advocacy, chapitre du livre

The SAGE Handbook of HumanGeography: Two Volume Set

Advocacy

Contributors: Audrey Kobayashi & Meghan Brooks & Sarah de Leeuw & NathanielLewis & Catherine Nolin & Cheryl SutherlandEditors: Roger Lee & Noel Castree & Rob Kitchin & Victoria Lawson & Anssi Paasi &Chris Philo & Sarah Radcliffe & Susan M. Roberts & Charles W.J. WithersBook Title: The SAGE Handbook of Human Geography: Two Volume SetChapter Title: " Advocacy"Pub. Date: 2014Access Date: June 30, 2015Publishing Company: SAGE Publications LtdCity: 55 City RoadPrint ISBN: 9780857022486Online ISBN: 9781446247617

DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.4135/9781446247617.n19Print pages: 404-421

2014 SAGE Publications, Inc. All Rights Reserved.

This PDF has been generated from SAGE knowledge. Please note that the paginationof the online version will vary from the pagination of the print book.
http://dx.doi.org/10.4135/9781446247617.n19

Universite de Sherbrooke

2014 SAGE Publications, Inc. All Rights Reserved. SAGE knowledge

Page 3 of 30 The SAGE Handbook of Human Geography: TwoVolume Set: Advocacy

http://dx.doi.org/10.4135/9781446247617.n19[p. 404 ]

Chapter 18: Advocacy

AudreyKobayashi MeghanBrooks Sarahde Leeuw NathanielLewis CatherineNolinCherylSutherland

We all hope that our work will make a difference in the world, that a great lecturewill result in a few students shifting their understanding, that something we write willinspire others, that one of our ideas will be taken up in better public policy. Sometimesgeographers also take their ideas into the world to advocate directly for social change.Advocacy occurs in diverse ways and at different scales: at the formal political levelthrough petitions or direct interaction with politicians and policymakers, or informallythrough chance encounters when an individual changes his or her ideas or actions.Sometimes it takes to the streets to protest or demonstrate. When we choose tobecome advocates, we also face moral, ethical challenges, choices over how tomanage our time and energy, and scholarly challenges over how to incorporate ourresearch interests within the situations in which we find ourselves directly involved, andquestions about how our modest advocacy contributes to larger and sustained socialchange.

Moreover, our advocacy has distinctive meaning precisely because we aregeographers. It makes a difference where we advocate, how the individuals andinstitutions with whom we advocate are placed, at what scale we can effect changes,and how the spatial relationships that make up social life are shifted in the process.

A turning point in the history of advocacy geography occurred in North America in thelate 1960s. In the context of the Civil Rights Movement and amid controversy over theVietnam War, geographers began to question the relevance of their discipline and theirrole as individuals in influencing social change. The journal Antipode began publishingin 1969 with articles devoted to advocacy as a regular feature. Advocacy geographyrefocused the question of What do geographers do? to What can geographers do?without which We have lost sight of our own product society, and it, blind to us,
http://www.sagepub.comhttp://knowledge.sagepub.comhttp://dx.doi.org/10.4135/9781446247617.n19




strikes its own destructive course (Roach and Rosas, 1972: 75). As Ron Horvath (1970:36) opined:[p. 405 ]

By participating in the community, a sensitivity to needs will emerge.After needs are identified, solutions can be considered.

I submit that participant observation is eminently suitable for thetask because it is a technique where the scholar, the citizen, and thecommunity member merge. And the distance between the street andthe academy diminishes accordingly.

Roach and Rosas (1972: 73) emphasized that advocacy occurs through small-scale,on-the-ground research:

Advocacy Geography, then, can be viewed as an extension service topeople, which would be directed at the improvement of the quality oftheir lives. Advocate Geographers should avoid becoming handmaidensof oppressive groups while lending as much support as possible towardthe abolition of societal ills. Advocate Geographers should concentratetheir efforts at a micro-level, making the shortrun solution of immediateproblems a possibility and increasing one-to-one communication.

Suggestions ranged from involvement in planning (Wisner, 1970), mitigating humanenvironmental impact (Zelinsky, 1970) to involvement in grassroots demands for moresocial justice (Earickson, 1971). Bunge (1971) advocated a reversal of the career-orientated campus to a community-orientated research focus. As Merrifield (1995: 63)argues in retrospect, That is why radical geographers have a vital contributing role toplay. Through expeditions it is incumbent upon the geographer to become a personof action, a radical problem-raiser, a responsible critical analyst participating with theoppressed.

For Peet (1977), however, early advocacy approaches were insufficient because theydid not address the larger questions of how social inequalities are created. The problemwith the advocacy idea, he argued (1977: 15), was that its relationship with a deeperand more all-embracing revolutionary movement was always tenuous at best, while
http://www.sagepub.comhttp://knowledge.sagepub.com




at worst advocacy might be considered a liberal diversion of political effort. Peet andmany other radical geographers distanced themselves from the parochialism of directadvocacy to focus instead on understanding capitalism as the engine of modern society,addressing contradictions at the global scale rather than contradictions that occurlocally.

The pages of Antipode reflected this shift, with lessening attention to community-basedresearch from the mid-1970s until the 1990s, when the discipline saw a resurgenceof interest in geographies of the local, in feminist methodologies, and in questionsof situated knowledge, which required an assessment of the role of the geographeras advocate and which benefited from the participation of the geographer in actual

social life.1 The past two decades have seen such a rapid increase in geographicaladvocacy that the concept of critical engagement has become a central principle ofhuman geography (Blomley, 1994; Castree, 1999; Cloke, 2002; Pain, 2003; Massey,2004; Chatterton, 2006; Kindon, Pain, and Kesby 2008; Routledge, 2009).

Maxey (1999) points out that advocacy, or activist geography, is discursively producedacross a range of situations, not all of which involve active or radical resistance toauthority. For Maxey, engaging with even the most mundane aspects of peopleslives enables geographers to advance their understandings of lived experience andof the potential and capacity for social change. Continuing debates along the theoryaction continuum involve the discursive positioning of geographers around questionsof relevance, which ranges from pertinence to public policy to commitment to socialchange to potential application, and occurs at a relative, and politically negotiated,distance from the disciplines central paradigms (Staeheli and Mitchell, 2005, 2010;McKinnon, 2007).

