Culture + Society – The Conversation

Home ownership is a false promise in Canada

2026-02-04T14:23:00Z

As house prices have risen over the past two decades, home ownership has become increasingly difficult for young households in Canada, despite strong support through public policy.

But becoming a homeowner is still a goal for many young people who want a level of residential stability that is difficult to achieve by other means.

As urban studies researchers at Québec’s Institut national de la recherche scientifique (INRS), we carried out in-depth interviews with some 20 households in the Montréal area to better understand young people’s aspirations for home ownership in this difficult period.

Home ownership support schemes

The best-known scheme to encourage home ownership is probably the First Home Savings Account (FHSA), but there are other programs, including the Home Buyers’ Plan, that allows people to withdraw funds from a registered retirement savings plan (RRSP) to purchase or build a home.

The federal government insures mortgages through the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation (CMHC), which increases the availability of capital for the purchase of a residential property.

Several municipalities also offer incentives for first-time buyers. For example, depending on the status of the household and the property, a new homeowner in Montréal could receive financial assistance from the city ranging from $5,000 to $15,000. Québec City, for its part, offers families who meet certain eligibility criteria interest-free, no-payment loans for 5.5 per cent of the purchase price of a new home to supplement a downpayment.

Canada does enough … for homeowners

Yet in addition to government measures to encourage first-time home buyers, there are other, more significant and often less well-known measures in place that enrich existing homeowners. These represent a major incentive to join the ranks of homeowners.

This is the case, for example, with the capital gains tax exemption for primary residences, which means that the profit made on the resale of your home is not taxable. This subsidy, worth around $15 billion per year, exceeds the annual budget of Canada’s National Housing Strategy.

A more esoteric concept is that of “imputed rent,” the estimated rental value of an owner-occupied home representing the hypothetical rent a homeowner would pay to live in their own property if they were a tenant.

Unlike in the Netherlands and Switzerland, imputed rent is not taxable in Canada. This absence of taxation favours homeowners, because if the owner decided to rent out the property rather than occupy it, they would pay tax on that income, which is ultimately paid by the tenant.

Home ownership, as it is promoted in Canada, seems like a “false promise.” The policies in place mean young people and low-income households are gradually being excluded from the wealth accumulation opportunities home ownership offers. Under these conditions, housing becomes a vector of significant inequality.

Policies work for ownership, not renting

Canadian and provincial public policies disadvantage renters, making home ownership even more desirable. Current policies are moving away from the social and community housing model, where rents are determined based on a household’s ability to pay. Instead, policies promote “affordable” housing relative to market value, with rents that are below market rates but sometimes still out of reach for low-income households.

In the rental sector in Québec, market pressure is highlighting the limitations of the province’s tenant protection regime through rent increases, repossessions and renovictions.

By allowing landlords to refuse a lease transfer without serious cause, Québec’s Bill 31, passed in 2024, eliminated one of the last means tenants had to find an affordable apartment.

A variety of motivations for home ownership

The research we conducted among young households aspiring to home ownership in the Montréal area reveals a variety of motivations. While all of the households we interviewed face difficulties in becoming homeowners, buying a house is not a goal in itself for most of them.

Some want a suitable space for their young children, which they have difficulty finding in the rental market. Others see home ownership as a good investment. Many are worried because of past experiences of residential insecurity, or express fears about the possibility of renovictions, rent increases or neglectful landlords in the rental market.

Many of them are not actually opposed to long-term renting. They’re attached to life in their neighbourhood: since buying a property often requires moving to another neighbourhood with lower prices, renting often remains a desirable option for them. In addition, buying is often perceived as a financial stretch, which brings risk rather than stability.

Policies that promote home ownership

In light of this diversity of motivations, is it time to rethink public policies that promote home ownership?

Instead of promoting home ownership in the hope it will meet households’ needs, our housing policies should address those needs directly.

Taking into account the scientific literature on the subject, policy should promote residential stability or security, regardless of the type of occupancy, by implementing an approach focused on a “tenure-neutral housing policy.” Unlike current policies, this approach does not favour one type of tenure over another.

Our housing policies should, in the same way, increase funding for social and community housing and encourage the construction of flats that meet the needs of households with children, for example, by having better soundproofing and access to an inner courtyard.

Finally, they should strengthen tenant protections against excessive rent increases, renovictions and discrimination.

Reducing dependence on property ownership

The appeal of property as an investment remains undeniable. Encouraging other types of investment, such as mutual funds or stocks, would have the dual advantage of diversifying households’ investment opportunities and freeing up capital that is now being invested in property strictly because of price increases, not increased supply.

Improvements to public pension plans would mean that buying a property would not be seen as an essential step to securing a financial future.

But several factors work against overhauling housing policies. Approximately two thirds of Canadian households, and the majority of Québec households, presently own their homes. It would be politically difficult to reduce the benefits this electoral bloc enjoys in order to implement more equitable solutions.

Yet it is essential to keep this debate alive, especially to ensure housing security for households that will inevitably be excluded from home ownership.

Nick Revington received funding from the Fonds de recherche du Québec (FRQ) and the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (SSHRC).

Emory Shaw received funding from the Fonds de recherche du Québec (FRQ).

Mathiaz Lazo Mackay received funding from the Fonds de recherche du Québec (FRQ).

How to ensure affordable, safe and culturally grounded housing for Indigenous older adults

2026-02-04T13:44:06Z

A good home, or Minosin Kikiwa in Cree, is the foundation of dignity in later life, according to the Indigenous seniors who spoke to us. Yet “every year the rent goes sky-high and it’s tough to be homeless,” an anonymous participant said.

As members of the Indigenous Seniors Research Committee, we came together in the fall of 2022 with the goal of examining the housing and care needs of older Indigenous adults in Winnipeg. In 2023-24, we spoke with 48 Indigenous older adults between the ages of 55 and 83 and nine knowledge keepers. What we found out, and compiled in our report Minosin Kikiwa – “A Good Home”: Indigenous Older Adults in Winnipeg, is critical to share.

It turns out that many Indigenous Elders are struggling to find affordable and safe homes to age with dignity after decades of contributing to their families and communities. The evidence we’ve collected suggests a housing crisis that is not only economic but also cultural.

Affordability at the breaking point

A little more than half of the older Indigenous participants rented their housing, and 21 per cent were precariously housed or homeless. Many relied on social or income assistance they found lacking.

One participant who used a walker described having to keep working to afford the $1,050 monthly rent for a one-bedroom apartment. Another senior told us:

“[You] can’t move because [you] can’t afford it. You can’t afford it. You can’t even get a stinking room at the hotel [per month]. They’re charging over $650 for a bedbug-infested party room and people breaking in.”

Others described paying most of their fixed income for apartments with poor or unsafe conditions. One participant recalled living in a rooming house where individuals with questionable unsafe behaviours were allowed to move in. “My ex-landlady didn’t care who was in there…she was not maintaining the place.”

As committee co-chair Joanne Mason put it: “Getting a place to rent is impossible, and the ones that are for rent are dilapidated and often not well-kept at very high prices.”

Colonial legacies on housing

Indigenous older adults’ housing challenges cannot be separated from Canada’s history. Child welfare removals, residential schools and racism disrupted education, employment and the transfer of intergenerational wealth. As a result, many Indigenous older adults entered later life with mortgages or debts, and without personal savings.

As committee member Kathy Mallet explained: “The colonial system gave us (Indigenous Peoples) that legacy, and so now we’re paying for it.”

Cumulative poverty and other disadvantages compound this problem. As one participant shared, “You don’t raise four children and be wealthy when you retire.” Other low-income Indigenous participants told us they had no choice but to keep working in paid employment into their later years. Seventy-three per cent of our participants reported they either have “some difficulty” or “great difficulty” making ends meet.

These were no golden years of retirement.

Home is more than family

Housing is more than physical buildings, it is also about community and wellness.

Minosin Kikiwa for Indigenous older adults is defined as a safe, affordable and accessible space that fosters a holistic balance of physical, spiritual, mental and emotional well-being through deep connections to family, kin, community and culture.

Homes are places where one connects with family, passes on culture and finds rest. Yet restrictive housing policies frequently undermine this. One participant shared that overnight guests were forbidden in their building. “Visitors have to be out of the building by 10:30…that’s not a home.”

As Lucille Bruce, co-chair of the Indigenous Seniors Research Committee, explained: “They want to be within their communities where families can visit and where services are delivered in culturally relevant ways by Indigenous agencies.”

Intergenerational connections are disrupted when grandchildren and other family members are prevented from staying with renters due to these culturally insensitive policies, which worsens the isolation and cultural deprivation experienced by many.

When policy fails community

Winnipeg has one of the largest populations of urban Indigenous Peoples in Canada with 12.4 per cent of Winnipegers (90,990) identifying as Indigenous in 2021. The housing and later-life struggles of Indigenous older adults in the city reflect those faced by Indigenous older adults in urban settings across Canada.

Statistics Canada found that the life expectancy of an Indigenous person is about 7.8 years shorter than that of non-Indigenous Canadians. Other researchers have linked precarious housing to poor health, food insecurity and social isolation, all of which increase mortality.

Governments need to be accountable to Indigenous older adults. Public funds currently flow into dilapidated spaces and rooming houses that function as de facto “nursing homes” for low-income Indigenous older adults. As one participant stated, shelters and transitional housing too often become places “where our people come to die.”

Researchers note that government programs framed as reconciliation often amount to tokenistic gestures, with a lack of meaningful Indigenous leadership. Policy frameworks have failed to address deep-rooted challenges such as generational poverty, inadequate financial support that does not adjust for inflation, and the lack of safe, affordable and culturally representative housing options for urban Indigenous seniors.

Institutional systems, including the historical trauma of residential schools and restrictive modern housing policies (for example, prohibiting overnight guests), continue to displace Indigenous seniors from their families and communities, creating significant barriers to accessing necessary resources.

Moving toward dignity and justice

We believe that housing policy must prioritize Indigenous leadership in design, construction, ownership and governance. Housing programs should also be connected with stable and publicly funded supports for health, income and community well-being, shifting away from short-term or symbolic solutions toward lasting and transformative change.

In light of Minosin Kikiwa, we call for governments and housing providers to help ensure affordability while centring Indigenous values and leadership. Affordability should extend beyond just subsidies to building and sustaining safe, accessible and culturally relevant housing.

Housing for Indigenous older adults must transcend basic shelter to become a sanctuary of dignity and cultural sovereignty, a place where ceremonies, traditional foods and the passing of sacred knowledge are protected, not prohibited. This is no longer merely a policy suggestion, it is a fundamental requirement of reconciliation to ensure that aging in community is a right, not a privilege, for Indigenous seniors.

Hai Luo receives funding from the Manitoba Research Alliance’s Partnership Grant (SSHRC) - Community-Driven Solutions to Poverty: Challenges and Possibilities and the Winnipeg Friendship Centre. She is affiliated with Indigenous Seniors Research Committee of Winnipeg and Centre on Aging, University of Manitoba.

Laura Funk has received past funding for research, from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada and similar agencies. She is affiliated with the University of Manitoba and is a board member of the community-based Manitoba Seniors Equity Action Coalition.

Malcolm Disbrowe received funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council. He is affiliated with the College of Community and Global Health at the University of Manitoba and First Nations Health and Social Secretariat of Manitoba.

The mental edge that separates elite athletes from the rest

2026-02-03T16:36:32Z

Elite sport often looks like a test of speed, strength and technical skill. Yet some of the most decisive moments in high-level competition unfold too quickly to be explained by physical ability alone.

Consider Canadian hockey superstar Connor McDavid’s overtime goal at the 4 Nations Face-Off against the United States last February. The puck was on his stick for only a fraction of a second, the other team’s defenders were closing in and he still somehow found the one opening no one else saw.

As professional hockey players return to the ice at the Milan-Cortina Olympics, Canadians can expect more moments like this. Increasingly, research suggests these moments are better understood not as just physical feats, but also as cognitive ones.

A growing body of research suggests a group of abilities known as perceptual-cognitive skills are key differentiators. This is the mental capacity to turn a blur of sights, sounds and movements into split-second decisions.

These skills allow elite athletes to scan a chaotic scene, pick out the right cues and act before anyone else sees the opportunity. In short, they don’t just move faster, but they also see smarter.

Connor McDavid Wins 4 Nations Face-Off For Canada In Overtime (Sportsnet)

How athletes manage visual chaos

One way researchers study these abilities is through a task known as multiple-object tracking, which involves keeping tabs on a handful of moving dots on a screen while ignoring the rest. Multiple-object tracking is a core method I use in my own research on visual attention and visual-motor co-ordination.

Multiple-object tracking taxes attention, working memory and the ability to suppress distractions. These are the same cognitive processes athletes rely on to read plays and anticipate movement in real time.

Unsurprisingly, elite athletes reliably outperform non-athletes on this task. After all, reading plays, tracking players and anticipating movement all depend on managing visual chaos.

There is, however, an important caveat. Excelling at multiple-object tracking will not suddenly enable someone to anticipate a play like McDavid or burst past a defender like Marie-Philip Poulin, captain of the Canadian women’s hockey team. Mastering one narrow skill doesn’t always transfer to real-world performance. Researchers often describe this limitation as the “curse of specificity.”

This limitation raises a deeper question about where athletes’ mental edge actually comes from. Are people with exceptional perceptual-cognitive abilities drawn to fast-paced sports, or do years of experience sharpen it over time?

Evidence suggests the answer is likely both.

Born with it or trained over time?

Elite athletes, radar operators and even action video game players — all groups that routinely track dynamic, rapidly changing scenes — consistently outperform novices on perceptual-cognitive tasks.

At the same time, they also tend to learn these tasks faster, pointing to the potential role of experience in refining these abilities.

What seems to distinguish elite performers is not necessarily that they take in more information, but that they extract the most relevant information faster. This efficiency may ease their mental load, allowing them to make smarter, faster decisions under pressure.

My research at McMaster University seeks to solve this puzzle by understanding the perceptual-cognitive skills that are key differentiators in sport, and how to best enhance them.

This uncertainty around how to best improve perceptual-cognitive skills is also why we should be cautious about so-called “brain training” programs that promise to boost focus, awareness or reaction time.

The marketing is often compelling, but the evidence for broad, real-world benefits is far less clear. The value of perceptual-cognitive training hasn’t been disproven, but it hasn’t been tested rigorously enough in real athletic settings to provide compelling evidence. To date, though, tasks that include a perceptual element such as multiple-object tracking show the most promise.

Training perceptual-cognitive skills

Researchers and practitioners still lack clear answers about the best ways to train perceptual-cognitive skills, or how to ensure that gains in one context carry over to another. This doesn’t mean cognitive training is futile, but it does mean we need to be precise and evidence-driven about how we approach it.

Research does, however, point to several factors that increase the likelihood of real-world transfer.

Training is more effective when it combines high cognitive and motor demands, requiring rapid decisions under physical pressure, rather than isolated mental drills. Exposure to diverse stimuli matters as well, as it results in a brain that can adapt, not just repeat. Finally, training environments that closely resemble the game itself are more likely to produce skills that persist beyond the training session.

The challenge now is translating these insights from the laboratory into practical training environments. Before investing heavily in new perceptual-cognitive training tools, coaches and athletes need to understand what’s genuinely effective and what’s just a high-tech placebo.

For now, this means treating perceptual-cognitive training as a complement to sport-specific training, not as a substitute. Insights will also come from closer collaborations between researchers, athletes and coaches.

There is however, support for incorporating perceptual-cognitive tasks as an assessment of “game sense” to inform scouting decisions.

The real secret to seeing the game differently, then, is not just bigger muscles or faster reflexes. It’s a sharper mind, and understanding how it works could change how we think about performance, both on and off the ice.

