This week I talk with Lynne Gouliquer and Carmen Poulin ahead of their Shannon lecture on Monday November 24 entitled “Purging the Canadian Military of ‘Sexual Deviants’: The War on 2SLGBTQIA+ Members and Their Partners from the 1960s to Present.’ We talk about the administrative order that established the policy of purging homosexuals from the military and how it was executed. We also discuss Lynne and Carmen’s research, their interviews with members who were purged, and the long-term implications on families.
On November 15, a media release announced that Pope Leo XIV, following an audience with members of the Canadian Roman Catholic hierarchy, “gifted sixty-two artefacts belonging to the ethnological collections of Vatican Museums.” This meant that the Vatican would begin a process of repatriating some aspects of Indigenous culture currently held in its museums to First Nations, Métis, and Inuit peoples in Canada.
Vatican Ethnological Museum
The Vatican’s decision was, almost certainly, made following a great deal of hard work behind the scenes. I was not, and have not been, part of this work but it seems to me particularly important to note that repatriation doesn’t just happen. It follows work that takes place in a range of Indigenous communities on a daily basis. It takes place outside the immediate splash of a media release, and we need to credit the people doing that work.
I also think we need to ask questions about this particular process and its implications.
Ross Hamilton of the Dumbells as Marjorie, ready to perform ‘Widows are wonderful,’ 1918. Coururtesy of the Toronto Public Library.
Drag is a staple of the 2SLGBTQ+ community today, however, many would not associate drag performance with the First World War, much less as an essential component for boosting morale. The rich history of drag has strong roots in Atlantic Canada; one notable example being Ross Hamilton, the famed female impersonator from the concert party troupe the Dumbells. During and following the First World War, Hamilton not only brought pride to Canada with his ability to craft the perfect illusion of womanhood, but also to Nova Scotia, as a resident of the province. Although queer desire was criminalized by the Canadian military, drag entertainment was seen as a necessity to support the flagging morale of troops.
This week I talk with Peggy Nash, one of the co-authors of Women United: Stories of Women’s Struggles for Equality in the Canadian Auto Workers Union. We discuss women’s contributions to the union in its early years, how negotiating priorities were shaped, and the Second World War’s influence on the labour movement. We also chat about the impact of the Autopact and free trade on labour, women’s leadership in the modern labour movement, and what it’s like to be in the room negotiating against an employer.
In the early morning hours of Thursday, February 19, 1942, residents of Winnipeg and the surrounding towns were shaken from their sleep by the sound of air raid sirens. German Luftwaffe bomber planes had begun their attack on the Prairies and by 9:30 am, Winnipeg had fallen into the clutches of the Nazis. Renamed Himmlerstadt (Himmler City) in honour of Nazi Minister of the Interior Heinrich Himmler, uniformed Nazi soldiers marched through the streets as swastika banners were raised on municipal buildings across the city. Radio programs were delivered in German. The front page of the Winnipeg Tribune newspaper – renamed Das Winnipeger Lügenblatt – was printed in traditional Fraktur script and written in German rather than English, save for a square in the centre of the page that outlined ten proclamations made by the new Nazi administrator of Himmlerstadt, Col. Erich von Nurenberg. Among a list of suspended civil rights, gatherings of more than eight people were banned, and citizens were to be executed without trial for the offence of organizing any form of resistance to the Nazi authorities. If Winnipeg could be wiped off the map in place of Himmlerstadt in the matter of a few hours, how soon would the rest of Canada fall to Nazi Germany?
“Nazi” soldiers attacking a Winnipeg Free Press newsie, February 19, 1942. Credit: Wikimedia Commons
Of course, this did not really happen. The Nazi occupation of Winnipeg on February 19, 1942 was indeed a simulation of what it would be like if the Germans were to invade. Meticulously organized by the Winnipeg Board of Trade and announced ahead of time to the residents of the city, ‘If Day’ was a creative fundraiser for Canadian victory bonds and quite a successful one. By March 3, Manitobans had raised $65 million dollars in victory bonds with contributions from Winnipeg residents totaling nearly $37 million.[1]
When I learned that Jim Miller had died, I reached out to his partner, Lesley Biggs, to express my condolences. A few weeks later, she invited me to share a few words about him that would be read at his celebration of life. “It would be my honour,” I replied. And I meant it. Jim was something of a hero to me back in the day, when I was a graduate student and junior professor starting my academic career.
