One thing I do in my not-so-copious free time is scan medical journal tables of contents each week. This way I get at least a glimpse at what is going on in medical research at the moment, sometimes provoking a deeper dive into a study or sub-discipline of medicine.
Last week in JAMA (Journal of the American Medical Association), the top article caught my eye for its very particular area of inquiry: Respiratory Gas Shifts to Delay Asphyxiation in Critical Avalanche Burial– A Randomized Clinical Trial.
Yeah, that’s niche.
The researchers were testing a gadget that facilitates increased air flow to a person trapped under snow in an avalanche. TLDR: it worked very well. So that’s good.
The study subjects (24 in total) were about equally divided between men and women.
In that week’s editorial, titled “A Breath of Fresh Air”, the editors of JAMA offered historical context for this new research result. They also said that the researchers should be applauded for narrowing the gender gap in this type of research.
Applauded.
Applauded?
Yes, they said “applauded”.
As in:
A lot of people applauding, captured by Hanson Lu for Unsplash. Great job, Hanson!
I’m afraid I don’t agree here.
I beg to differ. Yes, I used this phrase last week, but what can I say? it just keeps coming up
Increasing representation by gender, race, ethnicity, age, etc. in medical research has been and continues to be a big project, with lots of players contributing to small shifts in research participant selection. And I’m glad to see that this study included women as research participants; after all, women as well as men engage in back-country skiing, so it’s important to test out potentially lifesaving devices on all relevant populations.
Do the researchers deserve our thanks? Yes, for working hard as scientists. But for including women in their study? No. They’re just doing their job. They may be doing it well, but it’s their job to do so.
The movement to make human scientific and medical research truly representative isn’t finished yet. I’m glad to see widely-read medical journals paying attention. But I think they can hold their applause.
Back in 2022, I mused about using my power for good by becoming a lifeguard and giving back to the sport I love so much.
Since I started working almost a year ago, I have taken great pleasure in teaching recent immigrants who are five times more likely than people born in Canada to be non-swimmers. I have also had the joy of lifeguarding for a day at the pool for women who are normally excluded from swimming because beaches and pools are mixed gender.
This week was extra special. In the summer, a teen drowned at one of the city’s beaches. Teachers at their high school responded by getting a Jumpstart grant so that girls who had never learned to swim could take female-only lessons. They even bought a big bin full of modest swimwear and sports hijabs to be used by anyone who wanted them.
We blocked all the windows for privacy and I had the pleasure of teaching 20 teen girls to put their heads under water, jump in (a couple even tried it in the deep end), float, glide, and try some basic strokes.
The girls were great – smiling, overcoming their fears and helping each other. The teachers were wonderful too. I really appreciated that both got into the water and worked with students so that a few were able to swim most of the width of the pool by the end of class.
Not “my” girls. These young women wearing modest swimsuits and floating peacefully in a bright blue swimming pool are from a Nike modest swimwear ad campaign found on models.com. The photographer is Paola Kudaki.
It was the perfect way to hit 225 on my 225 workouts in 2025 goal.
Sadly, this was only a substitute assignment for me because the regular teacher was sick. I have put my name in to be called first if she needs to be away again, and offered to teach any future sessions that might be offered.
April is almost here, and I’m in need of a refresh. Since January 20, I’ve felt angry, heartsick, afraid, overwhelmed, and oh so tired. And I see these same feelings in the faces and actions of my friends, family and community. Waiting around for others to do something about it isn’t helping. So, I’ve decided to take a page from the self-care playbooks and do something. Here are a few tips, along with the ways I’m following them. Feel free to join me or pick your own set of tips and invent a plan. And let us know what you’re up to, if you’re so inclined.
Tip #1:Get physical– plan some exercise, with friends or on your own.
One plan I have is to get a lot of steps in on Saturday, April 5 at the Hands Off! Massachusetts Protest Rally in Boston. It’s part of nationwide protests in the US. You can find more info here. I’ll either take public transport or ride my bike with my friend Norah to meet others and gather on the Boston Common. Then we march to City Hall Plaza for speakers. It’ll feel good to stretch my legs and work on taking back our democracy.
