What happens when your sister starts dating your close friend?
By: Niko Haloulos, Contributor
When my sister started dating one of my closest friends, I felt like I was looking into a kaleidoscope. I was distracted by the twisting shapes of my emotions, thoughts and feelings, but as time went on, I decided to look at their relationship as a full, unified pattern and it changed everything.
When we were allowed to see a few friends outdoors, I hosted a 19th birthday party. As smoke and laughter filled the air, I peeked over to see that my friend had snuck into the chair beside my sister. I guess they had been talking the entire night, even though they had never met before.
I woke up the next day and realized that my sister was acting giddier than normal. When I asked her about it, she simply said, “You know, if your friend there ever asks for my number, you can give it to him.”
Suddenly I realized that my friend and my sister had begun to develop something that they both thought was special. I couldn’t hinder that so when I met up with my friend a few days later, I offered to give him my sister’s phone number. He accepted.
I did not think much about the consequences of setting them up. It seemed like pretty standard procedure, just passing along a phone number and encouraging my friend to ask her out on a date.
At the time of the party, my sister was only a few months removed from a gruelling breakup so this felt like a good way for her to meet someone for whom I had the utmost respect, trust and love. For my friend, it was a chance for him to meet someone who would help him become a better man. So why did I have such a problem with it?
My sister was only a few months removed from a gruelling breakup so this felt like a good way for her to meet someone for whom I had the utmost respect, trust and love. For my friend, it was a chance for him to meet someone who would help him become a better man. So why did I have such a problem with it?
I began to close myself off from the two of them and I felt myself disliking my friend for a few weeks. I constantly reminded myself that I had offered to share my sister’s phone number and that I had known that he would be a really, really good match for her. Even though I knew this deep down, on the surface I could not help but feel like they were pulling themselves away from me.
I knew I could trust my friend but suddenly, like the flip of a switch, I went into protective brother mode. I couldn’t look at my friend without wondering how he was going to treat my sister poorly and though I know she can stand up for herself, it felt necessary.
Whenever my friend would come to the house, it felt like my sister and I were fighting over him. I would only be allowed in the basement for a certain amount of time because eventually she would ask to be alone with him.
I would throw the “Well, he was my friend first. Why can’t I talk to him?” and my sister would become frustrated. I said passive-aggressive things about their relationship and got angry whenever she said he was coming over.
Soon enough, my sister became worried that I had a problem with their relationship and the anxiety in her expression when she asked me was devastating.
I didn’t own anybody. My sister is strong and knows her own worth, but for her to suddenly think that she would be offending me was a wake-up call.
My friend, too, became worried that he had crossed some kind of line. He asked my sister if I was truly unhappy about them being together and said he wished I would talk to him personally. When my sister told me what he had said, I was saddened.
I had been blinded so much by my pride that I forgot to consider one thing: happiness. Being with my friend had brought a sparkle to my sister’s eyes that had been absent for a long time. My friend, too, slowly began to change, becoming more mature.
I had been blinded so much by my pride that I forgot to consider one thing: happiness. Being with my friend had brought a sparkle to my sister’s eyes that had been absent for a long time. My friend, too, slowly began to change, becoming more mature.
After long talks with my sister and my friend, we reached a better place. We still had some small riffs, but the instances of disagreement became more lighthearted, rather than rooted in jealousy and regret.
When he came over to see my sister, I knew my only role was as the brother. When my friend and I planned to hang out, I didn’t discourage him from saying hi to my sister.
I’ve realized that all three of us have become stronger emotionally by sharing this love that propels itself in different directions. My trust in my friend has grown exponentially because of how he has treated my sister.
While we’ve always been close, I have been able to communicate more openly with my sister since her relationship with my friend started.
The awkwardness took time to clear and I had to communicate very openly about how I felt. Now I’m still standing in the middle ground, figuring out how to equally distribute my time between my friend and my sister and not get in the way of something truly special.
Their relationship is not a violation, but more of an invitation for me to explore just how appreciative I can be about something that is so genuine, pure and beautiful.