Mallory Terry does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Here are Canada’s 2026 Winter Olympic medal hopefuls, from hockey to freestyle skiing

2026-02-02T20:03:14Z

Game Plan. Best Ever ‘88. Own the Podium. The messaging from the Canadian government’s Olympic high-performance sport initiatives over the past 50 years makes the stakes clear: winning is important.

Gone are the days of Canadian athletes being satisfied with simply making it to the Olympics. An expectation of excellence now pervades the Olympic program. Athletes are considered ambassadors of their countries and symbols of national pride.

This year in Italy, that expectation will be front and centre amid recent geopolitical tensions. It’s no wonder the new slogan is one that evokes unity and patriotism: “We Are All Team Canada.”

While there is little doubt that all Olympic athletes are expected to play and perform under pressure, Canada’s historical successes at the Winter Games have created heightened expectations. The country set a record for the most gold medals won by a host nation at a single Winter Olympics with 14 in Vancouver in 2010.

When I ask my undergraduate students which Canadian athletes they believe feel the most pressure to win gold at the Olympics, most say hockey, though that may be too simple an answer.

Curling hopefuls

It is certainly true that Canadians expect strong results from men’s and women’s hockey teams, and for good reason. Canada is the most successful ice hockey nation in Olympic history, with 23 medal wins.

Yet many Canadian hockey fans recognize the strength of other hockey nations. Canadians both love and loathe the Swedes, Finns, Slovaks, Czechs and Americans that play for their National Hockey League teams. A loss to those players and those teams is devastating, but explicable.

Curling presents a different story. Here, expectations are clear: gold medals. Casual Olympic viewers may not realize that Scots and Swiss make up the top-three men’s curling rinks in the world, and the Swiss women have won two of the last four World Championships.

That said, Canada’s teams are formidable. The men’s rink, led by Brad Jacobs, won gold in 2014 in Sochi, and the women’s rink, led by Rachel Homan, is currently ranked No. 1 in the world. Far from a golden fait accompli, Canada’s curlers are among the most heavily scrutinized athletes heading to Milan Cortina.

Speed skating hopefuls

Canada has realistic medal potential in both short-track and long-track speed skating. Laurent Dubreuil is a defending silver medallist in the 1000m and finished fourth in the 500m in Beijing 2022.

Ivanie Blondin and Isabelle Weidemann are members of the defending gold medallist Team Pursuit team and silver medallists in other distances. The Team Pursuit event is among the most exciting long-track events at the Olympics and certainly worth circling on the viewing calendar.

On short track, the location of some of the highest drama and most intense finishes at every Olympics, Canada has some serious medal potential with a full complement of 10 skaters headed to Milan.

The women’s team features four-time Olympic medallist Kim Boutin, who will compete at her third consecutive Olympic Winter Games. Boutin received medals in all three women’s individual events at PyeongChang 2018 and later added bronze in the 500m at Beijing 2022. Over the past decade, she has earned 17 medals at the ISU World Short Track Championships and two more world titles at the 2025 Championships, winning gold in the women’s 3000m relay and the mixed relay.

Freestyle skiing hopefuls

Many Canadians might assume speed skating has produced the most medals for Canada over the years. Speed skating accounts for 23 total events between short and long-track at this year’s Olympics, and Canada won their first speed skating medal in 1932.

However, despite it only being added as a full medal sport in 1992, Canada has won 30 total medals in a different sport, including the distinction of Canada’s first home gold medal won by Alexandre Bilodeau in 2010: freestyle skiing.

Equal parts agility and artistry, freestyle skiing is definitely one of Games’ most beguiling and exhilarating watches.

Comprised of eight separate disciplines, Canada has numerous medal threats, headlined by “greatest mogul skiier of all time” Mikaël Kingsbury, fresh off of a Jan. 10 victory in men’s moguls at Val St. Côme, marking a staggering 100 career World Cup victories for the skier.

And then, there’s hockey.

Ice hockey hopefuls

The centre of the women’s hockey is a binary system: two stars bound together, their combined gravity ordering the remaining planets, paling in size and importance to their suns.

This year marks a new era, as professional women’s players will compete for the first time at the Olympics, following the establishment of the Professional Women’s Hockey League.

Since 1990, only one team other than Canada and the U.S. — Finland in 2019 — has reached the Ice Hockey World Championships gold medal game. Canada won bronze that year.

Gold medallists in five of seven previous Olympics, the Canadian women’s team enters as a slight underdog this year, with Team USA defending their World Champion title.

Given the storied history of these two teams and the heightened tension currently between the two nations, their matchup will assuredly be among the most exciting 60 minutes played this year.

On the men’s side, a long, protracted wait is over: NHL players return to the Olympics. Canadian captain Sidney Crosby will be aiming for his third Olympic gold.

Alongside the return of pro talent comes a familiar source of tension for Canadian hockey fans: consternation around goaltending.

Canada remains one of the tournament’s favourites, shimmering with a galaxy of superstars on forward and defence, yet persistent concerns over net-minding continue to fuel doubt among some fans.

No shortage of Olympic hopefuls

There are many more medal hopefuls for Team Canada heading into Milan Cortina, from alpine skiiers and ski cross athletes to snowboarding, figure skating and freestyle skiing.

But simply taking in the Games when possible can be a rewarding experience in and of itself.

While cynicism and skepticism towards the International Olympic Committee and Olympic movement are certainly warranted, the Winter Olympics will provide the opportunity for Canadian athletes to achieve global sporting excellence.

While we know that pressure creates diamonds, these athletes may soon prove that it can produce gold, too.

Taylor McKee receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada

Black women’s health-care experiences remain marked by structural racism — here’s how institutions should move forward

2026-02-01T14:18:32Z

Racism has long disrupted relationships, deepened social divisions and hindered collective action on global challenges. While modern societies strive to be just and advocate against social injustices, many still turn away from engaging in conversations surrounding racism, health inequities and racial tensions.

Yet these issues significantly impact health — including the care Black people receive and their health outcomes. Research shows that racism has many long-term effects on health, and is linked to both poorer mental and physical health overall.

Black History Month is an opportunity to reflect critically on the impact of racism in health care and how to address it. As researchers focused on Black women’s acute and critical care experiences, our recent review draws lessons from studies on Black women’s health-care experiences in high-income countries to propose an approach for addressing racism.

The review included 10 studies conducted in the United States between 1987 and 2024. We found that Black women’s experiences in health care continue to be marked by reports of structural racism, microaggressions and persistent mistrust of the care system and care providers. Such experiences reduced the chances for shared decision-making, early detection of health issues, adherence to treatments, pain management and person-centred care.

We revealed that the enduring legacy of racism in medicine contributes to suboptimal communication and poor-quality care for Black women. Some of the women did not receive appropriate followup for diagnostic tests or see a specialist because their physician dismissed their concerns. Most of the women felt invisible because their providers disregarded their concerns. As a result, they felt discouraged from seeking care.

For instance, in one of the studies included in our review, a woman described her experiences of arriving at the emergency department for care. She said:

“As a Black woman I was told that it was a female problem, instead of my heart….The head doctor took a look at me and said, she doesn’t have a heart problem, this is absolutely no heart problem, it’s some kind of female problem. It was in my head.”

Another described feeling dismissed by doctors due to the way she described her pain, stating:

“I called it a wrecking ball pain. That’s what I was experiencing … Then my doctor, who likes to joke about everything, would say ‘Oh! Here’s the lady with the wrecking ball disease.’”

This left the patient feeling like a medical novelty — rather than being seen as a person worthy of respect and care.

Our discussions also identified how some Black adult patients responded to racial tensions and unjust conditions in their care.

When feeling disregarded by clinicians, some people purposefully limited what they shared. Others changed how they spoke to clinicians to fit white-dominated medical culture. Some even disengaged from the care decision-making process entirely — while others chose to advocate for themselves.

Further, if the physician appeared dismissive or disrespectful, some people ignored their medical advice as they felt the doctor didn’t have their best interests at heart. Others became hyper-vigilant against injustices and were likely to interpret subsequent care encounters based on past experiences.

Impact of racism on health care work

Health-care staff are compassionate people who want to provide the best care for patients. But they may not always be sure how to avoid getting it wrong.

Research indicates that nurses worry about getting it wrong and coming across as disrespectful when caring for people from different cultural backgrounds. Likewise, many nurses fear being labelled as racist, as they say it implies they’re a terrible person. Yet many are unwilling to accept personal responsibility for their actions — or inactions — if such a label is given to them.

There’s also a lack of clarity among nurses regarding what constitutes racist practices. This causes them anxiety. Some find it upsetting to think that their actions have been perceived as racist when that wasn’t their intention. Others are hesitant to express their genuine opinions on issues of this nature due to the fear of being called racist.

A separate study on nurse-patient relationships found that racism hinders nurses’ ability to meet a patient’s care needs and threatens patients’ and nurses’ dignity in the care system. Racism from patients also increases nurses’ stress and causes emotional trauma.

Racism in health-care settings continues to have a detrimental effect on the care patients are receiving. It’s clear institutions need to do more to ensure patients aren’t being harmed when receiving care.

Inclusive and nurturing communities

We believe that building inclusive and nurturing communities that counter racism and celebrate our interdependence is how we can move forward and address racism in health care.

Inclusive and nurturing communities equip people to have difficult conversations about race — whether that’s in health care, the classroom, universities, workplaces and neighbourhoods.

This type of community teaches people the importance of listening and engaging authentically and open-mindedly, and of learning about racism through the experiences of others. It doesn’t see people who engage in racist practices as inherently racist — but as people who need more support in recognizing and addressing racism.

In such spaces, every person bears a social responsibility to combat racism in their own ways — whether by fostering conversations about racism in their homes, workplaces or shared community spaces.

We’re hoping to conduct research investigating how such spaces can be built — and how this framework can be used in health-care settings to address the racism patients experience there.

We’re all part of the bigger picture. When we create safe and brave spaces for thinking, analyzing and talking about racial tensions, we’re inviting everyone to authentically participate in problem-solving.

Research shows trust is essential in building strong and productive human relations. So in order to build inclusive and nurturing communities, we need to invest time and effort into restoring the broken trust of racialized communities through accountability, transparency, consistency and genuine efforts to address systemic racism.

Elizabeth Kusi Appiah is affiliated with the GROWW national mentorship program.

Elisavet Papathanasoglou receives funding from Women & Children health Research Institute (WHCRI).

Frustration in hetero relationships has a long history — that’s why today’s crisis looks so familiar

2026-02-01T14:18:00Z

“Many women tell me they want to have a man in their life, but they are no longer willing to be the only person giving in the relationship. They don’t want to be with a man who needs to be taken care of. In that case, it’s easier and more pleasant to be without a man.”

These words speak eerily to the current moment. Yet their date of publication? 1984.

You’ll find them in psychotherapist and acclaimed author Marjorie Hansen Shaevitz’s The Superwoman Syndrome, one of the earliest books to grapple with the superwoman myth — the idea that women can effortlessly balance work and family responsibilities in workplaces not designed to support them. And that any evidence of struggle is interpreted as a personal failing rather than a systemic one.

Despite its articulation of the burdens women face in the formal economy, its solutions to what is now called the the “second shift” involve telling women to make lists and prioritize their responsibilities. These, of course, are hardly the strategies that will move the needle in improving women’s daily lives.

Similar frustrations appear in another influential work from the same period. In a report written by feminist Shere Hite, published in 1987, most American women described feeling frustrated with their relationships.

Ninety-eight per cent reported wanting more verbal closeness with the men they loved: more sharing of thoughts, feelings and plans, and more reciprocal curiosity. Eighty-three per cent reported being the ones to initiate deep conversations with their partners, and 63 per cent reported being met with “great resistance” when trying to get their partner to talk about their feelings.

Though these findings were released decades ago, their relevance raises questions about how much has really changed for women.

The media-fuelled illusion of novelty

Both Hite’s report and Shaevitz’s book were published long before the term “heteropessimism” or the decentring men trend came into vogue. They came out long before any of us were considering where we fell on the “is having a boyfriend embarrassing?” debate. (My take? No relationship status should be slotted hierarchically above or below another).

Yet these publications capture the mood of contemporary heterosexual culture to a tee: women continue to be doing the most emotional, cognitive and unpaid housework and child-care labour, and women continue to be sick and tired of doing it.

News outlets today report on the “great divide” between men and women, particularly among younger generations. They discuss how women are turning to voluntary celibacy and/or rejecting heterosexual dating outright. They frame these trends and attitudes as out of the norm: for the first time, women are opening up about how they feel. But the truth is, these trends are normative and historically patterned.

It seems that women’s frustration — with the unpaid labour they are culturally expected to perform, with the men who won’t share in it, and with the social institutions that fail to support its redistribution — is the heartbeat of history. But it doesn’t need to be so.

Frustration keeps reproducing itself

Unlike what “tradwife” influencers will have you believe, working women are, on average, less depressed and have higher rates of self-esteem than stay-at-home mothers. Yet working mothers still face anxieties and role conflicts.

Where does this anxiety come from? Is it because women are “naturally” suited to the home and therefore ill-equipped for work in the formal economy, as tradwife influencers suggest? Or is it something else?

Looking at the problem from a sociological lens, it’s clear that anxiety results from the structures of paid work (which have not changed, despite women and the demographic composition of the workforce changing) and the distressing (and at times violent) contours of contemporary heterosexual culture, in which men continue to free-ride off women’s unpaid labour.

Anxieties also pervade as many governments fail to mandate paid parental and care leave, workplaces fail to offer family-friendly policies, and the ideology of individualism, in contrast to collectivism and communal care, remains dominant. Above all, anxiety is rife because cultural beliefs about gender, parenthood and work have remained stubbornly resistant to change.

Every few years, a flurry of news articles and social media posts lament women’s unpaid work and individual men are tasked with becoming equal helpers in the home. While individuals have their part to play in facilitating this cultural transformation, sociologists like myself are interested, too, in the role that social institutions, such as work, media and government, play in structuring individual lives.

Why hasn’t change happened yet?

We set ourselves up for failure when we hold individual men responsible but fail to provide them with cultural frameworks of masculinity that laud men’s contributions to housework and child care, and when we fail to vote for (or don’t have the option of voting for) governments that will introduce paid parental leave, regulate corporations to enhance worker power and fund community-building initiatives.

To be sure, frameworks and representations of caring masculinities do exist, but they’re not often shown in mainstream media. This is why the representation of communicative and consensual masculinities that reject male domination in television shows like Ted Lasso, Shrinking and Heated Rivalry matters. They demonstrate to men alternative modes of being, living and relating to others in our world today.

Representation matters, but so does concrete political transformations.

For too long, work and family have been treated as separate domains. Perhaps the solution lies in their convergence: a radical reimagining of how work and parenthood ought to look.

Potential strategies include disrupting gendered occupational segregation, raising the wages of feminized work, decreasing hours of paid work and building a normative definition of masculinity centred around care.

Otherwise, we’re bound to keep having the same conversations, year after year, decade after decade — like we have been.

Meaghan Furlano does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

16 Oscar nods for ‘Sinners’ signals a broader appetite for imaginative Black cinema

2026-02-01T14:17:25Z

When Sinners recently received a record-breaking 16 Oscar nominations, the response was overwhelmingly celebratory, but not uncomplicated.

The nominations capped a year in which the film had already defied expectations at the box office. An original horror film with no built-in franchise, Sinners broke multiple domestic and international records and earned more than US$300 million during its theatrical run.

Critics also responded strongly, praising Ryan Coogler’s direction and the film’s blend of spectacle and social commentary. Those reviews helped cement Sinners as both a commercial hit and a critical success.

Sinners doesn’t resolve longstanding debates about Black recognition or racial equity in Hollywood. However, its nominations arrive at a moment that suggests wider audience interest — and possible film industry openness — to Black films that are culturally specific, formally ambitious and uninterested in proving their importance through suffering alone.

Questions of popular success and excellence

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences — the group of just over 10,000 film industry professionals who vote on Oscar nominations and winners — has long grappled with how to balance popular success and its self-image as an arbiter of artistic excellence.

