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Hated Identities: Queers and Canadian Anti-hate Legislation1 Dawn Moore Carleton University Angus MacLean Rennie McGill University

En s’inspirant de la the´orie gaie et du post-structuralisme, les auteurs analysent deux actes de violence a` l’endroit de personnes gaies, soit les meurtres de M. Alain Brousseau et de M. Aaron Webster. Ils soutiennent que, dans les deux cas, le mode d’application des lois contre les crimes de haine re´ve`le la nature proble´matique des efforts de´ploye´s pour figer juridiquement l’identite´ sexuelle. Selon la loi, le fait d’eˆtre gai serait inne´ et e´vident. Or l’analyse de´montre que l’identite´ sexuelle est dynamique et tributaire de divers facteurs et qu’elle n’est pas force´ment auto-determine´e graˆce a` l’application des lois contre le crime haineux. Les collectivite´s politise´es, les acteurs judiciaires, les agresseurs et les me´dias participent tous a` la de´marche visant a` « nommer » et a` figer l’identite´ gaie. Drawing on queer theory and post-structuralism, this article explores two ‘‘gay bashings,’’ the murders of Alain Brousseau and Aaron Webster. In both cases, we argue that the application of anti-hate crime legislation reveals the troubling nature of attempts to legally fix sexual identities. The law imagines gayness to be innate and obvious. These cases show that sexual identity is fluid and contingent. Our study also shows that, through the application of hate-crime law, sexual identification is not necessarily self-determined. Politicized communities, legal actors, assailants, and media all participate in naming someone’s ‘‘gayness.’’

Introduction The matter of the victim’s identity as a member of a targeted (minority) group is a central and taken-for-granted feature of Canadian anti-hate laws. Our critical examination of two hate crimes, however, shows that the victim’s identity is far from easily defined. Rather, following observations gleaned from queer theory and post-structuralism, identity proves fluid and ill defined. We study two ‘‘gay bashings,’’ the murder of Alain Brousseau in Ottawa

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and of Aaron Webster in Vancouver. In exploring legal and community mobilizing around and reactions to these cases, we argue that vague concepts such as ‘‘identity’’ do not fit well with law’s need to prove facts ‘‘beyond a reasonable doubt.’’ Instead of establishing the truth of a victim’s identity, our case studies illustrate different ways identities are written and rewritten by actors involved in these cases.

Canadian hate-crime law In Canada, hate crime is governed under two separate sections of the Criminal Code. Sections 318 and 319 criminalize the public communication of statements intended to incite hatred or genocide against an identifiable group. Section 718.2, the newest anti-hate legislation (and the subject of our inquiry), directs a sentencing judge to consider, among other factors, motivation based on bias or hate against an identifiable group as an aggravating factor in the commission of a crime. In both pieces of legislation, the victim’s identity as a member of a targeted and protected group is central to the application of the law. We are interested in two questions regarding these laws. First, how is this identity established? Second, who gets to decide on this identity? These questions are important because they challenge the assumption that identity can be proven and known: that it is somehow essential. This challenge assists in our critique of these laws by identifying the problematic of attempts to reify legal identities external to the individual or group in question.

True identities Section 318 of the Criminal Code defines an identity group as ‘‘any section of the public distinguished by colour, race, religion, ethnic origin or sexual orientation.’’ Section 718.2(a)(i) takes an even broader definition, including, ‘‘race, national or ethnic origin, language, colour, religion, sex, age, mental or physical disability, sexual orientation or any other similar factor.’’ The common law tradition allows for judicial interpretation of broad legislative definitions through the doctrine of precedent. While both sections have been subject to interpretation through precedent-setting cases, Martin’s annotated Criminal Code for 2005 (the most recent available) indicates no interpretations of identity and group membership (Greenspan and Rosenberg 2005). The assumption that there is no need to explore the meaning of identity and group membership is reflected in debates surrounding these laws.

