This is just a short post to say thank you to all those who supported me throughout the past year. It was a challenging one. Plenty of tears and laughter shared among new friends and old. To my friends in London, thank you for being so supportive in my journey to where I am today. To my new friends in Ottawa, I can’t wait to do some amazing work with you all!  And to my family, who continue to support me with everything that I do, thank you! Without you, I am nothing.

Thank to all those individuals who reached out and asked me help with a project, an event or to speak at an event. Thank you to those outlets that asked me to author a piece. Thank you to those individuals who got my foot in the door.

To those individuals who had no knowledge about sex work, thank you for reaching out and asking for more information on how you can help. We can use more of you. Continue to reach out and ask how you can help (hint: donations to your local sex work organization or the closest sex work organization usually helps).

To all the sex workers, sex work organizations, allies, activists, lawyers, researchers, journalists, politicians… just too many to name: thank you for all your help in the fight to decriminalize sex work! The fight didn’t end in January 2014 when c-36 was introduced and it certainly didn’t end in December 2014.

And #sexwork twitter? Thank you, and keep being badass!

To all the sex workers that continue to work in the face of danger, with decreased safety networks and who continue to support each other, I want you to know that you are all strong, resilient beautiful human beings. No abusive and violent law can take that away from you. Stay beautiful, stay strong, and most importantly, stay safe.

Here is a list of the top 5 posts of 2014 on kwe today!

1. Public Issues vs Private Troubles
   • Year after year, this post always makes it to the top of the pile. This post is also the number one post to be found using the search terms “public issues” and “private troubles”. If you are a first year sociology student, you probably were in the search of some examples of a public issue/private trouble and found this post! You’re welcome.
2. What Naomi Klein gets wrong in her #MMIW Article
   • This is a recent post so I am surprised it made the top 5 list. The response to this was interesting to say the least. A lot of people felt I was personally attacking her work and her relationship with Bella’s sister (note: I wasn’t). Some also felt that I was attacking the hard work that went into putting on the event (again, I wasn’t). This post was a direct critique of the Globe and Mail article. Yes, it was beautiful and yes it said a lot of important things. But we have to be honest with ourselves, it also did NOT say a lot of important things. And to the white women who are upset the fight against the injustice of #MMIW isn’t about your feelz, get over it. Fighting colonialism and all of its racism, (hetero)patriachy, and (trans)misogyny is never about white women feelz. Never has been and never will.
3. The problem with restorative justice
   • The title of this blog post is pretty much self-explanatory. I’ve been there, done that with the restorative justice approaches in the criminal justice system and I think we can make some room for improvement–not that I am advocating for improving the criminal justice system since it is a colonial system in itself but if this is what we are working with… yeah, big time improvements. Hey, while we are at it, here is a neat idea: prison abolition!
4. #MMIWG: So you want a national inquiry?
   • This was a post written earlier in the year after politicians began calling for a national inquiry. I wrote this out of anger since I fear (and still do fear) that the MMIW inquiry issue will be taken up as a political tool in the upcoming election. This issue isn’t new. But all of a sudden *poof* the words “national inquiry” has been repeated over and over this year. As the year went on, more and more people (namely non-politicians and Indigenous folks, including families of MMIWG and victims who survived violence) began calling for a national inquiry. If people asked me today about whether there should be a national inquiry, I would have to caution to those that I am only one person and that I do not represent all Indigenous peoples or communities. It is important that we acknowledge that there are many Indigenous communities with many unique needs. Some of these needs include a national response to the MMIW issue and some of the needs include community based responses like #ItStartsWithUs.  I am just fearful that this will become a political tool until it no longer serves the longer range purposes.
5. #c36: People are not there to protect women like me
   • In this post, I discuss the obvious problems with c-36 (Protection of Communities and Exploited Persons Act). Like many of my other posts relating to sex work and c-36, it calls for the full decriminalization of sex work to help stop the violence against what is defined as the most vulnerable and marginalized, Indigenous women and girls. You can also read this piece I did for NOW on police violence, domestic violence and sexual assault.

This post is a critique of Razack’s piece, “Gendered Racial Violence and Spatialized Justice: The Murder of Pamela George”, who was an Indigenous woman and worked on the streets as a prostitute (this is the term employed by Razack in her article). I will outline Razack’s assumptions and how they do not set out Razack’s intentions: exploring the trial of a murder of an Indigenous woman who worked on the streets as a prostitute to introduce the idea of colonial violence within spatialized justice. Spatialized justice is defined as “violence against marginalized people in places like the Downtown Eastside are treated differently than those who live elsewhere and who are engaged in different work.”[1] While her work provides a useful framework for discussing violence, the issue with this piece is the very thing that is has become useful for: discussion of violence against Indigenous women in colonized spaces.