Tip #2: Get creative– try something new or familiar that stimulates your imagination, like art or crafts or poetry.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a proper protest rally without some good signs. I’m definitely planning on making some of my own. The Hands Off folks have provided lots of signs to print, like these:
Hands Off Science!Hands Off LGBTQ+ Rights!Hands Off Cancer Research!
These are great. But I also love ones that reflect our own individuality and perspective in the face of greed and cruelty.
IKEA has better cabinetsFOR SALE: DemocracyThe classic: It’s so bad, even introverts are here!
Someone has even gone to the trouble of creating a google spreadsheet with sign slogan ideas. My current favorite is “Does this Ass Make My Country Look Small (with pic of Trump). Check them add and feel free to add your own spin.
Tip #3: Get social– join friends or family or your community in some common endeavor, whether it is for entertainment or activism.
Lots of people I know are posting about going to these rallies in their hometowns. I’ll be amplifying this message on my social media, and also talking it up in my friend and community groups. And come Saturday, I’ll be meeting thousands of new friends in my town, with whom I have a very important purpose in common: saving our country from fascism. Not that one protest will do the trick, but it’s a step (or in this case, thousands of steps) in the right direction.
Tip #4: Get outside– take some time to immerse yourself in nature; this can include anything from urban parks to local woods.
We’ll be meeting at the Boston Common on Saturday morning around 11am, which is located outside. The Parkman Bandstand, our meeting point, is surrounded by lovely trees bushes and grasses. Honestly, it won’t look like this in April, but here’s a nice summery pic:
Parkman Bandstand on te Boston Common in summer. Worth visiting this week, too.
Tip #5: Get clear about boundaries– say no to the demands or conditions that you know are harmful to your well-being and that of others.
Oh, there will be lots of saying no in my future, and in all our futures.
No to illegal firings of federal and state employees working to support health, education, safety, and all the crucial everyday functions of our government.
No to bellicose threats to other countries with whom we’ve shared supportive and beneficial relationships with for decades and decades.
No to shutting down HIV clinics around the world, cancer clinical trials, measles and other vaccine education, the department o frigging education, and oh, the federal court system.
No to kidnapping students and holding them illegally, for no reason other than hate and intimidation.
Just no. Hands off, you bozos!
You know what? I already feel a little bit better. See, my self-care plan is starting to work. Of course, there’s actual work to do, and a lot of it, and for a sustained period. But I’ve got a plan. And I hope you’ll make one, too.
Cate’s great post from a couple of weeks ago, combined with the latest over-the-top reaction to a trans athlete who hasn’t even competed since 2022 (aren’t all reactions over the top when people are complying with the rules?) led me down a rabbit hole of the harms gendered sports do more generally.
University of Pennsylvania’s Lia Thomas competing in 2022. On Wednesday, U.S. President Donald Trump suspended about $175 million US in funding for the university over the participation of Thomas in its swimming program back in 2022. (John Bazemore/The Associated Press)
I have written about it before, here, and about Lia Thomas and other trans athletes. As a good analyst should, I am putting my biases on the table: I have trans friends, both men and women, who have gone from being suicidal and afraid to use a public washroom or change-room, to being happy and physically active. But as Cate said, and the “punishment” of the University of Pennsylvania shows, the whole trans athlete garbage isn’t really about trans athletes, especially at the elite level.
So what if we were to fight back by refusing to play along? What if we developed more all-gender sports, like we have already done for ultimate frisbee, mixed curling and many other new team sports, and which has been the standard in equestrian sport for decades? What if we changed the rules so that sports valued artistic merit, endurance and flexibility as much as they do upper body strength? What if women could do throws in figure skating, or compete in pommel horse? What if we then changed uniform rules so that men could wear sequins and women could wear pants (or at least shorts that covered more than most of the crotch)?
China’s Sui Wenjing and Han Cong competing during the Winter Olympics at the Capital Indoor Stadium in Beijing. Anne-Christine Poujoulat/AFP via Getty Images
What if we simply stopped having men’s and women’s categories for things like shooting or fencing, where gender seems completely irrelevant? What if people like Katie Ledecky could compete against male swimmers? It is entirely possible she doesn’t know for sure just how much she is capable of because she races at different distances than men, and so outstrips many of her competitors that she may never have pushed herself to her absolute limits.
What if these rule changes led to much more equitable funding for sports traditionally segregated to women, or seen as too feminine (gymnastics, figure skating)?
