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by Mikaela Brewer, ​for The 44 North

Senior Editor


Green Extended Mic Logo
Green Extended Mic Logo
“I remember, when I was younger, I would dream about having a megaphone. In the dream, I’d be speaking to everyone—setting everyone free. I just love that; telling everyone things to encourage them to rebel. I feel like poetry is that. The poems that I want to include in Extended Mic will be, of course, meaningful, and they’ll have to speak to people and say something.”

Editor's Note: A few weeks ago, on October 27th, I was catching up on emails and messages. I’d just had all four wisdom teeth removed a few days prior, and debated whether or not to venture into Instagram. For some reason, I decided to check, and in my DMs was a message from Extended Mic’s founder, Mariana, inviting me to a Season 1 launch event. It was that evening, so I couldn’t attend, but a door had been opened…


I soon learned that Extended Mic fosters an editorial production where spoken word poets put everything on the line; they redefine poetry in a way that’s never been seen. Mariana and I began chatting, and I knew Extended Mic would be a perfect fit for our December Artist Spotlight. We decided to record the spotlight in person, in Toronto. After meeting for coffee and realizing we shared many artistic and poetic ideas, interests, and passions, we captured the honest, authentic, and poet-centred interview you see below. 


I dearly hope you enjoy the video and written versions of our conversation as much as we did. 


Before we begin, let’s take a moment to spotlight Extended Mic’s Season 1 Poets and their stunning poetry.


Extended Mic Season 1 Poets Spotlight


The Extended Mic Season 1 Poets
The Extended Mic Season 1 Poets
Chris Ferreiras

“Protect What I Want From Me” is an expansive excavation of desire as hunger—as it both lives within and is imposed upon us. Chris weaves through feelings of guilt, longing to never need again, our inability to put out the internal fire of want, and the awareness that one of the oldest ways to meet need—to at least appease a void—is to write a poem. 



Chris Ferreiras is an artist, author and poet with a magic for depth and universal truths. His words show you the secrets of the world. Chris is an established poet with a published book, “The Sun Underground & All The Colours In Between,” and a clothing collection, ‘Salt Into Gold’. 


Andrea Josic

“On Queer Platonic Love” is a generous guide to redefining platonic love: building a practice and commitment to making love with one another, like finding water in a desert. Andrea beautifully braids together trust, loneliness, conditionless touch, and grounding our humanness as love—as home.



Andrea, poet laureate (2024–2026), is a writer, an award-winning poet (2019, 2020), performer, journalist, arts educator, and creative who makes space for belonging, mental health, and healing.

Andrea offers a variety of services, including performances, workshops, copywriting and editing, journalism, commissions, and 1-on-1 coaching.


Sincerelytg

“Meet Me Half Way” is a searing portrait of how someone we love can exploit our desires, needs, and care by hiding behind their wounds—in the real and metaphorical dark. Tasha places this truth in conversation with the plea to be, at least, met halfway—to be seen, held, and accepted for the wounds we carry into and through relationships.



Tasha is a poet with recent involvement in the sea of words. Her poetry speaks to all hearts, focusing deeply on love, self-love, and the intricacies of being a human. Tasha’s debut happened at an art event, 'Sometimes I Think Too Much,' in December of 2024, where she stepped into the world of Spoken Word for the first time.


Hannah Flores

“Sorry for the Smoke” shares a breathtaking story of the roots and impacts of climate change, particularly on the body, centring those most impacted by its wake of violence. Through the metaphor and imagery of smoking, Hannah’s poem shifts from ‘you’ to ‘we,’ emphasizing collective responsibility while peeling away the blame often placed on how people survive climate catastrophe. 