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For example, in presenting the s. 718.2 amendment to the House of Commons, then Justice Minister Alan Rock noted that sexual orientation is so clear and obvious that it requires no definition: We have referred to sexual orientation [in the proposed legalisation]. We have not found it necessary to define the term because its meaning is clear. Since 1977 the term has been included in human rights legislation in eight provinces and territories in Canada. There has never been any difficulty in interpreting or defining or applying that term as it is found in those provincial and territorial statutes. No question has ever been raised about what it means. (Canada, HC1995: 1535)

This assumption of clarity speaks to broader, comfortable assumptions about the immutability of identity as it is understood and presented in these laws. Identity categories stemming from race, ethnicity, sexuality, or, it seems, ‘‘any other similar factor,’’ need no definition because they are somehow obvious, natural facts and easily read in law. Critical scholars, however, would have us understand identity quite differently. Rather than being fixed and essential, the link between words (signifiers) and the concepts or things they represent (signifieds) is both relational and mutable (Derrida 1991). That is, there is no fixed or absolute link between a word and its meaning. This concept is familiar in a number of critical theoretical movements, including queer theory. While queer theory emerges in part from the gay liberation movement (GLM), it pushes the bounds of thinking about sexuality well beyond what the liberationists imagined. Liberationists took gay and lesbian identities as the core of a movement that sought to normalize what was previously pathologized and vilified. Coming out and claiming a gay or lesbian sexual identity were seen as crucial political acts for the emancipatory agenda. It was from this platform that queer theory and queer politics were born. Queer theory is a way of complimenting the work done by the liberationists without holding to the categories and identities that form the bedrock of the GLM. Contemporary queer theorists base much of their insights on the foundations laid by Michel Foucault in The History of Sexuality (1978). Foucault suggests that, despite claims to the contrary, discourse surrounding sexuality (and a number of other identity categories) is ambiguous. The ‘‘homosexual,’’ as Foucault shows, is not a ‘‘given.’’ Rather, the identity of homosexual emerged in the late Victorian era out of a particular constellation of social, scientific, historical, and cultural factors. By the end of the

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nineteenth century, a set of behaviours (mainly sodomy) had become a subject (the homosexual). Contemporary queer theorists take Foucault’s cue and trouble assumptions about the truth of sexual identities by deploying critical discursive analysis (see Butler 1990; Cooper 1994; Sedgewick 1990; Stychin 1995). Judith Butler (1990; 2004) rejects essentialist notions of gender and sexuality. In this vein, ‘‘gayness’’ is an iteration of performance, not essence. Butler takes aim at movements such as the GLM (as well as other strains of identity politics) that assume a common experience built around a normative concept of a shared ontological identity. Being gay is not a natural truth but, rather, a performed expression of an identity whose definition is rooted in normalizing governing structures, imagined gender binaries, and stereotypes of maleness and femaleness. We are concerned here with the queer identity category. We use the term ‘‘queer’’ throughout this article to denote two different things. We refer to queer theory and queer politics as particular intellectual and political movements. We also use the term ‘‘Queer’’ as a politicized shorthand that embraces the notion of fluidity and refers to a broad spectrum of sexual and gender identities that are ‘‘other’’ than heterosexual, including (but not limited to) lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, two-spirited, gay, and transsexual. The term ‘‘gay’’ is also used in this work as a means of flagging discursive moments in which a fixed notion of identity is implied.

Alain Brousseau Largely because of its location and timing, the murder of Alain Brousseau is often held up as one of the landmark cases of hate crime targeting queers in Canada. Brousseau’s murder is cited regularly in parliamentary debates concerning hate crimes and sexual identity. Beyond this parliamentary celebration, Brousseau also became iconic in the queer community in Ottawa, where many adduce his death as the catalyst to change specifically around the policing of gay bashings. The Ottawa Citizen reported in 1989 that men had been ‘‘falling off cliffs’’ in Major’s Hill Park (‘‘Police: Inquest’’ 1989), a well-known ‘‘cruising’’2 location in the city’s core (Herland 1996). Initially, the sexual identity of the victims of these ‘‘falls’’ was not acknowledged by either the mainstream press or Ottawa police. The queer community, however, viewed these incidents as hate crimes.

