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Restructuring our schools starts with our students

by Isaiah Albert-Stein on

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Addressing systemic inequities in education requires approaches that put young people first

I grew up in Allentown, Pennsylvania, attending public schools that received Title 1 funding from the federal government. This funding indicated that at least 40 per cent of students qualified for free lunch, which also meant our school received additional government support. Despite this support, the disparities across districts were stark. The local community unfairly characterized our public schools as providing low-quality education and fostering violence—a stereotype that stemmed from the fact that the majority of the student body was students of colour. I learned from caring, talented teachers among a diverse group of friends and peers—I wouldn’t trade my experience for the world. Still, growing up, my friends and I saw that the suburban school districts around us achieved better test scores, purchased new academic materials and sports equipment, and sent more students to elite colleges and universities.

Public conversations around inequity often label high-need public schools as “inner-city,” a racialized euphemism that broadly paints inequity as a result of unfortunate geography rather than decades of racist policies such as redlining, segregation, and unequal resource distribution. The pervasive notion of “underfunded schools” to explain the “achievement gap” fails to acknowledge how these most directly affect racialized and high-poverty communities, regardless of school budgets or resources.

Distance learning in the first year of the COVID-19 pandemic widened achievement gaps and exposed the deep inequities of education systems in the U.S. and Canada. When schools moved online in Mar. 2020, I was working at a public elementary school in Washington, D.C., for the AmeriCorps program, City Year DC. I watched as our students, many of whom already dealt with attendance issues, health problems, or behavioural challenges, struggled more than ever before to engage with learning online. Even when they could participate in class, technology access was an issue for many families, and elementary school students were unfamiliar with Zoom and online learning tools.

Today, the condition of public education is as fraught as ever—in part as a result of the pandemic. The situation in Montreal and Quebec is no exception. Fédération Autonome de l’Enseignement (FAE), an organization comprised of nine Quebec teachers’ unions and 65,000 teachers, went on strike for 22 days at the end of 2023. The strike resulted in a collective agreement which includes a 17.4 per cent pay increase over five years, more teachers in classrooms, and more classrooms overall. Still, the deal passed by a 5-4 vote among the nine unions; Quebec teachers are disappointed that the province isn’t doing more to support them so that they can better provide for their students.

Students are the heart of the education system. To better serve public school students across North America, we need to address how factors such as racial injustice, housing insecurity, language barriers, and a carceral school system impose further inequity in the classroom. To provide a more just future and more opportunities for generations to come, we must allow young people to express their needs and expectations, and then to build from a student-first framework.

‘An equilateral triangle’: Student connections with school and with the world at large

Grade school students only spend half their day at school. When they arrive in the morning and enter the classroom, their lives outside of school don’t simply vanish; their activities and interactions since leaving school shape their experiences throughout the school day.

Lauren Watler is an educator with teaching experience in both public and charter schools in New Orleans, Virginia, and Washington, D.C., who currently teaches a class of fourth graders in the D.C. Public School (DCPS) system. In an interview with //The Tribune//, she described the relationship between students, parents, and teachers as an “equilateral triangle.”

“We’re literally the points in the triangle […] we’re the points that connect. If one of the lines or one of the points is off, there’s a disconnect,” Watler explained. 

Her analogy emphasizes students’ agency in navigating the education system as one piece of their daily lives. As one “point” on the triangle, students have a significant stake in their own education. But parents—and more broadly, a student’s support system outside of school hours—and teachers, counselors, social workers, and other adults have the means to influence how students experience learning and express their own agency.

‘Systemic issues and pillars of oppression’: Students and the inadequacy of support

When children experience issues such as financial struggles, housing and food insecurity, or language barriers—especially Black students, Indigenous students, immigrant students, and students of colour—it often manifests in academic or behavioural struggles when they attend school. 

Sarah Lauritsen is a school counselor at a predominantly Black, Title 1 public school in the United States. She expressed to //The Tribune// that trauma is a significant factor in the work that she does with students. 

“A lot of those systemic issues, a lot of those pillars of oppression, really impact our students in the day to day, and how they function and […] interact.” 

