The Eyeopener: Vol. 59, Issue 15 (Love, Sex, and The Law)

A second chance at Bill C-18

Students and experts debate the bill’s negotiations and Canadian news

By Aditi Roy

Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU) students share mixed opinions on the possibility of Canadian journalism coming back to social media.

Last month, the Canadian Press reported that the federal government is still open to negotiating a deal with Meta, in an effort to restore Canadian news access on prominent social media platforms like Facebook and Instagram.

On Dec. 19, 2023, Bill C-18 came into effect across Canada, mandating that “digital platforms” pay Canadian news outlets for providing their content. This was done in an effort to ensure fair compensation for said outlets.

Google agreed to pay Canadian journalism outlets $100 million per year to be exempted from the act.

However Meta refused, blocking Canadian news on their platforms Instagram and Facebook.

“...it’s always good to have more sources of information”

In an interview with the Canadian Press, New Democratic Party (NDP) member of Parliament, Gord Johns stressed the importance of renegotiations due to the falling of local Canadian news outlets as well as the growing need to combat misinformation on social media.

Harshraj Parmar, a fourth-year computer engineering student, sees the value of having news featured on social media. “I think it’d be a good thing, because it’s always good to have more sources of information,” said Parmar.

However, he also recognizes its drawbacks. “It’s very easy to just post anything without any evidence backing up what you’re saying. I feel like, as humans, everybody is very susceptible to falling for…lies,” he said.

Statistics Canada found Canadians aged 15-24 were most likely to get news from social media.

A few students express their growing sense of skepticism around Canadian journalism outlets and the value their social media presence will add.

“We live in a time where education is so important, where you need to...stay updated...”

Kunga Shapheltsang, secondyear occupational health and safety student, echoes this sentiment.

“Some news stations are inherently…right-wing or left-wing... you can’t always trust what they all say about [a] situation because there will be some bias,” he said.

While students expressed mixed feelings about the renegotiations, experts in the field raise larger concerns about the sustainability of Canadian journalism.

James Turk, the director of the Centre for Free Expression at TMU, commented on the need for this act to safeguard Canadian news outlets.

“Platforms like Google and Meta [Facebook and Instagram] are gobbling up 75 to 80 per cent of all the advertising revenue… the principal source of funding for the news media,” he said.

A study by the Media Ecosystem Observatory found that Canadian outlets lost 85 per cent of their engagement from Insta-

gram and Facebook after the ban.

Turk fears that Ottawa may back down under the pressure from U.S president Donald Trump and the American technology conglomerates. “That will be a devastating blow to [the] news media in Canada,” he said.

A study found that Canadian outlets lost 85 per cent of their engagement from Meta

David Skok, CEO and editorin-chief of The Logic —an independent business and technology newsroom—feels strongly against the potential redaction of Bill C-18 calling it “short-sighted” in a recent LinkedIn post.

Skok also testified before the Canadian Senate in support of the bill in 2023.

“Journalism helped Facebook, then Meta, scale. The moment the company faced a requirement to license that journalism, or lost control over the terms, it walked away,” he wrote.

He ended his post stating, “short-term distribution is never worth compromising the public interest.”

Skok acknowledged that not being on social media interferes with news outlets’ ability to tap into a younger audience.

“Younger generations are always a challenge for news organizations, right? Meta is the reason why news is not on Meta and Meta could very easily change that today,” he said in an interview with The Eyeopener

Luke LeBrun, the editor of PressProgress, expresses similar concerns regarding his organization’s reach.

“Before Meta banned news,

Students get heated over building temperatures

By Dowa Salah

Students at Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU) are concerned about inconsistent temperatures in buildings across campus, with some buildings feeling too hot while others feel too cold.

“I think Kerr Hall is just extremely hot, but I’ve also noticed that other buildings are very inconsistent with their AC system,” said Gianna Cruz, a second-year fashion student.

As extreme cold continues in Toronto, students have been adapting to different temperatures across campus in their own ways.

“I just prepare a couple of hand warmers beforehand. I usually like to bundle up,” said Alisha Hossain, a second-year business management student.

She recalls an instance last year where she completed a midterm exam in a cold room.

“It was during the winter and it was very, very stuffy. It was very, very cold. Actually, I walked out of my midterm with a fever and I wasn’t able to perform my best.”

Facebook drove hundreds of thousands of readers to our stories every single month. The loss of that readership has had a significant impact on our web traffic and ability to reach new audiences,” he said in an email statement to The Eye Despite LeBrun’s disappointment with lower readership, he notes the importance of compensating Canadian news outlets.

“American tech companies like Meta need to pay their fair share of taxes on the profits they generate in Canada, and platforms like Facebook also need to be better regulated to ensure they are contributing to a healthy and democratic public discourse.”

Turk noted the need for Canadian news companies to be paid their fair share, pointing to the fall of credible journalism outlets across the country.

“I mean, all the media across the country are in trouble. The Toronto Star…which has the biggest circulation of any newspaper in the country, has been in pretty serious financial trouble for some time,” he said.

In 2023, CBC reported that NordStar, Toronto Star ’s parent company, was putting the newspaper under bankruptcy protection and slashed 600 jobs.

Turk reiterated the importance of high-quality journalism for the future of our societies.

“Our democracy is fundamentally undermined when the press is weakened,” he said.

“Journalists are the public’s eyes and ears into all sorts of things. So when local media disappear from communities, there’s nobody covering what’s happening…it makes it so much harder for public bodies to be held accountable.”

In an emailed statement to The Eyeopener the university said, “sustained extreme temperatures put more demand on our building systems, which can impact the ability of the systems to function fully.”

The university also said they regularly monitor temperatures.

Good Food Centre now open Mondays

By Shaaranki Kulenthirarasa

Toronto Metropolitan University students feel accommodated after the announcement that the Good Food Centre (GFC) will be open on Mondays.

The GFC allows students facing food insecurity to get food that meets their dietary needs. It is located in the basement of the Student Campus Centre (SCC).

An email newsletter sent by the Toronto Metropolitan Students’ Union on Friday stated that the GFC will be open on Mondays from 1:30 p.m. to 5:30 p.m. From Tuesday to Friday, the Centre will be open from 2:30 p.m. to 5:30 p.m. It will still remain closed Fridays. These hours have been in effect since Feb. 2.

A third-year nursing student, who wishes to be anonymous, said the extension in hours has made the service more accessible.

“In nursing, we have clinical placements so the former hours weren’t too convenient for accessing it,” they said.

The student said having staff available at all times to assist and answer questions, eases the experience for students.

Rob Howard, the GFC Coordinator said this change comes with the need in the service almost tripling since the beginning of 2026.

SOPHIA SHAHANI DURÁN/THE EYEOPENER

Editor’s Letter

By Edward Lander

We’ve been running our annual Love and Sex issues at The Eyeopener for 30 odd years. For another 10 we’ve been attaching a third ‘and blank’ variable on the end. Choosing that variable is the bane of any features editor tasked with creating one—arguably harder than pitching, editing and publishing the thing. It’s got to be unique, but not so particular you can’t pull 16 stories out of it.

For me, the law fit that bill.

The more I thought about what kind of stories I wanted to live in this issue, the more I realized just how many strings connect the law with love and sex.

As culture and technology develop, the law is often the last thing to catch up—especially when it comes to sex. We’ve seen

this accelerate this year as artificial intelligence (AI) creates new legal grey areas around ownership and consent. Despite this, Canada’s ‘AI Strategy’ launched last September makes no mention of the technology’s uses for sexual content. All while AI bots like X’s Grok gain the ability to create explicit versions of any image on the internet.

Regulation isn’t the only intersection of sex and law. This past summer, Canada watched five world junior hockey Canada players head to court over accusations of sexual assault. These players—to the dismay of many across the country— were all acquitted, sparking a larger conversation about the re-traumatization and indifference sexual assault victims face in the courts.

The winner of the most recent

What could Bill 33 mean for sexual health supports on campus?

The controversial act may cut funding to valuable resources, advocates say

By Molly Simpson

Students at Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU) have a number of sexual health resources on campus, both run by the university as well as funded through the fees paid to the Toronto Metropolitan Students’ Union (TMSU). But some student groups and services say access to these resources might soon become a lot more difficult.

Although many possible impacts of the controversial Bill 33 are yet to be determined, organizations that receive funding from student unions have expressed concerns surrounding what potential funding cuts brought by the bill could mean for students, including those who rely on sexual health and sexual assault support services.

Bill 33, the “Supporting Children and Students Act,” became law on Nov. 20, 2025. The act allows the Ontario government to regulate the ancillary fees postsecondary institutions require students to pay on top of their tuition—the fees that fund many student groups and services—as previously reported by The Eyeopener.

Cyrielle Ngeleka, chairperson of the Canadian Federation of StudentsOntario, said Bill 33 is an attack on the entirety of the education sector.

“Ancillary fees are the fees that essentially fund life giving services on our campuses…think about print-

season of Canada’s Drag Race a self-proclaimed villain named Van Goth who we profile on page 4—also found herself at the centre of one of these intersections when her HIV diagnosis introduced her to the legal fiasco that is HIV criminalization in Canada.

Even behind the glitz and glam of television’s current hottest and horniest show, Heated Rivalry , is another legal matter—the complicated (and surprisingly legalistic) role of an intimacy coordinator.

This year we’re also bringing back the Love and Sex Survey, an annual audit of what students are into…and not into. A handful of the results are published in this issue—and the full survey will be available online. So, if you want to know how many of your peers are in ‘situationships’, turn to page 8.