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Frustration within the queer community over the haphazard police response to attacks on gay men intensified following the 1989 murder of Brousseau. A waiter at the Chaˆteau Laurier, Brousseau was stopped on his way home from work by a gang of young men who beat him before throwing him, still alive, from a bridge into the Ottawa River. Journalistic accounts and testimonies from community activists and police alike tend to portray this crime as a watershed case in the development of queer–police collaborations. In the wake of Brousseau’s murder, the Ottawa queer community engaged in an organized mobilization to address the problem of gay bashing in the city. As a result of these efforts, the GLBT Community Police Liaison Committee was formed and a ‘‘Bias Crime’’ unit was created within Ottawa Police Services.3 Accounts of the trial give convincing evidence that Brousseau’s murder was motivated by hatred toward queers. The Ottawa Citizen, reporting on the trials of Thomas MacDougall and Jeffrey Lalonde (two of the four people convicted for Brousseau’s murder), quoted the assailants admitting in open court that they were out ‘‘just to roll a queer’’ (‘‘Man Jailed’’ 1990). Over the course of the investigation, it became apparent that Brousseau did not actually identify as gay and was known by everyone in his life as a heterosexual. That his assailants assumed he was gay by reading sexual signs (he was near a cruising location late at night and wore nice shoes) was enough for his death to be understood as a gay bashing. Brousseau, regardless of who he was when he was alive, becomes iconic to the Queer community in his death because his assailants assigned an identity to him. Brousseau is frequently referred to in gay and alternative presses whenever queer bashing is raised. Individuals responding to a recent article in Ottawa’s main alternative weekly, The Xpress, were quick to respond to the author’s fleeting (and trite) mention of gay bashing in Ottawa by citing the importance of personalizing the issue by naming Brousseau and giving an account of the crime (Hill 2005). This same response also flags an innovative and ostensibly effective strategy broadly taken up by the Queer community and its supporters in the wake of revelations of Brousseau’s mistaken identity. One letter-writer commenting on Brousseau’s story cautions, the straight community should take an interest in supporting this [anti ^ hate crime] Committee too & similar efforts to put an end to homophobia & hate crime motivated by sexual orientation or

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gender expression. After all . . . Alain was only perceived to be gay. (Thomas 2005; emphasis added)

Here the fluidity of identity is apparent. People who identify as straight must also fight hate crime because, like Brousseau, they might also be mistaken for queer. This line of reasoning was deployed in Parliament during debates on Bill C-41 (which later became s. 718.2 of the Criminal Code). Here the, ‘‘you too could be mistaken for gay’’ caution was levied strategically in response to right-wing criticism decrying the legislation for extending special protections to a minority of the population. In response, MPs in favour of the legislation argued that, because anyone could be mistaken for gay, the legislation offered blanket protection to everyone. Justice Minister Rock explained the importance of including sexual orientation under the purview of s. 718.2: In the gay bashing crimes about which we have heard too much in recent years, the offenders, the thugs and the hoodlums who target people because of their sexual orientation, have no difficulty knowing what they are looking for when they drive downtown on Saturday night hunting for someone to beat up because they think they are gay or they are lesbian. (Canada, HC1995: 1535)

Curiously, Rock’s statements echo Butler’s notions of performing gendered identities. Gayness is performance, wilful or not. As such, one might assume another’s identity based on reading the signs of a gay performance and act out of hatred toward an individual, regardless of whether or not the person actually identifies as gay. The outcome of the Brousseau case and its aftermath created a complicated climate of anti-hate law in Canada. Thus, the legislation is organized around the assumption that identity is established by the perpetrator of a crime, not by the victim. Anti-hate crime legislation functions in the absence of the victim’s self-identity. This absence, in and of itself, demonstrates the fallacy of the law’s assumption that identities are fixed and essential. On the contrary, given that Brousseau’s case is all about an act of (mis)reading identity, the very application of the law shows that identity is defined not through essence but, rather, through human performance and interpretation. Brousseau was read by his attackers as a gay man, presumably based on factors that had nothing to do with his actual performance of a sexual self (he was not naked, kissing another man, etc.) but, rather,