Sorting out my disoriented understanding of love
I’ve always struggled with the question “tell me about yourself.” It’s as if suddenly I forget who I am as I sift through the mess of traits that make up me. The truth is, people are complicated. We all have multiple identities and part of the struggle of being young is trying to uncover them all.
For many years I considered my parent’s divorce a defining part of my identity. The way I thought about relationships, platonic and romantic, was influenced by my fear of being emotionally vulnerable.
I internalized emotions and I kept most people at a distance. Around the few close friends I let into my life I was an open book, but the rest of the time I remained closed off.
Thinking back, there’s not a moment I can remember where my parents enjoyed each other’s company. My parents divorced when I was nine and for a while, things were pretty messy. All I remember thinking was that it was better this way, that everyone was far happier.
I remember travelling to school with my backpack and a grocery bag full of my favourite clothes as I switched between my parent’s houses every two days. Living across town, I led two different lives and had to learn to switch between my identities each time my environment changed. I didn’t choose to be Hannah Montana — it’s just something that happened.
Whenever my parents came to support me in extracurriculars or school events I would end up anxious, running back and forth between them, trying to balance my separate identities.
Seeing them both, I couldn’t imagine a reality in which relationships were positive. I lived in the wreckage of an emotional battle. If I was sure of one thing, it was that I never wanted a relationship for myself.
Seeing them both, I couldn’t imagine a reality in which relationships were positive. I lived in the wreckage of an emotional battle. If I was sure of one thing, it was that I never wanted a relationship for myself.
Watching my mom, a strong and fiercely independent woman, I always knew that when I grew up, I only wanted to rely on myself. It wasn’t sad or lonely to me — it was smart.
I never felt a need to seek out relationships because I believed that to love someone you first had to love yourself. So I turned inward, determined to build a strong enough sense of self that I would not be hurt by emotions if I ever began to feel for someone.
I had convinced myself and those around me that I was wounded from my parents’ divorce. That I was not interested in finding a significant other. I told myself that I didn’t want to be attracted to anyone but surely, I should have been.
Having no other ideas and a burning desire to fit in, I began to fake it. I remember spending a night in with my roommates, swiping through Bumble. I couldn’t understand what they meant as they rated the attractiveness of each new profile that appeared.
That night, I ended up scrolling through all of Bumble, swiping on a few men so as not to feel so abnormal. The truth is, I couldn’t understand the feelings my friends felt.
I had convinced myself and those around me that I was wounded from my parents’ divorce. That I was not interested in finding a significant other. I told myself that I didn’t want to be attracted to anyone but surely, I should have been.
Not long after, I became suddenly more exposed to queer stories through the media I was consuming. I was fascinated by the queer characters in the TV shows and movies I came across.
Seeing these characters represented on screen allowed me to come to terms with the legitimacy of a feeling I had been ignoring for so many years. I was finally able to admit to myself that I am attracted to women and the world finally clicked into place.
At the same time, I was faced with the unease of internalized homophobia and a lifetime of exposure to primarily heteronormative narratives. I was raised neutral to the queer community in that it was seldom a topic of conversation in my house.
But being exposed to a world that assumes heterosexuality as the default instilled in me a feeling of otherness towards the community.
Though I questioned myself, I remembered the same-sex crushes I’d had all through my childhood and teen years that I passed off as admiration or platonic friendships without giving two thoughts to the matter.
I could finally see what my friends had been speaking about all along. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder what my earlier life would have been had I been exposed to more queer stories earlier.
For so long I blamed my parent’s divorce on my disdain for relationships and love. Yet all along, it was just me being unable to see myself for who I am.
For so long I blamed my parent’s divorce on my disdain for relationships and love. Yet all along, it was just me being unable to see myself for who I am.
I think back to the unfortunate conclusions I drew about love so early on in life because I was lost and I wish I could tell myself to keep searching. I recognize that I still know very little, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that everyone loves differently and everyone’s love is valid.
With something so personal, we all have to figure things out on our own time for ourselves.