There will undoubtedly be pushback, just like what we are seeing now against the LGBTQ+ community, from men who think they are losing something when women gain something. We will need to keep up the fight for fairness in sport. It’s a fight worth having for men, women, everyone.
My friend Susan Simmons in British Columbia has a passion for marathon open water swimming and for coaching swimmers with disabilities.
She and her swimmers have done some amazing things over the years, but today marks a new step.
The Spirit Orcas, Canada’s only inclusive Masters “para” swim club, is competing at a Masters Swim Association of British Columbia (MSABC) swim meet in Nanaimo today. Five adult swimmers with intellectual and physical disabilities are set to compete amongst neurotypical and able-bodied swimmers in several events.
The Spirit Orcas, many of whom have their roots in Special Olympics, formed a swim club last year when British Columbia’s only para swim club halted its program. To promote inclusion in sport, the club members opted to take the bold step of registering as a Masters rather than para or “disabled”.
The Spirit Orcas have become well known for their open water achievements, including their relay swims in the Great Bear Rainforest and an 80km staged around Victoria’s peninsula. The swim meet in Nanaimo, however, is their first official competition outside the disability community.
As Susan says “It is only when we compete in the same spaces with each other that we have achieved inclusion”.
Maria, Drew, Melisa and Dixon, all members of the Spirit Orcas, prepare for a relay
Good luck to everyone! I hope you have a great time.
I have never seen myself as a “gym person.” Long before I developed the chronic disability trifecta of rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia and degenerative disc disease, this was not a place where I felt at home. I have long been uncomfortable with my body – size and type – and being in a gym seemed to be a form of public exposure.
This, it must be admitted, is hypocrisy of the highest order. For most of my career – over 30 years – I have ensured that the universities where I worked held sessions for those who might feel uncomfortable in a communal gym environment. I have run numerous workshops on respecting and honouring all body shapes, sizes and weights. All that time, and I have never admitted this in such a public forum, I have hated how I looked.
At the same time, I was doing numerous rounds of physical therapy, which often seemed indistinguishable from what people might be doing in the gym. I remember working on various pieces of equipment and making this comment. The physio said, “It is exactly what you would do if you were paying for Pilates classes.”
In my first decades, I walked everywhere, and at a rapid pace. My only previous gym membership was to use an indoor track for walking in the winter. In May 2021, I became a dog parent for the first time, to rescue husky Atlas. He gets me walking about 13,000 steps on a weekday (I work from home) and up to 20,000 on the weekends. This has been helpful for my health generally but has also led to several injuries requiring more physical therapy. After the last one – a partially torn rotator cuff caused by slipping on the ice on one of those Atlas walks – I began to wonder whether I should be doing something to strengthen my body.
However, searching for a trainer and gym seemed a scary proposition. Fortunately, before I got far in my search, I saw a Facebook notice from a colleague in another part of my life.
This seemed perfect timing – someone who met all my exacting criteria had space. Without giving myself time to doubt, I made contact. When I asked my rheumatologist if I could try strength and conditioning classes instead of the physical therapy he was recommending for yet another joint issue, he looked somewhat surprised but said as long as I was sure to do stretching beforehand and be careful to stop if there was pain.
So, in September I made my first entrance into a gym as a client, entering into this new setting with some trepidation in spite of my trust in trainer Laura. It was not dissimilar to walking into any new culture – ignorant of the purpose of the many machines and sure I wasn’t going to be able to make use of them.
However, very quickly, I was immersed in my new environment, learning the language thrown around casually – Romanian Deadlifts, Dead Bugs, Superman, Plank, Bird Dog, Leg Press, Leg Extension. Bands, Around the World, Kettlebell Farmer’s Carry and so on. It must be said that many of these challenge my mind-body coordination but I have managed to complete all – increasing numbers and weights each class.
I find most classes hard work and it would be easy to give up, but I try to make it a point to never stop unless it is clear that I am moving into the area of disease pain rather than exercise pain. This is the type of distinction for which there must be absolute trust with the trainer. Laura will listen to what is happening with my body and suggest variations on the exercise, or a different one. I appreciate that she doesn’t let me off completely but takes the risk to my health seriously.