Methodologically, participatory action research, a more recent development ofparticipant observation, has developed into a major strand of research in humangeography (Cameron and Gibson, 2005; Kindon et al., 2008). It is now widely acceptedthat geographers have an ethical responsibility to [p. 406 ] conduct relevant research,and that collaborative research towards social justice is an important goal. Questions ofresponsibility for social change, or lack thereof, remain. But as Kindon (2010: 535536)asserts, there is a role for social geography in the repoliticisation of participation, and
http://www.sagepub.comhttp://knowledge.sagepub.comhttp://knowledge.sagepub.com/view/hdbk_progressinhumangeo/i3054.xml




a role for participation in revitalising social geography. It is the recursive relationshipbetween the two that we hope to demonstrate here.

Our Stories

When Audrey2 was asked to write a chapter on advocacy, she immediately thoughtof the many ways her graduate students have worked as advocates while completingtheir own research. She asked several of them to write down their stories, told here asindividual vignettes. These stories reflect a variety of personal encounters between thegeographer-as-researcher and the geographer-as-activist. Each story can be read asa journey. For Audrey, circumstances three decades ago, at a time when there waslittle context or precedent for the activist scholar, tossed her from the ivory tower intoa public forum in which political and social changes were actually taking place. Theexperience shifted her scholarly trajectory towards community-based research. Herstudents, in contrast, entered graduate school at a time when advocacy had becomean accepted and valued aspect of social science, and their stories reflect some of themore recent challenges. Meghan started out to study advocacy itself, by analysing theanti-racist strategies of non-government organizations (NGOs). She found herself oftenin everyday conversations where what she said about her work as a geographer couldmake a difference to the understanding and attitudes of individual people. Sarah wasan advocate before entering graduate school, on behalf of women subject to domesticviolence. The interaction depicted here with one woman motivated her to undertakegraduate research that would integrate her activism and academic understanding ofsocial justice. Nathaniel set out as a gay man to understand the migration experiencesof gay men, and learned that to tell their stories also meant to expose the need forcommunity-based social justice advocacy. Cheryl worked with immigrant women ona project designed as participatory action research (PAR), but in the process madesurprising discoveries about the kinds of places that racialized, immigrant womenfind dangerous; she set about with her participants to do something about it. Finally,Catherine made an early transition to advocacy in both research and teaching andfound herself dramatically enmeshed in a life-changing situation. These are their stories.




Audrey

Unlike my students, I was not always a scholaradvocate. I was trained as a historicalgeographer and wrote a dissertation on Japanese migration to Canada. During the1980s, I began a tenure-track position at McGill University, and a few years laterJapanese Canadians, like their American counterparts, began negotiations with thefederal government to reach a redress settlement for the human rights violations theyhad experienced during the 1940s. As an expert on the demographic history of thecommunity, I was asked in 1986 to join the committee that negotiated a settlementwith the Canadian government in 1988. Over the course of two years of intensivenegotiation with policy-makers and high-level politicians, my research career wastransformed. I shifted from documenting migration to analysing the historical geographyof racialization. I moved my laboratory from office and archive to the community itself. Ishifted my range of publications to pieces that would be read by community membersand others interested in social justice, and reorientated my teaching from askingstudents to read and assimilate facts to asking them to incorporate questions of socialjustice into everything that they learned.

[p. 407 ] Looking back, several aspects of this experience made a difference notjust to the way I conducted myself as a scholar but also to the kind and depth of myknowledge. In the course of the negotiation, we worked as intently at the communitylevel as at the political. Reaching a settlement depended on having broad communitysupport that was developed by groups across the country holding information sessions,focus groups, and rallies. The local meetings were as important as, albeit less publicthan, the demonstrations on Parliament Hill. The settlement also depended uponincorporating the voices of the more than 20,000 individuals affected. Understandingthe voices and their experiences became as important to my research as the mountainsof archival data that had previously made up my primary data. And working as arepresentative of the community also involved collaboration with other advocacy groups,representing a range of ethnocultural and indigenous communities also seeking socialjustice. The constellation of interests profoundly influenced my understanding of theprocess of racialization, and of the intersection of identities according to which peopleare spatially and socially situated, and through which they launch projects of resistance.




Realizing the significance and potential of geographical advocacy took me a long time. Istruggled for years to match community activism with theoretical understanding, leavingone or the other to the side for long periods because I could not seem to integrate themseamlessly. Nor was becoming an advocate without professional costs. During the1980s, few scholars were involved in community-based research, and participatoryaction was not widely recognized as legitimate social science. When it came time for atenure decision, I faced a university committee that stripped my CV of community-basedwork before making a decision (thankfully, a positive one) on the basis of what wasconsidered legitimate scholarship. Having made it past that, hurdle, however, I can nowrecognize that, whereas community-based work takes an emotional (and sometimesphysical) toll, and whereas it is essential to be able to look beyond the politics of themoment to see the larger picture of social change in which theory and action form asyncretic whole, the value of such work is both in sometimes being able to make asocial difference and in achieving a higher level of scholarly understanding that comesfrom the ground.

That struggle has demanded questions that connect advocacy and radical socialchange. The example cited here represents an important achievement of justicefor some 20,000 people, effected within the very liberal system through which theirhuman rights were violated. One such victory perhaps does little to overcome centuriesof colonialism and racism, however, and Peets (1977) caution about re-inscribingliberalism still weighs heavily. Three decades later, I nonetheless remain committed tocommunity involvement, recognizing that gains may be modest and that the relationshipbetween theory and practice is problematic and incomplete. But I know a lot moreabout racialization now, and even lay claim to advancing theory; I could not have doneso without direct community connection. For my students today, the connection isaxiomatic. They still face moral, ideological, and theoretical challenges, but do so in aninstitutional environment in which their research is recognized.

Meghan

Sometimes the most meaningful discussions happen when we least expect them. Asa researcher of racism and anti-racism, I spend considerable time conversing withcolleagues and students about interesting events and the latest news and articles on




the topic. But despite the time I dedicate to thinking about and researching racism onthe academic front, there are personal encounters in which I am made most acutelyaware of how I engage in advocacy.

The question: What do you do?

An answer: Well, I research racism and antiracism. Right now I amdoing research on what strategies are effective at addressing racism.

[p. 408 ] A pause. I take a moment to breathe deeply and gather my thoughts. Whilethe initial invitation to share my work and passion has sparked tremendous excitementwithin me, a tinge of anxiety quickly follows. There are many directions this conversationmay go, they may be challenging and even uncomfortable. I have become conditionedto expect the unexpected in the brief moment that follows after someone asks thequestion.

Thats great! Its about time people studied how White people arediscriminated against!