Unlike the United States, Canada and Quebec do not systematically collect race-based data for school boards. This lack of widespread data collection limits the scope of smaller institutional studies, yet research still reveals that racialized students face the same kinds of inequity and segregation as American students. The Lasalle Multicultural Resource Center, a Montreal non-profit, collected data from 2021 to 2023 on Black students’ experiences in Quebec schools. They discovered that Black students are more vulnerable in educational settings due to police presence in schools and racially biased school practices, and that they are regularly moved to segregated classes separate from the broader school community.

Lauritsen describes how in-school and out-of-school suspensions recreate systems of oppression that police students of colour.

“There’s a lot of pressure to hand out these punishments and hand out this discipline, and I think [members of our school] team do a really good job of pushing back, shaping the way that we think about and talk about the consequences that we have for students […] obviously, there’s a lot of room to grow.”

Nanre Nafziger, assistant professor in McGill’s Department of Integrated Studies in Education (DISE), studies Black social movements and Black students’ experiences in school. She is a core organizer with École Sans Police, a Montreal group that advocates against police in schools and carceral systems of education.

“I think Quebec really needs to update and transform a lot of things in the schools in terms of pedagogy and in terms of discipline,” she proposed in an interview with //The Tribune//. “The old systems are still there […] a lot of punitive measures that make children feel guilty for bad behaviour instead of more positive transformation or approaches to teaching.” 

Students thrive in institutions that recognize and teach about their cultures, but instead the Quebec curriculum denies Black students, Indigenous students, and racialized students the opportunity to see themselves reflected in their education. Nafziger criticized the negation of Black and Indigenous history in the current Quebec curriculum, saying, “You’re basically telling the story of white settler colonialism as the de facto history of Canada.” 

This lack of cultural representation mixed with the strict French-language policies in Quebec, such as Bill 101 and Bill 96, creates additional hurdles for non-francophone students. DISE associate professor Susan Ballinger, who studies bilingual education and language acquisition, explained to //The Tribune// that anglophone students receive little support in adjusting and allophone students receive none at all. The Faculty of Education students she works with struggle to provide multilingual instruction under these conditions. 

“[One of my students talked] about situations where they got in trouble for speaking a little bit of English with a seven-year-old who had just arrived in the country, who didn’t know [where to go] in the hallway,” Ballinger recounted. 

‘Distrust runs so, so deep’: Parents, barriers, and generational inequity

Lauritsen described a recent meeting with a mother, where she had to broach the difficult conversation of suggesting that her child move to a specialized classroom. 

“I don’t know if [it’s] specifically our school, the staff at our school, or just the larger school system in general, but her distrust in us runs so, so deep,” she recalled, expressing that parents’ distrust toward school professionals is valid. “I think a lot of it just comes from wanting to protect them, honestly, and I can understand why.”

Public narratives of educational inequity often wrongly place the blame for behavioural issues or low academic performance on absent, uninterested, or antagonistic parents. These accusations disregard marginalized families’ perspectives of the school system and narrow the conception of what role a parent or family serves. The educators I spoke to shared stories of students whose parents held several jobs, were incarcerated, passed away, or didn’t have the time or means to drop them off at school. 

Some students changed custody frequently between their parents or other relatives, lived in foster homes, or had to serve as parents themselves for younger siblings and cousins. Yes, these family and home situations affect how students engage with school, but that doesn’t mean that the parents don’t care—every discussion I had reflected how most parents want the best for their kids.

In Quebec, strict French language laws add an extra barrier for some Indigenous or immigrant parents who may not feel comfortable speaking French. Ballinger argued that parents lack the opportunity to advocate for their children when they don’t have proper support for learning French, and teachers refuse to or are unable to communicate with them in a more comfortable language. “Newcomers, people of colour […] it’s so many ways that they’re disempowered at that level,” she shared as she related her own anxieties as a parent who isn’t a native French speaker.