In the wake of declining viewership, the academy proposed a new category in 2018 for “Outstanding Achievement in Popular Film.”

The plan was met with significant backlash from commentators who were offended by the implication that commercially successful films couldn’t also be great art. The idea was shelved amid concerns that it would undermine the Oscars’ standards instead of bridging the gap between popular taste and critical recognition.

Sinners is not a traditional prestige drama designed for the awards circuit. It is a piece of work that refuses easy classification, blending elements of horror, musical, Southern Gothic and Black folklore into a form that balances excess and control.

As director Ryan Coogler has said, the film resists categorical conventions, dubbing it “genre-fluid.”

‘Sinners’ official trailer.

Directorial innovation

Coogler’s directorial innovation is central to the cultural significance of the film’s nominations.

Historically, the Oscars have rewarded Black films that conform to a narrow range of familiar narratives. Stories centred on racial trauma, historical injustice, moral redemption or social pathology have been far more likely to receive acknowledgement than films that foreground pleasure and fantasy.

Best Picture winners like 12 Years a Slave and Green Book, along with heavily awarded films such as Precious and The Help, illustrate this pattern, as does Halle Berry’s Best Actress win for Monster’s Ball, a performance structured around sexualized suffering and endurance.

Acclaimed Black films that don’t focus on trauma or suffering have been long overlooked by the academy.

Movies like Do the Right Thing, Eve’s Bayou, Girls Trip and Sorry to Bother You received strong critical and cultural support, but were largely ignored during Oscar voting.

Rather than critiquing those films or performances, this pattern points to how Hollywood taste — reflecting racialized assumptions and values — shapes what kinds of Black stories are recognized as important and deserving of reward.

Black creative achievement and possibility

Sinners does something different. It bends and unsettles the frames that tell audiences how to read a film. Vampires, music, violence, sex and history are woven together in a way that invites audiences in, without stopping to explain or defend each choice.

The film draws on familiar genre esthetics that white audiences recognize (like horror, spectacle, supernatural myth) but it refuses to translate its cultural references or soften its Black specificity.

Viewers unfamiliar with Black Southern folklore, diasporic spiritual traditions or the film’s musical and historical cues may miss things. The film does not slow down to catch them up.

Award bodies’ reception

The film’s success also raises questions about how awards bodies respond when Black creative experimentation gains critical acclaim.

A recent example comes from the Recording Academy. After Beyoncé won Best Country Album in 2025, the Grammys split the category into “traditional” and “contemporary” — a change that expanded recognition while also reintroducing distinctions.

The move echoed earlier controversies around genre-labelling, including debates over the now-retired “urban” category. It also underscored how recognition can be followed by new forms of sorting rather than lasting structural change.

Wider shift in Black creative possibility

The risk is that Sinners is celebrated as a one-off, rather than understood as part of a wider shift in Black creative possibility.

Some conservative responses have framed Sinners less as an artistic achievement and more as an example of cultural overreach, reading its genre play and historical remixing as ideological provocation rather than creative labour.

Alongside this, the film’s record-breaking nominations are likely to be interpreted by some viewers or critics as further evidence of a so-called “woke era” in awards culture, a framing that tends to downplay the craft, ambition and substance of works featuring Black talent.

These reactions reveal ongoing anxieties over who gets to reshape tradition, and how recognition by industry powerbrokers is interpreted when it is attached to Black cultural production.

Reputational weight, star power

Sinners could take these creative risks in part because of the reputational weight behind it.

Coogler’s track record of commercially successful films, combined with the star power of Michael B. Jordan and their history of delivering profitable collaborations, created a level of confidence among funding studios that is rarely extended to Black filmmakers more broadly.

The uneven distribution of that creative latitude and resourcing remains visible across the industry, where many Black directors continue to face funding barriers for innovative or less conventional projects.

Challenging esthetic norms

The academy recently introduced representation and inclusion standards for Best Picture eligibility that require films to meet benchmarks for on-screen representation, creative leadership, industry access or audience outreach to be considered for nomination.

These measures are aimed at expanding opportunities for underrepresented groups, yet they focus on who appears in and works on films rather than on how films innovate or challenge esthetic norms.

As a result, longstanding assumptions about genre bias and what counts as quality cinema are largely unexamined, even as the rules change around how films qualify for consideration.

Works that trust audiences

The recognition of Sinners by the academy points to a widening space for Black films rooted in lived experience, place and history. Similar dynamics are visible elsewhere.

Recent global successes like K-Pop Demon Hunters show that viewers are drawn to genre-blended, culturally grounded stories that stimulate the imagination rather than explain themselves away. These works trust audiences to enter unfamiliar worlds without constant translation.

Sinners belongs to this moment. Its record-breaking nominations expand the range of Black cinema visible at the highest levels of recognition and quietly signal greater room for formal experimentation. The film treats Black creativity as something that can include visual excess, genre experimentation and narrative openness, and still be recognized as artistically rigorous work.

Cornel Grey does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Winter changes more than the weather — it changes how we connect. Here’s how to stay socially engaged

2026-01-29T19:49:38Z

Throughout Earth’s history, life in temperate and polar zones has had to contend with the cold and darkness of winter. Across species, seasonal adaptation is the norm. Some animals hibernate, others migrate, and many reduce activity, conserve energy, and narrow their social and ecological range until conditions improve. These strategies evolved over millennia as reliable responses to predictable environmental stress.

Humans are no exception. Seasonal cycles have a deep impact on our psychology and well-being — after all, for most of our evolutionary and recorded history, winter has shaped how we live, work and relate to one another. For our ancestors, food was scarcer, travel more difficult and daily activity contracted due to shorter days. Social life often shifted indoors and inward, and organized around smaller groups, shared labour and mutual dependence.

While modern societies have reduced many of winter’s material hardships, the season continues to exert a powerful influence on human behaviour and well-being.

As a social ecologist interested in human wellness, my research focuses on how our natural and social environments shape our well-being and what we can do to improve our relationships with these environments to maximize our well-being.

In this work, I study the drivers of emotional responses, such as loneliness and eco-anxiety. This work has taught me how inseparably connected we are to each other and to our environments, and one of my key areas of interest is how our social and natural worlds are intertwined.

Understanding how well-being is affected by weather

One area of research that has fascinated me is how humans respond to the weather and day-night cycles of the places they live. For example, research has shown that colder temperatures, greater precipitaiton and shorter periods of sunshine are associated with outcomes such as greater tiredness, stress, loneliness, and poorer life satisfaction and self-rated health.

As such, it makes sense that we are more likely to have depressive symptoms or feel tired and lonely in the winter compared to the spring and summer. Perhaps most concerning, studies of suicide attempts, loneliness and their seasonality indicate that winter weather can contribute to each, suggesting that seasonal shifts in social connection may intensify vulnerability during these periods.

Taken together, I believe this body of work suggests that the most consequential pathway linking winter conditions to well-being may not be weather exposure itself, but its effects on social connection. After all, human beings are fundamentally social animals — we greatly rely on each other for our happiness, health and survival.

Fortunately, the effect of weather on our mood is small and people can overcome it through intentional efforts. Indeed, human beings are incredibly adaptive to their environments, meaning even in poor weather contexts we can find ways to meet our social needs.

Illustrating this, research comparing levels of social isolation across neighbourhoods during cold weather highlights differences in how some communities respond to cold weather, with those choosing more indoor time throughout the day experiencing greater social isolation.

Research also suggests that our personality traits shape how resilient we are to weather changes. Studies such as these underscore that our responses to cold weather can shape its effects on us. Environment is not destiny, if we know how to address it.

So what can we do during the cold dark winter months to stay connected, and therefore happy and healthy? The research consistently shows that staying socially engaged, even in small ways, protects mental health and promotes well-being.

Ways to get connected in the cold

While winter may reduce incidental social contact, connection can be maintained through deliberate routines and low-threshold forms of engagement, including:

• committing to a weekly or biweekly group activity, such as a book club, exercise class, faith-based group or hobby circle

• organizing small, recurring gatherings, such as rotating dinners, shared meals or weekend brunches

• scheduling regular phone or video check-ins with family or friends and treating them as fixed commitments

• integrating social contact into daily activities, such as walking, running errands, exercising or having coffee together

• using daylight strategically by planning brief outdoor meetups or spending time in naturally lit public spaces

• participating in year-round volunteer roles that provide regular contact and a sense of purpose

• enrolling in short-term courses or workshops that create repeated contact over several weeks

• connecting through shared projects, such as creative work, community caregiving or co-hosted events

• initiating contact with others who may also be withdrawing socially during winter

It’s not always easy, but it is worth it

Of course, such activities take time and energy and are not always the easiest to do. Snow-caked roads and reduced sunlight hours can pose real mobility challenges. So while we might want to connect, we are not always able to when we face such environmental barriers.

In fact, one of my favourite findings in the literature is that while people naturally feel inclined to seek out social affiliation in response to cold weather (something I believe to be a survival strategy we’ve inherited from our less technologically equipped ancestors), physical warmth acts psychologically as a satisfactory replacement — even if it lacks the long-term benefits of social connection.

In other words, the modern amenities of space heaters and cozy blankets make it easier for us to isolate — and many of us are happy to enjoy the warmth from these instead of the warmth offered by social connection.

However, knowing the central importance of social connection to well-being, it’s important to not fall trap to these creature comforts. There is not anything wrong with being alone from time to time, but winter is too long a season to spend alone safely.

Intentional effort

In short, we need to recognize that winter weather has a predictable effect on our well-being, and this effect calls for deliberate social adaptation. Human well-being has always depended on the ability to respond collectively to seasonal constraint, and the contemporary winter environment is no different, even if its risks are less visible.

The evidence reviewed above suggests that while the cold, darkness and reduced mobility can heighten vulnerability, their effects are shaped by how individuals and communities organize daily life, social routines and sources of connection. Comfort, convenience and withdrawal may offer short-term relief, but they do not substitute for the protective role of sustained social engagement.

Winter demands intention rather than retreat. By recognizing social connection as a seasonal health behaviour rather than a discretionary luxury, individuals and communities can better align modern living with enduring human needs, reducing risk and supporting well-being across the long months of cold and dark.

Kiffer George Card is president of the Mental Health and Climate Change Alliance and Social Health Canada and has received funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council, Health Research British Columbia, Canadian Red Cross, Public Health Agency of Canada, Government of British Columbia, and Canadian Institutes of Health Research for his work related to the social and natural environmental factors shaping wellbeing.

Men are embracing beauty culture — many of them just refuse to call it that

2026-01-28T18:04:14Z

Just weeks after the premiere of popular gay hockey romance series Heated Rivalry, star Hudson Williams’ extensive skincare routine has gone viral. In a now-viral video for The Cut, the 24-year-old walks viewers through his “five-step Korean beauty routine.”

His multi-step regimen includes a close shave, a cleanse, pore-minimizing treatments, a “super-glowing” toner and serums targeted toward “rejuvenating” the young star’s face and body.

The nearly 20-minute routine, replete with self-deprecating humour and an ironic bent against vanity, has amassed some 500,000 views (and counting), almost 2,000 comments and 36,000 likes on YouTube alone.

Williams’ routine, and its public broadcast online, is emblematic of a wider shift in our highly visual and virtual culture among men. From style guides and intensive workout routines to recommendations for skin and hair, men are investing in their appearance.

But, in a curious contortion, they’ve called their work on the face and body anything (and everything) but beauty.

Understanding beauty’s cultural force

As a researcher studying the cultural force of beauty and its various presentations online, I take questions related to appearance and attractiveness seriously.

I look to taken-for-granted trends online — images and advertisements as well as viral video clips — and their reception among audiences to understand how young people engage with and respond to beauty, and the various privileges and penalties it commands.

Beauty’s cultural force has long weighed upon women, who have been invited to modify their appearances in step with challenging, often contradictory, beauty norms. But in a recent and curious shift, beauty norms and appearance pressures have intensified among men.

‘Heated Rivalry’ star Hudson Williams breaks down his skincare routine for ‘The Cut’

The rise of men’s beauty habits

Men’s bodies are increasingly visible in product advertisements and mainstream campaigns, with a surfeit of cosmetics targeted toward men.

Mundane investments in skincare and grooming are not uncommon, with young men especially doubling down on their efforts to refine the face and body through multi-step routines not unlike Williams’.

Driven at least in part by social media influencers and the rise of platformed figures who dialogue around the importance of looking good, “freshening up” and keeping sharp, men are investing in their appearance as women long have.

Alongside these investments, boys and men are enjoined to bulk up to achieve a muscled and well-defined look. Widely followed influencers and celebrities alike echo the call, endorsing a range of compound exercises to improve one’s physique and “science based” changes to boost growth.

The drive toward muscularity is demanding, with many recommendations touting the importance of rigorous diets and intensive exercise regimes.

In the name of beauty

While some recommendations are innocuous enough, men have entertained more extreme, sometimes dangerous practices to modify and refine the appearance of their face and body.

Sometimes called “looksmaxxing,” a term capturing efforts that enhance men’s appearance, practices like “mewing” and the far more dangerous exercise of “bone-smashing” are often endorsed to promote facial harmony and a stronger jawline.

The preponderance and popularity of these appearance-focused practices online have produced what medical researcher Daniel Konig and his colleagues describe as an “almost pathological obsession” with attractiveness, with significant consequences for boys and men.

Public reporting on men’s relationship to their appearance indicates that a growing number of men are suffering from body insecurity and lower esteem, manifesting in the rise of muscle dysmorphia, a body-image disorder focused on a perceived lack of physical size or strength.

In a similar vein, the United Kingdom’s Sexualization of Young People report indicates that online, boys are increasingly under pressure to “display their bodies in a hyper-masculine way showing off muscles and posturing as powerful and dominant.”

Why men resist calling it beauty

In my ongoing research with young people enrolled at the University of Toronto and MacEwan University, I am documenting a similar set of pressures.

The young people I’ve spoken with insist that while appearance weighs heavily on everyone, men are increasingly subject to the demands of a culture preoccupied with looking good.

For the boys and men I speak with, social media platforms, and the celebrities and influencers who populate them, are a particularly thorny topic. They invite an intense sense of comparison between men and their physiques and, for many, a feeling of not quite being good enough.

Still, few describe these pressures in terms related to beauty per se. As a historically feminized domain, beauty has been derided as frivolous and unimportant. But as many men are coming to find, the truth is far more complex. Beauty returns rewards to those who are thought to possess it or, perhaps, to those who are willing to pay for it.

Selling beauty to the masses

Men represent a growing and lucrative ground on which to sell products and services designed to optimize their appearance.

This previously untapped market segment is ripe for commercial exploitation, with an increasing number of men making spending on beauty products and services.

In 2024, market researcher Mintel reported that more than half of men use facial skincare products, with members of Gen Z accounting for the greatest share of growth in skincare products — especially “high-end” and “clean” products.

It’s estimated that the global market for men’s beauty products, including skincare and grooming, will exceed US$5 billion by 2027, adding to the industry’s already striking US$450 billion evaluation.

Men’s interest in more costly and intensive beauty treatments is also on the rise. The American Academy of Plastic Surgeons reports that a growing number of men are pursuing body augmentation and cosmetic surgery, as well as non-invasive procedures like dermal filler injections and facial neurotoxins like Botox.

Under both knife and needle, beauty’s cultural force is sure to be felt.

Jordan Foster receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

Why Iran keeps turning off the internet during mass protests

2026-01-28T15:29:26Z

What began on Dec. 28 in Tehran as a revolt against economic hardship and the collapse of the national currency quickly spread across dozens of other Iranian cities and provinces. People from diverse socioeconomic, religious and ethnic backgrounds joined what has become the largest anti-regime protest since the 1979 revolution.

Chants of “death to the dictator” and “death to Khamenei” echoed far beyond Tehran’s Grand Bazaar. As a response, the government shut off all internet services, leaving roughly 92 million Iranians in a digital blackout since Jan. 8.

