Sexy, Fière et Solidaire

Last Sunday, Slutwalk Montreal took place; an event that's been cropping up in cities all over the world ever since a Toronto police officer made the unfortunate comment during a talk on sexual assault that, "Women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized." Oops. I'm not going to get into the criticisms of the walk (though they are very valid), nor am I going to get into my own thoughts on the word 'slut' because I've written about it a million times before. But I will say that I was there to march in solidarity with sex workers, queers, survivors, everyone who has ever been called a slut, everyone who has ever been told they were asking for it, and everyone who has ever been the target of street harassment.

There weren't as many people there as I'd expected, and certainly not many familiar faces, which I attribute both to the very real criticism of Slutwalk being a white, middle-class movement, and well, because it was rainy and windy all morning. Though the weather got nicer right on time. I headed to Parc de la Paix alone and listened to speeches by members of various organizations. Soon after I arrived, I spotted Julia, whom you may know from her fantastic fashion blog, à l'allure garçonnière. We had actually never met in person before, but she was spending the afternoon in Montreal on her way home to Quebec City, and it just worked out perfectly that we got to spend some time together.

After numerous speeches, we began our walk, chanting slogans like, "A dress is not a yes!" and "Sexy, fière et solidaire!" I was most impressed by the person who was marching in front of me, wearing a gorilla costume and carrying a yellow sign that read: RAPISTS MAKE ME GO BANANAS! We must have looked like quite the spectacle; a cluster of people sometimes in costumes, sometimes wearing next to nothing, alongside families pushing their strollers. I wore what I would normally wear in the summertime; cutoff shorts and a pair of torn fishnets with a Joan Jett t-shirt, which some may deem as slutty. The march led us to the afterparty, a burlesque show at Le Drugstore, and Julia and I wound up spending the rest of the day outside, enjoying the nice weather and talking and laughing and of course we made a point to take photobooth pictures.











It hasn't quite been a week since I moved into my new place, but I'm settling in alright. I painted my room a beautiful turquoise colour, filled it up with plants, and am in the midst of building a second closet, since mine is entirely too small. I have shiny hardwood floors and a large French window. When I go to bed at night, Sebastian joins me and often dozes off while laying on my tummy. I begin my day as soon as the sun comes up, partly because I'm trying to get into more of a routine, and partly because I've yet to put up curtains, so I don't have much of a choice anyway. Today I checked my mailbox for the first time and found letters from Maranda and Dave Cave, as well as my Pearl Jam tickets. What a nice welcome.

Speaking of shows, I've also managed to score a free weekend pass to the Hillside Festival, so it looks like I'll be spending some time in both Guelph and Toronto toward the end of July. Let's hang out?





I'm getting used to all this alone time, but am still keeping myself very busy. One night, Kit and I went to see a screening of School's Out!, the Degrassi movie, where the writer of the original series, Yan Moore, was present for a Q & A session. That was pretty exciting. Okay, so I've mostly just been hanging out at Parc Mont-Royal with my friends. The other day, a dude on a certain dating website sent me a message that said, "I just saw you eating pizza on Avenue du Parc." That about sums it up.









Vincent and I are rebels with our ice cream cones.