Razack begins, “why write about this trial as spatialized justice and gendered racial or colonial violence?” (p. 125). Her answer to this question is to call attention to “a number of factors contributed to masking the violence of the two accused and thus, diminishing their legal culpability and responsibility for the death of Pamela George” (p. 125). Briefly, some of these factors include the erasure of colonial violence and treating prostitution as a contract which is both violence and negates violence. She asserts that Pamela George existed in spaces of prostitution and Aboriginality where “violence routinely occurs” (p. 125) (as if this violence is natural to prostitution and Aboriginality). She also maintains that this not an argument about generic patriarchal violence against women (as if patriarchal violence has ever been generic); rather, her piece is an argument about race, space and the law (p. 126). Overall, Razack plans to contests the reasoning that “women working as prostitutes are considered by law to have consented to whatever violence is visited upon them” (p. 126).[2]

Razack acknowledge the histories, where white men were/are historically the perpetrators of violence against Indigenous women within the context of domination and control, as what brings the encounters between Pamela and her two attackers together (p. 126). Razack submits that it is also history what is missing from the trial (p. 126). While it is very true that it is history, including Pamela’s history that is missing from this trial, I would argue that it is George’s indigeneity that is missing from the trial. I find this more of an issue with case law as a whole, regardless of whether the case is criminal or another area of law or whether the victim is Indigenous or the offender is Indigenous. This can be seen in the case of R v Briscoe, where the victim was a young Indigenous girl, and Winnipeg Child and Family Services v. G(DF) where G is an Indigenous mother. In the former, the Supreme Court of Canada (SCC) does not mention the victim’s indigeneity and in the latter, G’s indigeneity was acknowledged but the history of colonialism was not. Though the issue is that history is missing, this is part of a much larger problem as the issue exists within how law is formed and shaped. When case law carefully extracts certain facts as more relevant than others, it determines some facts as unimportant and these irrelevant facts tend to point to colonialism and indigeneity. So I will agree that this history is erased. But it is also important to acknowledge that this is a larger problem of the legal system as how law is both shaped and formed through case law.

Razack also recognizes the over-policing and over-incarceration in the lives of Indigenous peoples which play out through prostitution, policing and the criminal justice system (p. 127). Indigenous women who both live and work on the street report higher incidents of police violence and harassment.[3] If she accepts that Indigenous peoples are over-policed and over-incarceration, then she must acknowledge that it is the criminalization of prostitution that creates the space for over-policing and over-incarceration of Indigenous women, especially Indigenous women who work outdoors, like Pamela George. Through this criminalization, these same women are then forced to work in isolated areas such as the field where Pamela was murdered, away from protection and safety. She agrees and affirms this reality that Pamela was forced to an isolated field where she was later murdered and that other Indigenous women were also driven to secluded areas for the purpose of murder (p. 142; 134; 135). But she does not recognize that it is this forced isolation and displacement that contributes to the violence anywhere in her piece. In fact, Razack ignores the reality that it is being displaced to isolated places like the field where Pamela was murdered that creates the environment for violence to occur. In her efforts to historicize Pamela’s circumstances and tragic outcome, Razack fails on all counts. She focuses solely on the acts that occurred in the field and not the space that it occurred in (p. 142-144). She also fails to identify the isolated fields where she was murdered as an outcome of the criminalization of prostitution, though she acknowledges prostitution as a site of over-policing but not under-protection.

The “innate” violence in prostitution that Razack attempts to position as the real violence in prostitution also negates the personhood of women like Pamela. Razack refers to these women as simply passive bodies waiting to be penetrated, dominated and violated (p. 136-137). In other words, they are merely objects. In critiquing the objectification done by the Indian Agents and the NWMP (RCMP’s predecessor), she disparages Pamela by reducing her to a body existing in space. For Razack, women in prostitution exist in spaces of prostitution as nothing more than bodies (p. 136). She continues with the reasoning that we, the reader, exist within histories of domination and subordination for which we are accountable (p. 128). But how is Razack being held accountable for her continued subordination of Indigenous women as passive bodies, or more appropriately, objects occupying colonial spaces? In an attempt to position Pamela as existing within a space of prostitution and Aboriginality, which we must remember Razack asserts as a space of routine violence, she positions Pamela as a body existing within these spaces. When she argues that the space of prostitution is where men use women in these spaces or purchase access to their bodies (p. 136), she argues that this is a violation of their personhood. Yet, she re-affirms this violation by reducing all women in prostitution to passive bodies.

