wise Old Oak tree, and the potential to see cows and horses.  

“Sometimes I need to get out and quite literally touch dirt or touch grass,” Thompson said. “And I think it’s really important to have accessibility to spaces and trails…to inspire art.”  

Thompson approaches standup comedy through storytelling and mining the humour from her lived experiences. It was at a comedy show at TWB, also hosted by Pinch Arts, that Thompson first discovered her inner comic when the host invited stories from the audience, and, after watching only men take the mic, she decided to jump in.  

“I feel like a lot of what I do is inspired by ‘well, fuck, if men can do it, then…I can probably do it better than they can’,” Thompson said. “[After the story] someone told me that I was really funny…and it was almost like this moment in my head where I [thought], ‘my God, I’m a standup comic!’”  

She began performing at mics locally and in Los Angeles while visiting, but struggled to find her people in the existing structures that were dominated by cis-het white male comics. A year after she started performing standup, Thompson created Lavender Fizz Comedy, Kitchener-Waterloo’s first and only open mic for 2SLGBTQIA+, women and non-binary comics. She hosts the monthly pay-what-you-can event that found a home at TWB Brewing in Kitchener, a space that prioritizes community and inclusion.  

“[Lavender Fizz] was born out of just wanting to find community, but also offer community and that kind of safe space,” Thompson said. “Success to me is just the laughter in the space, and seeing other people thrive…it’s such a beautiful, vibrant diverse community.”  

We passed through farmers’ fields and along well-worn paths under the tree canopy. Stopping on a newly constructed bridge, we peered down at the water before continuing on to a set of gates where horses greeted us in the idyllic trail setting.   

Thompson credits her parents with instilling in her a sense of creativity and the importance of community. Growing up, she watched her mother problem-solve and craft, and her father volunteer.  

“My dad [would] walk into a space and know everyone [there] through some kind of volunteerism,” Thompson said. “I was like, I want to be like that. I want to know the movers and shakers.”  

Not content to maintain the status quo, Thompson has plans for the future of Lavender Fizz. She is looking to move into more booked shows and wants to get a camera to record sets and provide that footage to comics so they can build their careers. And she has found great happiness in her hosting duties.  

“I love riffing, and hosting has really brought that quickness to the forefront and put it on display,” Thompson said. “I love setting people up for success and being the kind of host that I wanted [to have].”  

Only a year after launching the inclusive open-mic, Thompson was recognized with a nomination for Oktoberfest Woman of the year in the Arts and Culture category. And while getting a chance to perform and make people laugh remains important, Thompson’s love of building community is at the heart of her efforts.  

“There’s so much hate in the world and so much anger and so much hurt, and to be able to turn that off for a couple of hours once a month and to have people share their stories and just come together in laughter…is really beautiful,” Thompson said. “I love that people are willing to do that in a space that I created.”   

#2SLGBTQIA_ #AWalkInThePark #AmyNeufeld #artsAndCulture #Column #CraigBecker #HealthValleyTrail #lavendarFizzComedy #lavenderFizz #oktoberfestWoman #pinchCaberet #sarahThompson

SANCTUARY

The summer Rupert turned 15, his parents decided to sell their house on Finkle street. Rupert had been born on Finkle Street, and up to that point, never been forced to venture outside.  

As a child, when the world became too much, Rupert would duck into his bedroom closet. He’d close the door quietly and nestle down into his small, dark, fabric scented sanctuary. On moving day, Ruper ducked into his (now empty) closet one last time, and tried not to cry.  

The new neighbourhood was a maze of cul-du-sacs, filled with identical houses, and maple trees pruned like lollipops. Rupert hermitted in the blasting air conditioning and watched people outside.  

There was a woman with dark glasses. She walked a little dog, and whenever it got tired, the dog would lay down on its side, and the woman would keep plodding along, dragging it behind her like it was a mop.  

There was a boy about Rupert’s age too. He loped lankily along the sidewalk, and always wore his shoes without socks. When he passed, Rupert would withdraw from the window, just in case.  