Our first love and sex issue back

in 1995 was a five-page supplement called “making whoopie” stuffed at the back of the paper. It featured a guide to sex toys, a splashy nude photo spread and a handful of features on relevant topics like the destigmatization of virginity and the then-new frontier of phone sex.

Each following year we’ve tried to do the same thing. In this issue you’ll find reporting

on ‘big-bad Bill 33’ coming for sexual health supports, Toronto’s libraries putting up a fight against book bans, poppers, sex work, a feature about cops at pride and more coverage of the many ways the law governs and influences our sex and love lives.

So, if Bill 33 doesn’t fuck our funding, here’s to 30 more years of love and sex.

ing, sexual violence centres, think about food centres,” said Ngeleka. With the looming threat of funding cuts, the services and resources that rely on them are preparing to pivot the extent of their outreach.

Yumna Hussain is the coordinator for the Centre for Safer Sex and Sexual Violence Support (C3SVS) at TSMU. Hussain spoke to The Eye about the services they provide, which include three avenues for supporting students: safer sex, menstruation and reproductive health and sexual violence support.

C3SVS’ safer sex services support education, advocacy and consent on campus, according to their website. Free menstrual products and other reproductive healthcare items can be ordered online and picked up at C3SVS’ location on the second floor of the Student Campus Centre (SCC). The centre also offers one-on-one sessions for students who require sexual violence support as well as a support line and is also partnered with the local Toronto Rape Crisis Centre.

Funded by a separate student levy, the C3SVS does not rely on funds from the TMSU which means that their services are not as imminently impacted by Bill 33 as associations which are fully funded by the union.

However, this doesn’t mean there are no concerns around what a potential funding cut could look like.

“At the end of the day, that is

still students’ money,” said Hussain. “We’re hoping that [Bill 33] doesn’t affect the student levy as much because that is the majority of what [the C3SVS] leans on. It does help in some circumstances to kind of have that backup.”

As a non-profit organization, the C3SVS has a network of partner non-profits it can lean on and viceversa, according to Hussain. This provides the centre with ways to get necessities like educational workshops and resources, which she says offers “a little bit of hope for us in case of any fears that we have.”

The C3SVS isn’t the only group on campus concerned. The TMSU’s equity centres—like the Trans Collective—have also been preparing for potential fallout from the act, as previously reported by The Eye.

Hussain says the C3SVS often donates safe sex products like condoms or menstrual products to the school, to be placed around campus. The funding impacts of Bill 33 could change the range in which the C3SVS can provide these products. “Our priority is always going to be the students…getting their products, and that mostly happens through the [TMSU],” she said.

Hussain mentioned that the C3SVS would have to pull back on donations to the school in favour of supplying students through their own office in the SCC. In the past, the organization has provided free products to be used in bathrooms on campus and has also provided products to student groups upon request.

While the effects of Bill 33 are only hypothetical right now, the C3SVS has recently experienced other external funding cuts, giving them a taste of what Bill 33 might bring. A federally-funded program at St. Michael’s Hospital previously offered free HIV self tests for at-risk youth. Yumna said the C3SVS had received tests through the program and began giving them out to students, “however, within the year, that program ran out of funding.”

While the C3SVS still offers the self tests, Hussain said they are an expensive item.

Sadie Locke, a fourth-year occupational health and safety student at TMU has accessed free menstrual products provided by the C3SVS. She said there’s a necessity to have these products be accessible and affordable.

“Sometimes…you’re deciding between rent, food and menstruation, and you shouldn’t have to choose the third option because that’s just a bodily function. It’s like if you charged someone every time they farted.” Locke said having resources available on campus reduces the need to go into the city to find something comparable, especially as an out-of-province student. “I wouldn’t know where any of the Ontario resources would be and it can also be scarier…having something traumatic happen to you and then going off campus somewhere else to tell somebody.”

Understanding the importance of these services, Locke is willing to pay more in tuition if it means providing funding for these programs. “I may not be in a dire situation, but there are thousands of students at this school and you never know what can happen,” she said.

Ngeleka said sexual violence centres and adjacent resources are already underfunded by the government. “With Bill 33 passing, folks can only expect that this process accelerates,” she said.

PIERRE-PHILIPE WANYA-TAMBWE/THE EYEOPENER

The Eyeopener Masthead

Editor-in-Chief

Negin “@channel” Khodayari

Managing Editor

Edward “Baby EiC” Lander

News Editors

Sharaanki “spelling” Kulenthirarasa

Vihaan “Sick Day” Bhatnagar

Amira “Features Editor” Benjamin

Arts & Culture Editor

Sophie “FC” Wallace

Business & Technology Editor

Aditi “Newsie” Roy

Communities Editor

Daniel “Soy Boy” Opasinis

Features Editor

Edward “Law and Order” Lander

Fun & Satire

Editor

Dylan “Interactive” Marks

Sports Editors

Jonathan “I can help” Reynoso

Victoria “Sick”Cha

Production Editors

Jasmine “Good soup” Makar

Sarah “Magazine” Grishpul

Photo Editors

Ava “Let’s go in” Whelpley

Saif-Ullah “Wordpress wiz” Khan

Pierre-Philipe “Frutiger Aero”

Wanya-Tambwe

Media Editors

Divine “Cupid’s” Amayo Lucas “Arrow” Bustinski

Digital Producer

Anthony “REB” Lippa-Hardy

General Manager

Liane “New Do” McLarty

Design Director

Vanessa “Toys” Kauk

Contributors

Tristan “Intricate” Grajales

Ella “Go Seahawks” Miller

Breanna “Survey says” Milton Gray “X marks the spot” Moloy

Grace “Regulate” Henkel

Zanoah “Back again” Plummer

Eunice “Library card” Soriano

Anna-Giselle “Intern” Funes-Eng

Dowa “Chilly” Salah

Charlotte “Hand Written” Ligtenberg

Evan “3000 Long Edge” Perry

Sophia “Meta” Shahani Durán

Jessica “Umbrella” Nehme

Theresa “>” Carlson

Jada “Lean On Me” Abdulla

Tanisha “When You’re Not Strong” Kumar

Tallula “Cotton” Cameron

Max “Lab Coat” Gundogdu

Tomas “T-Money” Borrowiccni

Janine “Curious” Schat

She’s a winner, baby

Van Goth is a TMU graduate, accomplished seamstress and the now-reigning queen of Canada’aDragRace

By Ella Miller

Prior to her super graphic ultra modern victory in the season six finale of Canada’s Drag Race, Van Goth sat down with The Eyeopener to talk about her run on the show. This included a moment in the season’s fifth episode where she came out as HIV-positive in a powerful testimony.

Van Goth—who is a 2019 graduate from Toronto Metropolitan University’s (TMU) fashion design program—talked about more than the virus itself, but also the legal minefield many HIV-positive Canadians face. Canadian law dictates that those with HIV are responsible for informing sexual partners of their statuses in any situation that poses a “realistic possibility of transmission.”

In instances where they don’t disclose, accused parties may be charged with sexual or aggravated assault which can carry prison sentences of up to 14 years.

HIV can be rendered undetectable—and therefore untransmittable—through medications like antiretroviral therapy which suppress the virus by reducing the viral load.

But according to the HIV Legal Network of Canada, as of 2019 over 200 Canadians had been sentenced for non-disclosure and in many of these cases, there was no chance of transmission due to condoms being used or low viral load.

2SLGBTQ+ advocates and their allies have been pushing back for years against these laws which they see as unfairly targeting the Queer community.

While this season Van Goth may have been labelled ‘the villain’ by fans (and herself #branding), the conversation she opened on HIV in Canada is certainly a heroic moment.

The theme of this issue is Love and Sex. How much of your drag is born just out of love?

In a lot of ways I feel like my drag is born from a love of myself and a love of the community. When I was 16, I snuck into Crews & Tangos when I first moved to Toronto and I saw a drag queen and I was enamored by everything: her stage presence, her connection with the audience, her vibe, her energy, her lights.

That drag queen was actually [named] Xtacy Love, who is Priyanka’s [drag] mother.

Whenever I’m in a club or I’m performing I always make sure everyone feels seen and loved and represented. I feel like a lot of my drag, although it’s kind of dark and intense, I feel like I’m not like that.

When I was 16, I snuck into Crews & Tangos when I first moved to Toronto

Your craftsmanship and your ability to put a look together from a styling perspective, was that something that you always did or did that come out when you were at TMU for fashion?

Both things are true. I always had to have that love, because why would I have ever gone to see me for fashion in the first place if I didn’t?

Fashion to me has always been a form of language and a form of expression, and drag is no different for me. Storytelling in drag’s about showing someone something without telling them what it is verbatim or like hitting the nail on the head.

Beyond that, TMU really prepared me for Drag Race, because fashion is also all about taking a critique and being able to apply [it]. I loved how brutally honest some of my professors at TMU were, and it really helped me prepare for not only the real world, but also what Drag Race was like.

One of the most impactful moments of your run on Drag Race was when you talked about being HIV-positive and how Canada’s legal system treats people with HIV. What were you thinking at that moment?

You can barely even see in the edit but while we were preparing to talk about the topic—because I knew it was coming, I knew that was my runway, I knew that’s what I planned—I’m shaking, I do my makeup, I’m like shaking. It just was a lot of weight I was carrying around. It [was] so fresh. It had only been a year prior to filming Drag Race. I spent a lot of

that year, honestly, just trying to forget about it.