There are obvious similarities with physical therapy – including working toward achieving the same goal of strengthening body parts and enhancing quality of life. However, I find upper body, core and leg training far more holistic than physical therapy on individual body parts. I get through both in a similar manner -much as I cope with painful medical procedures – muttering in my head, “It will soon be over and things will be better.”
And I do feel better. For the first time, I care less about how my body looks and more about gaining strength and capacity that will be of assistance as diseases progress.
So, what make a gym comfortable for me, a 60-year-old British South Asian Canadian woman living with disabilities?
This gym is small, located in a local strip mall. In large gyms I have visited, or been on the periphery of, the feeling of entering an alien culture has always been reinforced. The spaces are often cavernous, with sound echoing (Tinnitus is a side-effect of my diseases so this is always disconcerting), people moving from machine to machine, none of which I know the purpose of or how they are used. In addition, the majority of those present seem in great shape already. I rarely see the very fit but larger physique individuals I know exist. There is also often a notable lack of clothing which enhances the feelings of inadequacy for someone already concerned about their body. As I mentioned, it is a small gym. In my timeslot, there are never more than three individuals working with different trainers – we are all at very different fitness levels. Still, there is no air of competition, something I perceive in other gyms I have been in.
The trainer’s description of herself is not hyperbole and speaks to what makes me so comfortable to enter the space, as well as sometimes fail in the space:
Laura has been a beginner in the gym. She’s been the only woman in a gym. She’s had aggressive coaches and trainers who made assumptions (over-estimating and under-estimating) about what she could or could not do. She’s felt unwelcome and uncomfortable, and she’s been made to feel unwelcome and uncomfortable.
And she doesn’t want any of that for you.
Training with Laura means training with a trauma-informed coach in a supportive environment where she meets you where you are in your health and fitness journey. It means being encouraged to try new things and do more while being listened to about what you/your body can do that day. It means learning that you’re stronger than you know while being motivated by a compassionate and knowledgeable coach/trainer.
So, this January I don’t need any resolution (not that I make them) to keep me going to the gym. At least to this gym to work with this trainer!
Leela MadhavaRau is the owner of LMR Human Rights and Equity Consulting. She has spent her working life in the field of equity and inclusion, working at universities in both Canada and the United States. Her academic background is in Social Anthropology, with a specific focus on the transmission of culture across time and space. Her degrees are from McGill and the University of Cambridge. She has lived a life between cultures and countries, one of the few multiracial children born in 1960’s London (UK). Leela immigrated with her family to Canada in the 1970’s when “Where are you from” was one of the most common questions. Her career has been one of working to create dialogue; wanting all of us to be able to maintain curiosity and be independent thinkers. This responsibility has been inculcated in her four children, now ages 24 through 31. She adopted her Siberian Husky, Atlas, in May 2021 and her life hasn’t been the same since!
Bring on the Bay, an annual open-water swimming event in Ottawa, has a unique feature to accommodate swimmers who might otherwise not be able to participate: swim angels.
The swim angels program has been running since 2016. I first learned about it when I had foot surgery but wanted to swim despite my lack of training and fears about foot cramps. My friend Nadine volunteered to be my angel. It was a huge comfort to know she was there, ready to call for help should I need it, or just keep me going when I wasn’t sure about my abilities.
You can read more about the swim angel program here, and its origins as a way to help one swimmer with epilepsy achieve her goals. Since then, angels have supported people with a variety of disabilities and medical conditions, but also those who are simply anxious about open water swimming.
Last year, I decided it was time to become an angel myself. I wrote about it here. It was so much fun that I’m back again and looking forward to swimming with Irene, the mum of my swimmer from last year.
This year’s swim angel crew, some 25 swimmers standing or sitting on a dock and holding their swim floats, with the Royal Lifesaving Society instructors who coached us on how to manage emergencies and keep ourselves and our swimmers safe.Swim angels show off their “wings” in the Ottawa River.
“Rapha‘s new modest-wear range, which includes a cycling-specific hijab, has left the riders of Muslim women’s cycling group Cycle Sisters “in awe”. The British brand launched its new Rapha Women collection, along with a new campaign – ‘This Is How We Ride’ – on Tuesday, which includes a hijab, a long jersey, and padded riding trousers. A press release said: “For too long, women in cycling have been overlooked, undervalued and made to ride and wear kit that limits self-expression. Rapha is determined to help change that narrative and strives to create cycling apparel that makes all riders feel empowered, comfortable and confident.””