In addition to the numerous challenges parents face, the school system often reinforces limited perspectives on the parent-child relationship, failing to account for diverse family dynamics. DISE assistant professor Jayne Malenfant does advocacy work with teenagers experiencing homelessness and studies education and housing justice. In an interview with //The Tribune//, they pushed back against misconceptions that most homeless youth don’t have relationships with their parents. They also pointed out how centring relationships with parents can exclude queer and trans youth and other young people who have disconnected or fractured relationships with their families. Students dealing with homelessness and living on their own may get punished for calling to excuse their own absences, or students living with their families may be scared to seek help in school for fear of being separated from their parents and support system.

‘Knowing someone had that offer for help was a game changer’: Empowering teachers to address carceral school systems

The work of being a teacher isn’t easy, but that hard work is an essential part of providing for students. “That’s what keeps me going; that’s what keeps me motivated,” Watler emphasized, “Student achievement—I want them to do well.”

Yet teachers need more than just their dedication to students to keep them afloat through the challenges of an unequal system. Watler pointed to teacher retention as a marker of a positive environment, setting her current school apart from others where she’s worked. A large contingent of veteran teachers can build a network among themselves to more quickly address student needs, stay on top of issues, and take on the many day-to-day responsibilities of teaching while still prioritizing students.

A general sentiment among the educators I interviewed was that the high teacher turnover rates at high-need schools result from a combination of low salaries, overworking due to understaffing, and a disconnect between teachers’ training and the actual demands and expectations of the job. Nafziger stresses that, in addition to better pay and smaller class sizes, developing intercultural competencies is essential for supporting students. “When you have these old methods of discipline and then you have [teachers] not having the competencies to deal with cultures, that definitely leads to a more negative impact on children [from diverse backgrounds].” 

Cultural competency is especially important when the realities of the job don’t reflect the practical training. 

“The way that it’s framed in grad school, and in theory, you just go out and you do [social justice and advocacy]. And that’s not the reality of the situation,” Lauritsen reflected. 

The abundant responsibilities falling on school staff leave little room for implementing progressive practices from professional training. Lauritsen is optimistic about how restorative justice initiatives at her school can better serve students but argues that deeply entrenched punitive approaches make it hard to implement anti-oppressive practices.

Well-supported and well-trained teachers are necessary for student safety and growth. A school system that works for students is made up of many teachers who have the skills and potential to be a trusted resource for students with substantial needs. Malenfant says that even if students struggle to advocate for themselves or seek support for their needs, having those frameworks in place makes a difference: “I’ve talked to so many young people who said, ‘I didn’t take advantage of it, but just knowing someone had that offer for help was a game changer.’”

‘Radical Imagination’: Looking to students for a way forward

In our interview, Malenfant talked about the concept of radical imagination—the act of encouraging, rather than suppressing, imagination among young people and imagining together radical possibilities for the future of education. Radical imagination itself undermines, as Malenfant put it, the “inevitability of this system.” 

Discussing the teens they work with Malenfant said, “Often when they’re trying to go to school, and their friends are dying on the street, and they’re trying to eat, and they’re just trying to navigate a system that is completely failing them, they have no choice but to imagine something else […] we have a lot to learn from young people’s imagination of what could look different.”

Students know what they want from school and how they can best learn—the key for educators is to give them the tools to better express what they need from classes and from adults in the school building. One practice being implemented today to build upon students’ voices is translanguaging, a theoretical framework first developed by Columbia Teachers College Professor Ofelia García. As Ballinger explained it, translanguaging is the process of “drawing on all of [students’] language knowledge to help them learn,” encouraging students who speak two or more languages to speak with whatever words best express them, but even more so to collaborate with other students who share their linguistic background.

Translanguaging, and other innovative approaches to student learning that educators are implementing today, have the potential to lay the foundation for a future of student-centred educational practices that could exist in a restructured system that addresses inequities head-on and incorporates students’ desires.

 “You can’t change things without talking about what’s wrong with them,” Malenfant proposed, “[…] but then going past that to imagine what things could look like differently is really exciting.”

For now, we can look at how students everywhere make the existing school system work for them, regardless of the obstacles. Lauritsen points to students’ joy and love—when their support systems in school are working and even when they’re not—as a big part of what draws her to her job. 

“Seeing those small things on a daily basis, seeing the smiles, seeing them show up for their family, for their friends, for their community. Those are probably my highlights. The small interactions, the small wins.”