I really don’t remember any of it. I truly probably blacked out and just started crying. But something I was really proud of on the whole rewatch when I watched it with everyone else. In my confessional specifically, I can just see myself talk in a way that I don’t think I’ve ever really talked before, which is really honest and open and raw. I mean, it was hard to watch because I was like, ‘damn, I don’t think I’ve ever spoken like that in my life.’

Why is my health status ever used in the court of law?

I want to talk about your episode five look in particular. The makeup was something that I noticed first because it was so, so striking.

I wanted a strong contrast. White represents a time of innocence and angelic, doves. The “pierced through the heart” was definitely a layer of: one, it’s a blood thing, HIV is in your blood and the heart is the centre of your blood; also like, love, sex, heart—all those kinds of things.

I had almost gouged-out eyes, because my idea was like, justice is supposed to be blind and then in this scenario, it doesn’t feel that way. The chains were also in kind of a shape when I threw them down, like the red AIDS ribbon.

This was all because of your runway category, Perp Walk to Remember. When I heard the category I was like ‘that is such a weird category.’

We were literally like, ‘this has nothing to do with cops, right?’ Like, we’re not gonna get arrested on stage.

I love that it was kind of a mix of different people’s perspectives because obviously I went a serious route, PM went a serious route, Eboni went a historical route. I think that there were fun ways that we could interpret it. And some people went a silly route, like Sami was silly, Velma was silly. Maya was silly.

That was like the fun of Drag Race, because you can kind of make it what you want it to be. Some of us were going like, yeah, ‘what is a perp and what makes a perp, and why are these people perps?’ versus people who went ‘this is silly and campy and fun.’

We’ve seen other people come out as HIV-positive on Drag Race, but they’ve never talked about it in the way that you did. When I found out I was HIVpositive one of the first things the public health nurse said to me was, ‘okay here’s a contact that you can talk to about all the legal issues.’ And I was like, ‘what do you mean the legal issues? Like, how does that have anything to do with the law?’

It caused a lot of interesting debate when I said it on the show, because a lot of people are saying, oh, I wasn’t completely correct or I was wrong. I think the issue I’m getting at is that the law is nuanced. To me, law should be right or wrong. Why am I putting my [fate in] a judge or a jury or group of people who I don’t know, who have their own preconceived notions, stigmas,... when I’m undetectable and there’s truly no chance of transmission.

It’s crazy to believe that someone can actually sexually assault somebody, but me not telling them something that will in no way affect them would give me a harsher punishment than somebody who deliberately sexually assaults somebody.

[There’s] so many times even beyond that where somebody’s status will be used in a court of law in an unrelated case to truly alienate the jury, alienate the judge and alienate people from that person who is the defendant or whatever. Why is my health status ever used in the court of law?

That talk I had on Drag Race caused a lot of conversation in a great way, because I think it is a longer conversation than what a one hour reality TV show about drag will allow us to get into. But it opens the door.

This interview was edited for length and clarity.

SAIF-ULLAH KHAN VIA BELL MEDIA/THE EYEOPENER

Andrea Werhun and Nicole Bazuin bring sex work to the big screen

A stripper and a TMU alumna walk onto a film set...

By Sarah Grishpul

“It’s high time we told our own damn stories. Here’s mine.”

In the shimmering painted skyline of Toronto, we descend into the staged home of our storyteller; Andrea Werhun, ready to set the record straight on the reality of being a sex worker.

Modern Whore (2025) is the debut feature film from Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU) image arts graduate Nicole Bazuin, which had its world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) back in September 2025. The documentary stars Andrea Werhun, Bazuin’s friend of over 10 years, who shares her experience working as an escort and stripper in Toronto.

If the name “Andrea Werhun” sounds familiar, it’s likely because you’ve heard her story before. She worked as a script consultant on the Oscar best picture-winning film Anora, which follows a Brooklyn stripper—played by Mikey Madison who took home the Academy Award for best actress—as she falls in love with the wealthy son of a Russian oligarch.

Bazuin met Werhun in 2011 on the set of a music video Bauzin was directing where they both played go-go dancers; the two eventually decided to collaborate on a book about Werhun’s life titled Modern

Whore: A Memoir with Bazuin’s photography lining the pages. While initially self-published in 2018, the pair adapted the story into two short films in 2020, Modern Whore and Last Night at the Strip Club and a second edition of the book with Penguin Random House in 2022.

“We started as a team of two who had a dream of making some interesting art together, and from the beginning both being multihyphenate artists, we had ambitions that this could be a multimedia project,” said Bazuin.

The latest addition to the Modern Whore cinematic universe (MWCU) is bright, playful and serious when it needs to be. Werhun and Bazuin expressed in an interview with The Eyeopener that humour was a key element in the storytelling.

“I think that typically it’s sort of been outside the scope of the civilian imagination to imagine [sex workers] as funny or to imagine us as being able to make jokes,” said Werhun. “Because 99 per cent of the depictions that we see of sex work is so dour and sad.”

For Bazuin, it made sense for the tone and aesthetic of the story to have a “pop art vibe,” with many scenes taking inspiration from Hollywood feminine icons such as Dolly Parton in 9 to 5, Marilyn Monroe in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

and Mary Tyler Moore from The Mary Tyler Moore Show. While this film isn’t one to shy away from full frontal nudity, the female gaze is prevalent within each shot.

“Additionally, this is Andrea’s story, and it felt right that the telling should involve a style that matches her bubbly, charismatic personality,” added Bazuin.

As fun as it is, Modern Whore isn’t afraid to approach some of the darker realities of the industry, addressing the inequalities and harmful stereotypes sex workers experience due to the criminalization of their labour.

In 2014 under the Harper government, Parliament passed a legislation titled Bill C-36, the Protection of Communities and Exploited Persons Act, which prohibited the purchase of sexual services. With the legal framework transitioning to prop up purchasers of sexual services as ‘predators,’ sex workers were now seen in the eyes of the law as ‘victims.’

According to a supplementary publication from the Library of Parliament, these prostitution laws sought to regulate sexual services between consenting adults.

“People use all sorts of body parts to do their labour and we’re not concerned about it unless it’s sexual,” Werhun pointed out in the film.

The film addressed the social framing of sex workers as either victims—with no ability to make their own choices—or villains— who make bad and harmful choices.

Throughout the documentary, Werhun and her peers discussed the role criminalization plays in contributing to the dangers of sex work—particularly from a labour perspective.

“I hope that audiences feel in their bones the necessity for labour rights for sex workers, that we should be entitled to occupational health and safety,” said Werhun.

“We should have the right to be able to unionize. We need access to collective bargaining when it comes to our employers, and none of that is possible if our work remains criminalized,” she continued.

During the film, Werhun brought up several moments in her career when she needed basic labour rights. Being verbally, physically and emotionally assaulted by clients, the lack of information surrounding sexually transmitted infection testing and agencies

A timeline of love and sex in Canadian law

Like any nation, Canada has an expansive history of laws that dictate our love and sex lives. From misogynistic divorce laws to becoming the fourth country in the world to legalize same-sex marriage, our home and native land has had a long history of progress, reform and regression.

1884 The “Married Women’s Property Act” grants married women the same legal rights as men in Ontario, permitting them to sign contracts and buy property.

1890 The age of consent is raised to 14 from 12.

1890 Polygamy is banned in Canada. The act impacts many Indigenous communities where having multiple wives is a common traditional practice. Despite being used as a strong support system in the home, settler colonialists saw it as “a form of abuse” and believed it to be a result of “sexual desire.”

1892 The “Gross Indecency Act” passes. The law is intentionally vague and often interpreted as condemning sexual and romantic acts between two men. The law is almost always used in order to prosecute gay men.

1900 The “Married Women’s Property Act” is enacted in Manitoba. The act allows for married women to buy and sell their own property and pursue legal action like lawsuits.

1925 The “Divorce Act” is amended to permit women to divorce for the same reasons men could. Prior to this law, men could only divorce because of adultery while women had to prove another transgression in addition to adultery to be granted a divorce.

1928 Alberta passes the “Sexual Sterilization Act.” The act targets institutionalized people with mental disabilities for forcible sterilization and results in over 2,800 sterilizations—Indigenous women are vastly overrepresented in these

numbers. The act is later amended in 1937 to remove the requirement for consent to be sterilized and to consider sterilizing disabled people who are not institutionalized.

1933 British Columbia passes “An Act Respecting Sexual Sterilization.” Like Alberta’s “Sexual Sterilization Act,” this act permits the forcible sterilization of institutionalized people living with disabilities.

1953 The “Gross Indecency Act” is amended to criminalize female homosexuality

1964 Quebec signs the “Married Women’s Property Act.” Women in Quebec are granted full legal autonomy under the act, and equal rights are given to both parents. The change comes after Quebec elects their first female member of the Legislative Assembly.

1968 The “Divorce Act” introduces no-fault divorce through adding “marriage breakdown” as grounds

not being transparent with their workers about blacklisted clients.

For Werhun and her fellow workers, it’s not so much sex work that is oppressing them—but the stigma that follows.

Throughout the film, Werhun admits that even though she was happy, fulfilled and raking in cash, she was constantly haunted by this underlying feeling of shame regarding her acts. Werhun’s mother and boyfriend are brought onto screen in the documentary, reassuring both her and the audience that she is loved and supported. It’s moments like these where we get to peel back the layers of Werhun’s humanity, relating to her as a daughter, a disgruntled worker, a partner and a friend.