Hannah Flores is an award-winning poet, biologist, and storyteller. Hannah is the rare bridge between the empirical and the magical, with honourable mentions in both Art and Science. She is the top 25 under 25 environmentalists and a 2023 BeSpatial Ontario Student Award Winner. She holds countless features across Raptors, FIFA, Dove, TED and many, many more local platforms.


kaswithlove

“out west” invites us to stand strong within our stories and truly feel the coexistence of empowerment and lingering fears of unworthiness. The poem takes on a road trip that finds reasons to live, chasing hope that we can’t always feel or see in the wake of memory, scars, and rage. kawwithlove offers life with the beautiful juxtaposition of love, protest, community, and dreaming.



kaswithlove is a poet and writer based in Toronto. kaswithlove encompasses a published book, realizations; custom poetry at poesy.ca on an old typewriter; and poetry events at poetrydecoded.to, a core poetry/art organization in Toronto where he co-creates and curates events and workshops.


Poettray 

“P.B.U.Y” is an unflinching, thoughtful reminder that colonial, performative peace is often conflated with safety and liberation (as Kwame Ture (Stokely Carmichael) once said). Using rhyme, rhythm, repetition, and pacing, Poettray further reminds us that lived experiences in the Black community—particularly painful ones—are often assumed, tokenized, and exploited in non-profit and policy spaces. “P.B.U.Y” speaks a vital truth: safe spaces and people aren’t something we claim, but earn through care as action.



Tray is a poet deeply involved in all aspects of life. His work ranges from fundamental Spoken Word performances across Toronto to facilitating workshops such as “The Healing Verse” and “Where Water Meets Stone.” He is the founder of a community to empower black men to break cycles @hoodman2manhood and Raps songs such as “Time & Space” ft Kinkade.


Nomo

“Let's Talk About Us” is sharp, witty, and musically layered verse that confidently questions and reclaims the language men weaponize to impose control, expectation, and superiority on women in relationships. With repeating melodies and intentionally chosen words, Nomo truly does talk about—and speak to—all of us. 



Nomo has a talent for incorporating rhymes and melody in her poetry, which carries you away along the path her voice paves (you learn a lesson while you’re at it, too). Her work is often found in poetry and art events around the city of Toronto. 


Molly Cole

“That Look In Your Eye” explores how desire can feel raw outside of our control. Alongside this, Molly asks us to question how we might locate desire by looking into our own eyes. Incorporating cinematic storytelling, “That Look In Your Eye” shows us how to see desire directed inward, feel it, and cross rivers to one day love its reflection. 



Molly is a writer, filmmaker and artist. She likes to explore the world, question the unquestionable, and her work is about connecting to our oneness as humans and the magic of life. She explores topics with reflection, philosophy and most importantly, play.


Interview

 


Transcript lightly edited for flow & clarity


44N: Hi! I’m Mikaela with The 44 North Magazine. I'm our senior editor, and we’re a magazine that focuses on social issues that matter to our audience. We go about that through art, essays, and featuring incredible work by artists such as Mariana with Extended Mic. Mariana, I'm very grateful to be chatting with you today. 


EM: Well, thank you for having me. 


44N: Wonderful. So, just to jump right in: You noted many times that—and I'll quote you from your website—“For the longest time, music, photography, film and paintings have easily gained attention as the world modernizes the way we consume art. And you’ve said that poetry, however, has always been confined to a book, text, or photo.” I would love it if you could share a bit more about your poetry journey, discovering poetry’s profound impact on people’s lives, and how you discovered that people love this art form, but maybe lack exposure to it.


EM: I started my poetry journey—which ties to Poesy who [Extended Mic] is partnering with—writing poems for people. I write poetry on the spot, on a typewriter. And every time I write a poem for someone, they’re impressed and touched by words and by poetry itself.


Every time I present poetry to someone, it would make them happy—they would resonate with it. So I realized that people really do like poetry. It's just that there aren’t enough spaces for poetry to be introduced to people who aren’t connected to the artistic world in the same way they are with music, painting, photography, and film. All of these feel more present in people’s lives. And poetry isn’t, as much, because many don't have or can’t take the time to pick up a book, open it, and read it, you know?


So I wanted to present poetry in a fun, different way that hasn’t been seen before. So that's where Extended Mic was born. 