Reflections on accompanying loved ones in pain
By: Serena Habib, Contributor
cw: Mentions of self-harm and mental illness
In The Vampire Diaries, the vampires had an inner mechanism called a “humanity switch.” This allowed them to turn off any emotions that made them human so they could completely and carelessly follow their desires.
While I am grateful for my sense of empathy every single day, I sometimes wish I had a little knob I could turn to decrease the pain love brings when people around me are hurting.
While I am grateful for my sense of empathy every single day, I sometimes wish I had a little knob I could turn to decrease the pain love brings when people around me are hurting.
However, empathizing with others allows us to build connections and make a difference in the lives of people around us.
In an interview with Self magazine, Gottman Relationship Institute Co-Founder Julie Schwartz Gottman said that a person’s ability to empathize with others is what makes friendships last.
Psychologists Daniel Goreman and Paul Ekman outline three forms of empathy: cognitive empathy, the ability to understand another person’s perspective; emotional empathy, the ability to share the feelings of another person; and compassionate empathy, which allows us to understand the other person and moves us to take action to help them.
But what happens when your friend has been suffering severely for years from a mental illness? You can see from their perspective, you are agonizing in their pain and you have already tried everything you can do to help, but it doesn’t feel like it makes a difference.
I am scared. I am tired. I dream about her dying and I awake to her messages about how they are hurting themselves. Yet, if my friend was dying from cancer, I would stay with her until their dying day. How is it any different with a mental illness?
I am scared. I am tired.
The definition of love as understood in our society can be summed up by the famous Bible passage from 1 Corinthians. I think about that quote when I think about our friendship.
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.”
I am being patient and I am being kind. I do not want to be friends with anyone else. I do not think I am a better friend. I am not prideful about what I have done in the friendship for I know we have helped one another.
“It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.” I try not to be angry, but it enrages me to see people suffering so gravely due to circumstances they cannot control.
“Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.” I am grateful for the honesty in our relationship and I want to be there as a listening ear. Our friendship was built upon rawness and mutual support.
“It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” I always refrain from saying things that will be triggering or telling my friend how much this is hurting me because she already feels guilty for it. I do not give up and I never will give up on her being okay.
I always get excited at little glimmers of hope when she messages me about recovery or when we text about mundane things all day, but then I am dejected when the illness re-emerges and I once again see myself losing my best friend.
I get swept up in this whirlwind of pain and hope and confusion and I feel like I am trapped by the friendship that has brought me so much life and liberation.
I get swept up in this whirlwind of pain and hope and confusion and I feel like I am trapped by the friendship that has brought me so much life and liberation.
But then I realize that friendship goes both ways. I am not being honest with myself or patient with myself. I am expecting myself to do everything perfectly and blaming myself if anything goes wrong.
I need to follow these rules for myself. I need to be honest when I need time to put on my oxygen mask so we can both make it through these tumultuous times. Seeing as I can’t flip a switch to make this change, I’m not quite sure how to do this, but I am working on it.
Brass Beauties empowers Hamiltonians with the art of pole-dancing
Seven years ago, Lisa Esposto started pole-dancing. She originally bought into it to strengthen her core. After a month of pole-dancing, she became hooked on taking daily classes.
“It helps me a lot mentally, helps me look at myself in a different way, [I] became more confident in my everyday life . . . It also helps with some physical appearance demons that most females deal with at some point,” said Esposto.
A year later, she purchased the studio from the owner, turning it into Brass Beauties. The name comes from the foundation of treating everyone equally beautiful, as explained by Esposto.
“Everyone creates their own beauty. You can see your instructor, but you’re never going to move like them; you’re going to find your own way. It may be a hybrid, but you’re going to put your own twist on it,” said Esposto.
“Everyone creates their own beauty. You can see your instructor, but you’re never going to move like them; you’re going to find your own way. It may be a hybrid, but you’re going to put your own twist on it,” said Esposto.
As an owner, Esposto’s main responsibilities primarily look at the finances and management of the studio. But as an instructor, she helps women to feel more empowered in many different ways.