To help Rupert’s listlessness, his parents gifted him a little cage filled with hay, and a wheel, and a clear plastic tube, and a hamster. The hamster was grey with quivering, bulbous black eyes.  

Looking at that hamster in that cage all day made Rupert want to scream. In his distress, he left the new house and roamed, pedalling up and down the cul-de-sacs and courts.  

This was how Rupert found Wildgrove Creek.  

Wildgrove Creek wasn’t very wild, and it wasn’t much of a creek. Rupert only knew it was Wildgrove Creek because of a little sign that said so. Really, it was a cement lined ditch behind a stripmall, with slow, shallow water that trickled and disappeared through some sewer pipes and under the highway.  

The creek was smelly, full of blackflies and frogs and a snapping turtle.  

Rupert was transfixed.  

From atop the cement bank, he watched the turtle float and bask. It had dragon claws and a muscular tail covered in swaying mats of algae. It blinked at him like it had been waiting for a meal since the dawn of time and could wait an eternity more. It was a dinosaur, a hermit, its shelter on its back, its round, reptilian eyes like mossy crystal balls. It was not concerned with the past or future, and it was not afraid.  

Over the next days, Rupert told the turtle stories and rolled hotdogs down the side of the basin, watching as the leathery neck extended, the maw gaped, the beak came snapping shut.  

“You’re lucky to have a shell,” he told it. “A hiding place wherever you go.”  

The turtle blinked up from the cement basin with its ancient swampy eyes.  

This went on until the day before Rupert was to start grade 10. That morning, he woke up cold and sweating. He knew that as the school year came on, he would have less time, less energy to see his turtle. This terrified him.  

“I’ll just have to bring it here,” he told his bedroom ceiling. “Then I can see it all the time.”  

That afternoon, when Rupert biked to Wildgrove Creek, the turtle was waiting for him, water flowing around its shell, staring up with a beatific, benevolent smile.  

“I’m going to bring you home,” Rupert said, “I’ll dig you a pond and you can live with me.”  

The turtle gazed up at him like a begging dog. It blinked one murky eye, which Rupert took as agreement.  

He stooped to grab the snapper, and the turtle, now accustomed to eating hot dogs, extending its leathery neck, gaped its maw, and snapped its jaws shut, lopping off Rupert’s pinky.  

Rupert screamed. He stared down at his gushing stump and went weak in the knees.   

The turtle blinked up at him lazily.   

“Ugh!” Holding his bleeding hand, Rupert stumbled up the bank of the creek. All he wanted was to go home. Not to his new house, but to his real home, his bedroom closet on Finkle street.  

But he was losing blood, and he thought he might throw up, and someone else lived there now. He stumbled to the closest house.  

“Help!” Rupert screamed.  

“Arf!” yapped a dog in response.  

Rupert’s heart dropped when he saw who opened the door: the old woman with the dark glasses. Her dog jumped and yapped and snarled .  

“My hand!” Cried Rupert. “I need a doctor!”  

The old woman couldn’t see Rupert’s mangled hand, but she had a grandson who could, and he retched when he saw it.  

He was the lanky boy who wore his shoes without socks. He’d just got his driver’s license. He drove Rupert to the ER and sat with him for nearly eight hours.  

Afterwards, the boy called Rupert ‘Stumps.’  

The two would sit by the creek and laugh. By October, Rupert walked the cul-de-sacs with ease. By January, they started holding hands, by March, they kissed each other, and by June, the boy graduated. He moved. The two broke up.  

The day the boy left, he awkwardly shook Rupert’s pinkiless hand, got into his crappy little car, and left.  

“It’s been good, Stumps.”  

Rupert sniffed. He cried. He wandered, trying to recapture his heart   

Eventually, he found himself on the banks of Wildgrove Creek.  

