Dear readers, guess what? This is my last column for Xtra West. I’ve had so much fun here over the past three years. What could be better than having a public forum for my various ponderings, rants, opinions and even, I admit it, some whining? How luxurious, how decadent. But the time has come to focus my time and energy on new endeavours. More…

I’m finishing this column on the screened-in porch of my aunt Anne’s house in New York while the crickets chirp and the fireflies flash on and off. My girlfriend and I have spent the past two weeks visiting family. When I’m not having little fits of rage or moments of gooey love, and I’m not busy drinking wine or eating chocolate, I’ve been trying to take advantage of this excellent opportunity for increasing self —understanding. (I’m not even being sarcastic, that’s how introspective I have become here among the crickets.) More…

This spring my sister-in-law - my girlfriend’s sister - found a lump in her breast. Within weeks she had had an ultrasound, a specialist’s appointment and a mastectomy. As the family tries to absorb this news, I can’t stop thinking about breasts - having them, not having them, what it all means. More…

Acknowledging our history gives us a richer sense of community. It shows respect for the work of the people who came before us. It saves the younger ones from reinventing the wheel. It can also make us safer, in very concrete ways. For example, last issue this newspaper ran a cover story on queer domestic violence, with minimal acknowledgement of the activism on the issue that has been happening right here in Vancouver for the past 15 years at least. Read the rest on the Xtra site.

Lately I’ve been wondering what it means when dykes have sex with men. Everybody seems to have an opinion about it — women who are doing it, women who have never done it, women like me who haven’t done it for a long time and think they probably won’t but you never know. Read the rest on the Xtra site.