I dont know why people are making such a big deal about Torrescostume! [referring to a National Hockey League player who dressedup as rapper Jay-Z for Halloween using blackface]

What, do you mean there is racism in Canada?

Geographers study that?

As I start to explain my work, I know that one or two sentences will not be enough, andthat expressing my work and ideas will be no simple task. An answer to the questionWhat do you do? actually requires me to address some fundamental questions,including for what or whom do I advocate? Who am I to advocate? So I begin. I open adialogue about what we believe in and value, and also who we are and how we impactthe world around us. Its probably not what they expected.

I am seldom surprised by the responses of those individuals brave enough to ask what Iresearch. The responses that I have chosen to highlight earlier are particularly important




ones because they point to not only a general lack of knowledge about racism, theforms it takes, and its effects on racialized individuals and groups, but also a failureto associate geographers with work on such issues. The openings created in thosespontaneous moments of dialogue what I call advocacy encounters representimportant opportunities to spark personal reflection, raise awareness on issues andresearch in the discipline, and hopefully even promote change.

As the histories of race and racism show, social change takes time. Much as the formsof racism change, so too do the strategies effectively adopted to address it. I havestudied how advocating for equity-related issues blurs the boundaries between publicand private thought and action. On one hand, advocacy is a public process since racismis one of the most pressing social issues of our time. Conversations about racism alsooccur in a variety of institutional settings including schools, workplaces, policy forums,and in the media.

But conversations about race and racism are also intensely personal as they draw in,and draw from, an individuals beliefs, experiences, and identities. The conversationsreflect ideological beliefs and attitudes, social and cultural identities and histories, andmost importantly, real-life experiences. When the individuals quoted in the openingstated that they did not see racism as a problem in Canada, it is likely that they eithernever experienced racism themselves or do not recognize racist acts as such. Theypossess a particular view of the world that, while based in their own experiences, deniesthose of others. Although research shows that overt forms of racism, including violenceand hate crimes, are on the decline in Canada, it is troubling that individuals of colourcontinue to experience discrimination in other, more subtle forms (Statistics Canada,2002; Brooks, 2008).

An individual engaged in anti-racism is, I believe, by definition an advocate for equity.On a general level, anti-racism can be understood as both a political discourse and anaction-orientated strategy for change (Lentin, 2004). When I participate in encounterslike the ones described earlier, I am actively engaged in anti-racist advocacy. Byinviting and encouraging the enquirer to reflect critically on the words they use andon the way their jokes or stereotypes marginalize others, I engage them in analysisof discourses of race [p. 409 ] and racialization. When they are open to it, theseencounters can even motivate individuals to become involved in different kinds of




social transformation, ranging from acting and speaking in a more inclusive manner tovolunteering. While my encounter with the individual who did not understand the harmcaused by blackface used in Halloween costumes was difficult and contained momentsof tension, I was fortunate to witness this individual query the appropriateness ofvarious Halloween costumes in a subsequent conversation. In this case, the individual,who once perpetuated a racist act through inaction, became an ally and advocate forinclusive behaviour.

Participating in advocacy encounters can be an intimately personal experience.Dialogues on the topics of racism and anti-racism have been especially personal forme and have demanded that I am willing not only to share my beliefs with the otherperson but also to receive their response thoughtfully. In some encounters, my identityas a white woman has had the effect of enticing other people to think about racismand the role we play in perpetuating and confronting it in interpersonal and systemicways. In these situations, other white individuals see that addressing racism is theresponsibility of all citizens, not only those who are victimized. Unfortunately, I have alsoseen how my skin colour arouses the suspicion that I am a race traitor who seeks tomake problems where none exist.

It is difficult, if not impossible, to talk about processes of marginalization, racialization,and discrimination without drawing from key geographic theories. Concepts such asplace, spatiality, scale, power, discourse, and representation frame how we studyand interpret social racism, but also provide analytical frameworks for understandingand organizing to confront it. In many advocacy encounters, I find that enquirers areinterested in knowing what it is that human geographers (they didnt know that kindexisted!) do and how research on racism is geographical. As geographers, we are well-equipped to conduct research on equity. We can draw from our theoretical, conceptual,and methodological toolbox to understand how processes, variables, and contextsintersect in our everyday lives. It appears that our greatest challenge as geographers isto communicate what we do and why we do it. Advocacy encounters are one way thatwe can open dialogues about our unique contributions. Creating the opportunities tohave these conversations, or recognizing when these opportunities are presented to us,is half the battle.




While racism is continually produced, reproduced, and contested at the level of society,the geographies of racism and anti-racism are intimately and inextricably linked to theindividual. Personal geographies draw individuals together in advocacy encounterswhere there exists potential for both the enquirer and the advocate to be changed.There is no one position from which to begin the process of advocacy. As I havelearned, often the hard way, engaging in advocacy on the topic of racism can onlybegin where the other person stands. In some situations anti-racist advocacy involvesshowing the ways in which racism persists today. In others, it may involve a thoughtfuldiscussion on the causes of, and solutions for, racial discrimination. In either case, it iscritical that an advocate understand and work from the position of the enquirer.

Advocacy is a process a series of actions, changes, and functions that involvesnegotiation between individuals in everyday, mundane, and often subtle ways. Whilethe process underlying advocacy for equity undertaken by geographers may varydepending on the situation, it is important that we are mindful that processes take shapeand transform over time. As I have learned from those brief moments that follow thequestion What do you do?, the views of individuals are seldom transformed in oneconversation. Luckily, engaging in advocacy encounters creates an opening where theprocess of change can begin.

[p. 410 ]

Sarah

When I was 24 years old, I began a job coordinating a womens centre in northwesternBritish Columbia (BC), Canada. That region of the province, lauded in tourist brochuresas a vast expanse of untouched wilderness with unparalleled opportunities for huntingand fishing, is also home to communities of people living with some of the countrysgreatest burdens of ill health (British Columbia Provincial Health Officer 2001, 2007);the most transformative litigation concerning the rights and title of First Nations to non-treatied lands (Sparke 1998; Asch, 2002); significant expansions of global resourceextraction interests; the provinces only modern-day non-urban land claim treaty; andsome of the highest rates of unemployment and lowest rates of education in BC (BritishColumbia Provincial Health Officer, 2002). In short, northwestern BC is comprised of




complex socio-cultural, legal, political, economic, and health geographies. I would not,however, have used any of those words when, about two days after I started the job inthat womens centre, a woman walked through the front doors and asked for help to gether kids back. I had no idea what she meant. Get her kids back? I thought. Had theybeen misplaced?