The turtle was long gone, but the trickle of dirty water sparkled, and the gnats hung in shafts of sun as Rupert stepped in. He followed it, through the dark sewer pipes, and under the rushing drone of the highway, and when Rupert emerged into sunlight at the other end of the tunnel, he found the cement lining gone, and his sobbing eased. The creek opened into a river with dappled, mucky banks. A quiet, peaceful place. A sanctuary.  

He wondered if he’d become more or less like the turtle in the past year. The question made him smile.  

#2SLGBTQIA_ #cement #comingOfAge #culDeSacs #hamster #JessiWood #Neighbourhood #sanctuary #shortFiction #shortStory #story #Summer #ZackMason

LOCAL MOVIE CELEBRATES THE QUEER HISTORY OF CANADA

Parade: Queer Acts of Resistance is an unflinching documentary which charts the rise of Canada’s 2SLGBTQIA+ rights movement through first-person testimony. Princess Twin Cinemas had one showing of the film on July 7 at 7 p.m. Rare archival footage of riotous acts and revolutionary drag shows is shown.  

“I remember reading about the gay activists in 1969, with the Stonewall riots, and thinking that was like me,” Richard Fung, a queer video artist who was interviewed in Parade and founder of Gay Asians of Toronto, said.   

It can be heart-breaking to see the parallels of a desperate need for social advocacy from the 1960’s to the modern day. Over 50 years have passed and yet some footage and sentiments expressed by the subjects remain true. In 1971, Toronto Gay Action and WeDemand organized the first national protest march in Ottawa. They wrote a document which listed the grievances of the queer community against parliament.   

“Homosexual men and women in Canada are fed up with being the butt of other people’s jokes. We are fed up with the lack of basic human respect due to all human beings,” Charlie Hill, a WeDemand activist, said.   

As a queer journalist, I found the most importance in learning about how 2SLGBTQIA+ matters were reported on in The Body Politic, a magazine written by queer people for queer people. It achieved a reputation nationally that was very rare for smaller publications in those days. They covered stories of people who were being arrested in bathrooms, at their jobs and out on the streets.   

“But I think Bill C-150 actually dramatically changed the conversation. From something that was the love that dared not speak its name to something that was on television,” Tim McCaskell, a gay writer said.   

With Super 8 footage interspliced with commentary from people who were in the marches, Parade is a very riveting film that both educates and empowers. It covers the way queer people were pushed from out of the closet into the streets.   

“Lesbian organizations were popping up all over the country. And it was a time where we needed to separate from gay men, because the fight we were fighting felt very different as women and as feminists,” Robin Tyler, a lesbian comic, said.   

The film continues its relevancy as it speaks about a Right-Wing American activist named Anita Bryant, who openly spoke out against the rights of queer teachers. Many Canadian queer activists were outraged at her coming to Toronto to speak, as they were worried of the influence the United-States politics would have at home. I found it poignant when the editorial staff of The Body Politic green-lit an article called “Men Loving Boys Loving Men,” which led to the Toronto Sun writing a scathing article on the contrary.   

“It’s not the sort of thing that I want the homosexual groups to get into the schools, which is really the main area they want to get in, they’ll tell you this themselves and preach their gospel of homosexuality to impressionable kids. I don’t want that to happen,” Claire Hoy, a Toronto Sun journalist, said in Parade.   

The part of the movie which spoke to me the most was section called “Hello Here I Am.” It focused on the lives and actions of queer Black and Brown people in Toronto. The young activists of the 1980s were rallying against police action after “Operation Soap” and the bathhouse raids took place. This was the catalyst for the visible and predominantly white queer community to start working with the Black and Racialized communities of Toronto in solidarity against police brutality.   

“It was the first organization that was specifically looking at people who are not white. You know ‘If you’re white, you’re right. If you’re brown, turn around.’ There just was no space for people of colour,” Tony Souza, an organizer for the Bathhouse Raids Demonstration, said.   

The film is a love letter and tribute to the elders and activists that paved the way for 2SLGBTQIA+ people today. The Director Noam Gonick captures a gritty look at Canada after the 1969 Amendments and the decriminalization of homosexuality. 