“Anybody can do it, you just have to put the time in like everything else in life . . . It’s just how much you want it,” said Esposto.
On a personal level, Esposto tries to ensure women are comfortable within the studio. She provides them with a space to dance that empowers and distracts them from what’s outside the studio’s four walls.
“Life is hard outside, it’s just a space to let them forget about the crappiness of life. If they’re having a bad day, they talk to me and we just go from there. I look at them as my family,” said Esposto.
Despite the studio not being your typical weights-based gym, Brass Beauties still provided a social atmosphere to its dancers.
“Not only are they getting a workout, but we also joke around. So they are missing the social aspect of it right now,” said Esposto.
Esposto also re-iterates how the dancers come together as a huge support system and thus, motivate each other.
“If someone catches you slacking, they’re going to call you out,” said Esposto.
Brass Beauties holds a variety of classes: fitness, dance, tricks, flexibility and hammocks.
The fitness class is all-levels whereas, for the dance classes, they vary by levels, from beginner pole-dancing with heavy instruction to more advanced classes where freestyle is available.
A popular trick class includes upside-down dancing. Flexibility classes include all types of stretching. There is also a floor dancing class, so dancers can transition from the pole to the floor and vice versa.
While the majority of the patrons are adult women, the studio has offered four-week hammock classes for children prior to the COVID-19 pandemic. Now, due to the pandemic, the hammocks can’t be used due to public safety guidelines on cloth usage. With that being said, there are plans for the studio to expand its target audience.
“The plan is to, at some point in the future, incorporate male students. We’ll probably run another children’s program, which was a huge hit,” explained Esposto.
Aside from the classes, Brass Beauties holds two annual shows. Their last show was just before the March 2020 lockdown. They also participate in the Festival of Friends every year, where dancers perform with a portable pole. Two years ago, the studio had the opportunity to participate in Supercrawl.
In the pandemic, the studio had the opportunity to re-open from July to December, in accordance with the provincial government’s guidelines and restrictions.
“It’s a bit of a struggle to offer online classes because not everyone has the equipment [pole],” said Esposto.
When thinking about the long-term future of the studio, Esposto emphasized the importance of exposure to more festivals and accessibility to equipment.
“Right now, my main focus is getting out of COVID and getting the girls back on the poles,” said Esposto.
“Right now, my main focus is getting out of COVID and getting the girls back on the poles,” said Esposto.
Sometimes the most important relationships in your life aren’t your own
One of our favourite family movies is White Christmas. Every year since we were little, my sister and I would attempt to emulate the singing sister duo from the film (sadly without their spectacular outfits) by belting out their song, “Sisters”: “[L]ord help the Mister who comes between me and my sister and Lord help the sister who comes between me and my man!”.
With me being three and her five at the time, the notion of a “man” coming between us seemed completely absurd; our sisterhood was ironclad and eternal.
Fast forward 14 years and the “mister” had arrived in the ominous shape of my sister’s first boyfriend. I met him for the first time when he and my sister came to pick me up — a power imbalance I found deeply frustrating (after all, how could I put him in his place when he was my ride home?).
Completely unprepared for what felt like the most important interview of my life, I interrogated him for a full half-hour. Needless to say, when the car ride was over, I didn’t know what to think of him.
But I knew one thing for sure: this boy had come to take my sister away from me. She could only love one of us best and he was vying for the top spot. This was a state-of-emergency, DEFCON-1 level crisis. I began wartime preparations.
But I knew one thing for sure: this boy had come to take my sister away from me. She could only love one of us best and he was vying for the top spot. This was a state-of-emergency, DEFCON-1 level crisis. I began wartime preparations.
People who say big brothers are protective have clearly never met a little sister. Over the following months, I turned into an amateur private investigator (more Clouseau than Sherlock, I must admit).
Every time we met, I would theatrically narrow my eyes and badger him with questions, certain that I would finally uncover a fact to prove his complete and irrefutable unsuitability for my sister. I was deeply unsuccessful, to put it mildly.