The protests are not an isolated eruption but the latest chapter in a continuous cycle of uprisings from the 1999 student movement, the Green movement of 2009, the protests of 2017 and the bloody November of 2019, the “uprising of the thirsty” in 2021 and the Woman, Life, Freedom uprising of 2022. Each was driven by different grievances but united by a deepening crisis of legitimacy and governance.

For authoritarian regimes, internet blackouts are a powerful political tool of repression that conceal state violence.

Violence justified for ‘security’

As the protests spread, the regime responded by unleashing lethal violence on the streets. Security forces fired live ammunition and pellet guns at demonstrators, deployed tear gas, carried out mass arrests and raided medical facilities where injured protesters were being treated, including hospitals in Illam and Tehran.

Arrests have surpassed 40,000, while estimates of the death toll vary widely, with reports suggesting that tens of thousands have been killed during the most intense days of repression. In cities such as Rasht, witnesses documented massacres as protesters attempted to flee security forces.

At the same time, state media outlets and senior political and judicial officials labelled protesters “terrorist agents” serving the United States and Israel, rhetoric that helped legitimize extreme violence in the name of national security.

The internet blackout as political strategy

Plunging millions of people into digital darkness was not a security precaution but a deliberate strategy used to disrupt collective action, prevent the documentation of state violence and control what both domestic and international audiences could see.

Mobile data, broadband connections and even phone lines were cut across the country, leaving families unable to contact loved ones, protesters cut off from one another and the outside world largely blind to events inside Iran. This was neither an unprecedented move nor a temporary security response. Iranian authorities have repeatedly restricted or disabled internet and telephone access during periods of sociopolitical unrest.

Under blackout conditions, the internet is not simply a space for expression, it is vital infrastructure that allows for information to flow.

By fragmenting connectivity, the state does not need to erase every image or silence every voice. It only needs to prevent a shared public record from forming. Violence becomes harder to document, deaths harder to count and accountability easier to evade.

Diaspora activism under blackout conditions

Outside Iran, this enforced silence prompted a wave of digital mobilization.

Iranians in the diaspora and their allies turned to platforms such as X and Instagram, circulating the hashtag #DigitalBlackoutIran to draw global attention to the shutdown and the escalating repression inside Iran. The hashtag became a way to make absence visible, revealing that the lack of images, videos and updates was itself the product of deliberate regime suppression and crackdown.

As the blackout continues, what’s at stake is not simply connectivity but the ability to bear witness. The struggle over internet access in Iran is therefore a deeply political one: it’s a struggle over who’s allowed to narrate, who’s allowed to be seen and whose suffering is allowed to register as real.

This use of #DigitalBlackoutIran didn’t emerge in vaccuum. It drew on previous movements and uprisings in Iran, where independent journalists are tightly restricted and repressed, public dissent is criminalized and uprisings are often followed by violent crackdowns and information blackouts.

When people cannot safely gather, publish or speak openly, and when documentation is actively disrupted, hashtags become a way of speaking out and of preserving what might otherwise disappear.

They allow dispersed users to find one another and construct a shared narrative of what’s happening. In this sense, hashtags function as a tool for mobilization and advocacy and as living archives of protest, keeping a record of repression and resistance alive when the state seeks to fragment, deny or erase it.

Yet the very visibility that gives hashtag activism its power also makes it vulnerable under authoritarian rule.

In Iran, the regime does not rely solely on blocking platforms or cutting access. It also actively manipulates online conversations from within. Alongside internet shutdowns, blocking social media platforms and filtering news websites, the state deploys co-ordinated networks of pro-regime accounts, often referred to as a “cyber army,” to disrupt protest hashtags.

These accounts flood hashtags with abusive and degrading language, disinformation and conspiracy narratives. The aim is to make participation emotionally, psychologically and socially costly.

This strategy reflects a broader shift in how autocratic regimes manage dissent online. Rather than silencing opposition, they increasingly seek to dominate digital spaces by overwhelming them, blurring truth with falsehood, intimidation with debate and visibility with noise.

The communications blackout and the disruption of online space point to the same reality in Iran: both operate as deliberate strategies of repression embedded in the regime’s broader architecture of control and discipline.

Under these conditions, the role of Iranians in the diaspora, along with sustained international media coverage, becomes critical not only in countering the silencing of dissent within Iran, but also in resisting the systematic erasure, distortion and fragmentation of the country’s ongoing history of defiance.

Niloofar Hooman does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Geopolitics will cast a long shadow over the 2026 Milan Cortina Winter Olympic Games

2026-01-27T20:29:59Z

This winter’s Olympic games will not be a normal international sporting event. A cloud of geopolitical tension looms over the Milan Cortina Winter Olympics, as well as the upcoming FIFA Men’s World Cup.

The tension escalated after Prime Minister Mark Carney’s speech at the World Economic Forum, where he spelled out his vision for a new world order for middle powers. It stood out starkly against United States President Donald Trump’s own speech at Davos, where he continued expressing his interest in acquiring Greenland from Denmark.

As a result, the 2026 Winter Olympics will likely disrupt the International Olympic Committee’s stated goal of sport bringing the world together under one banner in unique ways. Rather than muting political conflict, the Games may amplify it.

The politics behind Olympic host nations

The unifying mission of the Olympics already sits uneasily alongside previous debates over the morality of hosting the Games in repressive states. For decades, critics have argued that such regimes use the Games to improve their global image and advance their political and economic goals.

International sports events provide widespread media coverage and brand exposure. That spotlight is particularly attractive for authoritarian and repressive regimes seeking legitimacy on the world stage.

Access to a western audience provides these states with the opportunity to “sportswash” their legitimate authority through a carefully curated image.

Repressive regimes have increasingly pursued this strategy. Research shows that the share of international sporting events hosted by autocracies fell from 36 per cent in 1945-88 to 15 per cent in 1989-2012, but has rebounded to 37 per cent since 2012.

Sportswashing and the Olympic bargain

Sportswashing involves the use of sport to redirect public attention away from unethical conduct. In the case of international sporting events, the aim is typically to improve the reputation of the host nation by using the immense popularity of sport to “wash” away scrutiny linked to human rights abuses or democratic backsliding.

Sportswashing can also work to establish broader global acceptance of repressive regimes, particularly when western institutions accept their wealth and acquiesce to their goals.

International sporting organizations also stand to gain from this arrangement as well. Authoritarian hosts are more likely to acquiesce to demands to build costly, single-use sport facilities, as they do not face the kind of democratic backlash that could arise after using public funds for an event that carries little public benefit.

In some cases, these regimes have even been willing to bribe officials to gain the votes necessary to win bids to host these sporting events.

From sportswashing to nationalism

There is often a symbiotic relationship between repressive regimes and international sporting organizations. However, the Milan Cortina Games are unlikely to serve up the sportswashing narratives we have seen recently. Instead, the political stories of the 2026 Winter Olympics are likely to be more explicitly nationalist.

Sport is a powerful vehicle for national rhetoric. It can reinforce a person’s social identity or how they see themselves in relation to others by encouraging people to see themselves as a member of a team or country, and celebrating victory as a collective success or interpreting defeat as a symbolic loss.

Sport also possesses powerful symbolism that can be exploited to great affect in forming a coherent national identity. In this way, sporting events can reinforce national identity as an objective symbol that connects to primitive forms of national ideology.

Political tensions heading into Milan Cortina

In the lead-up to the 2026 Winter Olympics, a series of geopolitical flashpoints has intensified political tensions surrounding the Games. These include the U.S. invasion of Venezuela, Trump’s desire to annex both Greenland and Canada and his ongoing trade disputes with traditional allies.

Whether it’s tension between the European Union and the U.S. or between Canada and the U.S., there are many story lines that can serve as galvanizing moments for nationalist rhetoric.

The 4 Nations Face-Off, won by Canada a year ago, demonstrated how quickly Canada and the U.S. can mobilize Canadian nationalism amid tense trade negotiations. Any Olympic ice hockey matchup between the two countries will feed into the national imagination of both countries and their political leaders.

Denmark and the U.S. are also in the same group in the men’s ice hockey tournament, meaning they are guaranteed to play each other in the round-robin phase.

The men’s ice hockey tournament at the 1980 winter Olympics in Lake Placid, N.Y., served as a pivotal moment in the Cold War. When the underdog U.S. beat the favoured Soviet Union Red Army team, it was deemed the “Miracle on Ice.”

Given Trump’s threats against Greenland, a Danish territory, the Olympics matchup between the two teams could serve as Denmark’s own “miracle on ice” moment.

A medal table ripe for political spin

Beyond ice hockey, this is shaping up to be a Winter Olympics the U.S. is likely to perform quite well in. Traditional winter powerhouses Norway and Russia are both facing scandals or exclusion.

Norway, the all-time leader in medals in Winter Olympics history, is facing a massive cheating scandal in ski jumping but is generally a powerhouse in the nordic sports and skiing events. Russian athletes remain barred from competing under their national flag due to the war in Ukraine and are only permitted to participate as vetted Individual Neutral Athletes.

Trump is likely to make a big deal about any strong American performance, framing any success in contrast to both the EU and Canada.

During his second term in office, Trump has welcomed numerous athletes to the White House and publicly linked sporting success to national strength. He celebrated American participation at the Ryder Cup golf tournament and the 4 Nations Face-off, even when those contests ended in U.S. defeats.

A successful Winter Olympics could therefore provide political capital at a sensitive moment. Amid his attack on Venezuela and stated goal of acquiring Greenland, major soccer countries and EU powerbrokers — including France and Germany — have started to tentatively reconsider their participation in the 2026 Men’s World Cup, hosted in large part by the U.S.

But first, the 2026 Winter Olympics will serve up a menu of matchups that stand to serve the nationalist goals of Trump, Carney and leaders across the European Union.

This is a corrected version of a story originally published on Jan. 27, 2026. The earlier version said the 1980 Olympics took place in Salt Lake City, Utah, instead of Lake Placid, N.Y.

Noah Eliot Vanderhoeven does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Book Talk: Q&A with a psychologist who argues ‘guilt is a helpful emotion, not a harmful one’

2026-01-27T14:59:12Z

Guilt is often treated as a feeling to turn away from, something that is detrimental to our pursuit of happiness. But Chris Moore, psychologist and professor in Dalhousie University’s department of psychology and neuroscience, argues that guilt can be a powerful force for accountability, repair and healing. In his new book, The Power of Guilt: Why We Feel It and Its Surprising Ability to Heal, Moore challenges popular assumptions about guilt and explains why this uncomfortable, even painful, feeling may be one of our most socially useful emotions.

The Conversation Canada: From an evolutionary perspective, why does guilt exist at all? What function does it serve?

Chris Moore: Guilt is a complex set of emotions. One of those emotions is fear for the health of a relationship. Second is empathy. If you do something to hurt somebody else, you feel sadness for them. Then third is remorse — the wish that we hadn’t done it. Those three emotions combined into a cocktail is guilt.

Human beings are arguably the most social of all species, and social networks depend upon healthy relationships between individuals. You have to have mechanisms for keeping social networks healthy because, inevitably, there’s going to be conflict. Guilt is one of those mechanisms. It serves to motivate the individual to repair relationships that are important to them. Psychopathic individuals don’t feel guilt, for example, and the corollary of that is that they tend to have dysfunctional relationships.

TCC: You distinguish between shame and guilt. What is the difference, and why is the distinction important?

CM: Guilt is feeling bad about something that you did (an action), whereas shame is feeling bad about yourself (being a bad person). Shame is more person-focused; guilt is more action-focused. And if you think about what those emotions are for and how they motivate our behaviour, they can have different effects.

If you feel guilt because you performed a bad action, then you can work to heal that by reaching out and apologizing, for example. Shame makes people shy away from relationships because they feel like they’re a bad person. Shame is much more destructive, particularly for relationships.

TCC: You argue that guilt is not a harmful emotion. How so? Why, then, has guilt developed such a bad reputation?

CM: The ultimate point of guilt is to motivate us to try to heal our relationships. That’s why guilt is good for us if we act on it honestly and with genuine motives, although it feels bad. But I do want to emphasize that there are two sides. The antidote to guilt is forgiveness from the other person.

There are a number of reasons for its bad reputation. One is that it feels bad, and so we don’t want to experience it. We may try to ignore it, or we may try to push it away or not act on it. Additionally, it’s often associated with objectively bad things — things that have been deemed to be bad actions by society, whether that’s through religion or through the law. The notion of guilt under the law, for example, is that you’ve done a bad thing and that you need to be punished for it. That is a negative connotation.

TCC: What should we do with guilt when we feel it in the moment? Lean into it? Question it?

CM: Certainly lean into it. I do want to emphasize, however, that guilt is a gut reaction, so we also need to interrogate its accuracy. Do we really have responsibility in the situation for the harm that has come to the relationship that we care about? That’s especially important in situations where other people may be inclined to take advantage of our guilt through guilt-tripping, or what is called guilt induction.

Have you done all that you should do in the context from which the guilt arose? If you have, then you need to be able to let go of the guilt. That is an important part of it because people who are very guilt-prone — people-pleasers or people who score very high on agreeableness — tend to feel guilt a lot. It may not always be justified, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t feel it.

TCC: How do power dynamics in families shape how guilt is experienced?

CM: The origin of guilt, according to Freudian psychoanalytic thought, is that the child first feels guilt in relation to their parents — something that they did which led to anger from their parents. Guilt can arise when there’s an asymmetry in power, but if you’re feeling guilt all the time in the context of a particular relationship, then it may not be you.

That can happen in child-parent relationships, particularly when parents have a very strong sense of filial obligation, which means that the children should be doing what the parents say they should be doing. And if they use guilt to achieve those ends, that can quickly lead to resentment as the child ages into adolescence and adulthood. That is quite a toxic situation for child-parent relationships, and it can lead to estrangement. Estrangement is obviously very unfortunate, but the question becomes: is it for the best?

TCC: How does guilt intersect with collective responsibility such as historical guilt tied to colonialism?

The term “collective guilt” was popularized after the Holocaust in the context of German guilt. Collective guilt has two aspects. “Objective collective guilt” can be thought of as a legal form of guilt. For example, after the Second World War, Germany accepted its collective guilt for the Holocaust and paid reparations to the state of Israel for what was done to the Jewish population. But then there is also the “subjective collective guilt,” which is the guilt that individual people may feel because of their identification with the group that did the damage.

Interestingly, subjective collective guilt can occur in people who have no individual responsibility for those acts. There was a great increase in German guilt in the 1970s in the generation born after the Second World War, for example. There is no clear antidote for subjective collective guilt. There’s nothing you can do, ultimately, that will lead to forgiveness because there’s nobody who can actually act on behalf of the group that was oppressed to offer that forgiveness. There are a number of writers, for example, who have written on white guilt, in relation to racial issues, being dysfunctional.

There’s no point in continuing to harbour collective guilt if you’ve done all that can be done. Now, determining whether you’ve done all that can be done … that is complicated.

This interview has been condensed for length and edited for clarity.

The Conversation Canada does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

New study: Some crimes increased, others decreased around Toronto supervised consumption sites

2026-01-26T20:29:04Z

There have been more than 53,000 opioid-related deaths across Canada since 2016. As part of public health efforts to reduce these deaths, many cities offer overdose prevention and supervised consumption sites.

These centres allow people who use illegal drugs to do so under the supervision of a person trained to reverse opioid poisonings. They also offer clean drug use equipment, safe disposal of used equipment and take-home naloxone, a drug that can reverse the effects of opioid overdose.

Between 2020 and 2025, 48 overdose prevention and supervised consumption sites operated in Canada. While studies show they can reduce mortality and health service use for people who use drugs, they are controversial.

People opposed to these sites worry they increase local crime and disorder by attracting drug-related activity like theft, assault, open drug use and hazardous discarded equipment. In Toronto, opposition to the sites increased after a woman was killed near one in east-end Toronto in 2023. The facility later closed after the Ontario government mandated sites within 200 metres of schools or daycare be shuttered.