#2SLGBTQIA_ #billC150 #Canada #claireHoy #dragShows #feminists #gayActivists #Ottawa #paradeQueerActsOfResistance #PrincessTwinCinemas #robinTyler #theBodyPolitic #torontoGayAction #wedemand

RECLAIMING AND REFRAMING PRIDE

June marks Pride Month, when queer folx celebrate our continued existence. Across the world, street parades and festivals occur, people come out both figuratively and literally, and we have a gay old time—pun absolutely intended.   

But before those of us with the privilege and ability to attend our expensive and all too often inaccessible pride events, I would like us all to take a minute to reflect on how we got here, and where we are headed. 

The saying “pride began as a protest” has become a bit trite, but it is true. However, years of complacency have allowed our marginalized community members to be left behind. Now that it is threatening to affect white, moneyed queers, the klaxons have begun sounding.   

I fear it may be too late—as always, the most marginalized will suffer the most.   

We may be taken back to a time when it was completely illegal to be queer, gay sex was outlawed, wearing clothes that did not conform to your assumed gender at birth would subject you to humiliating searches and treatment by the police, and raids on our gathering places were a regular occurrence.   

In the light of those conditions arose a powder keg, one that would explode with the events of Stonewall. We had begun organizing across intersectional lines before then, but within a year, the first pride marches happened on June 28th, the anniversary of Stonewall, across America and within two years it spread internationally. Among the strongest leaders of the queer rights movement, which was then known as the homophile and the gay liberation movement, were and are trans people of colour, and they have always faced the most repression and oppression.  

The movement was not perfect and continues to be imperfect, as any movement created within a white supremacist, patriarchal society will contain some of those ills, and the queer rights movement has certainly been no exception. We cannot ignore this reality; we can only fight to change it now.   

We must learn from our past, what worked and what didn’t work, because our past informs us of our current moment. As I sit here in 2025, writing this article thinking back upon our history, it is clear and evident that, while things have changed drastically, they also have stayed much the same, and it even appears a growing movement is attempting to take us back to a time wherein we are again subjugated and dehumanized to the utmost extent.   

Across Canada, this currently looks like school board level decisions on representation, the 1 Million March 4 Children, book bans and whole provinces wherein accessing gender affirming care becomes nearly impossible.

The same is happening across the world, a movement to take us back. We cannot go back, we will not go back, and the way we continue moving forward is to fight.

So, as we head to our parks and town squares for pride, remember that our ability to have these events is paved upon the blood, sweat and tears of our elders, and the responsibility to continue having these events lies on our shoulders.

For those who have been harmed, for those who have been killed, and for those who never got to live their truth either because of their circumstances or because the larger queer community, where the definition of “the community” and entry into spaces are routinely gatekept by those of us with the most privilege, refused to open itself to them and allow them in, for all these siblings and more we must continue the fight.

We must learn from our present and past and strengthen our bonds across intersectional lines because, at the end of the day, we either stand together or we die together. 

#2SLGBTQIA_ #America #bookBans #Canada #gatekept #gaySex #homophile #june #oneMillionMarch #prideEvents #prideMonth #queer #queerFolx #stonewall

WELCOME TO OUR QRIB

Willow River Centre and Spectrum’s Black, Racialized and Indigenous Queers (BRIQ) House are co-organizing a series of events called QRIB (Queer, Racialized, Indigenous and Black) community hangouts to help foster a safer community for self-identifying queer, racialized, Indigenous and Black individuals. 

The two organizations started hosting these hangouts last year from Aug. 9 to Dec 13. Initially focused on karaoke, the hangouts have since evolved to include other community-focused activities like bonfires and discussion circles. 

The name “QRIB” is a play on words for the word crib and was chosen to evoke a sense of home or gathering space. The Willow-River Centre, an event venue based in Kitchener, played a key role by offering a space designed for the Indigenous and racialized queer population, incorporating culturally specific elements, local art and non-hierarchical, healing-focused community values, instead of clinical or colonial support models. 