Despite my confusion at the time, those questions was the starting point of what todayamounts to over a decade and half of work trying to understand what I think, write,speak, and advocate about as enduring power imbalances and social injustice. I aminterested in the many divisions between Indigenous peoples and non-Indigenouspeoples (both of which are complex, variable, and heterogeneous groups). WhenI think about those imbalances and injustices, and advocate changing them, I doso with words, tools, and conceptualizations afforded both by frontline advocacywork and by the discipline of geography. Social injustices and power imbalances,particularly between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples, are the outcome of a longcolonial geographic history and a potent colonial present. Social injustices and powerimbalances are lived and experienced; they bear down on peoples and communities inreal, material, and embodied ways. Appreciating the simultaneity of these is a result offrontline advocacy work and academic studies in geography.

Returning to my work that morning in the womens centre and how it started me thinkingabout advocacy and geography, Sandy (pseudynom) was a First Nations womanwith five children. An anonymous allegation about her drinking and neglecting herchildren led the Ministry for Child and Family Development (MCFD) to apprehend all fivechildren. As she explained, Sandys situation was as follows. Although she struggledwith addictions, she had recently stopped drinking. She had just moved into townfrom a nearby Indian Reserve with the explicit intention of leaving a drinking scenebecause MCFD had given previous warnings about apprehending her children. Shewas waiting to get her furniture moved into town and for her mail to be delivered with acheque she depended upon. She and her five kids were living in a barren two-bedroomrented apartment and depending on the local food bank until a few things lined up.The morning Sandy contacted the centre, a social worker had showed up at her door,said there had been an anonymous complaint that MCFD was obligated to investigate,looked around the apartment and, noting no food in the fridge and no beds for thechildren, had removed the five children ranging in age from 3 to 12. Sandy needed to




be in court the following week so a judge could approve (or not) the apprehension. Inthe interim, Sandy was not sure where her children were, if they were living together, orwhat she needed to do while she waited. Hence her decision to approach someone in awomens centre for help to get her kids back.

In 2012, the issue of child apprehension in Canada reached a boiling point; moreIndigenous children were in the care of the state than were in Indian ResidentialSchools in the mid-20th century (Assembly of First Nations, 2006). [p. 411 ] Removalof Indigenous children, with tragic and violent results, is increasingly being referredto as Canadas new national colonial crime (Hughes, 2006; Foster and Wharf, 2007;Pivot Legal Society, 2008). Working with Sandy to have her children returned openedmy eyes to how advocacy and scholarly enquiry can work together, particularly forgeographers interested in social justice. At the applied, embodied, and micro-scalesite of Sandys particular needs, advocacy involves filling in forms, helping to drivesomeone to the court house, being present in meetings with lawyers and social workers,and/or just listening and strategizing about financial crisis and how to afford food andfurniture. These steps awoke in me a deep appreciation about how confusing andalienating powerful social systems can be for those who are not fluent in them or whofeel subjugated by them. Community-based advocacy work requires building system-navigation skills while consistently advocating for system change.

More than three years of continuously advocating with individual women, primarilywithin the boundaries of one community, left me feeling that broader and more systemicchange might require tackling macro-scale issues like anti-Indigenous racism, theascendance of Eurocolonial normativities into hegemonic systems with the power tointervene into spaces of poor and historically marginalized people and families, andeven the taken-for-grantedness of white settler colonialism. Advocacy work with anindividual woman in a womens centre in northern BC, therefore, compelled me to beginadvocating for social change and social justice across broader geographies, in booksand journals with national and international reach, with government policymakers inpower and post-secondary students who will go forward into positions of power, andwith organizations often run by and devoted to lobbying for the health and well-being ofIndigenous peoples.




Analysing the spatiality of social injustices provides a powerful means through whichto work out how power operates: the apprehension of Sandys children, for instance,was intricately linked to powerful assumptions about what constitutes safe and morallycorrect spaces for a family. Sandys migration to the city where I worked involvedcrossing colonially imposed boundaries of Indian Reserve and non-Indian Reserve,boundaries etched in law, land, and socio-cultural imaginations about where somepeople belong and others do not. Advocating for and with Sandy was transformativefor me, in great part because it made clear the geographic undergirding of socialinjustices that are so punitively lived and experienced by far too many people. If poweris underwritten by eminently geographic structures, so too might it be destabilized bygeographers advocating for social justice.

I continue to work with womens and First Nations organizations and I tackle questionsabout social injustices from a feminist anti-racist geographic standpoint. I do so in greatpart because I know Sandys children were never returned to her. Nor did they everagain live together as a family unit. My ongoing frontline work and academic research inhealth and geography is anchored in the deep belief that what Sandy experienced wasunjust and even inhumane. Change needs to be advocated for, one person at a time.

Nathaniel

Several years ago, as a new PhD student, I hadnt considered myself an advocate perse or even someone with the type of political or leadership role who could provide aworthwhile account of advocacy in the academy. I was openly (and proudly) gay buthad never been directly engaged with political campaigns and fundraisers, and I hadnever seen myself as an activist. My concept of my work (and myself) was probablyinfluenced by too much pragmatism rather than not enough politics. I had just finishedan intensive Masters program and was embarking on a new degree that requireddevising a project, funding it, and publishing it especially if I [p. 412 ] wanted to finda job afterwards. I was, admittedly, more worried about how to do all of those thingsthan I was about whether or not my research would effect change or make a politicalstatement. Yet I had also made a substantive change in my research at that point,shifting my focus from Canadian immigration policy to queer migration. Little did I knowthat this would be a first step toward becoming an unexpected advocate.




I had chosen to study gay mens migrations within North America, originally by lookingat the role of mental and emotional health, but ultimately through the broader lens ofthe life course. As it turned out, the next few years were a formative or at least, visible time for issues of gay rights, identities, and other factors that might influence themobility of gay men and other queer people. And my point of view would now seemto matter more than it had before, not because the events of 20092011 signalledan increase in anti-gay stigma or a backlash against previous progress (mostly theopposite, in fact), but because they seemed to flatten already simplistic popularconceptions of the way that gay lives, identities, social stigma, and migration areintertwined. During these years, Iowa, Vermont, New Hampshire, and New York joinedMassachusetts, Connecticut, and Canada as North American jurisdictions legalizing

same-sex marriage.3 The trends that seemed most to capture the imagination ofNorth America, however, were more discursive than legal. In September 2010, the ItGets Better Project sponsored by the Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network(GLSEN) created a series of videos in which celebrities advised gay youth experiencingbullying, depression, and other struggles that their circumstances will improve withage and over time. This programme has been critiqued elsewhere (see Puar, 2010) asa neoliberal program that asks young gay people to grin and bear it until they havethe opportunity to among other things move to a university campus or a big city,but it was not this trend that bothered me the most. The same period of time had alsoproduced a rash of articles in the gay media of many cities employing the figure ofthe post-mo, a usually white, usually middle-class, and apparently already liberatedgay male who eschews pride parades and gay villages in favour of better, cooler,alternative options (see, for example, Aguirre-Livingston 2011).

