My name is Igpy and my pronouns are they/them. I am a beleaguered queer rabble-
rouser/writer/editor/designer/artist-wrangler born and raised on Treaty 7 territory. As a white settler, I am trying to negotiate writing and living ethically on stolen land while benefiting from an ongoing legacy of genocide. I am, among other roles and pseudonyms, writer-in-residence at Loft 112. I have two knees, three degrees, and one cat. My greatest passions are art, kindness, and glitter.
The truth is, I’m not great at pithy. So I’ll do my best to be brief, and cover the most salient points: I want to see writing that is unapologetically rude.
I am tired of writing that is gentle with readers’ ignorance. I am tired of writing that makes itself clumsy trying to explain the basics to readers who expect not to have to put the work in. I am tired of writing that handles readers’ egos with care.
We are past the time for politeness, if there ever was one. Get angry. Get gross. Get vicious. Write fiercely, write fearsomely. You’ve got a limited number of words to work with, so make them count. The world is on fire and our phones are taking our thumbprints while our government declares climate emergencies as PR concealer for pipelines.
I want writing to riot for.