“They bring a sense of safety for a lot of Indigenous and queer people locally,” Karla Gomez, a facilitator of the QRIB hangout, said.  

Spectrum provides funding and support, including food and resources at hangouts. Though the organization wasn’t initially inclusive, recent leadership changes made it more committed to reconciliation and community prioritization.  

“The hangouts are non-hierarchical, free, and community-led, fostering healing and connection in ways that feel safe and liberating to those involved,” Roni Noodle, a director of the QRIB hangouts, said. 

Noodle also explained how QRIB is unique in Kitchener-Waterloo, and no other local spaces offer the same intersectional support for 2SLGBTQIA+ and racialized individuals. Noodle described BRIQ House as another supportive space for Indigenous and queer people in the area but noted it holds a different relationship with the community compared to Willow River Centre. Although Spectrum started hosting QRIB hangouts to create a more inclusive space, it’s not a space designed for racialized, Black and Indigenous individuals. Even though they’re attempting to change, they decided a partnership with Willow River Centre will help them. 

“It’s a space where you don’t need to translate your soul. It’s designed with you in mind,” Roni said.  

They said that people from within the racialized or queer community are not always comfortable in public spaces and they do not feel acknowledged or seen, but this is a space where those individuals can feel comfort and express themselves more freely. 

Noodle explained that last year’s QRIB hangouts went very well. However, Spectrum’s director changed earlier this year and the two organizations were not sure if they had funding for the hangouts this year. However, the new director was very supportive of the events. 

“Events like this are too important to the community for us not to prioritize funding for it,” Gomez said.  

She said events such as the QRIB hangout need to exist, saying that Spectrum continues to show commitment to supporting these hangouts, by applying for funding for racialized Indigenous Queers. 

These events have had a successful turnout so far, with returning participants and new individuals joining the hangout, these events also address local issues revolving around the racialized, queer, and Indigenous communities such as peer support, food insecurity, loneliness, and isolation.

#2SLGBTQIA_ #Black #colonialSupportModel #FoodInsecurity #healingFocused #Indigenous #Isolation #karlaGomez #KitchenerWaterloo #LocalArt #loneliness #PeerSupport #qrib #queer #racialized #RoniNoodle #SafeSpace #SangjunHan #Spectrum #WillowRiverCentre

NOWHERE TO GO: THE PUBLIC WASHROOM SHORTAGE IN KITCHENER WATERLOO

In a region known for innovation and growth, one necessity remains elusive: a place to go when nature calls. For residents, tourists and the city’s most vulnerable, the search for a public washroom in Kitchener-Waterloo can feel like a scavenger hunt—one with no prize at the end. 

Despite being home to over half a million people, Kitchener-Waterloo has very few public washrooms. In 2024, the City of Waterloo unveiled a stand-alone public toilet: the Uptown Loo. Installed on a traffic island at the south end of Uptown Waterloo, the facility has all the bells and whistles— it is self-cleaning, accessible and secure. But it is also a stark reminder of how far the region still must go. 

The Uptown Loo was a step forward, but it remains the only one of its kind. According to municipal records, there are no public bathrooms in the region that are open 24 hours a day, year-round. Even the Uptown Loo closes at night. The few round-the-clock options are seasonal porta-potties at sports fields—hardly a solution for a growing urban population. And while private businesses once filled the gap, many have now locked their doors to non-customers, citing safety and maintenance concerns. 

This shortage is more than civic oversight—it is a public health and human rights issue: for people experiencing homelessness, those with medical conditions, parents with young children and members of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community. The lack of accessible washrooms can mean indignity, discomfort and danger. For those with disabilities or chronic illnesses, the lack of accessible facilities can be a barrier to participating in public life altogether. 