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related to a space and time he inhabited (near a cruising area, late at night) and possibly to his occupation (the iconic gay waiter) and his self-styling (his assailants noted his shoes before they dropped him off the bridge). In those moments preceding and during Brousseau’s murder, despite the fact that Brousseau seemingly had no intention of performing a non-heterosexual identity, his identity, as read by his attackers, was gay. From the perspective of the press, the queer community, and legislatures, the fact that Brousseau was not, in fact, queer and had no agency in defining his sexuality around this particular incident is immaterial. What is crucial is that his attackers assumed his sexual identity and acted to target him as a result. In Brousseau’s case, identity was established by his attackers. Regardless of whether or not he intended it, Brousseau was read as performing gayness, and that performance was sufficient for his assailants to act on him in response to a queer identity, regardless of whether or not being gay represented any kind of personal truth for Brousseau.

Aaron Webster Unlike Brousseau, Aaron Webster actually did identify as Queer and was actively performing a Queer sexuality on the night he was beaten to death in Vancouver’s Stanley Park. What proved troubling in Webster’s case (and makes it, in many ways, a much more landmark case than that of Brousseau) was that his assailants did not claim to be targeting or harbouring any particular resentment toward Queers. From a cultural standpoint, Webster’s killing is most obviously read as a gay bashing. Webster, a long-time out gay man, was in the cruising zone of Stanley park, naked but for his shoes, in the middle of the night. Witnesses saw a group of young men beating him with baseball bats in the parking lot. Violent, murderous gay bashings committed by angry, white male youth are, sadly, all too familiar in North America. Matthew Sheppard and Brandon Teena are both icons of these extremes of hate crimes. Given this cultural context, it makes sense that the primary reaction of the queer community in the wake of Webster’s death was to label it a hate crime and to seek both political and legal redress. An editorial published in X-tra West, the main queer press for the west coast, illustrates the community’s sentiments. Writing before arrests were made in the case, editor Gareth Kirkby laments what he interprets as the impudence of the Vancouver police in dealing with issues important to the gay community (2002). Kirkby parallels what he perceives as a lack of interest in queer victims with the widespread condemnation levied against this same police service

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for failing to adequately investigate disappearances of sex-trade workers from the city’s core. In the three trials that followed arrests in Webster’s murder, only one judge read the case as a hate crime and opted to sentence under s. 718.2. The other two judges found two of the three other defendants guilty of manslaughter but saw no evidence of hate motivation in the crime. What happened in these trials to result in such different verdicts? J.S. was the first assailant to be tried (R. v. J.S.). He was also the first to confess to the crime. The judgment in his trial contains lengthy transcripts of his confession and description of the crime. During his interrogation, J.S. admitted that he and the other men implicated in the crime made a regular habit of drinking and then driving to Stanley Park late at night in order to ‘‘beat up peeping toms.’’ This penchant for picking fights was confirmed by the other accused, as well as by witnesses at all the trials. J.S. patently denied that their aggressions ever targeted gay men. It was not Webster’s sexuality (of which all the assailants claimed they were unaware) but, rather, his nudity and location that made the men choose to attack him. At his trial, J.S. maintained that the target of the attack was a peeping tom and not a gay man. During questioning and on the witness stand, the three others involved in Webster’s death supported this position. In addition, none of the three witnesses heard the assailants make homophobic comments. This lack of evidence, and the not insignificant fact that the Crown made no submission regarding hate motivation, did not stop the presiding judge in J.S.’s trial from finding that Webster’s murder was indeed a hate crime. The judge reasons, I am of the opinion that this crime was motivated by bias, prejudice or hate based on a factor similar to sexual orientation and is covered by this section of the Criminal Code. It strikes me that this section contemplates hatred against ‘‘peeping toms’’ and/or ‘‘voyeurs’’ as being within its purview, since in my opinion such activity represents a sexual lifestyle which some may consider deviant, but is a sexual lifestyle all the same. I have been advised that the media has been describing this incident as a ‘‘gay-bashing’’ with no foundation for saying so. On this point I find it incredible that the accused and his friends who were obviously in the