Recently, our team at McGill University published a study looking at the association between these sites and crime near nine Toronto locations.

For this study, we used publicly available data from the Toronto Police Service and looked at the five major crime indicators (assault, break and enters, auto theft, robbery and theft over $5,000), as well as thefts from motor vehicles and bicycle thefts. These geo-coded data included all incidents reported at the offence or victim level.

What we found

We looked at the number of crimes within 400 metres of a site in the three years after they were opened, and compared that with the number of crimes expected for each neighbourhood had the sites not begun operating. To determine that figure, we accounted for the trends in crime occurring in each neighbourhood in the three years before the sites opened.

In other words, we looked for changes in crime trends as well as crime spikes immediately after sites were opened. We reported our findings for each site, and summarized results across all nine sites.

The results were mixed. The sites were not consistently associated with changes in local crime.

Summarizing the situation at all sites, we found they were associated with a 50 per cent increase in break and enters, and it would take approximately 34 months to return to levels normally expected around the sites. Meanwhile, monthly trends in robbery, theft over $5,000 and bicycle theft declined after sites were implemented.

There were also site-specific associations. Assaults rose about one per cent faster than expected per month near the South Riverdale and St. Stephen’s sites. While that may seem like a modest increase, after three years, assaults were approximately 43 per cent higher than expected in these neighbourhoods. At the same time, the Regent Park site was associated with declines in assault, robbery and bicycle theft trends.

More research needed

While our study provides more insight into how overdose and supervised consumption sites impact their surrounding areas, it also has its limitations. We cannot explain why crime increased near some sites but declined at others. We couldn’t look at changes in open drug use, discarded equipment or mental health act apprehensions because of data availability and quality issues or a lack of geo-co-ordinates.

Nevertheless, our results match what other researchers have found when looking at the associations between sites and crime. In the United States, a 2021 study found that reports of assault, burglary, larceny theft and robbery decreased in the area near one site.

In New York, some researchers have found overdose prevention sites did not cause significant increases in crimes. Other research, however, did find that there was an increase in property crimes near a supervised consumption site.

Here in Canada, recently published research found that there was not a significant change in the rate of fatal shootings and stabbings near supervised consumption sites in Toronto.

Our findings also corroborate what people have observed locally – crime can increase following the opening of overdose prevention or supervised consumption sites. But it doesn’t always.

Instead, the relationship between these sites and crime is complicated. Further research needs to focus on understanding why crime declined in some neighbourhoods but increased in others. These distinctions can help policymakers and public health service providers understand what works, where and why. This is crucial if we are to continue to work with communities.

Dimitra Panagiotoglou receives funding from the Canadian Institutes of Health Research and Health Canada.

With KPop Demon Hunters, Korean women hold the sword, the microphone — and possibly an Oscar

2026-01-25T13:46:39Z

When I was a child in South Korea, the New Year often began with a familiar song: “Kkachi Kkachi Seollal.” Seollal refers to the Lunar New Year, one of Korea’s most important family holidays, and kkachi means “magpie,” a bird associated with good fortune and joyful beginnings.

Singing the song, we believed, would invite pleasant guests into the home. For my siblings and me, those guests were usually our grandparents — and their arrival marked warmth, continuity and belonging.

Decades later, I now live in Canada, where distance has made such visits from my home country rare. Yet it feels as though the magpie has arrived again — this time on a global screen.

Netflix’s animated film KPop Demon Hunters, which follows adventures of a fictional Kpop girl group (Huntrix) whose members hunts demons by night, now has an Academy Award nomination for Best Animated Feature and Best Original Song. This follows recent Golden Globe wins.

The film, created by Korean Canadian Maggie Kang, has musical production by Teddy Park and is voiced by Korean American actors such as Arden Cho, Ji-young Yoo and Audrey Nuna.

I’m interested in how KPop Demon Hunters marks a new phase of the Korean Wave. In this phase, folklore and women’s musical labour come together to challenge how Asian stories have long been sidelined in western media.

KPop Demon Hunters, like the success of some other recent popular Korean cultural production in the West, reflects diasporic creativity, notes scholar Michelle Cho, whose research focuses on on Korean film, media and popular culture.

Folklore as cultural authority

One of KPop Demon Hunters’s most striking features is its unapologetic use of Korean symbols. The demon hunters wear gat — traditional horsehair hats associated with scholars during Korea’s Joseon dynasty — while battling demons alongside the tiger, long regarded as a guardian spirit of Korea. These elements function as assertions of cultural authority.

Historically, western film and animation have often relegated Asian characters to stereotypes or erased them altogether through whitewashing.

By contrast, KPop Demon Hunters places Korean folklore at its narrative centre. The gat evokes dignity and discipline; the tiger represents protection and resilience. Together, they counter the lingering assumption that mainstream entertainment led by Asian characters is somehow niche or inferior.

By using distinctly Korean imagery — such as the satirical minhwa art style of the film’s Derpy Tiger — the movie firmly anchors itself in a specific Korean context that cannot be generalized or mistaken for a broad, pan-Asian esthetic.

For many in the Korean diaspora — including myself, who grew up rarely seeing people like me centred in mainstream media — this visibility carries emotional weight.

Research in media and cultural studies shows that representation matters not only for how groups are seen by others, but also for how people understand their own place in society. Seeing Korean symbols treated with respect offers a quiet but powerful form of cultural validation.

A matrilineal line of survival

One of the film’s powerful moments is the opening montage. Through a rapid succession of shamanic figures, flappers and disco-era performers, the sequence offers what can be read as matrilineal homage to female Korean musicians across generations.

As writer Iris (Yi Youn) Kim notes, citing a lecture by Asian American studies scholar Elaine Andres, this lineage echoes the real-life story of the Kim Sisters, often described as Korea’s first internationally successful female pop group. After losing their father during the Korean War, the sisters were trained by their mother, the renowned singer Lee Nan-young — best known for the anti-colonial song “Tears of Mokpo” — to perform at U.S. military bases as a means of survival.

The Kim Sisters perform ‘Fever’ on the Ed Sullivan show.

The Kim Sisters later became regular performers on The Ed Sullivan Show, captivating American audiences while navigating racist expectations that framed Asian women as approachable, non-threatening and exotic.

Symbolic labour of representing a nation

The fictional group Huntrix inherits this legacy. Like the Kim Sisters, they are expected to embody discipline, professionalism and national representation.

For example, the film shows the group grappling with perfectionism and the intense discipline demanded of them, often maintaining polished public performances while suppressing personal vulnerability to fulfil their dual roles as idols and protectors. On a meta-narrative level, Huntrix is framed as a cultural representative through the use of Korean folklore imagery, like the gat and the tiger.

As “cultural diplomats” both on and off the screen, Huntrix carry not only entertainment value but also the symbolic labour of representing a nation to a global audience.

By embedding this lineage into a mainstream animated film, KPop Demon Hunters acknowledges that KPop’s global success rests on decades of women’s labour, sacrifice and negotiation with western power structures.

Beyond soft power

The film’s success arrives amid the continued expansion of the Korean Wave across global media.

South Korean cinema and television have already reshaped international perceptions through landmark works such as Parasite and globally streamed series like Squid Game. Netflix has publicly committed hundreds of millions of dollars to Korean content, signalling that this cultural shift is structural rather than fleeting.

KPop Demon Hunters demonstrates how Korean popular culture now moves fluidly across media forms — music, animation, film and streaming — while retaining cultural specificity. Its reception challenges the persistent assumption that stories rooted in Asian experiences lack universal resonance.

Recognition alone does not erase inequality, nor does it dismantle the racialized hierarchies built into global media industries either. But sustained visibility can matter. Studies suggest that repeated exposure to multidimensional, humanized portrayals of marginalized groups helps reduce racial bias by normalizing difference rather than exoticizing it.

Holding the sword and the microphone

While the film grows out of cultural histories shaped by U.S. military presence and Cold War politics, it reshapes those influences through diasporic storytelling that centres Korean voices and perspectives.

The magpie’s promise has finally been kept. Korean characters are no longer merely “pleasant guests” or supporting figures in someone else’s narrative. They are protagonists — holding the sword, the microphone and perhaps, one day, an Oscar.

Recently, I found myself rewatching KPop Demon Hunters while eating kimbap and instant noodles, the same comfort foods the characters share on screen. The moment felt small, but meaningful.

It reminded me of something one of my students once said: seeing this level of representation allows those who have long felt wounded by exclusion to finally feel seen.

Hyounjeong Yoo does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

DNA evidence: A double-edged sword that can actually deny justice for some wrongfully accused

2026-01-25T13:46:08Z

Jon-Adrian (JJ) Velazquez, a New York man who spent half his life in prison for a crime he didn’t commit, recently sued New York City and its police for US$100 million for his wrongful murder conviction. Velazquez may be known by film buffs for his role in the Oscar-nominated film Sing Sing.

Velazquez may be entitled to millions in compensation if he can prove his factual innocence, typically through DNA evidence at the crime scene. Alas, such evidence is often not available.

The United States has paid almost US$4 billion in damages and settlements to 901 people who have been exonerated of crimes since 1989. This history of wrongful convictions is a warped form of American exceptionalism that I document in my new book Justice for Some: A Comparative Examination of Miscarriages of Justice and Wrongful Convictions .

Proving innocence

Proven factual innocence is a powerful, populist idea. It’s easier to understand and more widely accepted than concepts such as miscarriages of justice, conviction safety or judicial error, which are used to address wrongful convictions in many other countries, including England, Canada and countries in continental Europe.

These more generous approaches used outside the United States better respect the fundamental principle of giving people the benefit of reasonable doubt about their guilt.

It’s very difficult to prove factual innocence. In 2016, a New York court held that Velazquez had failed to prove his innocence despite many weaknesses in the case that led to his 2000 murder conviction.

By 2016, two eyewitness who identifed Velazquez as the person who killed a retired New York police officer had recanted. Some witnesses had initially identified the perpetrator as a Black man with long braided hair; Velazquez is Hispanic and had very short hair. Some said the perpetrator used his right hand to shoot the victim; Velazquez is left-handed.

Consistent with the popular appeal of proven factual innocence, Velazquez was freed in 2021 not by the courts but by New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo, with President Joe Biden apologizing to him the following year. They were responding to investigative reporting and new DNA testing that excluded Velazquez from a betting slip that the killer touched.

The fact that politicians who may have been hoping for re-election were ahead of the American courts in exonerating Velazquez reveals a lot about the decline of the rule of law in the United States.

DNA exonerations

Prominent American lawyers Peter Neufeld and Barry Scheck, the founders of the Innocence Project, argued 26 years ago that DNA exonerations were largely a matter of luck. They predicted in a 2000 book that DNA exonerations would eventually dry up as police only use DNA testing in the small minority of crimes where the perpetrator leaves biological evidence at the crime scene.

Scheck and Neufeld may have been overly optimistic about the competence of American police and prosecutors in their book. Post-conviction, DNA-based exonerations, like Velazquez’s, continue to this day.

DNA is a double-edged sword: it offers compelling evidence of innocence while simultaneously raising the threshold for overturning wrongful convictions. In the U.S., the wrongfully convicted are often expected to prove their innocence through DNA, even though many crimes leave no biological evidence and existing samples are frequently mishandled or unavailable. DNA, in short, serves only a fraction of those wrongfully convicted.

Mass imprisonment in China and the U.S.

The country most closely resembling the U.S. in its insistence on proof of factual innocence is the People’s Republic of China.

Like the U.S., China typically remedies miscarriages of justice only after multiple court proceedings. Intervention by politicians also plays a critical role in obtaining justice for the wrongfully convicted, as it did in the Velazquez case. China has also begun providing more generous compensation to those who can prove their factual innocence.

In both countries, generous compensation for the few who can prove factual innocence risks legitimizing unjust systems that harshly punish the many, including those with wrongful convictions but no meaningful path to justice.

American legal reformers have proposed that a right to claim factual innocence should be added to international law. I argue in Justice for Some, however, that proof of factual innocence would have regressive implications in many other parts of the world that correct miscarriages of justice without such onerous proof. In short, factual innocence would provide justice for fewer people.

Factual innocence spreads to England

Countries other than the U.S. and China are not immune from the populist appeal of factual innocence.

Since 2014, England has required proven innocence for compensation. This has drastically reduced compensation payments. It’s even resulted in the denial of compensation to people like Velazquez who have been exonerated by DNA.

Victor Nealon spent 17 years in a British prison after being convicted of attempted rape. His lawyers eventually discovered an unknown person’s DNA on clothing that had not been disclosed by investigators, and his conviction was quashed.

Nealon took his compensation claim to the European Court of Human Rights. It ruled in a divided decision that states can require proven innocence without breaching the presumption of innocence. In essence, this allows the wrongfully accused to be denied compensation without regard to the fundamental legal principle that people are presumed innocent until proven guilty. Factual innocence requirements can spread from compensation to appeals from convictions.

Those who can prove their innocence deserve justice — but justice should not be limited to them alone. Proven innocence rations justice too narrowly.

It may be the best that mass-incarceration societies like the U.S. and China have to offer. But even though factual innocence is popular and easy to grasp, applying this standard broadly across liberal democracies would likely have regressive effects.

Kent Roach is affiliated with the Canadian Registry of Wrongful Conviction. His book received funding to assist in it being published in open access from the Jackman School of Law at the University of Toronto.

#GoodVibesOnly: The shared emotions we don’t quite name

2026-01-25T13:46:04Z

Our contemporary lives are saturated with vibes. You buy an ambient lamp to set a vibe, scroll through shopping sites selling “Tuscan vibes” or walk into a room and instantly sense this party has a buzzing vibe.

Yet when someone asks where the vibe comes from, the answer gets slippery. Is it in the light? Not quite. The light blends into the room, mixing with voices, colours and furniture. It’s not just one thing. Vibe is elusive. It spreads, permeates and connects. It’s in the relationship between things — how people, sounds and materials work together to create a shared feeling.

This is where literary and philosophical thinkers come in. For decades, they’ve explored such elusive sensations — the collective moods that organize everyday life even when we can’t quite name them.

Thinking seriously about vibe reveals something crucial: feeling is a shared form of knowledge shaped by environments — a human experience that may matter more as technology advances.

Long before vibes had a name

The word itself is quite recent. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, vibe appeared in the 1960s as U.S. slang shortened from vibration as a way of describing the emotional charge a person or place gives off.

To say something “has a vibe” is to say your body has vibrated to it in a particular way. It’s not just a thought but a physical adjustment: the space, sound or presence around you has moved you, subtly shifting how you feel.

Philosophers, of course, have long been interested in this same experience, though they called it by a different name. Long before vibe entered everyday speech, thinkers used words like atmosphere or ambience to describe the shared feeling that fills a space and shapes our response to it.

Vibe, in this sense, updates an old philosophical question: how does the world around us make itself felt, not just known?

One of the first modern critics to take this question seriously was Welsh cultural theorist Raymond Williams, who coined the phrase “structure of feeling” in 1954. Williams argued that every historical moment has its own emotional texture; the felt sense of what it’s like to live in that time.

It isn’t a single mood but the background hum of experience that connects people before they can describe it. Think of the buoyant optimism of the 1950s or the political turmoil of the 1960s, similar to what we’re experiencing now. We can sense the mood immediately.

For Williams, this “structure of feeling” made art and culture matter. They recorded not just what people thought but what life felt like.

The business of engineered feeling

A few decades later, German philosopher Gernot Böhme gave this idea a physical body. In The Aesthetics of Atmospheres, he argued that atmosphere is something we encounter, not imagine.

Walk into a cathedral, a café or a store, and the air itself feels different. Your senses are triggered and combine to shape how you experience the ambience. Atmosphere, as Böhme sees it, exists in the space between object and subject, sound and listener, light and body.