Werhun expressed that she hoped audiences would come away from the film with open minds and open hearts toward sex workers.

“I want them to feel perhaps for the first time in their lives that they’re relating to a sex worker, that they have something in common with sex workers,” she said. “And most importantly, that our human rights should be respected and that we should be treated as equals.”

By Zanoah Plummer

to file for divorce. Couples who file for marriage breakdown must be separated for three years before they are granted a divorce.

1969 Homosexuality is decriminalized nationwide for those aged 21 or older by Bill C-150. In spite of this, police violence against the Queer community continues as is the case of Toronto’s bathhouse raids, the Brunswick Four and more.

1972 Alberta repeals the “Sexual Sterilization Act.” A year later, B.C. does too. However, sterilizations in B.C. continue into the 1980s.

1983 Bill C-127 passes, criminalizing formerly legal forms of sexual assault. The bill no longer limits the legal definition of sexual assault by gender and abolishes an exemption that made sexually assaulting a spouse legal.

1985 Bill C-31 amends the “Indian Act,” allowing for Indigenous women to keep their status when married to non-Indigenous men.

The bill also allows for women and children to re-apply for status lost through a marriage. As a result, the number of people registered under the act doubles from 360,000 in 1985 to over 778,000 in 2007.

1986 The “Divorce Act” is amended to allow joint filings of divorce. Couples that file on the grounds of marriage breakdown must now be separated for one year before they are granted a divorce.

2005 The “Civil Marriage Act” is passed, legalizing same-sex marriage in all Canadian provinces and territories.

2008 Age of consent is raised to 16.

2011 The Supreme Court of B.C. upholds the ban on polygamy. The judge rules it a threat to “women, children, society and the institution of monogamous marriage.”

2022 Bill C-4 bans conversion therapy in Canada.

AVA WHELPLEY/THE EYEOPENER

“We

keep us safe”

the fight to keep cops out of Toronto Pride

Disclaimer: This article discusses transphobic, homophobic violence and police violence.

SYRUS MARCUS WARE watches as an overwhelmed community member climbs a fence to use a restroom at a Blockorama stage—Canada’s largest Black Queer celebration and one of the biggest ever at Toronto Pride, in June 2017.

The young person, stressed and high on different substances, spots a Porta Potty through the swarms of people and tries to navigate through. But the police and Pride security spot them too.

Ware—a McMaster University assistant professor—and another attendee step in, assuring the officers that the person only needs a moment to use the bathroom. But the security officers pull on latex gloves and get prepared to tackle him.

After convincing the officers to back off, the group guides the person to a tent to use the restroom, get water and have a conversation.

Ware later learns the community member is living on his own and was attending Blockorama for the first time since being in care as a youth. But Blockorama had changed locations several times over the years and they were trying to find where to go.

“He had finally made it to the parking lot, finally made it to the stage. He realized he felt a little overwhelmed, needed a moment. If this person had been grabbed and pitched down, it would’ve been disastrous.”

These kinds of interventions are just one of several ways Toronto’s 2SLGBTQ+ community are supporting one another, in attempts to curb or avoid police interaction.

TORONTO POLICE SERVICES (TPS) has been trying to take steps towards rectifying their turbulent and violent history with Toronto’s 2SLGBTQ+ community for years. In 2016, former Toronto police chief Mark Saunders apologized for TPS’ orchestration of the 1981 bathhouse raids, the same year Black Lives Matter–Toronto (BLM–Toronto) halted the Pride parade to call attention to their demands of accessibility, increased funding and addressing anti-Black racism.

TPS first raised a Pride flag over their headquarters in 2017, a move many called ‘historic.’ But only a year later, it was revealed that Saunders misled the community about the possibility of a serial killer in the Gay Village, falsely saying there was no reason to worry. Even today Saunders’ successor, Myron Demkiw, was one of the five male officers who participated in the Pussy Palace bathhouse raid in 2000—which saw plainclothes male officers enter a bathhouse where more than 350 nude or semi-nude women and non-binary people were present.

However this hasn’t eased the high levels of fear and discomfort members of the 2SLGBTQ+ community—especially those who are racialized—feel around police officers. As Pride continues to expand not just across

the city but the world, community members are continually asking the questions: What is the purpose of police at Pride? And can we do without them?

DESPITE—OR PERHAPS, BECAUSE OF—a violent history, some members of Toronto’s 2SLGBTQ+ community have been trying to establish an alliance with TPS for decades.

An academic article by Andy Holmes highlighted the first attempts of outreach to police by the 2SLGBTQ+ community in the aftermath of the 1978 Barracks Bathhouse raid. A group of activists created the ‘Right to Privacy Committee’ (RTPC) which aimed to provide legal aid for the arrested men and submitted a report to the Metro Toronto Police Commission, titled “Our Police Force Too! A Brief Presented on Behalf of Toronto’s Gay Community.”

However, it was only following the infamous 1981 bathhouse raids—in which over 300 men were arrested, 289 were charged and police inflicted tens of thousands of dollars in property damage—that Toronto City Council decided to readjust its course and attempts at progress were made.

But many believed these efforts were moving too slowly. For the 2SLGBTQ+ community, safety and self-defense had already been coming from themselves, protecting the community from both police violence and gay bashings—which were frequent routine violence from homophobic aggressors.

Then came the Pussy Palace raids in 2000.

Ware had regularly been to the Pussy Palace events but wasn’t there on the night of the raid.

“It rocked our whole community when it happened,” he says.

The Pussy Palace events only happened three or four times a month but Ware says they were incredibly popular.

“It was something to look forward to, it was something that you planned for…it was something that you would change and cancel all your plans just to make sure that you’d be able to go to,” says Ware.

“So to have this kind of violation sent ripples because then people, of course afterwards, were like, ‘do I go to the next one? Will it happen again? Will I be safe there?’”

Ware was a coordinator at the University of Toronto’s Centre for Women and Trans People at the time. He organized support for many of the Pussy Palace attendees. “There’s a lot of things that had to happen in order to get any sense of wrongdoing from the police,” he says.

The legacy of violence and discrimination—both institutional and interpersonal—continues to affect police relations with the 2SLGBTQ+ community to this day. Many are hesitant to report crimes of harassment and discrimination, according to a 2021 Journal of Gender Studies article, which can be fuelled by cycles of police mistreatment—which furthers underreporting. This becomes increasingly worrying as hate crimes and targeted violence against the 2SLGBTQ+ community begin to increase. In 2024, Statistics Canada reported that hate crimes targeting sexual orientation rose by 388 per cent between 2016 and 2023.

Bad experiences with or negative perceptions of the police can be heightened for those who are racialized or gender-diverse.

Ware is a co-founder of Black Lives Matter–Canada, which was formed a year after BLM–Toronto stopped

the 2016 pride parade to protest police brutality, according to their website. Ware was a core team member of BLM–Toronto at the time. Their demands included a “removal of police floats/booths in all Pride marches/parades/community spaces” and a commitment to “more Black deaf and hearing ASL interpreters for the Festival.”

Ware says the demonstration was organized with “a large set of communities,” such as Blackness Yes—who curate the Blockorama stage—and members of Black Queer Youth Collective. These groups collaborated to create demands that would address the way anti-Blackness was playing out at the festival as well as wider issues of abolition and racism in the city.

“At that point in the parade, there was more police, prison, bailiff trucks…it was a prison road show. There were more police officers with their rainbow leis, uniforms and guns than community groups,” says Ware.

THE DISCUSSION of TPS presence at Pride has been a back-and-forth between the often-conflicting interests of festival organizers—Pride Toronto—the city, members of the 2SLGBTQ+ community and advocacy groups like BLM–Toronto.

Then-executive director of Pride Toronto, Mathieu Chantelois, signed off on BLM–Toronto’s demands before backtracking on the agreement.

Following BLM–Toronto’s disruption, TPS did not participate in the Pride parade in 2017 although Pride Toronto issued a statement inviting police officers out of uniform. Former chief Saunders withdrew their bid to march in the 2018 parade as well, due to increased feelings of mistrust among the community following the Bruce McArthur killings— which saw eight men murdered in the Gay Village between 2010 and 2017.

“At that in the there police, bailiff it was road

Pride Toronto’s membership voted again to ban the presence of TPS at their 2019 parade, although they have been in parades since then.

Pride Toronto is one of the biggest 2SLGBTQ+ celebrations in the world, with major funding to boot. According to the Toronto Star, Pride Toronto raked in nearly $8 million in revenue in 2024 with 64 per cent coming from corporate sponsors, while other funding sources shrank.

O Stecina, a 2025 graduate of RTA’s media production program at Toronto Metropolitan University, is opposed to cops at Pride Toronto and believes that “if anything, the cops are there to protect the money,” they say.

“I’ve seen how it’s been going down in [the U.S.] where the moment there’s even the tiniest drop in public support for the Queer cause, all of these money sources panic and run away.”

AVA WHELPLEY/THE

45 years after the bathhouse raids, Queer Torontonians are still put off by police at Pride—inside their efforts to keep the cops out. By Amira Benjamin

that point the parade, there was more police, prison, bailiff trucks… was a prison road show”

Stecina also acknowledged the “complicated balancing act” that Pride Toronto may manage, between attracting major sponsors and visitors while managing different floats and events for a growing number of community groups.

In 2025, a dozen corporate sponsors—such as Google and Home Depot—revoked their funding to Toronto Pride, leaving the organization with an approximately $900,000 shortfall right before June.