What was concerning about these events was not any kind of anti-gay ideology they each reflected a notion of progress in their own way but the ways in whichthey seemed to flatten gay peoples experiences of place in a way to that made itconsumable or understandable. As I began conducting field research in Ottawa,and meeting new friends along the way, I was frequently faced with the inevitablequestion, So, whats your research on? When I answered gay migration (the moststraightforward description I could think of), I was surprised to find that many people gay and straight alike tended to express what they felt was an implicit understandingof the project: Oh, so you study how gay people move to cities? This is not to say




that these types of responses were directly informed by the media discourses of themoment; more that they reflected a long-standing idea of gay migration as a form ofmaking do that somehow results in emancipating oneself in the big city.

Increasingly, I found myself positioned as an everyday advocate (Thompson, 2004)for more nuanced understandings of queer peoples mobilities. Far from a special skillor special field, these everyday conversations involved carefully explaining how theresearch uncovered the centrality of migration for gay men throughout the life course,not just before age 25 (when many are assumed to come out) or before escaping toa city like Ottawa or Washington, DC. I found myself drawing on the narratives frommy research to illuminate for others the point that the force of anti-gay stigma did notterminate with any particular age, place, or move. I talked about men who moved toa new place only to re-closet themselves for a particular job, or those [p. 413 ]who moved from ostensibly liberal places (Seattle, WA, or Austin, TX) because thefear of coming out to family members or friends was so overriding that they felt morecomfortable managing the process from afar. I found myself arguing that the gay village,which might be just an antiquated collection of bars to a disaffected (and privileged)Torontonian or San Franciscan, was perhaps the most important first point of contactwith the community for a young person who had just arrived from a far-off town in say,the Ottawa Valley or western Virginia.

These types of conversation-based exchanges are not the same as the moreconcentrated, smoother messaging of an organized campaign or op-ed piece (perhapsthose are yet to come), but they may offer something different. My casual conversationsthat had begun with someone invoking the big city trope usually ended with a pauseand, sometimes, a realization that he or she had never thought of it that way before.Gay friends and colleagues who read the research found pieces of their own experiencewithin it, while many of the interviewees themselves felt that providing a narrativeoffered a sort of post hoc lens for journeys that they had previously conceived as part ofjust getting by. In the past few years of everyday conversations, I hope, too, that I haveshown that gay migrations are not simply a wandering search for identity or a processof getting by, but a symptom of a highly variegated North American landscape of gayrights, social acceptance, and stigma that is still fundamentally insecure and uneven.




Cheryl

Nestled in the midst of Queens University, Ontario, is the Ban Righ Centre, the onlyuniversity facility in Canada designed specifically with mature women students in mind.The centre is a home away from home for women students of all ages due to itsintentional creation as a safe place. Situated in an historic brick building, it looks morelike a house than an institutional setting, and it is used by groups who take seriously thedifference that place makes.

I begin this story with a description of the Ban Righ Centre because it exemplifiesthe importance of creating safe, welcoming, and comforting places, especially forindividuals who may be marginalized in some way. My personal use of the Ban RighCentre has included using it as a meeting place for the women who participated in aresearch project that explored immigrant womens experiences of vulnerability afterarriving in Canada. I wanted to provide a safe and comfortable place in which immigrantwomen could share their emotional geographies.

The research involved conducting focus groups where participants shared photographsand told stories about their experiences in particular places within the city (photovoice).The groups met on numerous occasions, enabling them to explore deeply and shareemotional experiences, but also to enhance the rapport between the participants, aswell as between the participants and myself. They created moments of sharing thatbecame more personal as time went on.

It was ML who first shared her frustrating experiences with the transit system. ML hadbeen waiting for the city bus and was standing at the bus stop only to be ignored by thebus driver, who simply drove by. ML was upset because not only did this incident makeher late for the focus group but it also was not the first time that such an experiencehad occurred. ML had personally endured or witnessed numerous experiences ofdiscrimination at the hands of city bus drivers. After she told her story, other participantsbegan sharing their own experiences of having been ignored or treated badly by busdrivers. One participant had even had a bus driver get out of the drivers seat, walkto the back of the bus, and yell at her because she had asked for a transfer. Othershad had bus drivers comment on their appearance or perceived ethnicity. By the end




of the third focus group, it was obvious that participants were being discriminatedagainst based on their race, [p. 414 ] since all of the participants who shared badexperiences were non-white. They began discussing what we should do to deal with theproblem.

We decided that one means of addressing the issue of discrimination was to usevarious techniques to make the public aware of the types of experience encounteredby women.One important aspect of the photovoice methodology is to use photographyexhibitions to share what was learned during the focus group segment of the research,and so the participants and I began planning how to go about conveying the issue oftransit discrimination in an exhibition setting. We did so by focusing on their emotionalexperiences in different places and we created themes (such as places of vulnerability,safe places, and places of comfort) to provide a framework of understanding for theaudience. Invitations to attend the photography exhibition were sent to the public,including the mayors office.

Although the exhibition of the photographs was a powerful means of conveyinghow immigrant women were experiencing the city, we also needed to approach thesubject of discrimination in a more direct manner. With the permission and supportof the participants, I began contacting local media, who quickly responded and setup interviews with myself and any participant who wanted to be included. Three localnewspapers ran stories in which the subject of discrimination was discussed. Onenewspaper even wrote a three-part series and sought feedback from the participants,myself, and city officials.

After our interviews with the media, I began sending email messages to the mayorsoffice and the city transit office, who both responded to my appeals to meet and discussthe issue. Meetings took place and, in some cases, focus group participants attended toshare their experiences and provide suggestions for change. Our goal in meeting withpublic officials was both to make them aware of what was going on as well as to discussviable options for dealing with discrimination. We wanted to ensure that city officialsrealized that there was a problem and that it was their responsibility to find ways to stopdiscrimination from occurring, at least at the hands of city employees.




