Ukrainian Canadian literature occupies a unique space in the broader context of Canadian multiculturalism and diaspora studies. It is shaped by the historical and cultural experiences of Ukrainian immigrants and their descendants. Despite the substantial amount of fiction written and published in English by Canadian-born Ukrainians, Ukrainian Canadian literature remains largely invisible in university curricula, academic programs, and research.

An afternoon of crafting was a welcome reprieve from the busy humdrum of school life. Gathered together, we crafted our own personal mini weaved works. With our mini-looms, we explored our own creativity and built connections with one another. Much like yarn weaved together, our own experiences and knowledge infused itself into our creations. Some of us were far more experienced in working with textiles, but nevertheless, we all tried to create from somewhere personal.

Every student who was at the U of M in Fall 2021 is almost certain to have a strong reaction when you bring up that semester. Going into the second year of remote learning, dealing with the challenges of the pandemic, and having professors go on the longest strike in UMFA history is sure to stir up some memories. It's more than understandable that some students relished the break from their classes, perhaps enabling them to catch up on some work or pick up extra shifts at their jobs.

Wherever I go with a good size group of Red River Métis people, after the day’s work is done, someone will likely ask: “Who brought their fiddle?” Moments later, a guitar will strum, a crunchy chord is stuck by bow, and the people begin to gather around the sound. By the end of the night, the Elders are up dancing, the children are mimicking their jigs, and anyone without a set of wooden spoons to play is patting their knee along to the melody. These musical jams bring community into music through dance, playing an instrument, or singing—the “kitchen party” has a seat for you

A UMIH sponsored event, held at Mentoring Artists for Women’s Art (MAWA) on February 28, 2020.

The Bauhaus. Treated like a religion in some design schools, its history is almost worshipped. Its name is whispered reverently in the halls of architecture schools as if saying it was like tasting the sacrament. The Bauhaus. Its clean lines, revolutionary artists, architects, thinkers—sorry, I should say its men.

 “When we are cruel to others, we know that our cruelty is meant to bring them back to their true selves, of which they are ignorant.”

-Michel Aflaq

How do we learn from, and how should we interpret, mass violence that fails to fit into the analytical categories we have established to make sense of it?

Attending events virtually is still always an awkward affair. Internet connections give out, people are muted, lagging, freezing, if anything can go wrong, it often does. Nearly a year into the Winnipeg lockdown and still adapting feels like growing pains. Yet, despite the often awkward or difficult finicking with technology, Johanna Hedva’s (they/them) reading from their work Minvera: The Miscarriage of the Brain captivated and was able to charm even through a screen.

The play Bang Bang, written and directed by Kat Sandler, depicts the aftereffects of a police shooting. Lila Hines, a rookie Black cop, shoots an unarmed Black teenager, and though he lives, the incident devastates Hines and destroys her career. A white playwright, Tim Bernbaum, decides to take her experience and adapt it into a play, without obtaining her permission or consulting her.