To my horror, I found out that he was actually kind of funny. Well, that wasn’t going to work for me — I was the funny one in our sisterhood. If she was busy laughing at his jokes, she wouldn’t have any time for mine.
He also turned out to be rather hard working and was really nice to her. But aside from stealing her clothes and periodically destroying all her makeup (trivial concerns, really), so was I!
However, the more I talked to him, the more I realized that I just couldn’t reconcile the picture I had of him in my head as a rude, good-for-nothing interloper who would do nothing but cause my sister pain with the reality that he was actually a nice, upstanding guy. In matters of the heart, though, reason counts for very little.
Failing to discover incriminating information, I turned to less sophisticated methods to scare him off: I became really, really mean.
I would call him nicknames to our family friends, I made rude faces whenever he was brought up in conversation and I even made a (losing) bet with my parents about how long he was going to last (the shameful reminder of which lives on in my Google Calendar forever).
I snidely informed my sister one day, “I can’t understand what you see in him”.
“That’s because you’re immature,” she replied.
I had become so cruel, angry and resentful that I barely recognized myself. Understandably, my sister became upset over why I was treating her boyfriend so badly; what had he ever done to me? My mom told her I was just jealous.
The truth is that she was right. But I wasn’t jealous of her, I was jealous of him.
Growing up, my sister was my idol. She was the prettiest, smartest and most confident person I knew and in my mind, I held her atop a pedestal.
Her attention and affection were necessary for my personal validation and I worried that he would take that from me. Was I really so replaceable to her?
Was I really so replaceable to her?
One day I walked into my sister’s room and I saw dozens of pictures of her and her boyfriend on the wall. She was beaming in every one of them. In that moment I realized my incredible selfishness.
I thought he was the one damaging our sisterhood, but in reality, I was the one who had inflicted the harm by denying her the right to affection beyond my own. It was a tight fit, but there could be room for three peas in this pod after all.
In case you thought this was a Hallmark movie ending, I’ll tell you that I haven’t fully gotten over my sisterly identity crisis quite yet. Just the other day I had a rather traumatizing “dream” (it was definitely a nightmare) that they got married — clearly, I still need some time before I can consider taking our relationship to the next level.
My sister and her boyfriend are still going strong and seeing them now makes me thankful that my meanspirited meddling didn’t ruin a good thing.
Even more importantly, I learned that sometimes the most difficult, life-changing relationships you will experience aren’t even your own. The “mister” wasn’t the villain in our sister-saga. I was — and we all know the bad guy never wins.
By: Serena Habib, Contributor
Butter slathered on toast during mornings with grandpa,
Soccer games followed by cotton candy ice cream,
Pilsbury croissant scented moments with grandma,
Family Second Cup runs for hot chocolate with whipped cream.
Sleepovers with strawberries wrapped in homemade crepes,
Love in grandma’s curries, which made them preeminent,
Candid photos from feeding each other birthday cake,
Little did she know that a maelstrom was imminent.
Love stopped. Love shuddered. Love got lost in the rain.
Food led to fights over mealtime. Love was enveloped in pain.
Mentally preparing herself for Christmas baking,
Running the chocolate chip calories away,
Laughing at dinner while silently aching.
Food-flavoured love was simply not okay.
She watched the boy she loved post pictures with his loved one
Sharing desserts and dinners she would never be able to eat,
She wanted so desperately to be lovable,
But love drifted away, perpetually out of reach.
She had lost love: she did not deserve it.
She would only have the muffin when she aced her test,
A test with a framework built upon inadequacy,
Years of high standards, and pressure to be the best.
It was love in her aunt’s heart when she tried to feed her oil,
Though she really needed buckets of self-acceptance instead,
From her father’s love formed a focus on body image:
A love that filled family vacations with dread.
Her mother’s love induced carbohydrated commands,
Threats that saved her from withering away,
With loathing she ate her way back to rationality —
This led to a love that would never go astray.
Pancakes with peanut-butter mornings of hope,
Cotton candy ice cream to celebrate her nineteenth,
Love for herself, her family, her journey —
Though her journey might never be truly complete.