It is hard to follow Razack’s logic when she focuses on prostitution as innately violent and concedes that Indigenous peoples interactions with white settlers is situated within prostitution, policing, and the criminal justice system. She also admits that this over-incarceration and policing strategies is an indicator of the ongoing colonialization of Indigenous populations (p. 133). If this is what she submits, then she must also admit, as noted earlier, that the criminalization of prostitution as a result of the criminal justice system and policing initiatives and responses to prostitution ultimately contributes to the violence that she suggests is “innate” to prostitution. She contradicts herself by admitting that violence exists between Indigenous peoples and white settlers in the context of prostitution but ignores the on-going criminalization of prostitution through the criminal justice system, its legal regimes and policing agencies.

Further, in her discussion of spatial configurations of colonial societies through boundaries and through laws, she explicitly lists nuisance laws as a mark of spaces of settler and the native. She ignores the fact that, at the time, Canada’s anti-prostitution laws policing outdoor workers were largely enacted to prevent nuisance (p. 129). At the moment, this has recently changed. Regrettably, the Canadian government enacted similar anti-prostitution laws, including a specific law that will police outdoor workers in the same manner that forced them to work in isolated places, like Pamela George, as the previously struck down laws. Additionally, this “new” communication law is enacted with the intention to help stop the impediment of traffic, as opposed to preventing nuisance. I guess the movement of traffic is more important than the lives of sex workers.[4]

Throughout the entire article, her discussion of violence is most troubling. She ignores the police violence when talking about Indigenous women in prostitution. She admits repeatedly that the violence in prostitution is natural ignoring the fact that it is through the criminalization of prostitution that this violence manifests itself. When she describes the incident of policing using dogs to force an Indigenous woman accused of prostitution out of her house, she does not name this as violence (p. 134). More explicitly, police using dogs to remove Indigenous women from their homes is just “natural.” She does not even acknowledge that being forced to work in isolated places away from protection creates the environment for violence to take place. In fact, she erases this reality of under-protection, displacement to isolated places and police violence altogether. Why does she not name this violence as police violence or more appropriately, colonial violence? She commits the offence she intends to call attention to by erasing this history and colonial violence; she talks about this violence as cleansing but her erasure of colonialism and history of police violence is cleansing of colonialism (p.143).

Another fallacy presents itself when she does not in fact contest the idea that women in prostitution call the violence into their lives. This is evident when she recognizes the fact that the field Pamela is murdered is isolated but ignores the fact that the criminalization of prostitution forces these women to work in isolated places. Even in her critique of prostitution where the law that treats prostitution as a contract, she reduces the violence that these women experience as existing only between individuals and not as a result of larger structures that govern and regulate their lives. She ignores how the criminal regulation of prostitution creates these spatial configurations in colonial societies. In an attempt to espouse the liberal idea of free, autonomous individuals she also reduces this violence as existing between individuals which erases colonial violence. (p.143). In her discussion of the trial, she states that the court viewed Pamela as a “rightful target” or a “by product” by arguing that this violence is naturalized when prostitution is reduced to a contract where the contract negates the violence that women in prostitution experience (p. 144). In the same breathe, however, she argues that when the law treats prostitution as a contract, this is violence itself (p. 144). How can something simultaneously be violence and negate violence?

Further, she does not distinguish between the treatment of prostitution as contract which is violence and prostitution as violence itself. Razack attempts to argue when the law treats prostitution as a contract it assumes the violence as something that happens in prostitution (p. 159). Something she also concedes in her argument that prostitution is innately violent (p. 152). If Razack admits that treating prostitution as a contract both is violence and negates violence, then calling prostitution innately violent works in a similar fashion. In other words, calling prostitution as innately violent is both violence and negates violence. This is demonstrated in Razack’s negation of police violence or more suitably, colonial violence. On top of this, she argues that this treatment of prostitution as a contract erases Pamela’s personhood (p. 127).

Razack intends that ” a spatial analysis reveals is that bodies in degenerate space lose their entitlement to personhood through a complex process in which that is enacted is naturalized” (p. 155). This the very same loss of personhood that Razack maintains when women engaging in prostitution are merely bodies existing in space waiting to be violated as if they cannot say yes or no and if one says yes, they never actually said yes. She attempts to argue that accepting prostitution as a contract naturalizes the violence in prostitution but she also commits this same offence by postulating that prostitution is innately violent. Razack’s ultimate goal, if not anything, was to introduce Pamela’s murder and the unlikelihood of the court and Canadian’s society treating her as a person (p. 156). Why then does Razack reduce women like Pamela to passive bodies, objects, waiting to penetrated and violated? Relegating Indigenous women, like Pamela George, to bodies waiting to be violated is colonial violence in itself.