Advocating for social change is an ongoing process that takes time to realize. Byfocusing on the emotional geographies of my participants, my research projecthighlighted how women with different social identities can experience place in verydifferent ways. When those who have the power to shape place pay attention to thecreation of safe and welcoming places (like the Ban Righ Centre), individuals whofrequent those places can feel comfortable and make the most of their time within thatplace; whereas when there is a lack of attention to the creation of safe and welcomingplaces (like in cities where little attention has been paid to how to create inclusiveplaces), immigrants (and other marginalized individuals and groups) can feel alienatedand vulnerable to discrimination.

Advocating for change within the context of my research did have an impact. Afternumerous meetings with the transit office, those in management began to take the issueof discrimination much more seriously. The research participants also felt empoweredby their role in bringing the issue to the public and have since commented that theyhave noticed bus drivers being more courteous. By paying attention to the role of placeand emotions, my geographical research was able to positively affect the lives of notonly my participants but also the greater public.

Catherine

How could we turn away? How could we simply leave and do nothing? Impossible. Itwas the middle of May 2010, just days into the rainy season when we made the trip toLote 8, one of the dozens of Maya-Qeqchi villages scattered within the Sierra de SantaCruz in far eastern Guatemala. Where to begin? Lote 8 - testimonies and faces nowetched in our minds forever. I continue to see the anguished faces, trauma without end,[p. 415 ] hunger, complete insecurity, a community in shock after surviving a seriesof violent evictions at the hands of more than 800 military, police, and private securityforces at the request of a Canadian mining company three years earlier in January2007. Ever since INCO sold the Fenix mine to Vancouver-based Skye Resources in2004 and the serious potential for mining arose again, the companys tactics to clear outindividuals and communities living within the concession had become more and morebrutal and deceitful.




We were there to explore these issues on the ground as part of the University ofNorthern British Columbia field delegation organized every two years with GrahameRussell of Rights Action which is connected to the Geographies of Culture, Rightsand Power course that I run most years. We explore issues of justice-seeking, power/disempowerment, genocide, impunity, gangs and so on as national issues with localexpression and has having wider North-South implications. If we really want to seemore than the surface that reveals itself as extreme violence and dysfunction, we haveto talk with the people who are experiencing injustice in their everyday lives, with peoplewho are trying to change these conditions, and with artists, anthropologists, lawyers,filmmakers, academics, activists, company executives, government representatives,Canadian Embassy staff, and so on. Therefore, these delegations never happen withouta whole lot of emotion. Sadness, grief, rage but also hope, inspiration, and love.

Since my first days in Guatemala in 1992, I have attempted for some 20 years, tounderstand power, violence, genocide, exile, impunity, and justice-seeking. To do thisimpossible task, I value testimonio as a tool for individual and community recollectionof traumatic events. Some 12 years ago, my friend Finola Shankar and I wrote aboutthe need for geographers and others interested in understanding political violence toembrace testimonio, a method that honours the authority of men and women to speakfor themselves. We note that testimonies recount personal experiences and communalstruggles that are shared with the community of the narrator; thus, the subject of thesememories speak not only for him/herself, but on behalf of the whole community. Wesaw testimonio as a flexible alternative to more structured interviewing when we arepositioning ourselves as researchers in solidarity with the people with whom we work.

In this spirit of testimonio gathering, we started off on this most difficult task of collectingtestimonies of the violent evictions at the request of the community of Lote 8. We leftthe town of El Estor in the back of a pick-up truck, drove past the mine site itself, downthe rough, gravel road until we reached Chichipate and turn north on to an even rougherroad to climb into the mountains. We reached the original site of the community burned down during the violent evictions where several community members metus to guide us up into the new site. Such a seemingly peaceful scene, but here wereinvestigating massive human rights violations. Approximately, 60 people awaited ourarrival: men, women, children, infants, sitting in the open-air, community meeting space.Community activist Maria Magdelena Cuc Choc served as a translator from Qeqchi




to Spanish and Grahame Russell translated from Spanish to English. Beginnings aredifficult, but once the memories turned to words, these strong and determined peoplespoke for more than an hour. Why do they treat us like animals? Like something theydo not know? It was on January 9, 2007, when they arrived, Ral told us: hundredsof national police, Guatemalan military soldiers, and the companys private securityforces fired tear gas and bullets, forcing them out of the village and into the surroundingwoods, took their possessions and burned down all 100 homes.

I sat among many women and children who smiled and chatted during the menstestimonies. My heart stopped when Ral turned to us and said, And this was when the[p. 416 ] women were violated. It is time that their stories are heard. One by one thewomen around me stood up to tell of the outrageous trauma they experienced duringthe evictions. The first woman to stand came forward and said I am scared. Afterhearing that, one by one, several more women came forward with her to recount thegang rape, loss of pregnancies, and death of a young child during the violent evictions.

None of us was ready for this story. How could we be? The women had not spoken ofthese rapes before the trauma of remembering what happened led many to havingheadaches and body aches just as if it all happened yesterday. A fire ceremony broughtthe testimonio-giving and gathering to a close. Please denounce this. Please take thisto the President of Canada. We demand that your leaders get this company out of here.And then they blessed us: Bless your paths whichever way they go and as long as ittook for the candles to burn, this beautiful community prayed and cried and fell to theirknees, and sobbed. Praying for us and for themselves.

Our connection to this place and these people is forever. We immediately knew that wewould follow through on their request. We can offer so little and we always emphasizethat but we can dig deeper into their story, document it, track down sources, andshare anything that we find with them. As a group, that very evening, we decided tosubmit a formal human rights violation complaint to the Canadian Embassy, in person,and to the Minister of Foreign Affairs. We made this decision to act, not on their behalf,but in response to their requests that we demand from our leaders to get the company

out of there. We delivered that formal complaint and received only silence in reply.4

Therefore, the graduate students and I made the decision to return a few months later,




after funds could be found, with Rights Action, a documentary photographer (JamesRodriguez) and a human rights lawyer (Cory Wanless) to revisit the communities, re-confirm details, dates, and damages, and to work towards the development of a lawsuitsince the human rights violation complaint seemed to had no impact.