For sometimes she feels herself slipping through her fingers,
She sees her reflection and bursts into tears,
But then she grabs some hot cocoa and her purple pen,
Reminding herself to push through her fears.
And sometimes she can’t, and her family is hurt,
As if she doesn’t love them by not trying the homemade cake,
Or they commend her on her weight gain at Christmas dinner,
And a mended part of her begins to break.
But love is eternal; it’s patient and enduring.
With each winter, it reveals itself more.
Meals filled with laughter and fond reminiscing
Are love’s subtle ways of winning her war.
Using community to learn about love, sex and health in a pandemic
The first Silhouette issue I remember picking up was the 2018 Sex and the Steel City issue. It started off so normal, but by the time I flipped to the sex toy guide, I recall being rather alarmed, maybe a tad embarrassed. I put the paper back on the stand.
A year later, I was contributing to Sex and the Steel City as the Arts and Culture Reporter. I started to understand how this issue provides an important space for our community to talk about the taboo, the messy and the private. But I didn’t feel I had anything to add to the conversation.
Now it’s two years after that. When I first took on the job that involves planning this issue, I still didn’t feel like I had much to add to this conversation. I wasn’t sure how to plan an issue on topics I am still exploring and learning about.
So I decided to do what I do whenever I write for the Sil: I listened. I have been a student of the dozens of thoughtful interviewees that have taught me about everything from magic to gentrification. So I turned to this community to teach me about love, sex and health.
So I decided to do what I do whenever I write for the Sil: I listened. I have been a student of the dozens of thoughtful interviewees that have taught me about everything from magic to gentrification. So I turned to this community to teach me about love, sex and health.
Over the past few weeks, the most personal stories and intimate art landed in my inbox. Strangers gave me permission to probe their pasts and tinker with their life texts.
So I want to thank every single person who reached out to me about this issue, to everyone who filmed and created and wrote this anthology on the taboo, the messy and the private. I am honoured that my part of the Sil’s legacy is all of your lessons on love.
I never realized how much of a community-based project Sex and the Steel City is until this year. Writing for a newspaper can be very isolating and doing so in a pandemic even more so, but this issue has reminded me of the community that the Sil has formed.
I think COVID-19 has made this issue all the more urgent. This pandemic has upended relationships, cancelled sex lives and wreaked havoc on our collective health. But it has also highlighted the importance of these things. We crave connection perhaps more than we ever have.
So in this year’s Sex and the Steel City, we have sought to tell stories of connection. Not just stories of romantic relationships, but also stories of the relationships with our family members, our friends and ourselves. I hope you know that you’re part of a community that loves and looks forward to this issue, be it your first Sex and the Steel City or your millionth.
Through this community, I have sought to expand my worldview. I’ll be the first to admit that there are representations lacking in this issue, that there are stories left to tell that I hope I’ll read in future issues of Sex and the Steel City.
But my goal was to make sure that you, dear reader, identified with just one word or just one image in this issue, so that you know that this is a conversation that you are a part of, a conversation that I welcome you to add to. More than anything, I hope you learn something.
Table of Contents:
The impact of COVID-19 on Hamilton sex workers by Rya Buckley
University-level dating during the pandemic by Adrian Salopek
Editorial
Relationship wars: who needs a boyfriend when you have a sister? by Nina Sartor
Humans of McMaster: Morghen Jael by Esther Liu
What does it mean to be a man? by Sarah Lopes Sadafi
Sil Time Capsule: Students on the importance of sex education by Nisha Gill
Coming out as nonbinary by Fran O'Donnell
Self-acceptance takes time by Samantha McBride
The stories close to our hearts by Nisha Gill
Eight queer, sex-positive accounts to follow on Instagram by Subin Park
Art featured from various artists
Food Flavoured Love, a poem by Serena Habib
Eight cozy virtual date ideas by Tracy Huynh
Thoughts from an Indian emigrant on arranged marriages by Sharang Sharma
Lessons from my sister: kaleidoscope of love by Niko Haloulos
Humanity Switch? I wish. by Serena Habib
Sil Sit Down with Dr. Iman Benerji by Urszula Sitarz
Finding Comfort in the Little Things by Nisha Gill
Define your own beauty by Krishihan Sivapragasam
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From side tables to sex toys, Hamilton-based artist Lauren Goodman’s work is all about blending functionality, feel and form.
