They say that bison are the only animals that purposefully walk into a storm rather than drifting with the wind because they know that doing so will get them through it faster.

I often think about the decision I made in 2021 to publicly challenge my university’s Covid-19 mandate. It dislodged me from a career and professional community I had been building for 20 years and thrust me headfirst into a storm of public and personal scrutiny, toxic media, and a pro-narrative machine ready to devour any challenge to its unreflective ideals. 

In many ways, life now is better if only because it requires less pretense, and there is much freedom and sovereignty in that. But this new life also has its costs. My Christmas card list has undergone a radical transformation, full of deletions and new additions. I am not welcome in the homes of professors where I once shared meals, ideas, and camaraderie. Fault lines have developed across various networks of relationships that are almost certainly irreparable. And it’s unlikely that I will ever again be employed as a professor in Canada. I don’t regret my choice but some mourning has been needed to bury my old life in order to create a new one.