44N: I love that. You're meeting people where they're at with a form that they maybe don't have access to. That connects wonderfully to the guiding image and visual identity that you’ve created for Extended Mic, which is a key poetic device in and of itself. I would love for you to share a bit more about that image and how you came to it


EM: Extended Mic is supposed to be, or is, very funky. It’s very colourful, eye-catching, and visually pleasing. I originally got the idea for a platform like this after watching The Colors Show. I was thinking it would be nice to feature a poet sharing their poem in a setting that’s pleasing, satisfying, minimalistic, but also kind of weird. So I think the weirdness and coolness of Extended Mic comes from a balance of funky, colorful, and minimalistic. I wanted to make it eye-catching. That's where the essence of the visual aspect of Extended Mic comes from. 


44N: That's beautiful. And it speaks to what it means to be a poet, too. All those different things coexist. Leading into this season—this very first season of extended Mic—you have eight videos featuring eight poets, and you said that your aim is to make people look, maybe even (hopefully) twice. And I'd love for you to tell us a bit more about this approach and how our first two questions lend to the choices you made.


EM: Yes. The point was to avoid presenting poetry in a video with nothing else. Poetry is a cool form of art, but one that people usually don't see the “coolness” of because the great poets—who paved the way for us—are poets from a long time ago.


They also have a different style. Nowadays, you don't really see modern poets. You might read them, but you don't know what they look like—you don't know their artistic aesthetic. You don't have a sense of the visual—everything that accompanies who an artist is, you know? That's something we built into Extended Mic: it’s not just a video, but something eye-catching to allow you to notice us.


If the words that we're saying aren’t making you look, then we’ll add another element that will so you’ll be interested in what we have to say. Because poets have a lot of things to say that people love, but there's not always [something visually] engaging in poetry. I'm not saying that there's nothing engaging in poetry, but there's something else that I feel called to that’s not on paper or words. That's why Daniella and I had the idea of poets laying down under a curtain with the mic hanging—maybe that’s weird enough to cause curiosity. I feel like curiosity is the right word. That’s what we're looking for. 


44N: Oh, I love that. And it brings to mind for me, “Show, don't tell.” So when we say in poetry, “Show, don't tell” you're bringing that to life with a whole other layer, which is beautiful. And segueing a little bit into your first season with all of these poets, you have eight—as you described—unapologetic, bold, free-thinking poets, of course with exceptional craft and performance skills like you were mentioning. So I'd love it if you would tell us a little more about them and the unique journey that you've been on together to build Season 1.


EM: The poets are the key to everything. Each poet we have for Season 1 is amazing, and [looks at camera] I love you guys so much. Each of them has a very different personality. They also all come from different backgrounds in art. Extended Mic is such a particular project with such a particular visual aspect, including being filmed. Many poets don't share their work in open mics, poetry slam competitions, or music videos, and even if they do, actually being in a video production—being comfortable with being in front of the camera—is new for them. So one thing that was key in choosing poets for Season 1 was just people who were very bold and like you said, unapologetic.


If the poets have one thing in common, it’s that they have the quirkiness and personality to be in front of a camera on a weird set. I'm thankful that I'm not one of the poets because I don't think I would be able to do that! But they did. They were able to be on that set—as uncomfortable and weird as it looks—and pull it off. They are the nicest people on the planet. Being the first season with a completely new approach—and me not having serious experience in producing—they understood the idea right away. This project is for the poets, and it's going to keep going for as many poets as I can bring in. I just want to show people how cool poets are.


44N: You’re offering such a wonderful opportunity to work that maybe wouldn't be seen visually to be seen. And you're right: poets are so often gate kept in a book. Not that books aren't great. We love books. But you're just adding another layer to reach people, which is wonderful. And speaking of that production process, you were talking about taking the poets through promo videos, photo shoots, filming, creative collaboration, social media, and all of those elements. Could you tell us about the magic of Extended Mic's creative ecosystem and what that looked like on the backside? 


EM: In this project, the journey was very long because I didn't want to invite the poets to a studio once, record the videos, and that's all. I wanted to honour quality. So with my resources, I brought everything in that I could to fit the standards we set when we created this project. 