Off the Board, Opinion

Why conservative radio is my go-to

by Dante Ventulieri on

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Between driving to see friends and running errands, I often find myself in the driver’s seat trying to decide what I should listen to. My Spotify playlists get too repetitive, I’m too picky for music radio, and after a long day of classes, I’m rarely in the mood for podcasts that sound just like lectures. Thankfully, I found the perfect thing: Patriot Radio on SiriusXM. Why does the “home of conservative principles” appeal to me, someone the Patriot Radio personalities would probably call a woke-leftist-college-elite-snowflake? I’m not entirely sure, but I have a few guesses.

Funnier than the comedy stations

It’s hard not to laugh when listening to Patriot Radio. Whether it’s a comically asinine take on current issues or a perplexing comment that catches you off-guard, it is all intrinsically and, more importantly, unintentionally funny. I’ll never forget the first time I shared my guilty pleasure with my girlfriend. As I turned to the channel, the host’s yelling became louder on the speaker, “INDIA! INDIA IS IN ASIA SO YOU CAN TECHNICALLY CALL THEM ASIANS!” Maybe we missed the beginning of the segment, but I like to imagine that this revolutionary discovery //was// the segment.

Hosts like Mark Levin and David Webb speak with caps lock on, instantly boosting the comedic appeal of all their segments. When Levin is yelling about how he barely makes any money from his book, //American Marxism//, explaining that he only plugs it because it contains the priceless information that will save the country, I can’t help but laugh. “YOU DON’T HAVE TO BUY EVERYONE A COPY” he proclaims, “JUST BUY ONE AND SHARE IT!”

My version of white noise

As someone who has always had difficulties concentrating, white noise can be incredibly helpful. There’s something about how conservatives can talk for minutes on end without saying anything concrete that makes it my favourite droning noise. Stacy on the Right is my go-to segment in this regard; her ability to speak for hours in one continuous run-on sentence is so soothing that it provides an opportunity to clear my mind. Though she claims that she’s “triggering the left every night,” I can’t help but feel calmed. If I were someone who meditated, a mixtape of her segments would be the perfect soundscape to close my eyes and relax.

A grim reminder

Though I try to remain lighthearted when listening to Patriot Radio, I can’t help but think about the severity of the issues they discuss. Whether it’s their fight against abortion, the refusal to acknowledge systemic racism, or the constant downplaying of the climate crisis, this channel serves as an important reminder that not only do these people exist but that they wield considerable power in our societies. 

Keeping me sharp

As someone who did debate throughout high school and CEGEP, I’ll always get joy from breaking down arguments and coming up with counterpoints. Listening to Patriot allows me to challenge myself and run mini-debates in my head. It pushes me to reflect on what I know, and do supporting research when I get home. Whenever I end up in a discussion with someone more right-leaning, thanks to my hours of conservative radio-listening, I already know what they’re going to say. They are then no match for my well informed rebuttal. 

A window into conservative thinking

I live in a fairly non-conservative bubble. It’s diverse—there are people of differing beliefs—but none of my close friends or relatives are conservatives. I don’t have the uncle who spews right-wing conspiracies or the colleague forwarding me Fox News articles. I like Patriot Radio because it provides me a glimpse into the type of media conservatives consume.

On both sides of the border, we’re heading into elections where conservative candidates are polling ahead. Beyond the laughs and the soothing white noise, it’s also important to be aware of what right-wing talking points are, and why electors believe them. Listening to Patriot is my own immersive ethnography, and hearing the thought processes of guests and hosts is both illuminating and distressing. Conservative radio offers a glimpse into the nitty-gritty of the right-wing playbook that isn’t often discussed elsewhere, including not just what they want, but how they want to achieve it.

Commentary, Opinion

Cash for clout: A referendum on Dime

by Liliana Mason, Kiran Gill on

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Consumer culture is the bane of our existence -Kiran

A Dime hoodie has become a ubiquitous cultural symbol on the McGill campus. The Montreal-based skate brand grows in popularity with each limited edition drop. Why do McGill students like Dime? Are they not just another company selling mass-produced, overpriced, undifferentiated clothing? Hoodies are a necessity for those braving Montreal winters, but the utility of Dime’s products is not what contributes to its trendiness. Wearing Dime clothing gives McGill students a feeling that will keep them much warmer than a hoodie: Social status. 

