Things I’ve Learned from Three Years of Column Writing, Xtra West, September 11, 2008

Dear readers, guess what? This is my last column for Xtra West. I’ve had so much fun here over the past three years. What could be better than having a public forum for my various ponderings, rants, opinions and even, I admit it, some whining? How luxurious, how decadent. But the time has come to focus my time and energy on new endeavours. More…

A Penchant for the Fruity, Xtra West, July 16, 2008

I’m finishing this column on the screened-in porch of my aunt Anne’s house in New York while the crickets chirp and the fireflies flash on and off. My girlfriend and I have spent the past two weeks visiting family. When I’m not having little fits of rage or moments of gooey love, and I’m not busy drinking wine or eating chocolate, I’ve been trying to take advantage of this excellent opportunity for increasing self —understanding. (I’m not even being sarcastic, that’s how introspective I have become here among the crickets.) More…

Help available for queers in abusive relationships, Xtra West, May 22, 2008

Acknowledging our history gives us a richer sense of community. It shows respect for the work of the people who came before us. It saves the younger ones from reinventing the wheel. It can also make us safer, in very concrete ways. For example, last issue this newspaper ran a cover story on queer domestic violence, with minimal acknowledgement of the activism on the issue that has been happening right here in Vancouver for the past 15 years at least. Read the rest on the Xtra site.

Posse of Exes, Xtra West, March 27, 2008

It’s been almost 15 years since I came out. God, that seems like such a long time. You’d think I’d be at the Master’s Level in dykiness or something by now. But the truth is that I still lack quite a few lezzie credentials. For example, I do not have what a friend of mine calls “the posse of exes” — you know, the gang of ex-lovers who are now your best friends.
More…

Her Own Person, Xtra West #375, January 2, 2008

The night I arrived in New York, my dad and his sisters had gone through a bottle and a half of wine and still hadn’t thought of anything to say about Grandma at her 90th birthday party the next day. My aunts had elected Dad to give the speech and they had agreed to help write it. “But to be honest,” one of them said, “I can’t think of anything very complimentary.” More…