The first thing was meeting everyone, then it was taking them to the photo studio for photo shoots. Afterwards, we recorded the audio of the poems in a music studio. And then, we recorded the videos. We also shot something else that will be coming out soon. So you’ll see it! It's a journey that the poets and I went through together. But I think this comes from wanting to do it well and honour what the project requires.


44N: Such an important process. So much energy and time goes into it and I'm sure you have dreams of expanding beyond what you have for Season 1. You've written that your goals are to film in studios with poets across the world, continuing to disrupt traditional poetry formats—


EM: [Laughs] I was just thinking that I wrote that when I was so excited to do this, and I actually forgot that I wanted to do it across the world. I do want to, and it’s wonderful to remember that. 


44N: I love giving energy to an old dream! And I know you hope to bring new perspectives through this high quality visual experience. You said, “Featuring meaningful poems that rebel against shallow art,” which is so well said. What can the poetry community (and beyond) look forward to next, outside of your seasons? 


EM: The end goal is still to take Extended Mic across the world, because I feel it’s a project that I'm going to do for the rest of my life. So if I do it for the rest of my life, eventually I will want to cover more than just the place where I live.


In the future, it will be fun to discover poets and more meaningful poetry across the world. There's so much that poets can say outside of traditional topics. There's nothing wrong with these, I just want change. 


I remember, when I was younger, I would dream about having a megaphone. In the dream, I’d be speaking to everyone—setting everyone free. I just love that; telling everyone things to encourage them to rebel.


I feel like poetry is that. The poems that I want to include in Extended Mic will be, of course, meaningful, and they’ll have to speak to people and say something


Season 1 is still breathing, and it's going to be alive for some time. But yes, for the poetry community, at least in Toronto, you can expect a second season and a third and a fourth and so on.


44N: So exciting. And I'm hearing Extended Mic as a megaphone?


EM: You know what? Extended Mic came from the idea of having a really long mic cord on set. In the end, we didn't go for that, at least not for Season 1, but for Season 2, hopefully.


44N: A fantastic segue into our very last question. Season 1 launched! It's out—everybody can watch it and listen to it. And you had a kickoff event in October, recently on the 27th, after a year of such hard and thoughtful creative work. It featured a screening of Season 1 and opportunities to gather with other poets in the Toronto poetry community. And I would love it if you could give a recap of the event, the vibe, and just make everybody more excited. 


EM: The event was amazing. It was everything that I could have imagined and dreamed of—even more. The purpose was accomplished, which was essentially to create and feed community in the city. The event did exactly that. Everyone was super nice. Everyone was super happy. We screened the poems and people were engaging with them.


The number one reason why I wanted to do an event was to honour the poets (and the project). So I put together a mini gallery, spotlighting photos of the whole process that we went through. I also created a set design and other things like that.


This event really opened doors for me into what's possible and what people really enjoy, which at the end of the day, is being in community and being supportive of something.


With the event, we sent the videos and poems off, essentially saying, “This is yours now.” I can't wait to do it all over again. 


44N: So good to hear. It's always so wonderful to be in community with other poets and to be surrounded by art in general—something that so many people have worked hard on. To have it all come together is a gift to the community in such a beautiful way because it's so accessible. 


It's on YouTube. Is there any other way that you would want to share for folks to engage with it? 


EM: Yes, you can watch all eight videos on Extended Mic’s YouTube. As the YouTubers say, you can subscribe, like, comment, and share! I'm going to be posting clips on our Instagram, but the full videos are on YouTube. 


44N: So wonderful to chat with you. We're honored at The 44 North, and excited to have Mariana and Extended Mic as our Artist Spotlight for this issue. Definitely check out the written and video version of this conversation. Thank you so much.


EM: Thank you!


by Abbigale Kernya, ​for The 44 North

Managing Editor


The book cover of Normal People by Sally Rooney
The book cover of Normal People by Sally Rooney

Genre: Literary Fiction


“Marianne had the sense that her real life was happening somewhere very far away, happening without her, and she didn't know if she would ever find out where it was or become part of it.”