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habit of visiting the park to ‘‘beat up’’ ‘‘peeping toms’’ and ‘‘voyeurs’’ were so nai«ve that they did not notice that this area was frequented by gays. In any event a gay person was ‘‘bashed’’ by the accused and his friends in an area reputedly frequented by gays, and in that regard I fail to see why it cannot be regarded as a ‘‘gay bashing.’’ (R. v. J.S.: l. 50)

Later in his judgment the judge concludes, Counsel for the accused took objection to Crown counsel referring to his client as being part of a ‘‘gang.’’ I however will describe them as a thug brigade stalking human prey for entertainment in a manner very reminiscent of Nazi Youth in pre-war Germany. The civilized world continues to regard with abhorrence such pursuits, and I have every reason to believe that Canada is a shining example in decrying such intolerance. (l. 34)

In imposing sentence on J.S., the judge clearly labelled the crime a hate crime and superseded the Crown’s recommendation of a 32-month incarceration, giving J.S. three years instead. The decision in J.S.’s case pleased the queer community and became a source of hope for subsequent ‘‘good’’ decisions in the following two trials.4 Despite the push to sentence A.C., Danny Rao, and Ryan Cran under s. 718.2, the judges in both these trials found no evidence to support a s. 718.2 consideration. A.C., who had a previous criminal record that included a history of violence and had also committed the assault on Webster while on probation for another assault, was given three years (R. v. A.C.). Ryan Cran was sentenced to six years and Danny Rao acquitted. It was Cran’s sentence that raised the greatest ire within the queer community, as people blamed the Crown for not pursuing a hate crime designation and the judge for not following the lead set out in J.S. Justice Humphries, in writing her decision regarding Cran, outlines her position thus: I am aware that the death of Aaron Webster has had a significant effect on the gay community. However, there was no evidence before the court of Mr. Webster’s sexual orientation, other than what might be inferred from his presence at the Second Beach parking lot. As well, there was no evidence before the court that Mr. Cran’s motive for attacking Mr. Webster was his sexual orientation. In order to consider such a motivation as an aggravating factor on sentence, I must be satisfied beyond a reasonable doubt that such a motive has been proven. (R. v.Cran: s. 9)

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According to Humphries’ reasoning, Webster was killed because he was an individual assumed to be behaving as a peeping tom by his assailants and not because he was a member of a targeted group. Humphries clearly disavows the ‘‘lifestyle’’ claim forwarded in J.S., concluding that queers are part of a group and peeping toms are not. In the trial of A.C., the Crown never asked the judge to consider homophobic hate as a motivation to the crime. Instead, the question of hate-based motivation is passively dismissed in the decision through a quotation from a pre-sentence report provided by A.C.’s youth worker. The report, as cited in the judgment, concludes that A.C. ‘‘denied his actions were motivated by hate towards homosexuals’’ (l. 26). The Webster case is illustrative of this tug of war in assigning identities through the rubric of hate crime. The decisions of the judges in Cran and A.C. clearly state that the law cannot understand the actions of Cran and A.C. as motivated by hatred toward gays. Webster’s gayness was incidental, and he need not belong to any group because no group was targeted. Instead, the youths targeted the action of voyeurism, an activity that these two judges did not see as indicating either identity or group membership. In Cran and A.C., action does not equal identity, as sexual identities are about object-choice and not practice. Identity, thus, is not an issue. Taking a decidedly queer approach to the case, the judge in J.S. sees action and identity as tightly bound and defined by the assailants. The men did not go to Stanley Park seeking people who were actually looking into other people’s cars; rather, they sought ‘‘those peeping tom guys.’’ The youths start by identifying a target group named around a particular and possibly sexual activity. The judge reasoned that this constitutes targeting a group as defined under s. 718 and oriented his sentence accordingly. Foucault (1978: 43), writing on the rise of the homosexual identity, notes that the identity becomes so important that ‘‘nothing that went into his [the homosexual’s] total composition was unaffected by his sexuality.’’ Justice Romilly cites the assailants’ own transformation of voyeurism from an action to an identity, confirming it through judicial interpretation. The fact that J.S., A.C., and Cran named peeping toms as their targets indicates that peeping toms are an identifiable group (regardless of what the peeping toms themselves might have to say about this), and, because there is an assumed sexuality to the practice of voyeurism, it stands to reason that ‘‘peeping tom’’ constitutes a sexual orientation, which is then worthy of legal protection.