Historically, public bathrooms have been fraught with social tension. In Canada, moral panics around gay sex led to the closure of many public facilities. These closures were often justified under the guise of public safety, but they disproportionately targeted marginalized communities. The legacy of that era still lingers in how cities design and manage public spaces today. 

“Public spaces reflect our values,” Troy Glover, a professor in the Department of Recreation and Leisure Studies at the University of Waterloo, said. “If we truly want public spaces to work for all people, we have to start by asking who they’re currently designed to exclude.” 

In Kitchener-Waterloo, the answer is clear. The people arguably most in need of public facilities—those experiencing homelessness, people who use drugs and members of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community—are often the ones left out of the conversation. And when they are included, it is usually in the context of risk management rather than rights. 

One of the most contentious issues surrounding public bathrooms today is their association with drug use. There is a widespread perception that public washrooms will become hotspots for drug consumption, leading to overdoses and safety concerns. While this fear is not entirely unfounded, it is often exaggerated and used to justify inaction. 

According to the Region of Waterloo’s Drug Overdose and Poisoning Dashboard, approximately 12 per cent of paramedic calls for overdoses or poisonings occur in public indoor spaces. However, the data lacks specificity—there is no breakdown of what types of spaces these are, and the Region has declined to provide further clarification despite multiple requests.  

Geoff Bardwell, a faculty member at the School of Public Health Sciences at University of Waterloo and a member of the Waterloo Region Drug Action Team, notes that he is unaware of any research on the frequency of drug usage in public washrooms vs. other locations in the Region. 

This lack of data makes it difficult to have an informed public debate. It also reinforces harmful stereotypes about who uses public bathrooms and why. The need for accessible, safe washrooms is universal. Everyone, at some point needs to go.  

“I think, in short, people need to be able to use washrooms,” Bardwell said.  

“[W]e should not be making decisions about washroom access under assumptions that bad things will happen in them,” he said. 

There are solutions. Cities around the world have implemented innovative bathroom strategies, from Portland’s “Portland Loo” to Tokyo’s transparent public toilets that turn opaque when occupied. These designs prioritize safety, cleanliness and accessibility—proving that public bathrooms don’t have to be dirty, dangerous or stigmatized. 

In Waterloo, the Uptown Loo is a promising start. It features a braille map, an adult change table, grab bars and a system that alerts an attendant if the door remains locked for more than 20 minutes. Its walls are coated with graffiti-proof material, and it includes an emergency button for users in distress.  

But officials with the City of Waterloo have confirmed that they have no plans to provide any more facilities like the Uptown Loo, citing costs and security as the primary factors in that decision.  

The City of Kitchener has also confirmed that they have no plans to create any more public washrooms. 

As Kitchener-Waterloo continues to grow, the need for inclusive infrastructure becomes more urgent. Public bathrooms are not a luxury—they are a cornerstone of a functional, compassionate city. Without them, we send a clear message about who is welcome and who is not. 

So the next time you’re out in Kitchener-Waterloo and nature calls, ask yourself: where can you go? And more importantly, who can’t? 

#2SLGBTQIA_ #bathrooms #drugConsumptions #Drugs #FionaMcAlister #GeoffBardwell #kitchenerWaterloo #poisoningDashboard #publicDebate #publicWashroomShortage #Region #uptown #uptownLoo #uptownWaterloo #washrooms #WaterlooRegionDrugAction #waterloosDrugOverdose

WILLOW RIVER CENTRE FACES FUNDING CUTS

Willow River Centre will temporarily close its doors due to a lack of funding. 

The Centre has served as the first dedicated space for the Two-Spirit and queer Indigenous community in the region. 

Bangishimo Johnston and Amy Smoke, co-founders of the Willow River Centre, are looking to sublet their current space while simultaneously looking for a smaller, more inexpensive place to relocate the Centre.  

The Centre will remain open through June; after that, the Centre will no longer have the funding to remain open. 

Johnston said that they originally began reclaiming space when they started Land Back Camp in Willow River Park in June 2020. 

Four years later, the co-founders of the Centre moved into their physical building.  

