By Khushy Vashisht
Content warning: This editorial mentions acts of violence and hate crimes that may be distressing to readers.
For as much as I talk, it’s always been hard to talk about myself. Lines like “tell me about yourself” or being asked to share a fun fact about myself leaves me with immediate dread and my mind scrambling for a unique—but not too niche—thing to say.
For my entire life, I’ve always been hyper-aware of how I act and come across to people. Depending on who I’m with and where I am, I’m automatically able to tap in and out of certain parts of myself, catering to my audience like it’s second nature.
Around my family, I’m studious. Around my friends from elementary school, I’m a homebody and around other friends, I’m the spontaneous life of the party. There are sides of me reserved for certain people, and when there’s no longer an audience, I don’t know which part of myself to surface.
It’s safe to say I might be going through a bit of an identity crisis.
When I look at those who are able to just be—unwilling to bend to anyone’s rule—I feel a simultaneous tinge of envy and pride.
I know the journey to be isn’t linear (and it definitely isn’t easy), but it’s so desperately needed—now more than ever.
I was 12 years old when gay marriage was legalized in the United States (U.S.). I was 13 years old when the National Inquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls began and Indigenous communities in Canada were promised an end to the systemic violence they face, or at the very least, closure.
In 2018, I saw how tragedy brought people together in the areas where I’m from. The van attack on Toronto’s Yonge Street—which killed 10 people and injured 16—occurred in April that year. The perpetrator was an incel—an involuntarily celibate man who intended to run over and kill as many women as he could. Just a few months later in July, a shooter killed two young girls and injured 13 people on the Danforth before turning the gun on himself.
These senseless deaths brought dozens upon dozens of community members together to mourn those lost and exchange prayers and sentiments of love in difficult times.
“Canada is in a crisis—especially if we follow the uber-polarized path of our southern neighbour”
Then, suddenly, something changed. I didn’t see the same community we once had anymore.
In 2021, in London, Ont., a white man named Nathaniel Veltman ran over the Afzaal family, killing a mother, father, their 15-year-old daughter and grandmother. The attack left the then nine-year-old of the family an orphan and in an instant, reduced a family of five to just one.
I remember watching the coverage of the attack unfold on the news and the absolute wreck I became every time the family’s photo was shown on the TV—it’s still unsettling to think of now. I remember thinking about how easily that could have been my family, my best friend’s family, any Brown family that simply existed. The Afzaal family committed the crime of going out on a summer evening walk, just like any family.
But they weren’t just any family—they were Brown and Muslim, and visibly so. To the perpetrator, that was enough justification for the horrific domestic terrorist attack.
Over the last few years, I have been witness to the quick and drastic regression of our society.
Year after year, hate crimes continue to grow in the province. In Toronto alone, hate crimes have increased by 55 per cent in 2024 compared to the previous year, as reported by CBC News.
Canada is in a crisis—especially if we follow the uber-polarized path of our southern neighbour.
I first noticed the striking divide between members of the public during the COVID-19 pandemic when there was great animosity towards the most basic healthcare practices—quarantining when infected, wearing a mask in public or getting vaccinated. I never knew something as simple as a cloth covering one’s face could hold so much importance and anger over people’s lives.
Today, we see far-right voices increasingly breaking through mainstream politics. Red pill podcast bros are inflaming toxic masculinity in young men, anti-immigrant sentiments are becoming much more prevalent in Canada—especially directed at international students—and large corporations are dialing back their diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives to comply with U.S. President Donald Trump’s actions.
“Our differences are what make us powerful and our individualities must never be considered a weakness”
Anti-trans violence and bigotry are reaching new heights. No one seems to care that over 60,000 Palestinians have been brutally killed due to Israel’s siege on Gaza over the last two years alone, nor that thousands upon thousands more have been wounded and displaced from their homeland. The world feels like it’s on fire—because it quite literally is.
I no longer feel part of the generation that was meant to do better, be better.
I came up with the premise of The Unapologetic Issue in December 2024. My idea was to curate a collection of stories that encompassed various communities held together by the singular thread of individuality—a concept currently under attack worldwide. Now, three months later, the concept only seems to be looking even more bleak and hopeless, which is exactly why the need for an issue like this is even more pressing.
We live in a time where simply existing is an act of resistance, where just being is enough to make a statement and stand in solidarity.
This issue highlights stories of courageous and vibrant people who are completely unapologetic about who they are and where they come from. It celebrates those who aren’t afraid to embrace every single part of themselves from the good to the bad, ugly and powerful.
I hope these stories can speak to the importance of self-expression in a world gunning to get rid of it and that it gives you, the reader, a moment of solace and hope.
Human beings are not meant to be the same or cohesive. Our differences are what make us powerful and our individualities must never be considered a weakness. And so, without further ado, I present to you all, The Unapologetic Issue.
With all my love and no apologies for it whatsoever,
Khushy Vashisht ♡
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