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Troubling the logic of identity even further is the question of who establishes the identity. In the case of Brousseau’s murder, the identity of the victim was named by the assailants and confirmed by the queer community. In J.S., identity and membership were defined to a certain extent by the assailants and reinterpreted by the judge. Giving a curious plot twist, the judge confirmed not one but two identities. The ruling in J.S. names peeping toms as members of a legally protected identity group and claims that Webster’s identity as a gay man ought to have been obvious to these youths and thus must also have been a factor in the crime. Webster did not get rewritten as a peeping tom, and the peeping-tom community (likely because such a community does not exist in the same way the Queer community exists) did not embrace Webster as a champion or render him an icon. Instead, the peeping-tom identity, the only identity that Justice Romilly explicitly linked to hate crime, was all but forgotten in the aftermath of the trials. Press accounts of the trials make no mention of peeping toms and fixate on Romilly’s declaration of a gay bashing. Calling Webster’s death a gay bashing and calling it a hate-motivated crime targeting Queers are two very different things, (as ‘‘gay bashing’’ carries no legal weight), and Justice Romilly stops short of the latter in his judgment. The reference to gay bashing has the desired effect, however, as it serves to blur the lines between finding a hate crime targeting peeping toms and noting that a gay man was bashed. Romilly clearly wanted to punish J.S. for having beaten up a gay man but could only do so by recruiting the identity of peeping tom. This judgment notably troubles questions of identity as definitions of sexual orientation are blown wide open to find a circuitous route by which to arrive at the finding that Webster’s death was indeed a hate crime.

Conclusion From the perspective of queer politics and queer theory, the decision in J.S. is remarkably progressive in opening up definitions of sexual identity, even if the ‘‘realness’’ if the identity is still in question. In challenging the naturalness and essentialism of identities, Butler (1990) does not suggest that the ‘‘performances’’ of an identity mean that it is not actual. The idea that gendered identities are performed is meant to challenge the notion that ‘‘gay’’ or ‘‘lesbian’’ – or ‘‘man’’ or ‘‘woman,’’ for that matter – are somehow fixed categories with specific, universal characteristics and experiences. Instead, Butler wants us to see identities in their social context. The role of the peeping-tom identity in Webster’s case is a good example of this.

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We do not generally talk about the peeping-tom community; there is no peeping-tom pride day or national organization of peeping toms. Peeping toms did not stand outside the Vancouver courthouse with signs demanding justice for Aaron Webster. Generally, ‘‘peeping tom’’ refers to an activity someone engages in the moment rather than something someone is, day in and day out. At the same time, though, activity can translate into identity. Romilly’s decision introduces the queer possibility into law that sexual identity might not be based on the ontology of gayness. Instead, sexual identity, at least identity in need of protection under law, may well be derived from performing sexual actions that transgress norms. In the case of Brousseau’s murder, the looseness of identity has an effect on Brousseau’s identity after his death. His name is marshalled in particular ways by journalists, activists, and politicians. The assumption on the part of Brousseau’s assailants that he is queer renders him as a central figure in the queer community, despite the fact that he never identified as such. Brousseau himself is appropriated by the Ottawa queer community, as well as by politicians eager to show that anti–hate crime legislation offers universally inclusive protections, as heterosexuals might also be mistaken for queers. Canadian anti-hate crime laws are troubled by the question of identity, as identity emerges as a category that does not fit well with law’s need to prove ‘‘beyond a reasonable doubt.’’ The fluidity of identity must, at least in part, be predicated on doubt. Despite its ambiguity as a legal category, identity (in a number of different manifestations) is held by the criminal law at its core. This, in turn, means that the authority to name identity is of considerable importance. Naming identity is not a momentary event; it has, as Ian Hacking (1999) illustrates, the potential to renegotiate understandings of past, present, and future.