Ever since, the Willow River Centre has been a space for gathering and collaboration. Most importantly, it has provided a one-of-a-kind safe space for Indigenous and queer folks in the community.  

“I think we’ve really cultivated a safe space and authentic space for folks to be whoever they are,” Smoke said. 

“There’s been so many great firsts that we’ve witnessed … someone saying for the first time, ‘I’m a queer person,’ or someone saying, ‘I found more about my grandmother, my connection to my Indigeneity’—that can be lifesaving,” they said.  

Roni Noodle, facilitator of the Queer, racialized, Indigenous, Black group (QRIB) through Spectrum—which runs in partnership with the Willow River Centre—said the Centre has been a healing space.  

Specifically, Noodle said the space allows them to feel a sense of belonging with regards to both the queer and Indigenous pieces of their identity.  

“When I’ve been in spaces where I could be racialized, I didn’t feel like I could be queer because it wasn’t safe,” Noodle said.  

“When I go to a queer space, I’m the only racialized person there, and so I don’t feel like I can be both racialized and queer, but [Willow River Centre] has been really helpful for that,” they said. 

“Everyone deserves a space where they can be their whole selves and not just to be tolerated but celebrated. I think that’s a really big deal,” Noodle said. 

Willow River Centre was first started through the Upstream Fund, which was originally allocated to Black and Indigenous groups in the Waterloo region.  

“The region then decided that it should go towards numerous groups in the region, not just black and Indigenous,” Johnston said. 

“It’s great that all these groups can have money, but now there’s very little money being dispersed across all these groups, and a lot of these groups aren’t being supported with a long-term plan,” they said. 

In addition to looking for a smaller space to relocate, the co-founders are open to partnering up with another organization to share their current building, making it more affordable to stay long-term. 

“We chose the site specifically because of the racialized and gender-based violence that has occurred in Willow River Park,” Smoke said. “It’s got quite a violent history. So, we chose to put our bodies on the land in that space.” 

Smoke said that, prior to colonization, the Grand River Watershed was an economic hub of activity where InterNations would meet and gather, making it a significant location for the Centre as well.  

“Our community is still struggling for space today, and not only the Indigenous community, but so many other grassroots groups, so many other racialized groups, queer groups, artistic groups, we’re all fighting for space in the region because there’s so little,” Bangishimo said. 

With June being National Indigenous People’s month and Pride month, Smoke is encouraging the community to support local Indigenous folks and donate. 

“Look to the people around you and how you can be a better ally. Be an accomplice, not an ally,” Smoke said. 

#2SLGBTQIA_ #AmySmoke #artisticGroups #BangishimoJohnston #ChristoffLeRoux #grandRiverWatershed #Indigenous #internations #nationalIndigenousPeoplesMonth #prideMonth #queerGroups #racializedGroups #SafinaJennah #Space #WillowRiverCentre

DIVE BAR CLOSURE A SHOCK, BUT NOT A SURPRISE

https://communityedition.ca/dive-bar-closure-a-shock-but-not-a-surprise/

#2SLGBTQ_ #2SLGBTQIA_ #adamBryan #AdrianQuijano #bar #BrianScheid #diveBar #drag #KatarinaWex #LGBTBar #LGBTQ_ #LocalArt #LocalArtist #localBusiness #localBusinesses #localMusic #LocalMusician #Spectrum #triPride

EDITORIAL NOTE: UW’S RESPONSE TO OCCUPY UW IS DISRESPECTFUL TO THE STUDENTS AND TO THE COMMUNITY

https://communityedition.ca/editorial-note-uws-response-to-occupy-uw-is-disrespectful-to-the-students-and-to-the-community/

#2SLGBTQIA_ #AdrianQuijano #GazaHouse #GeovannyVillalbaAleman #GraduateHouse #HarleenKaurDhillon #injunction #Israel #LGBTQ_ #OccupyUW #Palestine #universityOfWaterloo #UW #wilfridLaurierUniversity