I am proud to say that, supported by our research, on 28 March 2011 a civil lawsuitwas launched in Toronto against Hudbay Minerals (the new mine owners) and itssubsidiary, HMI Nickel, asking for $55 million dollars in general and punitive damages

for the negligence of HMI and its previous owner, Vancouver-based Skye Resources.5

Eleven Maya-Qeqchi women from the community of Lote 8 allege in the lawsuit thatthe company failed to prevent gang rape at the hands of uniformed company securityguards, the Guatemalan national police, and the military, during a violent eviction fromtheir ancestral lands in January 2007. The community lives on what Hudbay claimsis company land within the concession of its Fenix Mine, one of several communitiesbeing told that they are intruders on company property and that they must leave.

We await the decision of the Canadian courts will this case be heard? It is outof our hands now - but soon I am to return to Guatemala with some of the samegraduate students and new undergraduate students in our most recent delegation fullof commitment and a sense that we are activists/scholars who will keep chipping awayat the impunity that surrounds human rights violations and crimes in Guatemala. Wewill keep returning, writing, documenting, advocating, denouncing. Mara, Rosa, Sofa,Dominga, Luisa, Carmelina, Irma, Amelia, Luca, Elvira, Aurelia, Elena, and Margarita we will not forget you.

Discussion

These are stories not about geographers fixing the world, but about how geographershave participated in changing the world, and about how they have themselvesbeen changed in the process. The stories highlight how each of us advanced ourunderstanding [p. 417 ] and ability to move from the small changes that occur atspecific advocacy moments to the larger questions of understanding, and possiblyaffecting, systemic injustices. For Sarah and Cheryl, already established community




advocates, research provided a means of connecting from the grassroots to largertheories of social change. For Audrey, Meghan, and Nathaniel, it was the opposite:research demanded that they go beyond established scholarship to become advocates.For Catherine advocacy itself defined the process from beginning to end. The storiesalso tell of a range of scales, from national to local policy to the politics of the personal.

Advocacy is a recursive process that involves intersections of the scholarly and thesocial. If it is axiomatic that all research is social (Staeheli and Mitchell, 2005), it isnot axiomatic that advocacy is equally effective in outcome or in scope. Indeed, thegeography of advocacy geography makes a difference. We advocate in small andlarge ways, in short- or long-term time sequences, sometimes with detailed planningand strategy and sometimes spontaneously. We work in a range of political contexts,where sometimes the ground upon which our actions play out is ready to be cultivated,and sometimes it is hard and unyielding. And if sometimes the results are partial orineffective, there is always a possibility that our efforts can backfire, creating unintendedconsequences that may be worse than the original situation. The political context inwhich we advocate also has an enormous effect on consequences.

If the point is to change it (Castree et al. 2010), we also need to ask difficult questionsabout our motivations and methods. Of course, we are ideologically and normativelymotivated to seek social justice. It is difficult for those committed to justice to pull backfrom trying to make a world without racism, sexism, and homophobia. The strength ofour advocacy is in the extent to which our actions accord with our geographical theories,those ideas that make sense of the world and also allow us to imagine a different world.Relevance in application (Staeheli and Mitchell, 2005: 364) may not always involvepushing our complex theories directly upon communities, but those theories inform ouractions and, hopefully, our advocacy experiences enrich and inform our theories. Thetheoryaction dialectic is immensely complex.

We often find ourselves advocating within the discipline of geography to changetheoretical perspectives on social justice. The discipline as a whole (notwithstandingearly interventions in Antipode) was little invested in questions of anti-racism, anti-homophobia and the intersections of oppression in the 1980s. In 2012, there waswidespread commitment to understanding and overcoming the effects of racism,colonialism, and masculinism, but both our theories and our social actions address




moving targets: intellectual and social conditions that shift, transform, replace and ekeout new landscapes. They respatialize and in so doing challenge us to develop newtheories and new advocacy strategies. More than four decades after the debates overadvocacy began, we inhabit a world in which neoliberalism has affected profoundly thevery landscapes in which we advocate. The array of theories and methodologies hasalso expanded to the point that there is now debate over whether radical geographyhas been enriched or impoverished by the interventions of feminism, anti-racism,postcolonialism, and poststructuralism in general.

But we need to return to Peets (1977) argument about the dangers of reinforcingliberalism while ignoring the bigger picture. We still face the gargantuan task ofmaintaining sight of the big theoretical picture when circumstances on the groundthreaten to consume all our energy. Not since the 1960s has the world seen such anupsurge of civil society engagement, ranging from the violent confrontations in theMiddle East to rising activist movements across Asia, and the Occupy movement in theWest. Geographers are involved as participants and observers in those movements,but they are also and more numerously involved in small-scale, mundane, everydaysituations where seeing the big picture change is difficult. [p. 418 ] The weight ofresearch in recent decades, and our own modest experiences, tell us that we needgeographers to cover the full spectrum of actions and changes, recognizing that ourimpacts will vary and our choices may not always result in outcomes we can control.The challenge to work simultaneously on understanding the big picture and advocatingon a small scale is huge, but one informs the other.

Finally, consider this. A few women of colour and a geographer in the small city ofKingston, Canada, stood up to some racist bus drivers, not unlike Rosa Parks whobecame a rallying symbol for the US Civil Rights Movement after she refused to moveto the back of the bus in Montgomery, Alabama, in 1955. Neither of those women inKingston nor Rosa Parks remade the world on their own, but together they resisted andtheir voices were heard.

Notes




1 The fascinating comments of the Antipode editors reflect the changes andchallenges of the journal since its inception, available at: http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/journal/10.1111/%28ISSN%291467-8330/homepage/editor_s_past_reflections.htm(accessed 16 April 2012).

2 This chapter uses the first names of all co-authors throughout.

3 This is not intended to downplay or obscure the amendments passed by Maine andArizona during this time, the ongoing US Defense of Marriage Act (1996), or the lawsin several states that either restrict marriage to one man and one woman or restrict anylegal recognition of same-sex unions.

4 The updated formal human rights violation complaint is available at: http://www.unbc.ca/geography/guatemala_2010/index.html

5 Full details of the lawsuit are available on this website, maintained bythe Toronto-based law firm Klippensteins, Barristers and Solicitors: http://www.chocversushudbay.com

References

[p. 420 ]

Aguirre-Livingston, P. (2011). Dawn of a new gay . The Grid Toronto , 9 June 2011.Available at: http://thegridto.com/city/sexuality/dawn-of-a-new-gay (Accessed on 19Febraury 2014).

Asch, M. (ed). 2002 Aboriginal treaty rights in Canada: essays on law, equality, andrespect for difference . Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.