Companies and marketers understand this better than anyone. They don’t simply sell objects, they sell worlds of feeling.

Step into a boutique and you’re greeted not by bright displays but by a carefully tuned vibe. The air swirls with fragrance as a salesperson asks if you’d like to sample one. By answering, you fall into the illusion that the perfume alone produces your feeling, when in fact it’s the entire composition — soft jazz, the scent of citrus wood — that moves you.

We are enveloped in these designed environments, and we know that the same scent wouldn’t move us the same way elsewhere.

Brands no longer sell perfume or soap so much as an atmosphere of belonging. They offer a shared world we learn to recognize and desire through our senses. This commercial atmosphere reminds us that our emotional lives are increasingly shaped by design.

Why sensing atmosphere remains human

As artificial intelligence grows ever more capable of performing the tasks we once called creative — writing, composing, painting — it also changes how we think about perception itself.

If machines can analyze patterns and generate words or images, what remains distinctly human may not be our ability to produce things but to feel them. Catching the tone of a voice, noticing how light shifts across a face or sensing the vibe of a room are forms of knowledge no algorithm yet replicates.

That doesn’t mean AI and feeling must be opposites. As we outsource more of our labour to artificial systems, the art of cultivating and interpreting atmosphere may become even more essential.

Learning to name a mood, to notice how spaces and technologies shape emotion, could be one way we stay alert to what connects us as human beings. If AI teaches us efficiency, vibe-thinking teaches us sensitivity. It reminds us that meaning doesn’t live only in data or design but in the air between us — the moods we co-create, the atmospheres we learn to share, the vibe.

Lei Yu does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Blaming ‘wine moms’ for ICE protest violence is another baseless, misogynist myth

2026-01-22T17:16:24Z

Following the recent shooting of Renee Good by an agent for Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) in the United States, the Donald Trump administration’s latest narrative suggests that “deluded wine moms” are to blame for the violence in ICE-related demonstrations in Minneapolis and across the country.

This mother-blaming is nothing more than an old trick with a new spin.

Organized gangs of ‘wine moms’

A Fox News columnist recently wrote that “organized gangs of wine moms” are using “antifa tactics” to “harass and impede” ICE activity. In the opinion piece, he claimed that “confusion” over the what constitutes civil disobedience is what “got 37-year-old Renee Good killed.”

Similarly, Vice-President J.D. Vance called Good a “deranged leftist” while a new acronym, AWFUL — Affluent White Female Urban Liberal — has appeared on social media.

In framing protesters like Good, a mother of three, as confused, aggressive and “delusional,” this narrative delegitimizes and pathologizes maternal activism.

This strategy aims to divert blame from the U.S. government and its heavy-handed approach to immigration — which has resulted in yet another slaying of a protester by ICE agents in Minneapolis, this time a male nurse who was reportedly coming to the aid of a female demonstrator — while also drawing on a centuries-old strategy of blaming mothers for social problems.

What makes a ‘wine mom?’

The term “wine mom” emerged over the last two decades as a cultural symbol of the contemporary white, suburban mother who turns to a nightly glass of wine (or two) to cope with the stresses of daily life.

The archetype goes back much further, reflected in literature, film and television characters, such as the wily Lucille Bluth of Arrested Development.

A clip from ‘Arrested Development’ featuring Lucille Bluth’s fondness for boozing.

Yet, this motif is less light-hearted than assumed: a recent systematic review reveals a strong link between maternal drinking and stress, especially for working mothers.

While it would be easy to view problematic drinking as another example of maternal failure, it is important not to. Here’s why.

Mother-blame in history

Throughout history, mothers have found themselves in the midst of what American sociologist Linda Blum calls a “mother-valor/mother-blame binary.”

When behaving in accordance with socially acceptable and desirable parameters — that is with warmth, femininity and selflessness — mothers are viewed as “good.” When mothers violate these norms, whether by choice, circumstance or by virtue of their race or class position, they’re “bad mothers.”

Mother-blame ultimately reflects the belief that mothers are solely responsible for their children’s behaviour and outcomes, along with the cultural tendency to blame them when things go wrong. Yet, as Blum points out, “mother-blame also serves as a metaphor for a range of political fears.”

Perhaps the most striking example of this is the suffrage movement, which represented a direct challenge to patriarchal notions that women belonged in the domestic sphere and lacked the intelligence to engage in political discourse.

Suffragettes in the United Kingdom — many of them mothers — occasionally used extreme tactics, such as window-smashing and arson, while women in the U.S. obstructed traffic and waged hunger strikes.

These activists were framed as threatening to not only the establishment, but also to families and the moral fabric of society.

Ironically, despite the fact that women’s entry into politics led to increased spending and improved outcomes related to women, children, families and health care, scholars have found that mother-blaming was as common after the women’s movement as it was before.

Contemporary mother-blame

Beyond political matters, contemporary mother-blame is rampant in other domains.

Mothers have been blamed for a wide variety of their children’s psychological problems, including anxiety, depression and inherited trauma. In media and literature, mothers are often blamed for criminality and violence, reflecting the notion that “mothers make monsters.”
When children struggle in school, educators and administrators may blame the mother. Mothers risk being called “too passive” if they don’t advocate for their children or “too aggressive” when they do.

Similarly, the “crazy woman” or “hysterical mother” is a well-known trope in custody law, and mothers may be blamed even when their children are abused by others. Mass shootings? Mom’s failure. The list goes on.

By setting up mothering as a high-stakes endeavour, the cultural norm of mother-blame also serves to “divide and conquer.”

In my sociology research, I found that mothers on Facebook worked to align themselves with like-minded “superior” mothers, while distancing themselves from perceived “inferior” mothers. This feeds into the cultural norm of “combative mothering,” which pits mothers against each other.

An old trick with a new spin

The “wine mom” narrative builds on this historical pattern of mother-blame. It is meant to trivialize, delegitimize, divide and denigrate mothers who are, in fact, well-organized and motivated activists concerned for their communities.

While there are legitimate concerns around maternal drinking as a coping mechanism, the “wine mom” label has begun to represent something different. Mothers are reclaiming the title to expand their cause.

As @sara_wiles, promoting the activist group @redwineblueusa stated on Instagram: “They meant to scare us back into the kitchen, but our actual response is, ‘Oh, I want to join!’”

We should acknowledge that rather than causing societal problems, mothers have a long history of trying to fix them, even if imperfectly. Mothers like Renee Good are no exception.

Darryn DiFrancesco does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

When young adults can’t afford independence, family expectations fill the gap — from China’s ‘leftover women’ to Canada’s pressured youth

2026-01-22T13:37:04Z

I met Lufang Chen, a 30-year-old bank clerk based in the Fujian province of China, in 2016, after she had married a man she initially turned down years earlier. Although she preferred to remain single, and he was not her type anyway, she gave in to avoid the label “leftover woman.”

The derogatory and stigmatizing term “leftover woman” — or Sheng nü in Chinese — is used to describe one’s social status and refers to women in their late 20s and beyond who have never married. The label suggests these women have failed to “sell” themselves on the marriage market at the “best” time and have therefore become leftover products that are depreciating rapidly.

At the time I was conducting interviews for my book on the lived experiences of these women — Leftover Women in China: Understanding Legal Consciousness through Intergenerational Relationships — released last August, Chen told me she married out of an obligation to live up to parental expectations:

“I only got married to free my parents from the pressure imposed on them by gossipy, nosy relatives, as well as to ease their worries about my future. After all, my parents have sacrificed so much and are always ready to do everything for me.”

Chen was especially grateful to her parents for buying her an apartment when she could barely cover her living expenses. Her parents were also prepared to provide child care once, not if, she had a child.

What this story reveals is not simply a cultural expectation around marriage, but how parental financial support can reshape the autonomy of young adults.

Structural forces and family dynamics in China

In recent decades, the extreme unaffordability of housing in urban China has made it almost impossible for young adults to purchase a home without financial support from their parents. Meanwhile, as inflexible work schedules and overtime have become the norm, grandparenting has become crucial to ensuring young adults can focus on their careers.

Leftover Women in China demonstrates how the downflow of family resources — from the older generation to the young, including housing and child care support — results in a sense of guilt and provides the justification for parental intervention in marital decisions.

This phenomenon ultimately reduces effective communication among family members and marginalizes the desires of young adults.

Many of these so-called “leftover women” don’t feel it’s appropriate to openly discuss or negotiate marital choices and childbearing with their parents. Instead, a sense of guilt prompts these daughters to focus on perceptions of parental expectations that prioritize their parents’ desires and often go even beyond what their parents explicitly request.

Canadian classrooms reveal family pressure

Eventually, as a university professor, I noticed this type of parent-child interaction also appears in the West, including Canadian society.

Take students’ academic performance and career decisions, for example. I observed a strong sense of guilt and desire to repay parents, especially among students of mine whose parents have endured hardship or offered unconditional support.

Students from immigrant families have frequently mentioned pressure to succeed academically. When I asked about their motivations, they often responded by saying they want to live up to parental expectations. This sense of duty seemed especially strong among students whose parents were highly qualified professionals in their home countries and now work long hours in manual or unskilled labour to provide for their families.

As Vivian Louie, professor of urban policy and planning at Hunter College, suggests, immigrant parents’ sacrifices often motivate their children to excel academically. This is also supported by a socio-legal study on responsibility, love and guilt in Latino mixed-status families.

Over the years, many students have told me their parents don’t need to explicitly ask them to pursue a lucrative career, nor have they necessarily discussed it with them. Instead, students pick up cues from societal and community perceptions of success to make their parents proud.

When parental support becomes essential

This phenomenon, however, is not limited to students with immigrant backgrounds. A sociological study on career decisions of Harvard law students reveals that students from low-income or working-class backgrounds frequently felt that failure to obtain a lucrative position would let their families down due to the financial sacrifices their family members have made for them.

The more I spoke with my students, the more I realized that Canadian young adults are facing increasing parental intervention in particular due to the persistence of inflation and housing unaffordability.

More of them than ever before are living with their parents well into their 20s to reduce costs. For many, this has become a necessity rather than a choice.

According to a 2025 Statistics Canada report, financial support from parents for down payments has become both crucial and widespread among young homeowners. In British Columbia, for example, average parental financial support for a first-home down payment exceeds $200,000.

It’s true that collectivist culture in Chinese society contributes to the desire for “leftover women” to meet parental expectations and prioritize their needs and interests. But my observations in Canadian classrooms suggest that parental financial support — combined with the sacrifices they make for their children — can also cultivate guilt among young adults in individualist cultures like Canada.

Qian Liu receives funding from the International Development Research Centre and the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council.

Slanguage: How the use of AI for apologies could cause the ‘Canadian Sorry’ to lose its soul

2026-01-21T17:13:12Z

It is a stereotype that Canadians apologize for everything. We say sorry when you bump into us. We say sorry for the weather. But as we trudge through the grey days of winter, that national instinct for politeness hits a wall of fatigue.

The temptation is obvious. With a single click, Gmail’s “Help me write” or ChatGPT can draft a polite decline to an invitation or a heartfelt thank you for a holiday sweater you’ll never wear.

It’s efficient. It’s polite. It’s grammatically perfect.

It’s also a trap.

New research suggests that when we outsource our social interactions to AI, we are trading away our reputation. Using AI to manage your social life makes you seem less warm, less moral and significantly less trustworthy.

Learning a language is hard, but even native speakers get confused by pronunciation, connotations, definitions and etymology. The lexicon is constantly evolving, especially in the social media era, where new memes, catchphrases, slang, jargon and idioms are introduced at a rapid clip. Slanguage, The Conversation Canada’s new series, dives into how language shapes the way we see the world and what it reveals about culture, power and belonging. Welcome to the wild and wonderful world of linguistics.

The trap of efficiency

In our consumer economy, we love automation. When I order a package, I don’t need a human to type the shipping notification; I just want the box on my doorstep. We accept — even demand — efficiency from brands.

But our friends are not brands, and our relationships are not transactions.

The new study published in Computers in Human Behavior — entitled “Negative Perceptions of Outsourcing to Artificial Intelligence” by British academic Scott Claessens and other researchers — suggests that emotional dynamics follow different rules than those shaping more practical situations. The researchers found that, while we tolerate AI assistance for technical tasks like writing code or planning a daily schedule, we punish it severely in social contexts.

When you use AI to write a love letter, an apology or a wedding vow, the recipient sees a lack of effort instead of a well-written text. In relationships, effort is a strong currency of care.

Less warm, less authentic

You might think you can hack this system by being honest. Perhaps you tell your friend: “I used ChatGPT to help me find the right words, but I edited it myself.”

Unfortunately, the data doesn’t indicate this is much of a solution.

Claessens’ work investigated a “best-case” scenario, where a user treated AI as a collaborative tool, employing it for ideas and feedback rather than verbatim copying, and was fully transparent about the process.

The researchers found that the social consequences of this approach are highly task-dependent: for socio-relational tasks like writing love letters, wedding vows or apology notes, participants still rated the sender as significantly less moral, less warm and less authentic than someone who didn’t use AI.

However, for instrumental or non-social tasks like writing computer code or dinner recipes, this collaborative and honest use of AI didn’t lead to negative perceptions of moral character or warmth, even if the user was still perceived as having expended less effort.

This creates a uniquely modern anxiety for the polite Canadian. We apologize to maintain social bonds. But if we use AI to craft that apology, we sever the very bond we are trying to hold onto. An apology generated by an algorithm, no matter how polished, signals that the relationship wasn’t worth the 20 minutes it would have taken to write it yourself.

Authentic inefficiency

This friction isn’t limited to text messages.

I’ve observed a similar pattern in my own preliminary research on consumer behaviour and AI-generated art. This work was conducted with Associate Prof. Ying Zhu at the University of British Columbian, Okanagan and will be presented at the American Marketing Association’s Winter Conference.

Consumers often reject excellent AI creations in creative arts fields because they lack the moral weight of human intent.

I believe we’re entering an era where inefficiency and imperfection will become premium products. Just as a flawed hand-knit scarf means more than a mass-produced, factory-made one, a clunky, typo-ridden text message from a friend is becoming more valuable than a sonnet written by a random internet language model.

The renowned “Canadian Sorry” is only meaningful because it represents a moment of humility, a pang of guilt, the effort used to find the right words. When we outsource this type of labour, we outsource the meaning too.

So as you tackle your inbox this winter, resist the urge to let the robot take the wheel for every case. Your clients might need the perfect email, but your friends and family certainly don’t. They want to know you cared enough to find the words yourself.

Joshua Gonzales does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Heated Rivalry: How investment in Canadian content can pay off at home and abroad

2026-01-20T15:03:09Z

Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie in an Episode 6 ('The Cottage') scene of 'Heated Rivalry.' (Bell Media)

In late December 2025, it seemed like everyone went to “the cottage.” This is a reference to the steamy Crave megahit Heated Rivalry. Even The Guggenheim Museum of New York and Ottawa Tourism has jumped on the Heated Rivalry bandwagon.

Heated Rivalry has launched the careers of Texas native Connor Storrie and Hudson Williams, from British Columbia. The actors play hockey rivals-turned-lovers Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander.

The Heated Rivalry obsession is widespread, having topped Crave’s No. 1 most-watched spot for weeks and taken global audiences, TV networks and online algorithms by storm.

Storrie and Williams have appeared at the Golden Globes, on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon and on Late Night with Seth Meyers.

In an era where data-crunching increasingly offers predictions about market-driven success, all this might make viewers wonder if Heated Rivalry has cracked the algorithmic code.

Crave trailer for ‘Heated Rivalry.’

Risk-taking gone right

Was the show a bet on #booktok fans? Heated Rivalry is based on a book that is part of the popular Game Changers series by Canadian author Rachel Reid.

However, as scholars who have examined contemporary TV production, we agree with acting coach Anna Lamadrid that Heated Rivalry would never have been made if left solely to algorithmic analysis.