Through this re-reading of Razack’s article, I want to call attention to her failure to contest the idea that women in prostitution deserve the violence that they experience. She does very little to address this notion. Arguably, she re-affirms these notions that women deserve the violence that they experienced by calling the violence in prostitution innate. It is often these same statements that prostitution is innately violent which inform societal and legal reactions to prostitution and prostitutes. This can be seen with the most recent enactment of Protection of Communities and Exploited Persons Act, where supporters of the law called prostitution innately violent and the government accepted this understanding of prostitution as normal, proceeding to enact the same violent laws that contributed to the isolation and alienation of the most marginalized women in prostitution—women like Pamela George. We also seen from this recent passing of this new law that the government’s goal was not to protect prostitutes[5] and throughout the entire Bedford constitutional challenge of Canada’s anti-prostitution laws, where the AG argued that prostitution is innately violent and because of this innate violence, women who engage in prostitution assume the associated risks.[6] More fitting, the women deserve the violence that they experience because who in their right mind would consent to a violent activity.

Razack then presents the following question: did Pamela George get what she deserved as an Aboriginal woman prostitute? (p. 151) From Razack’s assumptions about prostitution and Aboriginality, that they are spaces of routine violence, and her failure to contest the notion that women working as prostitutes are considered by law to have consented to whatever violence is visited upon them, Pamela George, and other women like George, accepted the violence that they experienced by engaging in prostitution. It is these same ideas that prostitution is innately violent that inform the very same legal response to prostitution: that women consented to the violence that they experienced. Razack argues that treating prostitution as a contract removes individuals from relations of domination, when colonialism is also a system of domination (p. 143). She is guilty of removing individuals from relations or systems of domination by reducing this violence as existing between individuals, not questioning how larger structures that govern and regulate prostitution as a criminal behavior. This is demonstrated when she admits that Indigenous women are 131 times more likely to be incarcerated than non-Indigenous women (p. 134). Yet she fails to question the criminalization of prostitution as creating a relation of domination within the larger system of domination, colonialism.

Razack presents a concluding question: what would it mean to deliberately introduce history and social context into trial? (p. 156) I propose to ask more correctly: what would it mean to introduce the history that Razack blatantly and explicitly left out, like the fact that the first bawdyhouse law and subsequent anti-prostitution laws were enacted under the Indian Act?[7] How are Razack’s assumptions about prostitution contributing to colonial violence against Indigenous women? In talking about a historical contextualization, we have to be honest in how academics like Razack are touted as compelling and persuasive and how their assertions remain unquestioned and removed from critique and critical evaluation.

When we return to her original question: “why write about this trial as spatialized justice and gendered racial or colonial violence?” (p. 125) If Razack actually addressed colonial violence and the history of colonialism, like the history of Canada’s anti-prostitution laws and the policing of Indigenous persons, as creating the environments for violence that she assumes is routine to the space of Aboriginality and prostitution, then a more appropriate framework for discussing violence against Indigenous women may have been produced. Instead what is (re)produced is colonial assumptions about Indigenous women as passive bodies waiting to be violated. In closing, I propose that people question how this piece and others like it, which call prostitution as innately violent, is colonial violence in itself and begin to question how the criminal regulation of Indigenous women’s sexualities and bodies perpetuates the ongoing colonial violence in their lives. It is about time that this piece stops being recycled as a persuasive and compelling for discussing violence in the lives of Indigenous women and girls, especially those who engage in prostitution, when reducing Indigenous women to passive bodies, or objects, waiting to be violated is violence in itself.

[1] http://www.pivotlegal.org/pivot-points/blog/calling-out-spatialized-justice While this source refers to a specific area like the DTES, spatialized justice can also be applied to other areas like the slum in Regina, where Pamela’s attackers found her and where they often were after they drank alcohol (as noted in Razack’s article).

[2] This is also the same argument that informed the AG’s arguments in Bedford (that women in prostitution accept the risk of violence because prostitution is inherently violent) which is also the same line of reasoning that informs the response to Bedford, The Protection of Community and Exploited Persons Act.

[3] https://kwetoday.com/2013/12/28/canadas-anti-prostitution-laws-a-method-for-social-control/

[4] http://www.pivotlegal.org/the_new_sex_work_legislation_explained

[5] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q18rMJ01YKw

[6] https://scc-csc.lexum.com/scc-csc/scc-csc/en/item/13389/index.do @ para 73

[7] https://kwetoday.com/2013/12/28/canadas-anti-prostitution-laws-a-method-for-social-control/ To her defence, she does mention the criminal regulation of Indigenous women’s sexualities and bodies although only in a footnoot at the end of her chapter. But not much is mentioned in the substance of her argument

So I wasn’t there, at the event to fundraise to honour MMIW. I wanted to go but other circumstances prevented me from attended.