Formally trained in fine woodworking at Williams & Cleal Furniture School in England, Goodman has a business designing and creating handmade furniture.
She also collaborates with other artists at Hamilton Audio Visual Node (HAVN), a multimedia arts collective. Additionally, she co-founded Sister Moon Collective, which focuses on fostering community and safer spaces through art.
In 2013, she helped create sex-positive submission-based zine Milkweed, where she was introduced to the erotic art scene. However, it was only recently that she began making erotic art of her own. She began creating hand carved wooden sex toys as a way to experiment with erotica.
“A friend of mine and I were talking about how wood is not a medium that people make sex toys out of,” said Goodman. “So just kind of sort of playing around using these offcuts to make different shapes and forms and sort of coming to forms that I like.”
Sex toys are a personal project for Goodman. Whereas her furniture is commission-based, her sex toys are more about personal exploration.
“This is me exploring my sexuality and what I want, and breaking down stigma that I have myself,” she said.
Through her erotic art, Goodman aims to normalize discussions about sexuality. By making beautiful, artistic sexual objects, she hopes to help break down taboos around sexuality and encourage people to explore sex openly.
“The idea is to break down this stigma of sexual objects, that they have to be in a little box under your bed,” Goodman said. “Why can't we put our ‘dirty’ thing on a plinth in our living room, and then when we want to have sex we grab it off the plinth and go have sex?”
Goodman finds that the sex-positive movement is slowly becoming more widely accepted. In some ways, Instagram is helping to encourage this shift.
Instagram facilitates connections between like-minded artists from around the world, and in doing so builds an online community for an art form such as erotica that may have otherwise been considered niche.
Additionally, sites like Instagram provide opportunities for people to explore sexuality while maintaining some level of anonymity. Goodman notes that people who are reserved about sexuality in real life can find a sense of liberation and openness through social media.
However, the advent of digital media presents a unique set of challenges for Goodman. As a woodworker, the visual element of her work is only one part of the picture. The tactile component of her art is also vital.
“Even with the tables that I make, or lamps, or anything like that — I want you to touch them and feel like it's silky.,” she noted. “I want it to be tactile pleasing as well as aesthetically pleasing, as well as functionally working. And all of these things intersecting to make a beautiful piece of art.”
As online markets replace brick and mortar stores, consumers lose the ability to physically interact with work and provide real time feedback.
Goodman noted that many queer-centric, sex-positive shops are shutting their doors. This means that people lose tactile access to sex objects, as well as the ability to talk to people about sex.
Goodman points to the need for an independent, sex-positive sex shop in Hamilton.
“I would love a Girl On The Wing that just sold sex toys — you know, like the local stuff, really curated with nice colours — that would be amazing, that would be a great store,” she added.
The absence of sex-positive shops in Hamilton speaks to a larger observation about the city’s approach to sexuality.
While Hamilton is known for being an artistic city, it does not have an erotic art scene. She observes a history of sexual repression that pervades into the present day, noting that Hamilton only legalized burlesque last year.
“I think that those deep-seated ‘ickies’ towards sex is really fervent here. And that's maybe why it's a little stifled on the erotic side,” she said.
Goodman also points out that the absence of an erotic arts scene in Hamilton is in part to due with the city’s proximity to Toronto. Hamilton-based artists can take their work to Toronto if they are interested in pursuing erotic art in an already established scene.
Despite the lack of an erotic art scene in Hamilton, Goodman finds that artists often explore themes of sexuality in their work. She finds the artist community in Hamilton to be open, progressive and welcoming.
For Goodman, this openness is key. By exploring sexuality openly and honestly in her work, Goodman hopes to work away at her own internalized shame, and encourage others to do the same.