The standard algorithm-driven approach designed to entice the widest possible audience — typical of U.S. streaming giants like Netflix — would argue the series had limited appeal, no star power and a niche audience.

More likely, as creator Jacob Tierney told Myles McNutt, a professor of media studies, Crave trusted him and his vision. Tierney previously made the popular and award-winning shows Shoresy and Letterkenny.

As Tierney told McNutt, Heated Rivalry was greenlit by Crave but needed additional financing. Tierney approached several studios, but received notes “that would fundamentally change the story, or fundamentally change the tone.”

In a recent CBS interview with Montréal-born actor François Arnaud, who plays older gay hockey player Scott Hunter, Arnaud said he “didn’t think the show could have been made in the U.S.” He said Heated Rivalry was “at a big streamer before” that wanted changes, including “no kissing until Episode 5.”

François Arnaud and Hudson Williams in an Episode 1 scene from ‘Heated Rivalry.’ (Bell Media)

Heated Rivalry is an example of risk-taking gone right at a time when there are calls to cancel international streamers in favour of investing in homegrown film and TV. Its success is also the result of a confluence of industry-level transformations in Canadian production and streaming.

A confluence of conditions

In the 1950s, there were only a few Canadian broadcasters. Content was made by “in-house” crews. Production and distribution companies were operated by government-funded agencies, including the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation and the National Film Board of Canada.

Creative content consisted mostly of news and filmed theatre or dance productions. In the 1960s, pay TV emerged and appetite built for racier variety TV, game shows and talk shows.

By the 1970s, the baby boomer bubble — combined with arts funding and more affordable video and editing equipment — changed everything. Low-cost content for niche audiences proliferated on cable TV.

The Canadian media system moved toward independent production. Production companies were separated from broadcasters, owned and run by different people. But the ability to green-light Canadian-scripted TV shows still depended on acquiring distribution licences from a few major broadcasters.

This triggered funding from the Canada Media Fund and provincial or territorial tax credits, which still finance most productions. To spread financial risk, many dramas were co-productions between Canada and other countries.

By 2005, in the wake of broadband and the growth of more audacious content produced for smaller audiences, Canadian broadcasters shifted to reality (“unscripted”) TV as a relatively inexpensive genre that could draw big audiences.

Still, breakthrough dramatic programs — like Corner Gas (2004-09), Little Mosque on the Prairie (2007-12), Kim’s Convenience (2016-21) and Schitt’s Creek (2015-20) — dealt with the complexity and specificity of Canadian society.

Steamy streaming

Today, several key policy changes and corporate consolidations have brought smaller, riskier and explicitly Canadian projects to the screen.

The Online Streaming Act and the recently updated definition of Canadian content have targeted streaming services like Netflix and Crave to incentivize the production and discoverability of Canadian shows.

Shifts in policy have supported Canadian content, including funding for underrepresented voices. Heated Rivalry’s development ran parallel to recent policy and industry shifts.

Bell Media, the largest Canadian media company, owns CTV and Crave. In March 2025, it acquired a majority stake of United Kingdom-based global distributor Sphere Abacus. This played a key role in Heated Rivalry’s development.

The Canada Media Fund contributed $3.1 million to Heated Rivalry. Culture Minister Marc Miller has also noted in addition to the federal funding, the series received tax credits. Eligible Canadian film or video productions can receive a refundable tax credit.

Bell Media committed to the show budget in March 2025, including a contribution from recently acquired Sphere Abacus.

Sean Cohan, Bell Media CEO, has said the company saw Heated Rivalry as a show that could move the conglomerate “from being seen as a legacy broadcaster to a digital-media content player with global impact.”

The series was shot in just over a month at a budget of less than CDN$5 million per episode and before long, stars Williams and Storrie were whisked away to the Golden Globes.

What’s next for Canadian productions?

Crave is already promoting Slo Pitch starring Schitt’s Creek actor Emily Hampshire and featuring Heated Rivalry’s Nadine Bhaba.

Set to premiere in 2026, this 10-episode mockumentary series follows a queer, underdog softball team. While the show is also about gay sports, it’s in a league all its own — promising “beer, lesbians and baseball.”

Is Crave a beacon of hope for Canadian content? Maybe Canadian producers and distributors can leverage the Heated Rivalry effect to galvanize Canadian and international audiences onto more Canadian-produced intellectual property (IP).

The issue of IP is now a key sticking point in multiple unresolved lawsuits by Netflix, Amazon and Spotify that have been brought to the federal government.

The looming Warner Bros Discovery (Warner Bros, HBO) acquisition by Netflix will directly impact Crave. As HBO Max’s sole Canadian distributor, there’s some worry about what could happen to this lucrative content for the Canadian streamer should Netflix gobble up all of the IP — a major issue for distribution deals and Canadian creatives.

Not to stretch the hockey metaphor too tight, but policy sets the rules of the game. Corporate and government funding bring the players to the rink. Producers and writers aspire to be winning coaches. Audiences want to be on the edge of their seats.

They also want more choices: exploring riskier storylines, meeting new talent and seeing their own lives — and Canadian content — on screen. With Heated Rivalry’s success, they seem to have it all this season.

Daphne Rena Idiz receives funding from the Creative Labour and Critical Futures (CLCF) project.

Claudia Sicondolfo receives funding from SSHRC for Archives in Action and Platforming Leisure and is a Board Member for the Toronto Queer Film Festival.

MaryElizabeth Luka receives funding from University of Toronto Cluster of Scholarly Prominence program (Creative Labour Critical Futures) as well as from periodic competitive, peer-adjudicated Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council funding programs for research in their areas of expertise.

American border crackdown forces Venezuelan migrants on a perilous journey back south

2026-01-20T13:31:40Z

Since February 2025, thousands of Venezuelan asylum-seekers have been turned away from the United States-Mexico border and denied the right to apply for protection in the U.S. Along with other Venezuelans who were living in the U.S. and have been deported, they’ve been forced to head south, either back to Venezuela or to other countries in Central and South America.

This phenomenon — commonly described as reverse migration — raises important questions about the capacity or willingness of countries in the region to ensure the safety and security of these migrants.

As part of ongoing research, we talked to asylum-seekers and collected their insights during our field work in Costa Rica in November and December 2025. Our interviews revealed that those who abandoned the hope of crossing into the U.S. made the decision for many reasons.

Expecting a better life in Venezuela was not among them. Instead, many faced repeated obstacles along the way, which accumulated over time into what can be described as journey fatigue.

Exhaustion

The migrants we interviewed experienced physical exhaustion from long periods of waiting, economic hardship, fear and incidents of violence in Mexico, as well as fraud and theft, while access to institutional or humanitarian support steadily declined.

The final blow for most of them came from changes in the U.S. asylum and temporary protection policies. These included the termination of the two‑year humanitarian parole program, the freezing of asylum application processing for Venezuelans and nationals of 18 other countries and the inclusion of Venezuelans in travel bans restricting entry for citizens of 39 countries.

These policy shifts were combined with the abrupt cancellation of what was known as the CBP One mobile application and all previously approved appointments made using the app.

The U.S. Customs and Border Protection’s app allowed asylum-seekers to submit biographic information to set up an appointment prior to their scheduled arrival at a port of entry. This sudden change dashed the hopes of thousands who had been waiting for an opportunity to request asylum at the U.S. border.

Decisions to head back south rather than continue pursuing entry into the U.S. are made under conditions of high uncertainty. Migration regimes, support infrastructure and facilitation networks change rapidly — some disappearing as others emerge — and often without clear mechanisms for sharing information among migrants or those trying to help them.

In this environment, many people remain trapped for months in waiting spaces, with no real possibility of moving forward and no means of survival while waiting, resorting to begging or informal work.

A Venezuelan couple we interviewed at the Costa Rica–Panama border described how they often sang in restaurants or begged to feed their family, pay for bus travel between countries, and, at times, secure a roof over their heads when shelters run by religious organizations were unavailable.

Not safe to return

For international organizations and receiving countries, “voluntary return” is often presented as a preferred solution.

The International Organization for Migration (IOM) administers the Assisted Voluntary Return and Reintegration (AVRR) Program. As we learned during our Costa Rican field work, the IOM facilitates the return of Venezuelans to their home country when they reach Panama.

But whether a return is feasibile depends directly on conditions in the country of origin. Most Venezuelan migrants we interviewed didn’t think it was safe for them to return home.

U.S. intervention creates more uncertainty

The recent U.S. intervention in Venezuela and the capture of President Nicolás Maduro did nothing to change this political scenario.

Instead, it has injected regional uncertainty that transcends Venezuela’s borders. After Maduro’s capture, Vice President Delcy Rodríguez assumed the role of interim president, suggesting the country’s authoritarian regime can survive the U.S. intervention.

The Trump administration says it will oversee Venezuela during an unspecified transition period, but the implications are unclear.

The post-invasion situation does not include the transition of power to opposition leaders like González Urrutia or Corina Machado, even though Machado just handed over her Nobel Peace Prize to Trump.

Settling elsewhere

Within this tense and uncertain climate, many displaced Venezuelans heading south consider settling in Chile, Colombia or Costa Rica as alternative destinations.

That’s despite the fact that these countries lack the institutional capacity and infrastructure to absorb sustained reverse migration and are showing growing signs of rejecting Venezuelans.

This is evident with the recent election of Jose Antonio Kast in Chile, whose campaign focused on controlling “irregular immigration,” threatening mass deportations of migrants — mostly Venezuelans — and fuelling a climate of social hostility.

As we found during our research in Costa Rica, the country’s asylum system is stretched to the limit and appointments to put in a refugee claim can take more than two years to be scheduled, not counting the adjudication process.

These delays and the uncertainty of outcomes for migrants cause anxiety among displaced people and discourage them from attempting to seek protection in Costa Rica.

Research on transit migration to the U.S. or Europe has shown that these movements are fragmented, multi-directional and often circular. Policy changes — both in countries of destination and transit — new opportunities for social support or jobs, new intimate relationships or new information on possibilities of border crossing reshape migration trajectories.

Venezuelan reverse migration reflects similar dynamics, but unfolds in even more uncertain and precarious ways because the capacity of various states to meet the needs of displaced people is severely limited. This leads to even more severely fragmented routes for return migrants than for those travelling north.

Global North must step up

In light of these dynamics, it’s crucial to reaffirm the international protection regime and to recognize the historical responsibility of northern countries — including the United States, Canada and EU member states — to ensure effective access to asylum for people displaced by violence, conflict and persecution.

Any reform of regional migration governance must begin from this core principle.

We therefore call on governments, international organizations, humanitarian groups and civil society to uphold international protection regimes and to design responses that reflect the complex realities of shifting migration flows and the rights of people on the move.

Guillermo Candiz receives funding from Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council.

Tanya Basok receives funding from Social Science and Humanities Research Council of Canada

Why we need to talk about the root causes of food insecurity

2026-01-19T16:16:44Z

While it’s true that many Canadians would benefit from more exercise and from improving the quality of their diet, research shows that society often blames nutrition problems and food insecurity on personal choices like lack of willpower and imperfect parenting.

However, this thinking largely ignores the well-established social and political factors that shape food choices, nutrition-related chronic disease and Canada’s declining ranking in life expectancy.

Food insecurity in Canada worsened for the third year in a row in 2024, setting another national record, with more than 25 per cent of the population living in households with inadequate access to food due to financial constraints.

We are contributors to the Hungry Stories Project, a growing team of scholars, dietitians and artists who are fighting for the elimination of food insecurity by sharing what it takes to collectively care for each other’s food needs. We are advocating for more comprehensive, accurate and engaging information about the root causes of nutrition inequalities.

Why food banks can’t solve hunger

Food insecurity is a structural issue that is primarily a problem of insufficient income.

Decades of research evidence confirm that food insecurity cannot be solved by providing food through charities such as food banks and soup kitchens. At best, these non-governmental mechanisms may temporarily alleviate hunger for some people. For many reasons, most people living with food insecurity do not access food banks at all.

Research shows that when more people have adequate incomes, food insecurity declines, and that policy changes are essential to ensure that wages, social assistance and pension rates provide a livable income and greater income equality.

In The Case for Basic Income, Jamie Swift and Elaine Power share personal stories of Canadians who participated in the 2017–19 Ontario Basic Income Pilot and unpack the history behind the movement for basic income. They explain why wealth should be built by society, not individuals, and why everyone should have an unconditional right to a fair share.

This thoughtful book helps us consider whether a basic income guarantee could be the way forward to intervene where the market economy and social programs fail.

Teaching kids about the causes of food insecurity

This reality doesn’t affect only adults. How children come to understand the issue is shaped by how we talk about it as a society.

Based on a detailed analysis of children’s books for middle-grade readers, we noticed that most children’s fiction suggests individual choices or life circumstances are to blame for food insecurity and that charity, kind strangers and luck are the solutions. Children seldom see realistic portrayals of the structural causes, consequences or experiences of food insecurity.

This gives them, at best, an incomplete understanding of the social and political issues that produce the problem. Young readers need opportunities to learn about the experiences and belief systems of others.

In an effort to rectify the gaps in available materials for children, Dian Day and Amanda White, two of the artist-scholars in the Hungry Stories Project, teamed up to create the graphic novel Shy Cat and the Stuff-the-Bus Challenge slated to be published by Second Story Press on March 3, 2026.

This is the first book catalyzed by the collective, offering a fresh and relatable story about friendship, neighbourhood cats and growing up, while also creating space for hard conversations with kids about why people go hungry in the first place. It offers ideas for reflection and collective action, without providing easy or simplistic answers.

Through quirky Shy Cat comics, the main character Mila imagines many creative solutions to food insecurity, but reality is more complicated: The food bank is only open one day a week, the community garden plots are all spoken for, people are protesting in front of City Hall — and Mila’s friend Kit is still hungry.

It’s important to show children that they have agency in sparking collective change, that they can grapple with complex questions and consider structural solutions.

The transformational potential of school food programs

In 2025, the federal government announced its plan to make Canada’s emerging National School Food Program permanent. The choices being made now will shape whether these programs reduce inequality or reproduce it.

Most Canadian children now rely on lunches packed from home (or go without) on school days, and Canada has been ranked among the worst performing affluent countries in terms of investments in children’s well-being and nutrition.

For school food programs to reach their full potential to serve as a form of community care and a tool for advancing health, education, justice, food sovereignty and sustainability, schools, parents and communities will need ideas and resources to help envision and build the future of school food.

The 2024 book Transforming School Food Politics around the World provides examples of how people from a diverse range of global contexts have successfully challenged and changed programs that fall short of these ideals.

It spotlights the potential of school food systems, and how change depends on valuing the gendered labour that goes into caring for, feeding and educating children. In the Canadian chapter, Jennifer Black teamed up with scholars and school food practitioners to describe valuable ways to think more broadly about health and nutrition in school food programs to actively address issues of justice and equity.

But if we are to galvanize a positive change, we must also pay attention to diverse voices and lived experiences.

Learning to listen to diverse voices about food experiences

Left of Dial Media, the creators of the newly released Tubby podcast, recently published the Essential Listening Poll, a helpful guide gathered by 300 scholars, audio creators, podcast hosts and writers from around the world. However, it’s a challenge finding Canadian podcasts that look beyond individual behaviour changes and address the wider food systems that shape these choices.

To fill this gap, in 2025, the editors of the journal Canadian Food Studies launched Digesting Food Studies, a podcast that helps break down research on food systems into manageable portions. Episodes tackle topics ranging from food justice and sustainability to infant food insecurity, Indigenous food sovereignty and school food.
Meaningful improvements in health will require shifts in public policy. To get there, now more than ever, we need more evidence-based stories that mobilize the public to envision and advocate for better solutions to food insecurity.

Jennifer Black receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, the Canadian Institutes of Health Research, and Michael Smith Health Research BC among other financial supports from the University of British Columbia. Jennifer is also the little sister of Alan Black, the founder of Left of Dial media mentioned in this article.