I did, however, read the article that Naomi Klein published in the Globe and Mail.[1] It was all over my social media. Various people discussing this important, beautiful piece talking about Bella Laboucan-McLean’s “suspicious” death where she fell 31 stories from a condo that had 6 other people in the same condo who allegedly know nothing. You can read the Globe article to gain more context surrounding Bella’s death. You can also check out the page on It Starts With Us to honour Bella’s life.

Klein’s article is beautiful. It honours the life of Bella. It provides a sense of dignity to her life and the friends and family of Bella. Often times when Indigenous people reported by the media as missing or murdered, the story is often entangled with assumptions about Indigenous peoples that suggest they contributed to their own circumstances. Risky lifestyle. Criminal behaviours. Criminal associations. Homelessness. But rarely do you ever read about how colonialism plays a role in this injustice. Klein, unfortunately, mentions that Bella had no drug problem or history of depression as if the two together are a reason why other Indigenous women and girls go missing and murdered.

This is the first thing that really irritated me about Klein’s article. Not once did she mention colonialism. She does this beautiful little dance around all the issues that are a part of the colonial project. Yet, she embarrassingly fails to talk about colonialism.

Yes, it is great that Klein is finally out there speaking about the issue and supporting people who have been working in communities. Yes, I suppose it is great that a white woman whose name everyone (except for my dad)[2] knows finally writes about MMIW in a mainstream newspaper.

But it wasn’t until the end of the article that I just knew that this was just another article written by another white woman who had feelings that all of a sudden the rest of the world needs to care about…

Klein writes,

“A different word filled my head that day. ‘Shame.’

Shame that this city had failed Bella.

Shame that so many of us still aren’t talking. At least not enough. Are failing to be witnesses – as fully as we can be – to the ongoing catastrophe of murdered and missing indigenous women.”[3]

Shame.

When I think of shame, I think of people only responding to something or a lack of something out of guilt.

White guilt? Do we really need more white people feeling guilty or shame toward Indigenous peoples, especially Indigenous women and girls? Do their feelings really matter in this discussion? No. They don’t. If the only reason you are going to respond to the issue of missing and murdered indigenous women is because of shame or guilt, then I don’t think there is a complete appreciation of the crux of the issue. You can speak out about the issue and you can write all the articles you want but if you are not talking about how colonialism and all of its policies is damaging the waters, ruining traditional territories, and perpetuating the ongoing violence against Indigenous peoples, especially Indigenous women/girls, then you are remaining complicit, hiding behind your white guilt.

I am tired of white women feeling guilty for what is happening to Indigenous women and girls across Turtle Island. I am tired of feeling angry and having to constantly read about white women not naming the issue. Maybe it is because they benefit from colonialism and all of its racism, heteropatriarchy too? How do white women remain complicit in maintaining colonialism?

Even as Klein acknowledged Melina, Bella’s sister, and her anger, Klein erases that anger by calling out the shame that the city has caused.

I’m pretty sure it was the lack of police investigation that caused that shame. You know the same police that are supposed to protect us. And the centuries of colonialism and all of its policies informed by white guilt toward Indigenous peoples. You know, that same white guilt that informs the white saviour complex and all of its policies that allow these injustices to continue to occur, and remain unquestioned.

We don’t need your guilt or your shame.

We need your anger too.

Update: This similar post was shared with me on my FB page for Kwe Today, from Lynn Gehl on Naomi Klein, “yet as an Indigenous Algonquin Anishinaabe-kwe she let me down.”

[1] http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/how-a-cree-woman-fell-to-death-and-no-one-saw-anything/article22167039/

[2] To my dad’s defence, he doesn’t really read the Globe. But if I was him, I would see why he doesn’t read the Globe.

[3] http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/how-a-cree-woman-fell-to-death-and-no-one-saw-anything/article22167039/

Today I finished my last exam for my first semester of law school. It was intense. I mean, an entire semester of law school. I learned a lot about myself in the process. And that disgusting and wholly racist anti-sex work bill is now law which is even grosser than I could imagine. A lot of tears came out of that process, beginning in January of this year. I am hoping to start on a new project for 2015. My beautiful friend[1] has talked about non-violent communication and I am interested in learning more about that method of communication. From what I’ve heard about it so far, it sounds useful in a law school context, especially for my dispute resolution classes I will have next term.

Aside from being done my exams and all, I cried today, but not for reasons that you imagine.

I was crossing the main intersection before the bridge on my walk home. It is a busy intersection. Right downtown. I didn’t even try to hide my tears. I am tired of crying. Hiding my tears. This time I didn’t even give a fuck who saw me crying or what they thought of me. Maybe they saw the crazy Indian woman walking across the road with messy hair under a red toque (so Canadian) in zebra-like print tights. I don’t fuckin care.

