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During Sexual and Gender Wellness Week (Feb. 9 – 13, 2026) at UCalgary, students in Gender and Sexual Studies (GSXS) 401, the Senior Federal Media Arts Activism course, hosted a screening of short films by students, followed by a conversation about feminist filmmaking and creative practice at the Women’s Resource Centre. In the spirit of , the students made films with different stories about gender, power, and lived experience.

Across the students' films, several feminist concepts felt especially present: the pressure of gendered expectations, the invisibility of care work, the ways discrimination can shape someone’s sense of self, and the need for solidarity rather than silence. Some films approached these ideas through performance and identity, others through family relationships, sport, and workplace dynamics, but many pointed back to the same question: 

What parts of a woman's life is treated as normal even though they are shaped by power, gender roles, and inequality? Feminism does not argue that women cannot enjoy these roles. It asks us to pay attention to when enjoyment becomes expectation, and when one group is afforded choice while another is judged for stepping outside of it.

Two films in particular stayed with me. Renee Frans’ “My Waiting Room” carried the strongest emotional weight, using a repeated line “I hate waiting rooms” and imagery to hold the quiet intensity of grief and the long stretch of time spent waiting in hospital spaces. The line about how “having family and having a family is very different” landed as both personal and political, since feminism often asks us to look closely at what we assume care and belonging are supposed to feel like. 

But the film I resonated with most was “The Weight She Carries” by Rishveer Dillion. As the eldest daughter myself, I felt the invisible pressure the film speaks of, even when no one explicitly demands it. The feeling of needing to be dependable, to be the example, and to keep track of everything can look like love from the outside, but it can also become a quiet form of self-erasure. The film’s reflections on responsibility and care, and the reminder that it is okay to ask for help and choose yourself too, felt like an invitation to unlearn the belief that being good means carrying everything alone. 

A major highlight of the event was hearing from , a Studio D alum and long-time leader in Calgary’s film and television community. Her talk reinforced a core idea that kept coming up throughout the screening: feminist filmmaking is not only about what stories are told, but also about who gets to tell them, what kinds of labor are recognized, and how communities are built to support artists over time. She spoke honestly about building a career outside the Toronto-Montreal corridor, about the necessity of mentorship and community in film, and about staying grounded in the stories that come from where you are and who you are. 

Overall, the screening and talk made Studio's legacy feel alive rather than historical. It was less about remembering a feminist film tradition and more about seeing what feminism looks like on screen right now: in everyday life, in family roles, in grief, and in the small decisions to claim space for ourselves.