Amanda White receives funding from The Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, The Canada Research Chairs program, and The Canada Foundation for Innovation.

Elaine Power receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council.

Jennifer Brady does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Eating insects: A sustainable solution or an overhyped idea?

2026-01-18T16:27:36Z

Faced with exploding global demand for protein and the growing environmental impact of animal farming, insects are emerging as an attractive alternative: they are rich in nutrients, resource-efficient and have already been tested by researchers, businesses and chefs.

But behind all the hype, one question remains: is eating insects really a sustainable and safe solution for feeding the planet?

Today, global meat production is putting increasing pressure on natural resources. It requires large areas of agricultural land, generates massive greenhouse gas emissions and contributes to deforestation. In fact, meat production accounts for nearly 12 per cent of global greenhouse gas emissions, according to the Food and Agriculture Organization.

It occupies around 80 per cent of agricultural land and consumes significant amounts of water and food to feed livestock.

Yet protein remains essential to human health, which means that more sustainable alternative sources must be found.

In this context, insects appear to be a promising avenue for diversifying protein sources. Raising insects requires up to 12 times less food and 2,000 times less water than beef. In addition, most of their body mass is edible: nearly 80 per cent for a cricket, compared to only 40 per cent for a cow. This efficiency makes them a promising option for reducing our ecological footprint without compromising our nutritional needs.

An interesting nutritional profile

As far as nutrition goes, insects contain between 35 per cent and 70 per cent protein, depending on the species, as well as essential fatty acids, iron, zinc and B vitamins. Some even consider them to be a credible alternative to meat, particularly for combating malnutrition or optimizing nutritional intake.

However, not all species are equal. Mealworms, for example, offer a protein quality similar to legumes, but remain slightly inferior to soy or beef. Diet and breeding conditions also alter their protein content and especially their lipid content, particularly omega-3 and omega-6 fatty acids and micronutrients. In short, the nutritional composition of insects varies considerably from one species to another and from one farming method to another.

Caution is also required: some insects contain anti-nutritional substances, such as thiaminase, which can interfere with the absorption of vitamin B1. So their regular consumption requires rigorous control of the processing and the quality of the products.

Health risks that should not be ignored

Although insects have been consumed for thousands of years in several cultures — from Mexico to Congo, Thailand and Japan — their integration into larger-scale food systems is relatively recent. This raises questions about the safety and regulation of these products.

Microbiological risks are a major concern. Like any food of animal origin, insects can carry pathogenic bacteria such as Salmonella spp. or E. coli.

Nonetheless, in a report by the Canadian Food Inspection Agency that analyzed 51 samples of edible insects sold in the country, no contamination was detected. These results are encouraging, but researchers stress that caution is still needed, especially with regard to traceability and breeding conditions.

Another issue often overlooked is the risk of allergies. The proteins in certain insects, such as crickets and mealworms, are similar to those found in shellfish. This means that people who are allergic to shrimp or crab could have a similar reaction to insect-based products. For this reason, Health Canada recommends clear labelling to warn consumers.

Production with ecological consequences

The issue of biodiversity also deserves special attention. While controlled industrial farming presents risks comparable to those of other animal production methods, large-scale collection or production could have repercussions on ecosystems.

In many parts of the world, the consumption of wild insects is already part of local food traditions. An increase in global demand could intensify this exploitation, endangering certain species and the ecological balances they depend on.

Far from being a universal solution, entomophagy is, therefore, more of a complementary option that requires rigorous supervision and sustainable resource management. Like any food innovation, its development must be carried out with careful consideration of its long-term impacts, both on biodiversity and on the communities that depend on it.

Changing our eating habits

Beyond the technical and environmental aspects, adopting insects as part of our diets poses a major cultural challenge. In many western countries, the mere thought of eating an insect provokes disgust. Several companies are attempting to normalize insect consumption by incorporating them into processed products such as protein bars, flours, burgers and pasta made from cricket powder.

Studies show that gradual exposure in familiar forms can help overcome this psychological barrier. As a result, eating insects could become commonplace within a few decades, especially if environmental concerns continue to grow.

Edible insects are not just a culinary curiosity or a simple source of alternative protein: they are at the heart of a broader debate on the sustainability of our food systems. Their potential challenges the way we produce, consume and value food. How can we feed a growing global population without exacerbating climate crises, depleting natural resources or increasing health risks?

What if, beyond simply being nutritional substitutes, insects lead us to rethink our food models, while revealing the limits of our quest for quick fixes to deeply structural problems? This reflection reminds us that the transition to sustainable diets requires more than just a new ingredient: it calls for a profound transformation of our habits, policies and collective priorities.

Nina Klioueva received funding in the form of a Master's Research Scholarship for Professional Degree Holders - FRQ Regular Component, as well as a Canada Graduate Scholarship - Master's (CGS M) from CIHR.

Maude Perreault ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d'une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n'a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.

What Iran’s latest protests tell us about power, memory and resistance

2026-01-18T14:32:55Z

For Iranians, the past year has meant contending with everyday necessities slipping further and further out of reach. The cost of living has surged beyond what many households can manage, and what felt like economic strain became an economic freefall.

On Dec. 28, 2025, the Iranian rial plummeted to a historic low of 1.4 million rials per American dollar. The unprecedented inflation ignited nationwide protests demanding economic stability.

The movement began with a peaceful sit-in at Tehran’s Grand Bazaar but was immediately met with violent response by the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC).

The grassroots initiative — made up of merchants, shopkeepers, university students and anti-regime members of the general public — expanded rapidly to other major cities, drawing protesters from across Iran to the streets. The call for economic stability quickly evolved into a political demand for emancipation and freedom.

Iranians have been expressing their dissatisfaction with the current regime for decades. And although the recent protests were initiated in response to the dire economic crisis, the country’s future will depend more on whether authoritarian repression and political fragmentation — both inside its borders and across the diaspora — can be overcome.

Violence, fear and the tools of repression

Political upheaval in Iran often follows a predictable cycle: the public participates in peaceful protests in response to corruption, which are then silenced by IRGC forces through the threat or use of violence, including arrests, indefinite prison sentences and mass executions.

In the recent political unrest, the IRGC used force to control, intimidate and silence protesters. Hospitals have reportedly been instructed to reject injured protesters or face consequences, and a new law has been introduced to classify any civil disobedience as a capital crime punishable by death.

Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian responded to the new citizen-driven movement with a similarly callous dismissal, referring to protesters as victims of western influence. This claim has been used to justify the nationwide digital blackout.

Iranians who relied on various social media platforms to raise awareness about government violence now encounter censorship. This digital silence also affects reporters inside Iran, limiting transparency and preventing unfiltered news from being distributed out of the country.

Monarchist narratives divide the movement

The grassroots movement, however, has been hijacked by a small faction of monarchists demanding the return of Reza Pahlavi, the exiled son of the former shah, as the Shah of Iran. This suggestion has been met with criticism as many question both the dismissal of the real concerns of the movement inside Iran and the credibility of Pahlavi as the leader of a country in crisis.

Various groups in Iran have shown leadership and organization as they demand recognition and cultural autonomy from the government. Elevating an outside figure diminishes Iranians’ own role in driving change.

While the national protest movement requires direction, Pahlavi is seen as creating division rather than cohesion. Many argue that a return to monarchy would leave Iran in a weakened political state vulnerable to outside influences.

These concerns are tied to the 1953 coup d’état, orchestrated by the CIA, against Iran’s first democratically elected prime minister, Mohammad Mossadegh. The shah, relying on support from the United States, removed Mossadegh from power, which strengthened the Shah’s unilateral authority.

Many political activists are wary of the dangers of a monarchy and the potential of imperialist influence over Iranian politics.

This is heightened by the fact that Pahlavi has openly requested support from U.S. President Donald Trump and Israel’s Benjamin Netanyahu to reinstate him as the Shah of Iran. He held a news conference in Washington ⁠D.C. on Jan. 16 to call for political, economic and military ⁠pressure on Tehran.

Disapora politics and the cost of exclusion

Shared grief and solidarity have pushed the Iranian diaspora to raise awareness and speak out for their homeland.

During the digital blackout, they used various social media platforms to amplify information about the ongoing protests. Simultaneously, Iranians abroad physically joined the global movement by participating in rallies and marches across the world.

However, the movement within the diaspora has seen some challenges.

The domination of the monarchist movement as the primary opposition to the Islamic Republic has created a divide among the communities abroad. The overall friction presented as a form of in-group Islamophobia and patriarchal attitudes that stem from classism.

Divisive rhetoric has also resurfaced as criticism of Pahlavi, Trump or Israel is met with hostility and name-calling.

During the Woman, Life, Freedom uprising, the Iranian diaspora was much more cohesive and welcoming to different perspectives.

But in the current movement an us-versus-them tension has developed, as many perceive it as an expression of support for the monarchy. This divisive atmosphere has left many members of Iranian diasporas in a state of despair.

History suggests that moments of liberation in Iran do not fail for lack of courage, but for lack of political cohesion. The question now is whether the grassroots movement can sustain its momentum and legitimacy, and whether its demands won’t be overshadowed by external political frictions and agendas.

Shirin Khayambashi does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

‘Heated Rivalry’ scores for queer visibility — but also exposes the limits of representation

2026-01-15T18:11:33Z

Connor Storrie, left, and Hudson Williams in a scene from 'Heated Rivalry.' (Bell Media)

Heated Rivalry, the Bell Media-produced Canadian gay hockey romance based on the novel by Rachel Reid, has taken the world by storm. The series stars Hudson Williams as Shane Hollander, a Japanese Canadian hockey player for the Montréal Metros, and Connor Storrie as Ilya Rozanov, a Russian hockey player for the Boston Raiders.

With much of the series was filmed in Guelph, Ontario and other Canadian locations, the series highlights both Canadian hockey and queer representation and desires.

Heated Rivalry explores the growing sexual tension and eventual romance between Hollander and Rozanov as they navigate the highly masculinized and heteronormative social pressures of playing in a professional hockey league.

While the series has become a huge audience success and received largely positive critical evaluations of its acting, production and characterization, it has gained widespread attention for its representation of queer romance, particularly gay sports romance.

The show has also received media commentary for its large following of women who are fans of the show and its actors. Many have been debating and discussing the show on social media.

Given the current climate of anti-LGBTQ legislation and increased political and social transphobia and homophobia, Heated Rivalry could signal crucial queer representation during a politically dangerous time.

Hockey’s culture of masculinity

Hockey is a very heteronormative and masculinized sport and continues to face serious issues related to sexual violence and racism — problems that have been widely reported on over the past several years.

In 2022, Hockey Canada faced numerous public controversies amid reports that it paid $8.9 million for sexual abuse settlements to 21 complainants since 1989.

Research has also documented persistent racial inequities within Canadian hockey that fuel the erasure of Black Canadians’ contributions to the establishment of ice hockey in Canada, as well as historical and ongoing experiences with taunting, harassment and exclusion of racialized hockey players in Canadian hockey leagues.

Against this backdrop, Heated Rivalry offers a rare interruption to hockey’s normative culture, even as it remains constrained by many of the sport’s dominant values.

Visibility versus structural change

Whether Heated Rivalry will meaningfully impact the willingness or safety of professional players to come out is an open question. Currently, there are no openly queer hockey players in the National Hockey League.

Former Canadian hockey player Brock McGillis, who is often noted as one of the first out gay professional hockey players, has expressed skepticism. He has argued the show is “more likely to have an adverse effect on a player coming out.”

McGillis said that he enjoys the show while also explaining: “I don’t believe that many hockey bros are going to watch it. And I don’t think, if they are watching it, they’re talking about it positively.”

Meanwhile, the NHL has previously banned rainbow Pride coloured hockey stick tape. Given the popularity of Heated Rivalry, the NHL released a statement articulating its hope that the series will act as a “unique driver for creating new fans.”

Whether such symbolic gestures will translate into structural changes that address the ingrained homophobia within hockey remains to be seen.

Representation and intersectionality

Within my research, I analyze issues related to gender and sexuality, often particularly as it pertains to the experiences of gay and queer men.

For many gay men, navigating masculinity is complicated in terms of both in-group and out-group discrimination. It is not uncommon for white, muscular and masculine-presenting gay men to receive the most media attention and be positioned as highly desirable within gay men’s communities.

Heated Rivalry provides valuable representation for gay male romance and sexualities, but it also raises important questions about both its potential and its limitations.

Shane Hollander’s character gestures toward the intersections of race and sexuality through his experiences as an Asian hockey player, although this storyline could have been explored further in the series. Ilya Rozanov’s narrative, meanwhile, explores family-based and nationalistic homophobia through his background as a Russian-born queer man.

Hudson Williams as Shane Hollander in ‘Heated Rivalry.’ (Bell Media)

Although both characters benefit from financial and gender-based privileges that many LGBTQ people do not share, their experiences navigating identity and homophobia as it intersects with family, state-sanctioned homophobia and race and ethnicity, are meaningful for viewers.

However, much of the storyline still focuses on the experiences of two men who are traditionally attractive, fit and muscular, and masculine-presenting. This echoes much of the mainstream queer representation, which glorifies fit male bodies and gay gym cultures.

The limits of mainstream representation

Many mainstream representations of queer identities, such as the 2018 film Love Simon, fail to represent the nuances and complexities of multifaceted queer experiences and identities outside of white, masculine and upper-middle class norms.

Gay media platforms such as Grindr, the well-known gay hook-up app, are known for emphasizing fit bodies, muscular physiques and gym or beach selfies. These norms can lead to forms of discrimination or prejudice against app users who do not conform, as well as body dysmorphia and body image issues that disproportionately affect gay and queer men.

Gay men’s sexualities, dating and relationships are often shaped through shame and secrecy, fuelling tropes that gay men are unable to form healthy and meaningful long-term romantic relationships.

Much of Heated Rivalry emphasizes secrecy, shame and risk as the two main characters wrestle with their romantic feelings for each other. While this might reflect the realities many queer men face, positioning such experiences as normative risks reinforcing longstanding negative stereotypes.

Queer joy — and what’s still missing

Heated Rivalry’s creator and writer, Jacob Tierney — himself a gay writer, actor and producer — has emphasized that the end of the first season is intended to be more celebratory than earlier episodes.

“For these last two episodes,” he told journalist Philiana Ng, “you’re going to finally get the joy that we wanted from the beginning – just queer joy, pure happiness and sweetness and love and all that other good stuff.”

Connor Storrie as Ilya Rozanov in ‘Heated Rivalry.’ (Bell Media)

However, there has been controversy about the show’s stars’ and creator’s resistance towards publicly identifying the lead actors’ sexual orientations. Given the common practice of having straight and cisgender actors play queer and trans characters in film and media, questions regarding authenticity in LGBTQ representation continue.

It’s worth noting, however, that Heated Rivalry does feature openly queer performers. François Arnaud, who plays Scott Hunter, is openly bisexual, and trans actor Harrison Browne — a former professional hockey player — stars in a minor role.

Tierney has pushed back at questions about the main actors’ sexual orientations, saying “I don’t think there’s any reason to get into that stuff.” He noted that what matters is an actor’s enthusiasm and willingness to do the work, and questions about actors’ sexuality are legally off-limits in casting.

Advocates for casting queer actors in queer roles acknowledge that while respecting actors’ privacy is essential, choices can be made through the casting and production process to create a more inclusive industry.

Queer romance on the ice

Beyond questions of representation, Tierney has been clear about the show’s thematic focus. Highlighting the love story between the two main characters, he has noted how “a gay love story set in the world of hockey … is an act of rebellion” and that audiences “deserve to have a gay show that is sexy and horny and fun.”

Still, audiences deserve to have gay shows that are sexy, horny, fun and representative of a variety of lived experiences and bodies.

With Heated Rivalry renewed for a second season, whether the show “scores” in terms of shifting conversations about masculinity, sexuality and sport is still up in the air.

Adam Davies receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council.