My mom was telling me about Lain and his schooling. He is four and in junior kindergarten. I miss him dearly. So I try to call home and talk to him… almost every day. He doesn’t talk much on the phone but it still is nice to hear his voice and hear him get excited about whatever is on his mind at moment. Legos. Trains. Zoey (his cat). His snacks.

On the day before my first exam, Lain said “Chase is on the case!” in the most delighted voice. Then immediately said “see ya!” He is always on the go. Plus it was so nice to hear his voice. I immediately got out of bed, filled with energy. I asked mom to have Lain say hello to me tomorrow (today) before my last exam because I like hearing his voice before my exams. It reminds me why I am here: for him, for other young Indigenous peoples, for future Indigenous peoples.

It’s tough being alone out here. I mean, I have a great group of friends, but nothing compares to being surrounded by your family.

After I had lunch with a friend, I started walking home. That was when I decided to call my mom. I asked my mom how Lain was: Did he go to school? This morning he said he “didn’t decide yet” if he was going to school today. He sounded down. He definitely wasn’t “Chase is on the case” today. Then again, he isn’t a morning person (funny for a four year old). So I asked my mom how school was for him. My mom disclosed to me that he was having a hard time at school, that there were a group of boys bugging him and calling him a “girl” for his long hair. I immediately started to tear up and grow angry.

I knew this was going to happen to him. I just fuckin knew it.

He wears his hair in long beautiful braids. Sometimes strangers think Lain is a girl. Hello hetero/cisnormativity! You can fuck right off.

The thing that gets me the most is that, here I am in law school and you know, you think people would be somewhat enlightened or at least progressed past their racist bullshit but they aren’t…

If you are Native, be careful about talking about your lived experiences. And just because you think you are Aboriginal, don’t think you can run your mouth (this last one was actually stated to me directly in written form).

There have been times in class, out of class, in the law school building at times where I overhear or I am apart of conversations that actually are hugely problematic.

I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. I didn’t feel safe enough to call people out on their bullshit. The only time that I did call someone out on their whorephobic bullshit was when I was the only one in the room at that time.[2]

Let me just say something real quick about this: It’s okay to hate sex work really. It’s okay. Nobody will hate you. You won’t go to hell for hating sex work(ers). Sometimes even sex workers hate their work. But it’s not okay to spew misogynistic vitriol just because someone takes their clothes off for a living and touches other people while naked or lets other people touch them. If you boil it down to the basic argument that is being made, that’s all that whorephobia is… misogyny/transmisogyny. If the argument is that the majority of sex workers are women and that’s why the industry should be abolished, then you have to get rid of sex workers before you can save the women. I mean all the women who are willing to be saved…the repentant whore, the “good” women. But strippers? Disgusting. Porn stars? Disgusting. Sex workers? Disgusting. Get rid of them at all cost and any costs! Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting. Can we just stop being (trans)misogynistic already with this anti-sex work bullshit? Kthnxbai.

So, back to my nephew, a four year old, being called a girl because he wears his hairs in braids. Some will say, “Oh it’s just kids being kids” or sometimes the more gentler one, “that’s bullying!” While yes it is bullying, this whole discussion around bullying needs to be more nuanced than that.

Bullying is sometimes the site for racist, (trans)misogynistic bullshit. Who cares if he was a girl? Or wanted to be a girl? Who cares if he has long hair? Who the fuck cares! A lot of young Indigenous children have long hair. Our hair is our identity. And in case you didn’t know, those who told their experiences while in residential school note that they were forced to have their hair cut short. So, wearing our hair long, it’s us, it’s apart of indigeneity.

I know they are kids but I know it will get worse. It will get worse as they grow older. The anti-indigenous racism will not only come from your peers but also your teachers. I know this because I still experience it while I am in law school. This isn’t the first time I’ve experienced anti-indigenous racism within the context of my education and I know it won’t be my last. But I hope one day that it won’t be a reality for my nephew.

[1] She contributes to this blog, you should go read it: http://scathinglywrongrightwingnutz.blogspot.ca/

[2] https://kwetoday.com/2014/09/11/law-school-whorephobia-and-c36/

So I know I’ve been slacking on the posts as of lately. It’s been a busy semester for me. I am now just about to start finals (OMFG!). I have one more assignment to go then it’s study sessions like there is no tomorrow. Lots of coffee is in order.

But as some of you know, bill c-36 received Royal Assent on November 6, 2014. It will be enforced beginning December 6, 2014 (ironically, the same day as National Day on the Elimination of Violence Against Women in Canada). As sex work activists and advocates have been saying since the introduction of c-36 (officially called Protection of Communities and Exploited Persons Act), this new law will put sex workers, especially outdoor sex workers, in more vulnerable and exploitative situations.