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By: Jackie McNeill
When I had friends over as a kid, I would pull my mom aside after a few hours and ask, “When are they going to leave?” It’s not that I wasn’t having fun — I loved seeing my friends, but this time with others never failed to become draining and leave me with a need for some alone time.
While I once thought this desire to be alone was abnormal and unhealthy, as I got older I learned to take advantage of it to promote self-improvement. Left alone with just my thoughts, I’ve had the opportunity to think critically about who I am as a person, what I like about myself and what I want to do better.
Learning about who I was, both outside and inside of my relationships with others, and working to better myself has helped to increase my self-esteem exponentially over years of self-reflection.
I’ve experienced how this increase in self-esteem has aided my relationship with myself, but studies show that it can also benefit the way we interact with others.
Megan McCarthy, a professor in the department of psychology at the University of Waterloo, suggests that people with low self-esteem are more likely to stay in unhappy relationships with others, resulting from their resistance to recognize and address problems.
“People with a more negative self-concept often have doubts and anxieties about the extent to which other people care about them,” explained McCarthy.
The self-concept is our idea of self, constructed through a combination of our own beliefs about ourselves and how others respond to us. A negative self-concept, then, can cause someone to assume negative reactions towards them and therefore avoid confrontation or conflict as a defense against these assumptions being actualized.
So, an increase in self-esteem can certainly improve romantic relationships, but those are not the only relationships we experience. Every interaction we have, be it with friends, family, or even our co-workers, can benefit from the practice of self-love and self-care.
Time alone also increases communication with the self through self-awareness. When I spend time alone, my own thoughts, feelings and desires become my priority. This has helped me realize that communicating with myself should remain a priority throughout my life, including when I interact with others, paving the way for honest and open relationships.
In addition, being self-aware has allowed me to be more receptive of others’ thoughts, feelings and desires, which may reflect similar concerns or insecurities that I possess. By reflecting upon the self, we can become more sensitive and considerate towards the people we build relationships with.
It is important to note that my idea of alone is not one size fits all. Spending time alone can simply mean loneliness for some people, and as a Psychology Today article explains this can lead to anxieties, depression, or reminders of loss and abandonment.
McMaster University’s Prof. Tara Marshall illustrates this idea through the example of a breakup.
“After a breakup, people who are more secure in relationships and have higher self-esteem are more likely to desire some time alone,” explained Marshall.
“They may engage in some personal growth-enhancing experiences. People high in anxious attachment, on the other hand, desire to go on the rebound after a breakup,” she added.
Marshall went on to explain that humans are social by nature and we have a need to belong to social groups as our survival has depended on it throughout history. So it is important to balance time spent alone with socialization, just as it’s important to get to know yourself and what will work well for your own self-esteem.
The point of this time spent alone is to improve your feelings about yourself, but also to use this to positively affect your relationships with others. What works for me won’t work for everyone, but maybe by sharing my experience others will venture to learn more about themselves and how they interact with others.
Of course, when trying to self-reflect as a student several issues present themselves. Our days are packed with studying, interactions with peers everywhere on campus, trying to balance friends, a job, finishing that essay and visiting family; our minds never get a break.
So how do you get some quiet time in a busy day? Try the silent study in Mills— it’s a great way to ease yourself into being alone because you’re surrounded by other students, but everyone is focused on their own work. There’s no opportunity for socialization to distract you from yourself.
Sitting still can be difficult, so go for a walk alone in a quiet neighbourhood. No phone calls or music, just reflect on that day or what’s to come and make an effort to think positively.
If these options take too much time, go to bed 20 minutes earlier than usual and let your mind wander while trying some deep breathing. This can help ease stress and relax your mind, leaving it open for reflection.
This time alone allows you to drop what Psychology Today calls your “social guard.” Pay attention to how you behave alone and compare it to how you behave around others, and maybe work to let some of your “alone” self bleed into your public persona.
Whether you crave alone time like me or not, we can all benefit from a bit of self-reflection to better our relationship with ourselves and others. Self-awareness and the resulting higher self-esteem make an impact on the way we interact with others, and can keep our relationships open, honest and healthy.
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