This explosive book of history and cultural criticism argues that white feminism has been a weapon of white supremacy and patriarchy deployed against Black and Indigenous women and all colonized women. It offers a long-overdue validation of the experiences of women of color.

Taking us from the slave era—when white women fought in court to keep ownership of their slaves—through the centuries of colonialism—when they offered a soft face for brutal tactics—to the modern workplace, White Tears/Brown Scars examines the entrenched systems of white supremacy that we are socialized within, a reality that we must apprehend in order to fight.

Examining subjects as varied as The Hunger Games, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, the viral BBQ Becky video, and nineteenth-century lynchings of Mexicans in the American Southwest, Ruby Hamad builds a powerful argument about these systems.

The Expendables: How the Middle Class Got Screwed By Globalization offers a provocative and far-reaching analysis of the economic forces that have marginalized the middle class in the developed world. Jeff Rubin, former CIBC World Markets Chief Economist, presents a compelling case that the decline of the middle class was not only predictable but is a direct consequence of policy choices that favored globalization.

Through a detailed exploration of trends such as stagnant wages in North America since the 1970s, the collapse of union membership, and the shift away from full-time employment, Rubin illustrates the retreat of the middle class. He highlights how agreements like NAFTA and global economic policies such as deregulation and tax legislation that favor the wealthy have contributed to this erosion.

Rubin's argument is not only economic but also touches on the political backlash seen in events like Brexit, the rise of Donald Trump, and the growth of populism in Europe. He suggests that resolving these issues will require rethinking the fundamental ideas about capital and labor that have shaped the current system.

The Expendables is a critical examination of the developed world's economic landscape, offering insights that are both humane and rigorous, and calling for a more equitable future.

Working at the local processing plant, Marcos is in the business of slaughtering humans—though no one calls them that anymore. His wife has left him, his father is sinking into dementia, and Marcos tries not to think too hard about how he makes a living. After all, it happened so quickly. First, it was reported that an infectious virus has made all animal meat poisonous to humans. Then governments initiated the “Transition.” Now, eating human meat—“special meat”—is legal.

Marcos tries to stick to numbers, consignments, processing. Then one day he’s given a gift: a live specimen of the finest quality. Though he’s aware that any form of personal contact is forbidden on pain of death, little by little he starts to treat her like a human being. And soon, he becomes tortured by what has been lost—and what might still be saved.

Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women That a Movement Forgot is a potent and electrifying critique of today’s feminist movement, announcing a fresh new voice in black feminism. In her searing collection of essays, Mikki Kendall takes aim at the legitimacy of the modern feminist movement, arguing that it has chronically failed to address the needs of all but a few women.

Mainstream feminists rarely talk about meeting basic needs as a feminist issue, argues Kendall. Issues such as food insecurity, access to quality education, safe neighborhoods, a living wage, and medical care are all feminist issues. All too often, however, the focus is not on basic survival for the many, but on increasing privilege for the few.

Moreover, prominent white feminists broadly suffer from their own myopia with regard to how things like race, class, sexual orientation, and ability intersect with gender. Kendall asks, How can we stand in solidarity as a movement when there is the distinct likelihood that some women are oppressing others?

Drawing on her own experiences with hunger, violence, and hypersexualization, along with incisive commentary on reproductive rights, politics, pop culture, and the stigma of mental health, Hood Feminism delivers an irrefutable indictment of a movement in flux. An unforgettable debut, Kendall has written a ferocious clarion call to all would-be feminists to live out the true mandate of the movement in thought and in deed.

We Keep the Dead Close is a true crime narrative that delves into the unsolved murder of Jane Britton, a Harvard graduate student, in 1969. This book is not only a meticulous work of investigative journalism but also a reflection on the pervasive violence and misogyny within prestigious institutions. Becky Cooper, once a curious undergrad, unravels a complex tale of gender inequality, institutional power dynamics, and the haunting legacy of a story that refused to be forgotten.

Harvard's history is interwoven with the narrative, as the institution's legacy looms over the events that transpired. The initial rumors of a scandalous affair with a professor and a subsequent murder are debunked, but the truth that emerges is no less compelling. Cooper's decade-long investigation sheds light on the cowboy culture among male elites and the silencing effect of institutions, leading to a broader conversation about our collective narrative of female victims.

We Keep the Dead Close is a memoir that acts as a mirror to society's misogyny and murder, a ghost story that connects past and present, and a love story dedicated to a girl whose life was tragically cut short and lost to history.

The Skin We're In: A Year of Black Resistance and Power is a bracing, provocative, and perspective-shifting book from one of Canada's most celebrated and uncompromising writers, Desmond Cole. This work is set to spark a national conversation, influence policy, and inspire activists.

In his 2015 cover story for Toronto Life magazine, Desmond Cole exposed the racist actions of the Toronto police force, detailing the dozens of times he had been stopped and interrogated under the controversial practice of carding. The story quickly came to national prominence, shaking the country to its core and catapulting its author into the public sphere. Cole used his newfound profile to draw insistent, unyielding attention to the injustices faced by Black Canadians on a daily basis.

Both Cole’s activism and journalism find vibrant expression in his first book, The Skin We’re In. Puncturing the bubble of Canadian smugness and naive assumptions of a post-racial nation, Cole chronicles just one year—2017—in the struggle against racism in this country. It was a year that saw calls for tighter borders when Black refugees braved frigid temperatures to cross into Manitoba from the States, Indigenous land and water protectors resisting the celebration of Canada’s 150th birthday, police across the country rallying around an officer accused of murder, and more.

The year also witnessed the profound personal and professional ramifications of Desmond Cole’s unwavering determination to combat injustice. In April, Cole disrupted a Toronto police board meeting by calling for the destruction of all data collected through carding. Following the protest, Cole, a columnist with the Toronto Star, was summoned to a meeting with the paper’s opinions editor and informed that his activism violated company policy. Rather than limit his efforts defending Black lives, Cole chose to sever his relationship with the publication. Then in July, at another police board meeting, Cole challenged the board to respond to accusations of a police cover-up in the brutal beating of Dafonte Miller by an off-duty police officer and his brother. When Cole refused to leave the meeting until the question was publicly addressed, he was arrested. The image of Cole walking out of the meeting, handcuffed and flanked by officers, fortified the distrust between the city’s Black community and its police force.

Month-by-month, Cole creates a comprehensive picture of entrenched, systemic inequality. Urgent, controversial, and unsparingly honest, The Skin We’re In is destined to become a vital text for anti-racist and social justice movements in Canada, as well as a potent antidote to the all-too-present complacency of many white Canadians.