Sally Rooney, Normal People

I’ve written before about how university, for me, was quite a lonely experience. The movies and TV shows I watched growing up—depicting college or university as this “straight out of a movie” experience—set me up for a sore disappointment when I found myself unable to adapt to the fast-paced, extroverted lifestyle I expected. I found it hard to make friends, and even harder to keep them. Romance was daunting, and building a dating profile was near impossible when I really didn’t have a sense of who I was staring back at the screen. 


It was lonely, and I didn’t quite know how to grapple with the slow disappointment (in myself) that I wasn’t making the life I had imagined for myself only months before. I’d never seen anything in the media painting university as grey, damp, and a slow mental descent into isolation until Sally Rooney’s Normal People came across my screen. The 2018 novel was adapted into a TV series two years after publication, and after seeing just one trailer for the show, I immediately bought the book.


Connell Waldron is me, and I, unfortunately, was him in university. The book follows Connell from high school to Trinity College in Dublin, alongside his long-time situationship, Marianne Sheridan, as they traverse every embarrassing aspect of adulthood—for better or for worse—together. Connell, who was the star-studded high school athlete, suddenly finds himself without meaning as he walks quietly through his college classes in sour distaste for everyone around him. Marianne, as his better half at the worst of times, opposingly and finally finds her stride in college, stepping out of the depressive and anxious mental health spiral she (through no fault of her own) spent the past few years suffering alone in. 


It’s a tale as old as time. A smart girl suddenly gets pretty, and a jock boy learns empathy. However, Sally Rooney has an unbelievable way of taking these character tropes and ripping them apart in a revolutionary and refreshing way. Connell is a villain in his own story, and Marianne can’t escape the chains she was swaddled in. The story follows these two as they try to bury themselves in each other, in the competitive, insatiable craving to reinvent themselves, and in the understanding that everyone else around them kind of sucks. But maybe that’s the whole point. Maybe everyone is just as miserable and maybe that makes it not so bad in the end. 


Set in university, this tale of romance and self-discovery is tinged with the aftertaste of soured desire so invigorating and addicting you can’t help but place yourself somewhere alongside the characters on the page. Whether it be a desire for connection or a sense of self, Rooney captures the existentialism of post-secondary perfectly. 


It captures the feeling of watching your life pass you by while you stand watching, not knowing if you should run to catch up with it or if it was ever yours in the first place. College and university are a nauseating experience for some of us. It’s never how you thought it would be: love, sex, money, friends, politics, peace within yourself—everything becomes unfamiliar. 


Everything except the pieces of yourself you will inevitably find in these characters. 


For better or for worse, I found solace in knowing someone else had felt what I was feeling, strong enough to create an entire series depicting it in high definition. From the page to the screen, university for me felt like a poorly written chapter in the Sally Rooney universe, and honestly, I think I’m better off because of it.


I find myself at the end of this review feeling that no matter what I write, the power of Rooney’s work—the life she breathes into characters on the page—will always be somewhat of an injustice. Normal People is the one book I wish, more than anything, I could go back to and read again for the first time. The complicated strings that bind every one of her characters together—whether involuntary or not—struck a new spark in me as someone who, much like the two stumbling protagonists, had no idea why I ended up anywhere and even less what to do with the life handed to me. From class inequality spelled out on the page to the urge to prove your womanhood in an extreme fashion, Normal People depicts, better than any other piece of fiction I’ve ever read, what college is really about and the people we bring with us in life.


For better or for worse, at times. 


“All these years, they’ve been like two little plants sharing the same plot of soil, growing around one another, contorting to make room, taking certain unlikely positions.”

Sally Rooney, Normal People

by Mikaela Brewer ​for The 44 North

A person with a long, dark braid, wearing a red long-sleeved t-shirt that reads, “NO MORE STOLEN RELATIVES” on the back
A person with a long, dark braid, wearing a red long-sleeved t-shirt that reads, “NO MORE STOLEN RELATIVES” on the back
"Canada came here with no rivers, mountains, lakes, or forests. Yet they negotiate with us with the very things they stole from us. And yet society says we get a hand out. Rise people. [...] Canada has nothing to negotiate with. It was all stolen from us.”

