Community Matters: Jeri Wine, Feminist Teacher and Mentor

There was nothing really remarkable about the morning. It was like any other, arriving at work; where the rhythm of the morning is so predictable, that my movements are automatic. In sequence, I turn the lights on, check the email, return phone calls, confirm the number of appointments for the day, and grab a coffee. The warmth of those first sips of coffee are the first real sensations of a pulse in my semiawake state. The news of Jeri Wine's death came through an attachment in an email. The attachment was a photograph and an announcement. As the screen scrolled up, an initially unrecognizable image came into clear focus, revealing a smiling Jeri, her face almost hidden behind long flowing shocks of grey hair. She looked happy and rested in the picture - news of her death still just words. I was distracted by her hair, wondering when it was that I saw her last. It must have been in 1995, at the lunch with the examining committee, after I successfully defended my Ph.D. The announcement took several readings before I realized the contents. Jeri Dawn Wine had died from a rare form of asbestos-related cancer; a slow growing cancer which eventually took her life. I tried to calculate the years she carried the cancer - she had it when she taught me at OISE. I never knew, but in hindsight, her symptoms and concerns about the environment make sense. The day moved on uninterrupted, as scheduled. In brief stolen moments during the day, I tried to reconcile my image of Jeri, and the news of her death - digesting it, trying for some sort of tidy closure, that this was the end of her story. It didn't happen. Memories of Jeri came in brief snapshots, not unlike remembering a journey to places long forgotten. Like the first time I heard Jeri pronounce women, as woh-min, and wondered if the emphasis was geographical, or a proud woman-identified emphasis. Jeri at the cottage in summer, celebrating a commitment ceremony of a lesbian couple - a public declaration of love, without the prerequisite blessings of the state. I remembered, too, the other losses in my life, and with some distance from the initial sense of loss, I have come to accept that while death is a physical absence, the emotional ties remain. This acceptance of events I don't understand works for me. I also realized that with Jeri, and the others, rich and meaningful moments of having spent time together are within reach in just moments. The following days rolled into each other, with thoughts of Jeri included as an addition to the rhythm of the routine. It was at this time that another email arrived from Janice Ristock. Janice and I were students in the Community Psychology program at OISE. We often found ourselves together in many of Jeri's classes. Janice's friendship and academic collaboration with Jeri spanned many years after our graduation. So, it seemed fitting that it was Janice who conceived of the idea of a commemorative journal issue of RFR honouring Jeri's life. She asked if I would like to make a contribution to the journal. The journal contributions would reflect the spectrum of Jeri's influence and relationships. I agreed. I wanted to be a part of this moment to remember Jeri. What would I remember about Jeri? What could I say about her influence that would keep her memory real, and resist a posthumous gloss? To appreciate who and what influences shaped the present, I had to look behind me, to the past where I had come from. My own evolution as a feminist, activist, and community minded person, has been a meandering route - plodding, confusing and clumsy, but always with a sense of hope and excitement of what would come next. Jeri Wine followed other feminists in shaping my journey. The first time I heard about Jeri Wine was in the early 80s, at a gathering in Toronto organized by feminists, working to create an alternative political party - the Feminist Party of Canada. I became a card carrying member of the Party. …

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