To help support sex workers and a volunteer-run organization that works directly with sex workers, allies and women in crisis in London, Ontario, I created a teespring campaign. The campaign link is: http://teespring.com/kwetoday. For more information about Safe Space, please visit the campaign link (or see below). Follow them on twitter: @SafeSpaceLondon. You can also “like” their Facebook page: SafeSpace on Facebook.

More about Safe Space: “We are a volunteer run support centre for sex workers, allies and women in crisis currently operating out of EVAC at 757 Dundas. Our model is one of empowerment with the goal of meeting women where they’re at and helping sex workers operate with safety and with dignity. We hope to make real a community that strives to raise the basic living conditions of its most vulnerable and exploited members. We are open Monday and Tuesday nights, 6:00pm – 11:00pm and offer harm-reduction supplies, HIV & STI/STD educational resources, cosmetics, clothes, hygienic goods, first aid, food, coffee, tea, and information about current services in London. We recognise a woman’s right to choose or refuse sex work and we work to educate the public about sex work in London as well as promoting the decriminalization of sex work.”

Dear Ontario Premier Kathleen Wynne,

My name is Naomi Sayers and I am an Indigenous woman, who also has experience working in the sex trade. As you may know, Bill C-36, For the Protection of Communities and Exploited Persons Act, received Royal Assent last week. Within the next 30 days, it will officially become law just in time for the December 19 deadline set by Canada’s highest court. This same court ruled only three small sections of Canada’s anti-prostitution laws as unconstitutional. Some people are misled by misinformation by supporters of the law who continue to say that the Supreme Court Decision ruled all of Canada’s anti-prostitution laws as unconstitutional. This is the furthest thing from the truth. The Supreme Court of Canada held that the bawdyhouse law, the communication law and the living on the avails law sections violated sex workers’ right to life, liberty and security of person.

Unsurprisingly, the current Conservative government enacted very similar laws under the guise of gender equality. This new law does nothing for gender equality. While some may agree that prostitution isn’t exactly everyone’s dream job or end goal, the goal of any gender equality bill should not be making something unsafe in an effort to abolish it. As Senator Donald Plett said, “Of course we don’t want to make life safer for prostitutes, we want to do away with prostitution. That’s the intent of the bill.”[1] This is the danger inherent in this law and it is that the law will make prostitution inherently dangerous.

I know you support efforts to ending violence against women, in particular violence against Indigenous women and girls. However, this new law will not protect Indigenous women and girls from violence, specifically police violence. We know from the Missing Women Inquiry report authored by Wally Oppal that the criminal regulation of prostitution contributes to the marginalization of women.[2] This law will contribute to the ongoing marginalization and alienation of sex workers, especially Indigenous sex workers, which will contribute to the violence that sex workers experience. I am asking you, both as an Indigenous woman and as a former sex worker, as Ontario Premier to refer these laws to the Ontario Court of Appeal for constitutional reference.

Sincerely,

Naomi Sayers

[1] http://reason.com/blog/2014/11/07/canada-adopts-c36-prostitution-bill and http://www.parl.gc.ca/Content/SEN/Committee/412/lcjc/15ev-51557-e.htm?Language=E&Parl=41&Ses=2&comm_id=11

[2] at page 111, http://www.ag.gov.bc.ca/public_inquiries/docs/Forsaken-ES.pdf

A useful definition of slavery is the robbery of one’s freedom and labour by another, usually a more powerful person. Violence and coercion are used to carry out the theft and to keep the slave captive in the condition of bondage and servitude. This definition applies to slavery in Canada. Laws were enacted and institutions created to rob persons of their freedom and labour and keep them in perpetual servitude. In the earliest era of colonial rule in Canada, both Aboriginal people and Africans and their descendants were enslaved (Aboriginal slaves were colloquially termed ‘Panis’). From 1428 to 1833, slavery was a legal and acceptable institution in both French and British Canada was vigorously practised.

– Afua Cooper, “The Hanging of Angelique: The Untold Story of Canadian Slavery and the Burning of Old Montreal”

Researching for a future blog post… stay tuned!

Bill C-36, for the protection of communities and exploited persons act, because who can say no protecting communities and exploited persons, right?

This Bill is in response to the Bedford decision, which (if you are a regular reader of this blog, you should know by now) ruled three sections of Canada’s anti-prostitution laws as unconstitutional: the communication law, the bawdyhouse law and the living on the avails law.

The preamble of this Bill is framed in such a way that is worded to fight against gender inequality. Yet, despite all evidence pointing the contrary,[1] this Bill will cause more harm especially for what the Bill has labelled the most marginalized and the most vulnerable, including Indigenous women and girls. On one hand, I haven’t seen a more backwards response to gender inequality if I have seen one. On the other, I guess it is expected in a colonial country like Canada. And who can so no to fighting against gender inequality? Maybe if you are a barefaced racist.