—Isaac Murdoch, via Instagram  

 

Author’s note: this short story, particularly the character of Dr. Waubun, was written with the incredible guideposts from Chapter 8 of Decolonizing Therapy. If you are a care provider working with Indigenous Peoples or any People of the Global Majority (PoGM), please consider reading this book.


Meg wasn’t sure what words to use when Dr. Waubun asked her if she wanted to share what happened three years ago. She was quiet, gazing out of the therapy office window cracked open a couple inches under red blinds. It looked out into a sample of forest, or, rather, the last piece of one if the land were a pie tray (as the developers believed). Late afternoon was blending with evening, the trees were bare under a fog duvet, and even though this bit of forest was so close by, the air coming in the window smelled of exhaust and cigarettes. Meg decided it was a terrible time for therapy—so far from lunch and so close to dinner. Her stomach growled.

 

Dr. Waubun smiled, and reached behind her into a desk drawer for a bar that couldn’t decide if it was granola or trail mix. The crystals of her turquoise earrings clinked together in her long charcoal hair, like someone walking through a beaded curtain. As she offered the bar to Meg, she asked, “Is Meg short for Megis?”

 

Meg turned her head from the window. One plank on the bridge of trust. “Yeah, it is.”

 

“Perhaps we can start there?” Dr. Waubun wasn’t like other therapists. Meg could tell that much. 

 

“But that was before I was born. Seventeen years ago.”

 

“That’s okay. Noodin and Iggy died five years ago. But you’ve known him much longer. Processing grief expands well beyond one moment.”

 

Meg looked out the window again. The wind was picking up. He was here. 

 

“He’s here. With you.” Dr. Waubun spoke softly. 

 

Meg took a deep breath. “I just miss him. The way he used to call me Shelly instead of Meg or even Megis. I know my name means shell in English, but he used Shelly to poke fun at my Macklemore t-shirt or pop culture things. And Iggy was just the smallest, softest maltese. She was so fluffy— more than any other maltese I’ve ever seen. When I was little, Noodin used to tell me it was because she wanted to be as brown as possible. I loved her brownness.” Meg nearly choked across her last word. The tears began to fall. “I know that Indigenous people are ten times more likely to be shot and killed by police in Canada. But Noodin’s death feels worse. And he wasn’t my father or anything. Iggy was a dog. Everyone at school is annoyed that I haven’t moved on or whatever. I can feel that I make them sad—my friends, teachers, and family.”

 

“It’s not your fault, Meg. And that’s not fair of them.” 

 

“But don’t you see? I wish I could move on. Meds and diagnosis don’t help. I’m distracted, sleepy, irritable, numb, anxious, and impulsive. I have terrible nightmares. The guilt and shame are so heavy. And I’m here because I need help to make it stop. I’m here because I can’t do it the way everyone else can.”“No. You’re not.” There was a subtle fringe of rage in Dr. Waubun’s reply, but not directed at Meg. 

 

Meg could sense this. “What do you mean?”

 

Dr. Waubun held out open palms, and signaled for Meg to place her hands in them. When Meg did this, Dr. Waubun began speaking gently and kindly. 

 

“Meg. You do not have to move on. You do not have to bury your anger, rage, and grief to make other people feel more comfortable. Noodin, your beloved friend and elder, shared an apartment with a young man in possession of cocaine. When the police came, Noodin’s roomate wasn’t there, and he was afraid. As they violently kicked down the front door, Noodin jumped from the window. Iggy ran, but they shot her, triggered by her movement once inside the apartment.” Dr. Waubun paused, clearly recalling something before beginning again, “Samah Jabr, the chair of the mental health unit at the Palestinian Ministry of Health, says, “There is no ‘post’ because the trauma is repetitive and ongoing and continuous. I think we need to be authentic about our experiences and not to try to impose on ourselves experiences that are not ours.” The past is the present for us. We’re both here to not let anyone disenfranchise our grief. You mustn’t forget.”

 

Dr. Waubun was smoothing her thumbs over Meg’s hands, filling the space between them with an energy of care. She slowly let go and sat back, taking a sip of tea. 