Assembly of First Nations (2006). Leadership action plan on child welfare . Ottawa. ON:Assembly of First Nations.

Blomley, N. (1994). Activism and the academy . Environment and Planning D: Societyand Space , 12, 383385.
http://www.sagepub.comhttp://knowledge.sagepub.comhttp://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/journal/10.1111/%28ISSN%291467-8330/homepage/editor_s_past_reflections.htmhttp://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/journal/10.1111/%28ISSN%291467-8330/homepage/editor_s_past_reflections.htmhttp://www.unbc.ca/geography/guatemala_2010/index.htmlhttp://www.unbc.ca/geography/guatemala_2010/index.htmlhttp://www.chocversushudbay.comhttp://www.chocversushudbay.comhttp://thegridto.com/city/sexuality/dawn-of-a-new-gay




British Columbia Provincial Health Officer (2001). Report on the health of BritishColumbians. Provincial Health Officers Annual Report 2001. The health and well-beingof aboriginal people in British Columbia . Victoria, BC: Ministry of Health Planning.

British Columbia Provincial Health Officer (2002). The health and well-being of people inBritish Columbia . Victoria, BC: Ministry of Health Planning.

British Columbia Provincial Health Officer (2007). Pathways to health and healing: 2ndreport on the health and well-being of aboriginal people in British Columbia . ProvincialHealth Officers Annual Report 2007. Victoria, BC: Ministry of Healthy Living and Sport.

Brooks, M. (2008). Imagining Canada, negotiating belonging: understanding theexperiences of second generation Canadians of colour . Canadian Diversity , 6(2), 7578.

Bunge, W. (1971). Fitzgerald: geography of a revolution . Cambridge, MA: Shenkman.

Cameron, J. and Gibson, K. (2005). Participatory action research in a poststructuralistvein . Geoforum , 36(3), 315331.

Castree, N. (1999). Out there? In here? Domesticating critical geography . Area , 31,8186.

Castree, N. et al (Eds.). (2010). The Point Is To Change It: Geographies of Hope andSurvival in an Age of Crisis Hoboken NJ Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell.

Chatterton, P. (2006). Give up activism and change the world in unknown ways: or,learning to walk with others on uncommon ground . Antipode , 38, 259281.

Cloke, P. (2002). Deliver us from evil? Prospects for living ethically and acting politicallyin human geography . Progress in Human Geography , 26, 587604.

Earickson, R. (1971). Poverty and race: the bane of access to essential public services .Antipode , 3(1), 18.




Foster, L.T. and B.Wharf. (2007). People, politics, and child welfare in British Columbia .Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.

Horvath, R.J. (1970). On the relevance of participant observation . Antipode , 2(1), 3037.

Hughes, T. (2006). BC Children and youth review: an independent review of BCs ChildProtection System. Submitted to the Minister of Children and Family Development bythe Honourable Ted Hughes .

Kindon, S. (2010). Participation . In S.J.Smith, R.Pain, S.A.Marston, and J.P.JonesIII(eds), The sage handbook of social geographies (pp. 517545). London, UK: Sage.

Kindon, S., Pain, R., and Kesby, M. (eds). (2008). Participatory action researchapproaches and methods: connecting people, participation and place . Abingdon, UK:Routledge.

Lentin, A. (2004). Racial States, Anti-Racist Responses: Picking Holes in Culture andHuman Rights . European Journal of Social Theory , 7(4), 427443.

Massey, D. (2004). Geographies of responsibility . Geografiska Annaler , (86B), 518.

Merrifield, A. (1995). Situated knowledge through exploration: reflections on Bungesgeographical expeditions . Antipode , 27(1), 4970.

Maxey, I. (1999). Beyond boundaries? Activism, academia, reflexivity and research .Area , 31, 199208.

McKinnon, K. (2007). Postdevelopment, professionalism and the politics ofparticipation . Annals of the Association of American Geographers , 97(4), 772785.

Pain, R. (2003). Social geography: on action-oriented research . Progress in HumanGeography , 7, 649657.

Peet, R. (ed.). (1977). Radical geography: alternative viewpoints on contemporarysocial issues . Chicago, IL: Maaroufa.




Pivot Legal Society and The Law Foundation of British Columbia. (2008). Brokenpromises: parents speak about BCs child welfare system . Vancouver, BC: The LawFoundation of British Columbia.

Puar.J. (2010). In the wake of It Gets Better . The Guardian , 16 November. Availableat: http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/cifamerica/2010/nov/16/wake-it-gets-better-campaign (Accessed on 19 Febraury 2014).

Roach, R. and Rosas, B. (1972). Advocacy geography . Antipode , 4, 6976.

Routledge, P. (2009). Activist geographies . In R.Kitchin and N.Thrift (eds), Internationalencyclopedia of human geography (pp. 714). Waltham, MA: Elsevier.

Sparke, Matthew (1998). A map that roared and an original atlas: Canada, cartography,and the narration of nation . Annals of the Association of American Geographers , 88(3),463495.

Staeheli, L. and Mitchell, D. (2005). The complex politics of relevance in geography .Annals of the Association of American Geographers , 95(2), 357372.

Staeheli, L. and Mitchell, D. (2010). Relevance . In S.J.Smith, R.Pain, S.A.Marston andJ.P.JonesIII (eds), The Sage handbook of social geographies (pp. 546559). London,UK: Sage.

Statistics Canada. (2002). Ethnic diversity survey: portrait of a multicultural society .Catalogue No. 89-593-XIE. Ottawa, ON: Statistics Canada.

Thompson, S.A. (2004). Operation Special: interrogating the queer production ofeveryday myths in special education . In J.McNinch and M.Cronin (eds), I could notspeak my heart: education and social justice for gay and lesbian youth (pp. 273288).Regina, SK: Canadian Plains Research Center.

Wisner, B. (1970). Advocacy and geography: the case of Bostons urban planning aid .Antipode , 2(1), 2529.
http://www.sagepub.comhttp://knowledge.sagepub.comhttp://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/cifamerica/2010/nov/16/wake-it-gets-better-campaignhttp://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/cifamerica/2010/nov/16/wake-it-gets-better-campaign




Zelinsky, W. (1970). Beyond the exponentials: the role of geography in the GreatTransition . Economic Geography , 46(3), 498535.

http://dx.doi.org/10.4135/9781446247617.n19
http://www.sagepub.comhttp://knowledge.sagepub.comhttp://dx.doi.org/10.4135/9781446247617.n19

advocacy, chapitre du livre

Documents