Who are the Cycle Sisters? “Cycle Sisters is a registered charity that inspires and enables Muslim women to cycle.”
If you’re interested, Cycle Sisters have a Facebook page.
Motherload is a movie about cargo bikes and the people who use them. It’s going to be shown as part of June Bike Month in Ottawa. I won’t be able to attend, so I watched it on-line. Here’s my review:
Given that it is a self-funded documentary about an arguably niche topic, I was not prepared for a joyful, feminist movie.
There is quite a bit about the development of cargo bikes in the USA, with acknowledgement of the huge role cargo bikes play in everyday life in much of the developing world.
There is also plenty about the links between cycling, suffragettes and feminism going back more than a century. There is recognition of the inequitable access to transportation in the USA, and how cargo bikes could make a difference for poor and racialized communities, if cycling safely was possible.
But it was also a film with joyful scenes of kids having fun riding in, on or beside cargo bikes. My friend Cassie said her family had ordered their cargo bike before seeing the movie back in 2020, but it reaffirmed that decision! For her, being able to bike as a parent means freedom, reliability, physical and mental wellness, fun, and allows her to feel like she’s doing something to address the climate crisis. She just wishes more people had access to safe routes and could see cargo bikes as a possibility in their lives.
Though most of the cargo bike users in the movie live in places where there’s no snow, lots of people use them year-round in all weather, in Canada.
People with their cargo bikes at a recent event in Ottawa. Cassie is riding her cargo bike in the bottom right photo.
If you can’t get to a showing of Motherload, you can watch it here (free, with commercials).
Last weekend, I participated in the first Kidical Mass Ride of the season in Ottawa. What is Kidical Mass? From their website, it’s an alliance of hundreds of organizations from Canada to Australia united by the vision that children and young people should be able to move around safely and independently on foot and by bike. Children who are active by bike and on foot from an early age remain so as adults.
So where does the feminism come it? @envirojen.bluesky.social, a safe cycling advocate in Halifax says: “If you’ve attended one of our (Kidical Mass) rides, then you’ll know that many of us were radicalized by pushing a stroller, or cycling with kids. Motherhood has certainly helped me flex my movement building muscles.”
This photo is actually from an anti-pipeline protest in 2016, but I have seen the same sign at many protests around women’s rights, and this one has a bicycle. The older woman in the picture has a sign attached to her mobility device that says “I can’t believe I still have to protest this shit”.
Change requires a mass movement. ‘Stop De Kindermoord’ in the Netherlands (1970s) and the ‘Baby Carriage Blockades’ in the USA (1950 & 60s) are historical examples of safe streets movements organized by parents, and in particular, mothers.
Historian Peter Norton, a professor at the University of Virginia, has been documenting how the movement for safe streets has largely been the work of mothers. He recently wrote about a protest in Montreal in April 1974, when about 70 parents, wearing black arm bands, marched to the office of Montreal’s traffic director, bearing funeral wreaths to present to him. They were calling attention to the deadly peril children faced on their walks to school. On paper, speed limits in school zones were 20 mph. In the absence of any signs near most school zones, however, motorists drove much faster. The parents demanded signs. The marchers were led by three mothers whose children had been injured by drivers. When the three arrived at the traffic director’s office he refused to see them, and had police escort them out. Before leaving, the women left their funeral wreaths for him at his office door.
Black and white image from the Montreal Star newspaper showing women carrying funeral wreaths, protest signs, and their children as they march in pairs.
Fifty years later the fight continues. As Cassie Smith, one of the Kidical Mass organizers in Ottawa says: Even now women have less access to cars and more caregiving responsibility giving us particular insight into the injustice of space.
This week, an eleven year-old child died while riding his bike in a supposedly safe area near his school. He was the friend of the son of one of my colleagues.
I got into cycling advocacy because of climate change and to have more safe access to the public space, especially for people on bikes, and because cycling is fun and practical. I was aware of some of the equity issues around cycling and active transit more generally, but I have learned a lot since, and now I’m angry. I hope I won’t still have to be protesting this shit for years to come, but I’m fully prepared to do so if necessary.