Stecina recalls their first major Pride celebration being “really exciting,” but was discouraged by the “ads everywhere.”

“We know that if we force ourselves to become reliant on that [corporate] source of income, that comes from us becoming the product, then we’re just going to have to morph into something that, to me, feels unrec-

ter the bathhouse raids and happened in the years following that. There was the night after the bathhouse raids when people gathered in the streets, marched down to the police station and up to the police headquarters [on College]...there was riotous rage that led to our gathering,” he says.

“It just seems outrageous that we would be in a moment in 2026, where we’re limiting what kind of political conversations we can have as Queer and trans people in a parade that was actually a march.”

The current director of Pride Toronto, Kojo Modeste, told Global News in an interview after the event that he was “very disappointed” in the pro-Palestine protestors’ disruption, claiming protests at Pride “can happen at any time,” but should be “done respectfully.”

ognizable to the original Queer community,” they say. “That’s something I don’t want to do. A lot of aspects of my life are not advertiser-friendly at all.”

There have also been major discussions about returning Pride to its activist and political roots, in opposition to major corporate sponsorships.

For the past two years, 2SLBGTQ+ activists across the country have been holding demonstrations to encourage Pride organizers to divest from Israeli companies and organizations in response to Israel’s genocide in Gaza.

In 2024, Pride Toronto ended their parade early due to a disruption from the group Coalition Against Pinkwashing, who demanded Pride Toronto cut ties with sponsors like TD Bank and Google. In 2025, protestors blocked Ottawa’s Pride parade for similar reasons, resulting in the organizers ending the parade shortly after it started.

Ware says it’s not “hyperbolic” to say the first Pride, even in Toronto, was a riot.

“The first real coming together in Pride happened af-

A.C.*, an educator and member of Queers 4 Palestine (Q4P), sees Pride Toronto as the depoliticization of an event that is inherently political.

“We need that politicization to actually advance our rights and not just get trapped in the structures that oppress us,” they say. “We want to break those structures down and build alternatives. And if you normalize Queerness in that way that Pride Toronto does, then you take away our teeth.”

A.C. says for Q4P, Pride is “not only to advance the rights of Queer people, but then also to advance the rights of everyone who’s on the margins of society, because those are our kin.”

DESPITE MANY CALLS

for the police to be removed from Pride, there’s still a level of trust in the institution for safety among some. A 2022 research study in Current Issues in Criminal Justice found that 2SLGBTQ+ folks were less likely to view the police as ‘legitimate’ authorities, but only less than half of respondents would report future hate crimes to the police.

“I think I have always found it interesting that there is a cohort of people that are glad that the police are there because they can prevent interruptions to the parade and to events and stuff by other [political] causes,” says Stecina.

“I think that [they] are just causes. I think that these are conversations that we do need to be having. I think it’s important that we have a chance to celebrate, but it’s also important that we acknowledge that there is a need for solidarity between communities.”

Yet definitions of ‘safety’ under the police look different for different people, says Samantha Peters, a lawyer and co-founder of Black Femme Legal, a communitybased initiative that provides legal information, advocacy and care-centred support to Black women, femmes and gender diverse folks navigating harm in the workplace.

“Do I believe keeping TPS at Pride is sustainable? It depends on who you’re asking,” they say. “Is it sustainable for Black Queer and trans communities? I mean, there will

likely be a very different response than if you were to ask that question to non-Black Queer and trans communities, right?”

Peters believes that institutions like TPS and other police forces cherry-pick success stories to “absolve themselves of accountability for the systemic harms that have been ongoing.”

They call this “systemic gaslighting.”

“I think that what we have shoved down our throats is that the police equal safety and that’s our only option. But as Black Queer and trans and non-binary and gender-diverse folks, we know that there are other ways in which to get safety.”

TPS does not necessarily need to remain a strong presence at Pride. Many other major cities, such as Vancouver in 2020 banned police officers from their Pride events indefinitely. Pride Toronto has listened to its members and BLM–Toronto to bar uniformed officers from the parade.

Yet many are opting for alternative means of Pride celebrations and education that exclude TPS, such as Abolition Pride held by the No Pride in Policing Coalition.

A.C. first attended Pride Toronto in 2019 and felt disillusioned by the corporate sponsors. They later joined Abolition Pride as a marshall and enjoyed it much more.

A.B.*, another member of Q4P, says they believe Pride would still happen without corporate sponsorships and Pride Toronto’s board and staff but with a more grassroots approach.

“The tourists would still come and people would still have all the parties and you know, we could still close off Church Street or whatever…Pride would happen. It would just look a little bit different,” they say.

Ware highlights that Pride Toronto already has hired security and alternative measures of community safety that don’t require the police. “The kinds of things we need to build that would really create safety are the kinds of things that are really easy and fun to implement,” he says. For him, this includes free and accessible spaces for young people that don’t include alcohol as well as safe places for people who use substances.

“There could be all sorts of things we could invest in that would just be about investing in our communities,” says Ware. “Imagine we took the millions of dollars, or [however] much they spend on Toronto policing and invest it into our communities. Think of the amazing things we could imagine that we could absolutely do that would make the Pride festival safer.”

A.C. echoed similar sentiments. “I mean, this is a common chant, but we keep us safe…it’s not the cops that keep us safe, it’s not the state that keeps us safe— it’s each other.”

*These sources have remained anonymous for privacy reasons. The Eye has verified these sources

EYEOPENER

Pop culture: How criminalization made using poppers a minefield

When vials of solvent find their place under the nose of federal regulators

By Daniel Opasinis

Disclaimer : This article has explicit descriptions of sex.

No more than two inches tall, the small brown vials hiss with built up fumes—the fresh ones at least. Anna* brings the bottle to her nose as a friend directs her to close the other nostril, she inhales. Then, a smell she says reminds her of acetone rushes into her airway.

What comes next is quick. A lightheaded feeling, tightness, pressure, as if her heart beat is travelling through her chest and neck up into her head. Her face goes flush, not quite red but surely warm. And a dissociative pause to the world around her lasts just about 30 seconds—time she spends giggling with friends on the corner of the street.

Anna is in Bologna, Italy. It’s the summer after high school and she’s visiting her friend, an exchange student who she went to high school with, in her hometown.

Her friends had pitched the idea of poppers as they walked past a local weed shop, where the inhalants are also sold in much of Europe. Anna hadn’t heard of the drug before. “For some reason, I thought that it would be similar to weed, because we bought it in a weed store…It was a very, very unique experience,” she says.

Generally, poppers contain alkyl nitrites like amyl nitrite or isobutyl nitrite—chemicals that quickly evaporate, letting off the fumes that produce a high when inhaled.

According to a study from the University of British Columbia (UBC), a major crackdown on the sale and importing of poppers in 2013 threatened large fines and even imprisonment. Although written legislation was never set forward, the inhalants became classified as “drugs” under the Food and Drug Act, effectively banning them across the country.

This ended four decades of relaxed laws that left them in a grey area—where they were legal to sell, just not for human consumption. Manufacturers had got around the rules by marketing them under alternate names like “leather polisher” and “VCR head cleaner,” but the new law left no room for workarounds.

Nevertheless, there are still places to get your hands on the drug.

Places like The Popper King, an online storefront for poppers based out of the U.S., or sellers within the country—like Robert*.

Over 20 years ago, Robert was hooking up with a guy and wanted to try fisting. “I

heard that poppers were the way to relax your hole enough,” he says.

“When I bought them from a local store at that time, you were able to just walk in and grab them…without any sort of backlash or under the table stuff,” he says.

While the poppers’ muscle-relaxing effects led to a successful backdoor entry, he couldn’t get over the feeling of losing control. “It felt like I was constantly falling, so I just stopped using them after that…the smell of them just made me sick,” he says.

While poppers are mostly considered safe, according to the UBC study, certain formulations of the drug do pose health risks, one being vision loss. Some of the most common side effects from poppers include headaches and dizziness, according to the Canadian Cen

friends wanted, and then while I was down there, I was like, ‘You know what? There’s a potential here,’ because you can’t get them in Canada,” Robert says. “So I decided to purchase a whole bunch of them.”

The salesperson quickly clued into Robert’s plan and offered advice—to mail the vials across the border rather than taking them over himself. This way, there would be less chance of having them seized and being held back in the airport.

His new business venture was a quick success with Toronto’s Queer community. “A lot of bottoms would use it to take dicks for hours, or fists or toys or whatever the case may be,” he says. “Because a lot of people know that it does relax a lot of muscles and leaves you inhibited.”

app, looking for a fun way to spend his night. After messaging back and forth with a guy, he agreed to meet at his place.

Despite his anticipation, the hookup ended up taking place a few metres from the guy’s place, on the padded leather seats of his car in the front driveway. As James topped his new friend, he watched the man pull out that small brown vial.

“He brought it out for himself because he was bottoming, I was like, okay, you do you,” James says. “And then I think I got curious. Because we were both verse, I was like, ‘girl, I want you to fuck me too.’”

James hadn’t interacted with poppers before that moment, at least not outside seeing them in Troye Sivan’s “Rush” music video or other pop culture references.

tre for Addictions.

Many risks with poppers come from doing them incorrectly. In 2023, the CBC reported the U.S. Food and Drug Administration was warning Americans not to confuse the drug with energy shots—like the popular and similarly packaged 5-Hour Energy—and that several people had reportedly died doing so.