I first “met” Jim in the fall of 1993. I say “met” because I didn’t actually meet him. I was a first-year PhD student at the University of Ottawa, and he was a professor at the University of Saskatchewan. But I did read “Owen Glendower, Hotspur, and Canadian Indian Policy,” an article that he had published just a few years earlier.
Picture of J.R. Miller, courtesy of Lesley Biggs
As a green-as-grass graduate student, I thought that it was about the coolest thing I had ever read. The title alone was worth the price of admission. What did two characters from Shakespeare’s Henry IV have to do with Canada’s “Indian” policy in the late Victorian era? A lot, in fact.
From Harbour to Horizon: Recharting Atlantic Canada Studies
The Faculty of Arts at the University of Prince Edward Island is pleased to host the 2026 Atlantic Canada Studies Conference in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, from 3-5 June, 2026. The meeting will overlap with the final day of the Canadian Historical Association (CHA) which meets from 1-3 June. Although there may be extra historians in town, we welcome papers and other sessions from all scholars and practitioners whose work concerns the Atlantic region. For over fifty years, the Atlantic Canada Studies (ACS) Conference has provided a space for both celebrating and challenging what defines the region and its cultures. Such a forum is especially necessary as new forms of economic and population growth, increases in climate change and extreme weather events, and a wide range of other factors, impact the Atlantic region. As in previous ACS conferences, proposals that deal with any topic or theme and from any discipline focused on the study of the Atlantic Region will be considered.
Some of the files released to the author under the FOI Act (image by author).
Matthew Hurst
Access to sources determines what can and cannot be researched. Outside of academia, access also affects the public’s capacity to maintain a tangible link to the past. Collections are especially important for expatriate communities. In this post, I describe how Hong Kong’s diasporic communities are being denied access to 88,000 records created during the colonial era.
In a recent Active History contribution, June Chow wrote about a successful collaboration between academics and archivists that resulted in a positive outcome for the Chinese Canadian community. Chow submitted an Access to Information and Privacy request to Library and Archives Canada, which in turn suggested that a block request would be more appropriate. This block request led to the opening of a significant number of files relating to the 1923 Chinese Exclusion Act and revealed hitherto unknown stories of injustice, activism and family reunion. In Chow’s case, researchers and information professionals worked together to unlock records that have brought insights to the Chinese Canadian community. This was a success story; however, not all attempts to access information end in this way.
An Indigenous artistic interpretation of the 1950 census from the Shubenacadie Agency (image 251) created by Emily Pictou-Roberts.
In the Mi’kmaw language, puoin (boo-oh-in) refers to a shaman or witch. In Mi’kmaki — the area we now call Atlantic Canada and parts of Maine and Québec—these puoinaq (plural of puoin) are sacred figures who possess the ability to shapeshift and to convoke the spirit world. In recent years, Queer and Trans Indigenous communities within Mi’kma’ki have refocused the term as a culturally specific concept of Two-Spirit identity. Compared to other Indigenous cultures across Turtle Island, the Mi’kmaq have experienced one of the longest colonial histories. As a result, there remain few traces of gender nonconformity or queerness in traditional records on the East Coast. However, with care, we can find and reclaim traces of Queer and Trans Indigenous identities across these records and narratives. Inspired by Mi’kmaw History Month, this installment of Queering Atlantic Canada troubles our understanding of region with Indigenous methodologies; it also offers a method to queering Indigenous history and culture through the Mi’kmaw language and storytelling alongside our own against-the-grain readings of the colonial record.
This week, I talk with John Moses ahead of his November 3 Shannon Lecture entitled ‘This is not my story, but yours: The Russ Moses residential school memoir.’ We discuss his father’s experiences at the Mohawk Institute, his military service, and Reconciliation. You can hear John talk about the memoir on Monday November 3 as part of the Shannon Lecture Series.