The Bill’s preamble also states that it must protect all women and girls from prostitution, as if all women and girls are in prostitution or enter prostitution for the same reasons. Just no to all of this. The Bill also assumes that all women and girls are affected by the criminalization of prostitution universally. That would be lovely if all women and girls were a homogenous, uniform group, wouldn’t it? Imagine, white women and girls facing the same issues and realities as Indigenous women? And since when did a Harper/Conservative government start caring about gender equality issues? Framing Bill C-36 as gender equality Bill is preposterous on all accounts.

The Bill has also been framed as “decriminalizing the women” involved in prostitution by criminalizing the “pimps” and “johns” (despite procuring provisions in the Criminal Code of Code remaining[2]). Targeting the pimps and the johns is sometimes referred to as the Swedish-model or the Nordic model.[3] Yet, if you actually read the Bill, it doesn’t actually do any of that: decriminalize the women. The Bill, if you read it in its entirety, acts like an outright criminalization of prostitution.[4] The Bill also has a grand (mostly unattainable) objective of eradicating prostitution, and even politicians have noted that the Bill won’t even get rid of it in its entirety.[5]

When it comes to the vulnerable and exploited, there are already laws within the Criminal Code of Canada. The Bill’s deliberate disregard for this is so patently obvious that if you believe that this Bill will help the exploited by creating more bad laws, then you are poorly misinformed. Just as Katrina Pacey of Pivot legal says, “[The] proposed legislation is both complex and confusing.”[6] Just how these complex and confusing Bill will actually harm sex workers, it may potentially create more issues with helping the vulnerable and exploited.

If the Bill defines prostitution as inherently violent and exploitative, then lets fight against the violence and exploitation. Diverting resources into futile anti-prostitution campaigns does nothing for the neither the vulnerable and exploited nor does it do anything for gender equality when it directly criminalizes the most marginalized and vulnerable, Indigenous women. I ask then, gender equality and protection for who?

When we assume that all prostitution is inherently violent, what follows is the same argument that failed at the SCC level: if prostitution is inherently violent and a sex worker engages in the selling of sexual services, the only way to avoid that violence is to not engage in the violent activity. Bill C-36 also sees all prostitutes as victims who cannot consent to this supposed violence and exploitation despite many advocates for sex workers speaking out against the harms the Bill will create for consenting sex workers. Ultimately, Bill C-36 creates victims where there may be none.

In the end, Bill C-36, with all its assumptions about prostitution and sex workers, is in essence a Bill that blames the victims for the violence they may experience. Shame on you sex workers for engaging in an inherently violent activity, but we told you! And, I say no to Bill C-36 for these reasons.

[1] https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B3mqMOhRg5FeU1d1UDdobnk1MFE/edit

[2] http://laws-lois.justice.gc.ca/PDF/C-46.pdf

[3] https://kwetoday.com/2014/10/06/c36-police-are-not-there-to-protect-women-like-me-mmiw-sexwork-cdnpoli/

[4] https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B3mqMOhRg5FebmhIT0k0WXhfX1U/edit

[5] http://www.thestar.com/news/canada/2014/07/07/prostitution_bill_likely_to_face_court_challenge_peter_mackay_says.html and http://openparliament.ca/committees/justice/41-2/44/bob-dechert-17/

[6] https://canadiandimension.com/articles/view/conservative-prostitution-bill-two-steps-back

On communication laws and criminalization of prostitution…

Some feminists also argue that the most vulnerable women in prostitution are the ones who work on the streets. These same feminists also argue that no women who enters into prostitution chooses to engage in prostitution freely, especially those who work on the streets. However, referring back to the definition of actus reus which refers directly to a theory of human agency, if women who enter into prostitution do not have the agency to choose to freely enter into prostitution, then a contradiction presents itself with this feminist analysis. This contradiction being that if prostitutes cannot choose (and thereby, not have human agency) to engage in prostitution if prostitution is defined as oppressive and exploitative, then how can prostitutes be committing a criminal act if a criminal act (the act of solicitation) must entail the actus reus, which ultimately recognizes human agency and choice.

On voluntariness and criminalization of prostitution…

Some feminists also argue that women who enter into prostitution do not choose to do so freely. If all the above holds true, especially in absence of other options, any act or omission must be involuntary, then the criminalization of prostitution is a contradiction to the concept of voluntariness, which is a component of actus reus. Specifically, if all women who enter into prostitution are victims and they do not choose to enter into prostitution because the absence of other options, then they cannot be held criminal responsible for their actions. This is true especially for those women who are often labelled as the most marginalized and vulnerable, like Indigenous women who live and work on the streets.

Welcome to the (not-so-new) new feminism: the criminal regulation of Indigenous bodies and sexuality. Colonialism, eh?