Though Robert’s experience wasn’t ideal, it wasn’t his last run-in with the drug.

While visiting a friend in Boston, he asked his circles back in Toronto if they needed anything from the U.S. He knew of the lighter laws around alkyl nitrites in the U.S. and naturally had a couple of orders come in from friends.

“I found a store, grabbed a few that my

The ban on poppers however hasn’t led to any appreciable decline in their use. According to a 2020 study from the International Journal of Drug Policy, as much as 30 per cent of gay men in Canada had used poppers in the six months preceding the study.

Robert says this is what he’s seen among his own clientele. “It’s not just young, it’s not just old, it’s everybody.”

James* is one of those young people—a gay man who recently moved to Toronto. He considers himself versatile—someone who enjoys topping and bottoming during sex— and frequents the city’s gay clubbing scene.

About a year ago, James was scrolling through Sniffies, a map-based gay hookup

“I just felt way more horny…If this just makes it more fun and it feels better, then sure. Why not?” he says.

Regardless of the drugs’ notoriety and popularity among young Queer people, it remains heavily regulated across the country. So until something changes, Robert’s underthe-counter hustle will continue to thrive.

“It’s still very much a taboo thing, right? But then again, some gay guys thrive on the taboo,” Robert says.

*These sources have requested to remain anonymous. The Eye has verified this source.

With files from Edward Lander

PIERRE-PHILIPE WANYA-TAMBWE/THE EYEOPENER

What it takes to intern at a sex workers advocacy group

The student interns at Maggie’s Toronto take trauma-informed approaches to dismantle misconceptions around sex work

By Anna-Giselle Funes-Eng

“We’re not out to change the world; we’re not making anybody’s political careers, we just want to make a safe space where we get a little support and respect”—is what the Sex Workers Alliance of Toronto wrote in their newsletter in the early ‘90s.

The text sits above the outline of a lipstick-stamped kiss and was distributed as a paper zine by what is now known as Maggie’s Toronto and their Sex Workers Action Project, stored in Canada’s national 2SLGBTQ+ archives.

Maggie’s Toronto has been advocating, building community and serving sex workers in ways that centre their agency and wellbeing since 1985, when it was called the Toronto Prostitutes Community Service Project, according to their website. While the organization was originally funded by the City of Toronto’s Board of Health, Maggie’s became a registered charity in 2009 and receives funding from donors.

The history of sex work in Toronto is one of legislative attacks on autonomy and denial of care. Studies done by the Canadian Public Health Association (CPHA) have found “sex workers have greater unmet health needs and greater barriers to accessing the components of health and well-being,” than the overall population.

They trace this back to four main barriers; the criminalization of sex work, stigmas around sex work, structural marginalization and lack of research on the diverse needs and realities of sex workers. In a 2017 paper, the

CPHA called for a public health approach to sex work.

When it was founded in the late 1980s, Maggie’s was originally a public health initiative.

Coral Beaton, a third-year collaborative nursing student, completed her placement at Maggie’s this past December.

Beaton spent the semester researching and working in community outreach with Maggie’s, centring people’s needs and autonomy to choose what care worked best for them.

“Sex workers are very resilient, they’re resourceful. They know what they need”

While Maggie’s is built on support for sex workers by sex workers, Beaton came to the organization without any experience. She dedicated herself to learning more about sex workers’ realities without stigma, how different paths lead people to it and the importance of harm reduction in this work. Along with learning from healthcare resources, Beaton worked with Maggie’s street outreach programming and learned through listening to people in the community about their needs. As part of this, Beaton was trained in administering naloxone for overdoses, safe injections and care kits.

“Sex workers are very resilient, they’re resourceful. They know what they need. They know what they don’t need. And it’s not my place to tell them,” she said.

“I tried my very best to keep an

open mind and kind of let them tell me what they needed.”

Their needs are wide-ranging and diverse, which means that the kind of care and resources to support them also need to be wide-ranging, intersectional and considerate of those complex realities.

“It’s important to have the appropriate training regarding substance use and how to do it safely. And if, you know, God forbid, something happens, how to navigate that,” she said.

Barbara Chyzzy is an assistant professor of nursing at TMU and the year three lead for the collaborative nursing program. Her teaching focuses on giving students a social justice-based understanding of care, acknowledging structural issues that impact people’s health.

“If somebody [is experiencing] poverty, if somebody is experiencing racism, if somebody has been in a violent situation, if they have gender based violence, all of these are intersectional. They intersect together and then they compound,” Chyzzy said.

Beaton prides herself on being able to educate other people in her life about their misconceptions of sex work. Though her placement ended in December, she hopes to keep volunteering with Maggie’s.

Beaton says the public’s stigma around sex work can revolve around many things—substance use, houselessness and the nature of sex work itself is discriminatory and can prevent people from seeking care. Beaton hopes people understand that sex work is just like any other job, “these people are trying to survive and work just

like any other individual,” she said.

Beaton said while it’s disheartening to hear people bring up those stigmas during her placement, she found informing them with the right information helped them change their minds.

She’s been passionate about community-based healthcare ever since her work at Maggie’s wrapped up. “Health is very much all about prevention. And prevention and education go hand in hand,” said Beaton.

Chyzzy’s courses teach the trauma-informed training that students are required to get in their third year. After working across different healthcare spaces including hospital emergency rooms, her speciality is now in communitybased healthcare.

“The definition of trauma informed is not asking people, ‘what’s wrong with you?’ It’s like, ‘What happened? What in your past experience may have influenced you...to have mental health or even physical health stressors?’” Chyzzy said.

Harm reduction is something we all, in some way, partake in in our everyday lives

While acute care focuses on specific, immediate issues, like those treated in an emergency room, Chyzzy said communitybased healthcare looks at how social determinants of health impact people’s relationship to their health and interactions with the healthcare system. For Chyzzy, it’s about seeing the person not just as a single issue to treat, but

seeing health as intrinsically connected to the communities you belong to.

Chyzzy said in nursing, these are seen as “social determinants of health.” Conditions people are born into, access to power and resources all impact people’s experience with their health, according to the World Health Organization (WHO). “People who have limited access to quality housing, education, social protection and job opportunities have a higher risk of illness and death,” the WHO writes in their official definition.

Chyzzy said the idea of public health as a way to keep entire communities healthy and safe requires an understanding of intersectional harm reduction. For her, safety means people having access to the resources they need, with their past traumas considered.

Chyzzy said harm reduction is something we all, in some way, partake in in our everyday lives—it can look as simple as wearing a helmet, a seatbelt or a condom. She explains when we consider how an action we take might come with a risk, we take steps to reduce the potential impact. This kind of framework applies to sex work—where considerations can be anything from mental health, to first-aid or other supports.

“You’re just speaking with humans and they just want to be treated as human beings,” Beaton said. “That’s really what it boils down to, to have the same rights, same treatment, same experiences and the availability of social services as the rest of us.”

AVA WHELPLEY & SAIF-ULLAH KHAN/THE EYEOPENER

Opinion: The courts are failing sexual assault survivors

Survivors can’t find justice when the legal system mistakes trauma responses for ‘inconsistency’ and ‘dishonesty’

By Jasmine Makar

Disclaimer: This piece includes mention of sexual assault.

A ping went off on my phone on July 24, 2025, followed by four more alerts. I looked down and saw a multitude of notifications from various news outlets, CBC, the Toronto Star, The Globe and Mail; they all reported the same news.

Carter Hart was found not guilty of sexual assault charges. Minutes later, Alex Formenton, Cal Foote, Dillon Dubé and Michael McLeod were all acquitted of all criminal sexual assault charges.

The five former players of the 2018 Canadian world junior hockey team had just walked out of the London, Ont., provincial courthouse after an almost four-monthlong trial with two dismissed juries and tons of media attention.

A lot of the initial coverage discussed the pro-athletes but all I could think about was E.M., the survivor of the alleged sexual assault on June 19, 2018, in a London hotel following a Hockey Canada gala. Protected under a publication ban, her name and identity have never been made public, but that won’t protect her from the aftermath of the verdict and the indifference she faced in the justice system.

After reading the words the lawyers used to describe E.M. and the accusations against the athletes, I couldn’t believe we live in a world where someone who had enough courage to speak out about such a deeply personal experience could be degraded after having to relive something so traumatic.

Besides general anger at verdicts like these, there is tangible data that speaks to the depth of the Canadian justice system’s systemic misunderstanding of victims’ responses to sexual assault.

A 2023 report conducted by the federal government found that victims experience re-traumatization in the criminal justice system and their testimonies are often misunderstood and dehumanized.

“Failures to understand common trauma reactions, and mistaken assumptions about small and apparent inconsistencies in recall about upsetting and traumatic events. These lead to the mistaken belief that victim-witness testimony lacks credibility or reliability,” reads the report.

Additionally, the report states after trauma occurs, “victims may make statements that appear to be incomplete or inconsistent… But what might appear to be an ‘inconsistency’ in the way a victim reacts, or tells her story, may actually be a typical, predictable, and normal way of responding to life-threatening events and coping with traumatic experiences.”

The U.S. National Library of Medicine also indicates that there is a clear correlation between memory loss and sexual assault trauma.

The fear of reporting sexual assault is grounded in the reality of our justice system repeatedly failing victims because of black and white beliefs and understandings of consent and trauma. The reality is that the system needs to be more empathetic and mended to better fit the psychological aspect of sexual assault.

