This article explores and questions the colonial anxieties that mixed-race progeny of European and Aboriginal ancestry posed to government and religious officials in late 19th and early 20th century British Columbia. Drawing from federal, provincial, and local correspondence, missionary documents, legal statutes, and various court records detailing provincial and federal liquor infractions, I examine the social, legal, and political debates about racially-mixed peoples and'their “proper” place in the province. Pervasive fears about mixed-race peoples, I contend, were not merely symbolic or metaphorical but were deeply imbricated in material concerns about land. Specifically, federal and provincial authorities argued that race-mixing in British Columbia potentially undermined their efforts to appropriate Indigenous lands and to build the province into a “respectable” white settler society. Throughout this period, mixed-blood peoples elicited a penetrating colonial gaze from government administrators and missionaries alike. Although authorities relied on a variety of spatial and legal techniques to govern racially-mixed peoples, I suggest that liquor prohibitions at both the federal and provincial levels were integral to keeping mixed-race peoples in their place: or rather, “out of place.”

In 1942, 22,000 people of Japanese origin were expelled from their homes in British Columbia and moved to numerous incarceration sites. The expulsion, incarceration, dispossession, displacements, and deportations of Japanese Canadians were accomplished through Canadian law. In this article, I examine some of the spaces of incarceration and displacement produced through the law and the systems of power mobilized through these carceral spaces. I argue that in mapping out the spaces of the Internment, we begin to see how the nation of Canada was made through racial exclusion and processes of violence. As the spaces of incarceration and displacement become visible, so too do the subjects of these laws and processes. Their accounts of the incarcerations and displacements reveal the long-term effects of the violence of the Internment.

Designations of space and place are significant to the history and formation of Canada as a white-identified country. Particular places discussed in this paper are public education and post-secondary schooling, which, as regulators of public spaces, act as indicators of belonging in the production of students' identities. White students in this study need the university for its credentialing function and for its training in ideological processes of their “becoming a teacher.” Their production as legitimate citizens and teachers is authorized by requirements of the institution in which they learn to “manage” cross-cultural relations. Maintaining the status of elite sites requires surveillance of knowledge production with respect to hierarchies of race, class, and gender. Elite social relations also designate which identifications and knowledges will be considered rational and legitimate. In the research on which this paper reports, white-identified pre-service education participants depend on the racial hierarchies of elite educational spaces to secure their own respectability among the white-dominated profession of teaching. It is a respectability which their whiteness both requires and affords.

In 1995, Pamela George was brutally murdered by two young university athletes. The men were convicted of manslaughter and given light sentences. In this article, I examine the murder of Pamela George as gendered racial violence and continuing colonization of Aboriginal peoples. I suggest that as an Aboriginal woman working in the space of prostitution, Pamela George represented a body that could be violated with impunity. Respectable white men who journey temporarily into the zone of degeneracy to engage in an encounter in prostitution are not held accountable for violence that occurs so routinely in the spaces and on the bodies of the Other. Further, this relationship between bodies, space, and justice, in which zones inhabited by racial Others as well as zones of prostitution (often one and the same) are considered to be spaces in which universal justice does not operate, suggests how the violence remains invisible in the law. The constitutive features of this violence, its role in making white men and white settler societies, suggest why it keeps on happening and is so consistently denied in law. The identity making processes I describe are vital to colonization and, in this case, specifically to the colonization of Aboriginal peoples in Canada.

This paper is about critical connections that the law obscures in a liberal democratic, colonial context. It is about how law produces and sustains a racial social order by ruling out of order and irrelevant violent histories of Aboriginal dispossession. On November 1st, 1995 the Speaker of Manitoba's Legislative Assembly delivered a ruling that defined the word ‘racist’ as “unparliamentary language.” Thus, by means of parliamentary law a Cree Member of the Opposition was silenced, and ultimately expelled from the House. To explore the underbelly of Canadian ‘universal’ equality, and to underscore the systemic violence inherent in Mr. Oscar Lathlin's legal eviction from the House, I engage in a provincial counter - mapping which firmly reconnects the MLA to some of the racialized spaces he was elected to represent. I illustrate how the law produces racialized zones as well as subjects who are forced to exist outside the protected bounds of ‘equal’ personhood. At the same time, I point to the indispensable role of law in the making of the moral, white subject: a subject who remains unobliged, even in the face of deeply distressing evidence, to know him or herself as both perpetrator and benefactor of contemporary colonial relations of dominance in Canada.

The black community of Africville, in Halifax, Nova Scotia, was forcibly dismantled in the 1960s under a program of ‘urban renewal’. Residents had long fought to have their claims to this space legally recognized, as well as to improve the community with minimal services and safety measures, such as water lines, sewage and police protection. This article examines how the space of Africville was denied these services, constituted as a ‘slum’, and in turn how this status was seen to justify its removal. The land on which Africville stood, now a public park, remains a site of contestation and commemoration. As yet, the city of Halifax has declined demands for compensation and has legally maneuvered to silence resistance. This essay's central aim is to demonstrate not only how the law, through the City of Halifax, functioned as a regulatory measure to ensure a series of evictions, but also the way in which these practices and consequences can be remembered. In particular, it argues for a contextualized legal consideration of Africville's story which recognizes the complex interplay of histories of poverty and racism with narratives of justice.

While widely regarded as a victory of grassroots feminist organizing and as part of the ongoing struggle for gender equity and female reproductive autonomy, the movement to legalize midwifery in Ontario has, in fact, derived considerable benefit from hierarchical rather than equal relations among women. This article describes the practice of “midwifery tourism” whereby Ontario midwives traveled to “Third World” maternity clinics in order to obtain clinical experience unavailable to them in the period that preceded the legalization of the profession in the province. Many traveled in order to garner the requisite number of births for participation in provincial programs designed to integrate practicing midwives into the health care system. In addition to this very quantifiable benefit, midwives were also able to enhance their professional prominence through a claim to first-hand knowledge of the birth practices of “Third World” women, a group mythologized within natural childbirth discourse as possessing innate feminine birthing knowledge as yet uncorrupted by Western medical practices. The re-emergence of midwifery in North America provides a cogent example of how, through epistemological claims about women's shared identity, “Third World” space, and those who occupy it, come to constitute a commodity for first world women's consumption and social advancement.