 

Meg didn’t know what to say. She’d never heard someone speak of Noodin’s and Iggy’s deaths this way—as if the fear that stifled Noodin from opening the door wasn’t his own fault. Dr. Waubun had offered space for Meg even though she already knew the core details of what happened. She also knew on a spiritual, ancestral, emotional, and political level. It felt as if a key had unlocked something in Meg that she didn’t know existed inside her, let alone the shape of it. 

 

“I’m sorry, Meg. I hope that wasn’t too much or too forward.”

 

“No, not at all. It was helpful. Being in this room with you doesn’t feel like it usually does—like there’s actually five walls instead of four. Many of my other therapists have felt like blank white walls. Not that they were evil or anything. I think they meant well. Even wanted to help.” Meg laughed briefly. “It’s strange how much of a difference the walls make. The olive, copper, and blue are refreshing.”

 

“I understand.” Dr. Waubun smiled, and the wrinkles around her eyes and cheeks moved like little eddies. “Could I ask you something?”

 

Meg nodded, fiddling with the elastic at the end of her long braid. 

 

“Would you share your perspective or definition of grief and rage?” 

 

Meg blinked as if the ancestors inside her hadn’t heard these words in centuries. “I, uh, don’t know. Since we moved to the city we don’t even talk about the emotions we could name while feeling them, let alone grief and rage.” Meg paused to think, remembering a phrase Dr. Waubun used a few moments ago. “What did you mean when you said “disenfranchised grief?”

 

“Ah, yes. It’s a phrase I’m learning, too. There’s a great book called Decolonizing Therapy, by Dr. Jennifer Mullan. I have it here, on my desk. Perhaps we could speak about some of it together. What do you think?”

 

Meg nodded with a mild enthusiasm that made Dr. Waubun sit up in her seat. 

 

“Wonderful. The first thing I wanted to share with you is Dr. Mullan’s definition of disenfranchised grief: “Grief that people experience when they incur a loss that is not or cannot be openly acknowledged, socially sanctioned, or publicly mourned.” How does that resonate with you?”

 

Meg thought for a moment. “I’ve always felt that I was only allowed to be sad if an immediate family member died, or someone in the military or on Remembrance Day, or a natural disaster. But I feel so much when I think about anything. Losing Noodin and Iggy didn’t fit into those buckets.”

 

“Yes. And, they’re connected to and represent a much larger cultural grief, don’t you think?”

 

“Yeah, that’s exactly it. Violence to our land, language, songs, cermeonies, dances; my family’s trauma; our ancestors’ trauma; abuse, poverty.” Meg’s voice cracked and rose in volume with each word.

 

“Mhm. Would you like to say more about what you’re feeling?”

 

“Fire. Like I want to burn all the labels people forced upon me.” 

“Which labels?” Dr. Waubun remained gentle, but met Meg’s heartspace energy where it was blooming. 

 

“Defiant. Dominant. Rebellious. Oppositional. Uncontrollable. Resistant. Unmanageable.” Meg counted these on her fingers, snapping each finger open from a tightly closed fist. “It’s like these are labels reserved for ignorant people. Pathological people.” Her eyes welled up with each word.

 

“I know. And that’s not true. Do you believe me?”

 

“Maybe. Starting to.” 

 

Dr. Waubun nodded and paused a moment before speaking. “Dr. Mullan says that there is something called a Rage-Grief axis, and that “one side needs a release—physiologically and emotionally—and the other requires the space to rest and grieve. To be with the difficult emotions, rather than display them.” She also says, “We relive what is unfinished through our disguises”” 

 

“This makes so much sense to me.” Meg said through her tears. 

 

“Me too.” Dr. Waubun smiled. “And we can schedule many sessions with as much space as you need to process this. Perhaps even with any rituals, ceremony, energy work, or spiritual work that are part of your healing process. Do you have a relationship with these that you’d like to incorporate together?”

 

“Not right now, but I want to try to learn more about what my ancestors practiced.” 

 

“Wonderful. We can make that a part of our work. Would you like to keep working together?”