According to the Government

of Canada, in 2014 only five per cent of sexual assaults were reported to the police and findings from 2017 show that 42 per cent of adult criminal sexual assault cases lead to a guilty verdict.

My heart breaks for every person who has experienced assault and has felt they can’t speak up because of fear they won’t find justice in a system that has time and time again favoured perpetrators over survivors.

The findings of these studies closely parallel the proceedings in E.M.’s trial.

Ontario Superior Court Justice Maria Carroccia said E.M. was neither “credible or reliable” while explaining the verdict and describing “inconsistencies” in her story.

Justice Carroccia, who previously worked as a criminal defence lawyer, further stated that “E.M. had a tendency to blame others,” while in the same breath blaming and accusing her of lying about her traumatic experience. One in five survivors of sexual assault feels blamed for their experience by their perpetrator and others, according to the federal government. The National Library of Medicine also found that victim blaming is one of the social influences that develops post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

The research clearly outlines a disconnect with the law and the way victims are treated and understood in court.

Watching the proceedings, I began to understand more fully the extent of why there is so much hesitancy to report sexual assault. I remain confused why the Canadian government is seemingly aware of these inconsistencies but takes no action to mend them.

I couldn’t help but feel an immense sadness for E.M. and what this meant to women and survivors all over the country. What precedent is this going to set? But more importantly, what precedent is this going to set for people who want to report sexual assault? If the law won’t protect survivors, then who will?

This is not the first time the courts have dismissed a woman’s experience because of “unreliable” evidence without considering emotional factors and the effects of PTSD. In 2018, the same year as E.M.’s case, four other hockey players—two of them junior players—were brought to trial in West Kelowna, B.C. over an alleged group sexual assault, and were all acquitted, according to CBC.

CBC’s The Fifth Estate also found that there have been at least 15 group sexual assault investigations connected to junior hockey players since 1989.

The justice system places indirect “social pressures” on survivors to meet specific criteria, making them fit into the stereotypes of “ideal victims,” according to the

Canadian government’s research. Many of these include cutting off contact with the perpetrator and demonstrating near-perfect recall. Putting survivors in these boxes in order to prove their perpetrators’ guilt only confines the complexities of sexual assault.

Much of the conversation surrounding the trial was regarding the reputation of the players that would now be forever marred— but how can this be true when this past October, Hart signed a fourmillion dollar contract with the Vegas Golden Knights in the National Hockey League?

Following his signing, the Golden Knights released a blanket statement explaining how they “remain committed to the core values that have defined our organization from its inception and expect that our players will continue to meet these standards moving forward.”

What “core values” exist in an organization that is willing to take someone on after a trial that was so explicit? What does this say about all celebrities and athletes who continue to use their privilege, knowing the system won’t hold them accountable?

I implore all survivors and nonsurvivors to speak up and speak out, to be angry, to understand their power, to know it’s not their fault and to be defiant because, at its current state, the law can’t define you or your experience.

PIERRE-PHILIPE WANYA-TAMBWE/THE EYEOPENER

Toronto libraries are putting up a fight against bans on Queer books

22,000 books have been banned in the U.S. since 2021

By Eunice Soriano

Books on feminism, left-wing politics and 2SLGBTQ+ voices are being taken out of schools and libraries across North America, with the U.S. banning over 22,000 books since 2021 and Alberta seemingly following their lead.

To uphold freedom of expression in different communities, public libraries across Ontario have made commitments to ensure that books don’t go under attack.

In light of these book bans, the Toronto Public Library (TPL) has curated various collections and hosted events that highlight Queer literature.

In 2023, TPL joined the Book Sanctuary movement—a title coined by the Chicago Public Library in 2022 for libraries who declare themselves places where the public can have unrestricted access to all materials, including titles that have been censored, challenged or banned, according to TPL’s website.

TPL also created a special Book Sanctuary Collection at the Toronto Reference Library, showcasing books that have been censored or removed from public and school libraries across North America.

Matt Abbott, senior manager of TPL’s collection development, said in an emailed state-

ment to The Eyeopener that the library hosts panel discussions broaching the censorship centered around many 2SLGBTQ+ books.

“We invite people to take part in conversations where they can expect to challenge their own perspectives and learn from one another through civil discourse, creating opportunities for voices to be shared and ideas to be explored,” Abbott said. “We feel this is very important at this time.”

James Turk, the director of Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU)’s Centre for Free Expression, shared how the centre is actively updating their database—a hub maintaining records of every challenge to a book, library program or display that occurs in a public library, school library or academic library within the U.S.

Moving forward, Turk and the Centre are working with school boards across the country to enact policies and formal procedures for managing item removal requests from school library catalogues.

By keeping a closer eye on schools, he hopes that it can discourage any future book bans from making its way into Ontario.

“I’m hopeful that what’s happening in Alberta, couldn’t happen here…We could get a government that wants to do the same thing. But let’s hope that their attack on the

The intricate art of intimacy coordination

TMU

alumna Avery Jean Rose on advocating for actors and what it takes to coordinate on-screen sex

By Tristan Grajales

Before she knew intimacy coordinators existed, Avery Jean Rose was already taking on the responsibility of one as a performance: acting student at Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU). With a career spanning independent short films to live theatre, Rose is now committed to protecting artists, even if it means slowing down a high-budget production.

“‘Time is money’ is drilled into us as actors, and it’s terrifying,” Rose said. “I don’t care what set I’m on. I don’t care what money we’re losing. I’ll stop everything.”

According to ACTRA Toronto, the role of an intimacy coordinator is to create a safe and respectful work environment for scenes involving nudity and simulated sex. For Rose, having an intimacy coordinator on set is invaluable.

Rose credits former TMU acting professor Jennifer Wigmore with introducing her to intimacy coordination. She says Wigmore and Siobhan Richardson—a pioneering voice in the field across Canada—mentored her in the practice. Through Richardson’s guidance, Rose discovered that intimacy coordination has similarities with fight choreography. “You wouldn’t just get two actors to punch each other, right?” she explained.

Despite this straightforward analogy, intimacy coordination remains widely misunderstood in media and across film, television and theatre. Third-year TMU per-

Alberta government for what they’re doing will discourage any other provincial government,” Turk said.

While Ontario libraries have strived to foster a safe environment for young readers, some TMU students still worrt about the future of book bans south of the border.

For second-year politics and governance student Natalia Soliva, exploring 2SLGBTQ+ books took her on not only a literary journey, but also one of self-discovery.

She expressed how the representation between the pages of her favourite books made her feel seen, ultimately helping her harness the courage to come out.

“Seeing yourself, seeing these people on screen, in books throughout history who are like you, it ignites something in you. And it’s important that we keep that up because the more that we suppress it, the more people think that they are the problem, rather than the system,” Soliva said.

But with the ongoing pressures, Soliva described how the “erasure” of Queer voices from bookshelves only adds to the negative discourse.

“By removing these stories, these voices that uplift Queer people, it’s showing that

there’s something that’s wrong with us and that’s something that we’ve heard for our entire existence,” she said.

Second-year social work student Adrian Mariano said he observed how many people have misconceptions among the content in 2SLGBTQ+ books.

He said that parents who challenge these books can dismiss the educational parts that commentate on self-identity and the history of the Queer community, cultivating more “isolation” among youth.

“I’m afraid for a lot of youth people that are…in the closet and I feel like it’s just nice to have those kind of, like education and knowledge towards LGBTQ people and those who are part of it just kind of gives them some sort of support,” Mariano said.

Whether the situation transcends, students like Soliva believe that holding more open discussions about the issue is a step that needs to be taken.

“These conversations need to be started here, because if we don’t, then it’s gonna come up behind us…you never know we don’t know who’s safe who’s not. So we really have to be talking about these [issues] before they get over our heads,” Soliva said.

formance: acting student Miguel Gallego says misconceptions are common.

“You don’t think that there’s technique initially,” he said. “You’re like, ‘Okay, if I can do this in real life, I can do it in a fake setting,’ but there are certain things that read better.”

Gallego has performed vulnerable scenes in student and feature films, with and without intimacy coordinators, and he says the difference is noticeable. “Whenever there’s no intimacy coordinator, there’s the assumption of throwing actors in the water,” he observes. “You guys figure it out, you guys learn how to swim.”

The hierarchy of power on film sets can make it difficult for actors to speak up about concerns, particularly those in smaller roles.

“There’s no opening,” Gallego said. “If you do start that conversation, a lot of the time, it’ll be in front of a lot more people, which… can be an even bigger stressor.”

Beyond on-screen talent, intimacy coordinators are looking out for the well-being of everyone behind the scenes. While working on one production, Rose became aware of how emotionally triggering an intense sequence could be for crew members, from costume and makeup to lighting and sound. She made a point of checking in with each person individually.

“It made such a difference,” she recalls. One crew member asked to step out during the scene and Rose ensured they were brought back once filming moved on. She also advocated for an actor who was required to cry on camera, making sure the scene was not repeat-

ed unnecessarily, knowing the actor might not feel comfortable voicing those limits to the director in a fast-paced environment.

A common concern performers have is navigating intimate scenes while in a monogamous relationship outside of work. Part of an intimacy coordinator’s role is reassuring actors that the work is choreographed and not romantic. “I always say, ‘If your girlfriend or your boyfriend is freaking out, I’ll talk to them,’” Rose explained. “They can come in and they can see the process to eliminate any worry.”

Throughout rehearsal, intimacy coordinators introduce a range of exercises designed to help performers get comfortable with one another before the camera rolls. These strategies include everything from text analysis and open conversation to prolonged eye contact and secret handshakes.

