In Edmonton it is impossible not to think about dust. It is so dry here. Visions of dust bowls, real or imagined, factor into our being a northern prairie outpost near the top of the melting world, not even benefiting from trickling down moisture, the sun absorbing it before it reaches us. Even the snow we do endure does not absorb into our soil. Once the snow disappears dust blankets the city leaving a thin brown layer over our stretched-out, already brown town. Dust forms like sand rivers between our sidewalks and the streets making it harder to bike. Dust gets into our teeth as the wind slaps across our mouths. Dust buries itself into our scalps, lover's fingers unearthing it as we lay in bed—if we should be so lucky.
By early last week we had all seen the worn down, beaten woman's face and heard the story of what had happened to Shannon Barry—how her and her friends had been walking home and had been attacked by a group of men, how being a woman had saved her to a degree. Her friend yelling to the attackers that Barry—already on the ground inhaling dust, as her body was being kicked—was a woman. The attackers stopped, fled. As the joke has been inappropriately made: who said chivalry is dead in tumbleweed Alberta?
As news of what happened to Shannon circulated, so did anger at how the Edmonton Police Service mishandled the attack. Not arriving until 30 minutes after the ambulance, the responding officer did not interview witnesses, nor file a report until four or five days later and thus did not put into play resources that the EPS has. On Thursday Police Chief Mike Boyd refuted a report that an internal investigation was underway to understand why procedure had not been followed, instead he categorized it as a review, a downgrade that mocked the fact that it was National Victim Awareness Week, with a theme of "Every Victim Matters."
As if all of that was not enough, earlier in the week Edmonton's Pride Centre was broken into, a window smashed and among other things the computer containing payroll information was stolen, a poetic injustice considering the Centre is in financial need, barely able some months to make payroll.
By the end of the week an updated face of Shannon Barry emerged post reconstructive surgery. Her face looked tender, more painful. A photo by Larry Wong in The Edmonton Journal attempted to pick up the angry colors of her bruises and the brutality of the attack by juxtaposing Barry in between blooming flowers—a kind gesture, a nod to a fertile future.
On Thursday two women, friends of Shannon started the Community Response Project, a Facebook group "dedicated to crafting a queer, systemic response to the recent assault against Shannon Barry (and others)."
It rained on Friday night, cloud coverage providing shelter for expression, hungry vegetation soaking up the moisture. As the city streets grew slick with rain the Community Response Project gained steam with over 400, 500, 600 members and counting. The Facebook wall filled up with messages of support, suggested next steps, plans to meet up, links about hate crime framework and stories of violent attacks including the brutal story of a young aboriginal man who was abducted, beaten, scarred, burned and abandoned.
On Saturday afternoon the EPS released information that a 14-year-old boy had been charged in Shannon's attack. The news made nothing better. No longer was it just about the awful one-way brutality absorbed by Barry but rather now it was the network of violence that hangs over all of us. The air felt dry again.
"Let the dust settle" is a phrase meant to suggest one should wait before taking action. This is impossible when the dust is unrelenting. Edmonton is a young city- still shifting in its own footprint, kicking up earth as it decides who it wants to be. In response us queers have a chance to mould this place, secure a better foundation for everyone. With a radical questioning queer approach we can work this land and make it hospitable for all. What can we grow here? Where do we want to go from here?
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