Notes 1. We would like to thank Jennifer Henderson, Alan Hunt, and Mariana Valverde for their helpful comments on earlier versions of this article. 2. Cruising is a long-standing feature of gay male culture, although it is by no means universal. Cruising involves men gathering, typically in public spaces like parks, late at night in order to participate in anonymous or semi-anonymous sexual encounters.

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3. The timing of these initiatives and enforcement capabilities of the police should be understood against the legislative backdrop. While police can now organize a unit specifically intended to respond to hate crimes, this was not possible until the mid-1990s. The lack of legislation does not, however, negate possibilities for judge-initiated enforcement. As early as 1970, Canadian judges were seen to take hate motivation into account in sentencing (MacDougall 2000). 4. The other youth, A.C., was tried separately from the two adults, Ryan Cran and Danny Rao.

References Butler, Judith 1990 Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. New York: Routledge. Butler, Judith 2004 Undoing Gender. New York: Routledge. Canada, House of Commons [HC] 1995 Debates, June 15. Cooper, Davina 1994 Sexing the City: Lesbian and Gay Politics within the Activist State. London: Rivers Oram. Derrida, Jacques 1991 Differance. In P. Kampuf (ed.), A Derrida Reader: Between the Blinds. Brighton, U.K.: Harvester Wheatsheaf. Foucault, Michel 1978 The History of Sexuality, Vol. 1. New York: Vintage Books. Greenspan, Edward and Marc Rosenber 2005 Martin’s Annotated Criminal Code. Toronto: Canada Law Book. Hacking, Ian 1999 The Social Construction of What? Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Herland, Neil 1996 Marching forward. Capital Xtra, June: 4.

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Hill, Sylvie 2005 Shotgun: Eye openers vs. ear pluggers. Ottawa XPress, April 7. http://www.ottawaxpress.ca/news/shotgun.aspx?iIDArticle¼5763 Kirkby, Gareth 2002 Talk is not action: Community policing or a blue-wash? X-Tra West, September 19. http://archives.xtra.ca/Story.aspx?s¼22372 MacDougall, Bruce 2000 Queer Judgements: Homosexuality, Expression, and the Courts in Canada. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Man jailed 7 years for waiter’s slaying 1990 Ottawa Citizen, March 4: B1. Police: Inquest rejected inquiry won’t solve cliff deaths, says chief regional coroner 1989 The Ottawa Citizen, August 31: B2. Sedgewick, Eve 1990 Epistemology of the Closet. Berkeley and Los Angles: University of California Press. Stychin, Carl 1995 Law’s Desire: Sexuality and the Limits of Justice. London: Routledge. Thomas, Brad 2005 Two incidents, so two comments [response to Sylvie Hill, Shotgun: Eye openers vs. ear pluggers, April 7]. Ottawa XPress, April 7.

Cases cited R. v. A.C., [2004] B.C.J 811. R. v. J.S., [2003] B.C.J. 2877. R. v. Cran, [2005] B.C.S.C. 171.

Legislation cited Criminal Code, R.S.C. ????, ss. 318–319 Criminal Code, R.S.C. ????, s. 718.2

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Erratum The article ‘‘Hated Identities: Queers and Canadian Anti-hate Legislation’’ by Dawn Moore and Angus MacLean Rennie (vol. 48, no. 5, September 2006) contained an error. The article concerns the murder of Alain Brosseau, who is incorrectly identified in the article as Alain Brousseau. CJCCJ and the authors regret the error.

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