Even if an intimacy coordinator is not actively choreographing a scene, Gallego finds their presence on set essential during explicit moments, allowing him to stay in character without distraction.

“Depending on the amount of clothing you have, you want to make sure that everything is tucked away…You want to present well,” he explained. “Having someone that you know is

taking care of that takes off that pressure of you having to be the one in charge of it.”

As a Queer artist herself, Rose is passionate about bringing her intimacy coordination expertise to Queer stories. Drawing on her own experience, she notices details a straight director might overlook, something that she knows a lesbian in the audience will catch. One example that sticks out to her is a short film she watched featuring lesbians with their hands covered in rings as they move into an intimate scene.

“They woke up the next morning and their makeup was still almost perfect, and they still had all their jewelry on,” she recalls. “In my brain, I was like, ‘That would never happen. No way you kept your rings on.” One of the biggest things that drew Rose to the line of work is the creativity she can bring to make the most subtle moments more authentic and impactful.

Moving forward, Rose hopes that intimacy coordination becomes more recognized and accessible. “The training is expensive, and it’s often very time consuming. It’s basically like going back to university.” For Rose, wider access to this knowledge means safer, more accountable sets where artists can do their best work and, above all else, protect themselves.

PIERRE-PHILIPE WANYA-TAMBWE/THE EYEOPENER

The cost of Ontario’s healthcare gaps on students’ sexual health

Young people wait years for diagnoses in the midst of a healthcare crisis

By Sophie Wallace

Theresa Carlson was 14 the first time she experienced period cramps so severe she couldn’t get out of bed. In the years that followed, Carlson, now a secondyear creative industries student at Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU), was referred to St. Michael’s, St. Joseph’s and then Women’s College Hospital in Toronto.

“Each of those referrals took me about roughly two to four years just to get one consult appointment,” said Carlson.

In December 2025, seven years after her initial appointment, Carlson finally got permission to receive a laparoscopy—a minor surgery using a camera to examine the abdominal organs. The results of this procedure would be needed to diagnose: the stage of her endometriosis and polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS), a common hormonal disorder.

This is a familiar story. According to Endometriosis Network Canada, people wait an average of five years for an endometriosis diagnosis. Moreover, 80 per cent of people with endometriosis are initially dismissed by doctors saying their pain is “normal.”

CTV News reported that over four years of medical school, students receive roughly one hour of training on endometriosis symptoms and treatment options. The ongoing family doctor shortage means physicians are spending less time with individual patients.

Recent data from the Ontario Medical Association shows there are more than 2.5 million Ontarians without access to a family doctor. The number is predicted to rise, as only 42 per cent of current Ontario medical students said they would consider a career in family medicine. This means longer wait times and more barriers to managing chronic conditions, like Carlson’s.

The causes are complex and multifaceted but the results are clear: Ontario is failing to provide adequate sexual and reproductive healthcare to its young people.

According to Yumna Hussain, coordinator of the Centre for Saf-

er Sex and Sexual Violence Support (C3SVS) at the Toronto Metropolitan Students’ Union, many students have a “broken trust” in the healthcare system.

“Wait times for appointments with doctors can be extraneous, emergency rooms are overworked and sexual health is not a priority in emergency rooms,” she wrote in an email to The Eyeopener

Carlson recalled one visit to the ER. “I [was] trying not to throw up,” she said. “One side of my body literally [felt] like it [was] being stabbed nonstop.” Doctors offered her the hormonal contraceptive pill and some painkillers. After begging for an ultrasound, it was revealed that she had an ovarian cyst “the size of four green grapes.”

In Carlson’s experience, especially as a lesbian, there has been a lack of understanding from medical professionals on how these chronic conditions can impact relationships and intimacy.

“I experienced a lot of pain with sex, with orgasms. I’ve bled severely after sex a few times,” she said. “I’ve had one gynecologist look me deadpan in the face and say, ‘are you using strap-ons?’...like, maybe I’m going too hard with my partner, according to them.” Carlson describes being quizzed again and again on her sexually transmitted infection (STI) test history, to the extent that she describes feeling slut-shamed by medical professionals.

Zainab Siddiqi, a sexual health counsellor at the Hassle Free Clinic— a Toronto community health care centre—has seen the effects of healthcare professionals’ miseducation firsthand. “If somebody comes in that, as a person with the uterus, has only ever had sex with other people with uteruses, and other doctors have said ‘oh, you don’t need to do STI testing’— that’s not necessarily true.”

Siddiqi recognizes that 2SLGBTQ+ individuals face additional barriers and stigma accessing sexual healthcare—the clinic does its best to support them. “We have letters that go along with PAP smears, sometimes saying like, ‘hi, this person is a man and they also have a cervix, and so what.’”

Siddiqi shares that a lack of time and resources may be preventing family doctors from educating themselves on the most up-to-date resources. “[Many of] the doctors who are working went to school a long time ago and a lot has changed since then,” she said. “A lot of people aren’t educated about different identities and different bodies.”

Hussain, along with a team of C3SVS staff, regularly supports TMU students with their sexual health questions and concerns on campus. “We hear of too many scenarios where marginalized populations have very negative experiences trying to access basic and sexual healthcare,” she said.

According to Siddiqi, the lack of resources has a concrete impact on patients. The clinic used to absorb the costs of small procedures like PAP smears for people without OHIP—it now costs individuals $110 out of pocket. “Up until a year ago, we were covering everything for every patient…[reversing] that was a provincial decision,” she said.

The Financial Accountability Office of Ontario announced in December that there will be a $6.4 million deficit in healthcare spending in the years 2026-27. The gap between government spending and service demand is predicted to increase exponentially in the years to come, with damaging consequences.

Services like the C3SVS and Hassle Free Clinic are available. “We are often explaining to students that you do not need a family doctor in

All responses will be kept anonymous

1. Complete the Bingo!

order to access sexual healthcare,” said Hussain. “We’ve heard more than once of students saying they wish they would have known about our services sooner,” she added.

Siddiqi shared that she believes more young doctors should choose placements in sexual health settings. More volunteers, funding for procedures and money for advertising would make a huge difference to the clinic’s capacity to support the community, she said.

Hussain is a huge advocate for destigmatizing sexual healthcare, and urges policymakers to take a more grassroots approach. “You are talking about young people’s sexual health, you should be asking them questions and listening to them,” she said.

But sexual health can be extremely complex, especially where it intersects with chronic and mental health conditions. Often in these cases, online community groups are plugging the gaps left by health services under strain.

According to Carlson, Facebook groups have provided her with everything from solidarity to insight into new treatment options. “[It] was so very validating to know that someone’s gone through what I’ve gone through,” she said.

Carlson also described having to become her own advocate. “Having boundaries in place for you in an intimate and a non-intimate setting is vital,” she said.

“You have to have a bit of strength,” she said. “At the end of the day, this is my body, this is my life that I’m trying to fight for.”

Chaos after Bill 33 cuts free condom funding

It’s pandemonium on campus after a funding flog

By Sam T. Infection

Disclaimer: Unlike my most recent sexual health screening results, this story is positively false.

Everyone’s itching and scratching all over campus. Why’s that? Ontario premier Doug Ford’s Bill 33. The legislation’s cuts to ancillary fees mean the stockpile of complimentary condoms on campus has run dry. And now sexually transmitted infections (STIs) like chlamydia and gonorrhea have run amuck. More like Bill-dirty D, amirite?

“This bill has killed the majority of our funding and we simply can’t afford to provide condoms to the student body like we once did,” said Cleo Mydia, a spokesperson for the Toronto Metropolitan Students’ Union’s (TMSU) Centre for Free Condoms. “Unfortunely, as we all know, bitches still be fuckin’ and them STI’s still be stuckin’.”

One brave gonorrhea-riddled student went on the record with The Eyeopener about his experience getting the clap after condom-less clapping.

“I’m so goddamn mad at Ford, fuck him—just, fuck him so hard. Fuck Doug Ford, so hard, I want him to rip my green belt off…fuck.”

Provost of student affairs, Lucille Legs, said they are actively looking for solutions to the university’s gaping hole in funds.

“I spent some time at the Harvey’s on Jarvis, trying to…fundraise,” she said while uncrossing her legs.

Thus far, the TMSU has repurposed its multi-billion dollar balloon budget to aid the crisis on campus. “They fit the same after you give it a blow,” that’s what she said.

Students are reporting a whole host of symptoms.

“My penis was oscillating between extremely sensitive and borderline traumatised,” said Prince Harry, who is not a Toronto Metropolitan University student.

2. Complete the Google Form via the QR code on the page and add a photo of your completed Bingo!

3. Await an email! The form will close end-of-day on Feb. 23 and winners will be contacted shortly afterwards and asked to come into our office for photos!

The Eyeopener is giving away a $25 gift card to Soy Boys. Giveaway rules can be found in the link in our Instagram bio. Kissed a stranger

Third-year biology student Doxxy Prepp said her snatch is positively patched with mash. “They keep calling maintenance to my classes cause they think an animal died in the wall,” she said.

Other students say the issue is being blown out of proportion.

“Just because it burns when I pee, I’m secreting unusual genital discharge and I experience immense pain during intercourse that doesn’t mean I have chlamydia,” a student in the thirdfloor Kerr Hall East bathroom promised me.

PIERRE-PHILIPE WANYA-TAMBWE/THE EYEOPENER