 

Meg laughed a little. “Goodness. Yes please.” She wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve.

 

Dr. Waubun laughed too and nodded. 

 

But Meg’s face changed, suddenly. “I just don’t know how many sessions I can afford.”  

 

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you.Through our donations program you had an anonymous donor for at least a few sessions. Specifically for you, too.” Dr. Waubun beamed. 

 

“What?” Meg was confused. She hadn’t told anyone she was doing this. 

 

Dr. Waubun grinned and nodded.

 

•••

 

As Meg walked out of the building fifteen minutes later, she saw an orange pick up parked by the curb, on the opposite side of the parking lot. It couldn’t be. 

 

She wandered over, slowly, to find a young man, no more than eighteen, asleep in the front seat with his arms crossed. His mustard coloured toque was pulled over his eyes and long lashes—that she knew were there—and he was using a plum purple flannel as a blanket. Meg’s heart leapt and carried her fist with it to knock loudly on the window. The man woke with a start. 

 

Jack. Noodin’s Jack, who she hadn’t seen in five years but recognized instantly. They’d been childhood friends until his family moved to Michigan after Noodin’s death.

 

As he clambered out of the car, disoriented, Meg fit herself into his arms. Startled, he fell backwards onto front seat and elbowed the car horn. It echoed through the trees on the other side of the truck, sending a group of crows in a flurry of feathers and cawing. 

 

“Oh shit!” They said in unison, laughing. It wasn’t unusual for the two of them to be making a ruckus. 

 

Jack got his footing and stabilized himself by gripping Meg’s shoulders. He looked at her for a moment, scooped her into a hug, and kissed the top of her head.

 

“Why are you here?” She asked with a mix of joy and accusation.

 

“Well, let’s just say I’m sorry I haven’t been.”

 

“Why? To both parts of that sentence?”

 

“My mom couldn’t come back here. Even though they were divorced it shredded her heart. And I was only twelve. I wanted to visit as soon as I could drive myself but I was afraid. And it all still hurts. I thought my grief might add to yours. I know how close you were with my dad.” 

 

Meg shook her head and started to interject but Jack continued.

 

“You don’t have to say anything. I know we have to work through it together. The pain feels so big because it is bigger than both of us.” He smoothed the collar of her shirt. “Remember, right before I left, you dared me to kiss you in the powder room as a ‘pact’ not to ever have a girlfriend?” 

 

“Oh my. Why do you remember that?” Meg looked down and blushed. 

 

“Because I should have done it.” He titled her chin up. 

 

“We were twelve, Jack.” 

 

“Yeah, well, I don’t think love has an age.” He laughed. 

 

“Love huh? Hm. Well we don’t have a powder room now.”

 

“No, but I’ve got a shitty car with doors cancelled out by untinted windows?”

 

They both full-body laughed until Meg remembered where she was. “Wait. How did you know to find me here?”

 

“Uh…” Jack couldn’t come up with a lie quick enough. 

 

“It was you, wasn’t it? You paid? Why?”

 

“Honestly?”

 

“Honestly.”

 

“Because I saw that funny meme about the ex who’s supposed to pay for your therapy when your credit card declines.” 

 

How he maintained a serious face Meg didn’t know. “What the fuck, Jack?” She was struggling to be serious now. 

 

“Okay. Your mom called to check in on me, so I asked about you, and well, the rest is history. I don’t have a lot of savings yet. My mom helped.” 

 

Meg shook her head, smiling, and as she was starting to reply he kissed her. This was absurd, she knew. Abrupt. But then something occurred to her. This wasn’t about the cute crush they’d had on each other since forever. Along with the heaviness of grief inside them, there was a whole lot of love. Perhaps, if that pink robot dude from Marvel was right in asking, “What is grief if not love persevering?” then maybe people have to choose how it perseveres. Maybe this kind of love builds up too, mimicking a heavy, painful ball in the chest if it’s not released—rewoven and reshaped—upon others in a way that honours why it’s there in the first place. Joy is fighting the fight too. Meg kissed him back.

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