Consumer goods fall into two categories, material and positional goods. Material goods address basic human needs. For a typical student, material goods include an apartment, groceries, a computer, and basic clothing. Conversely, positional goods extend social status to those who attain them. Positional goods carry a competitive premium: The more people who have the product, the less it is worth. Possessing such a good, like a Dime hoodie, is not about merely having one, but rather that you have one and others don’t. Positional goods are proxies for perceived social superiority. 

Each Dime drop highlights the underlying problem with positional spending. Buying products because of the status they confer is futile. New purchases offer a status bump, but only temporarily. Inevitably, someone in your social group will get something newer and cooler, at which point you are left with two options: Either you engage in an consumption arms race, leaving you broke and owning an excessive amount of stuff you don’t even want, or you give in and embrace the fact that you can never have enough material things to make you happy. 

There are certainly people who buy Dime products because they like the brand’s designs, quality, and ethos—but they are the minority. The hedonic treadmill of consumer culture is impossible to stop, but self-awareness is the first step towards getting off. Dime is simply cashing in on your thirst for clout, and as soon as McGill students realize this, they will find themselves with much bigger bank accounts and clothes that are authentic to them. 

Positional spending is the solution to overconsumerism -Liliana

You would be hard pressed to find someone in the McGill bubble who does not agree—at least on the surface—that consumerism poses a major problem in our society. Everyday we are inundated with constant cries from companies attempting to convince us that they have what we need. As a result, cheap, mass-produced items have risen to allow people to buy whatever their heart desires. These products have pervaded the lives of millions of consumers. It takes just a couple clicks to find hours worth of videos proclaiming the virtue of Amazon dupes for Lululemon or sharing multi-part hauls from Shein worth hundreds of dollars. There are many theories about why overconsumption has everyone so thoroughly enamored, and while people have taken a variety of approaches to addressing the issue—from minimalism to no-buy years—I’m here to present a different solution: Embrace positional spending.

Saving up to buy a luxury item—or positional good—used to be a rite of passage for many teens and young adults—spending weeks, or months, putting aside money to buy the new Jordans or the latest Tommy Hilfiger. Though these are a kind of status symbol, for many they were also a physical manifestation of personal success—bought after saving allowance or using your first paycheque from a job. The sense of long-term accomplishment that accompanies your first major purchase or designer good is infinitely more satisfying than the short-term gratification that comes with your third Shein haul of the month. 

Dime sweaters are arguably the perfect positional good. Not only are they nicer than the average sweater, but they give off the vibe that every McGill student seeks—cool, effortless, and artsy. Dime’s globally renowned drops combined with their iconic Montreal collabs—notably with the Montreal Canadiens—are the perfect combination of local clout and universal swag. 

No matter how much you care about the environment, it is indisputably difficult to stop your hyper-consumerism cold-turkey. Instead, rather than falling victim to the call of internet dupes, take the time to save up for the thing you really want: Become a positional spender.

Know Your Team, Sports

Know Your Team: Squash Club 

by Julie Ferreyra on

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Still riding high from their season results in the 2023-24 Ontario Jesters University Squash League, members of the squash team made their way to The Tribune office to give some insight on one of McGill’s lesser-known teams. Although they still do not have varsity status, the McGill squash team has been revitalized in the last couple of years, especially following the cancelled COVID-19 season in 2020-21. This year, the team had the chance to benefit from the guidance of Yvon Provençal,  who coached the national Canadian squash team for over 15 years. This expertise contributed to the team’s success, with the women taking first place, putting an end to Queen’s University’s eight-year reign, and the men taking fourth. 

This season, the team decided to push for more cohesion between the women’s and men’s teams, with the hope of fostering a stronger team spirit. This camaraderie helped the team grow, both on and off the court. 

“We do a lot of socials, we have a very good team dynamic [….] When we go to tournaments and stuff, everyone always comments on how we’re a very big team community,” the former co-captain of the men’s team, Mo Kamal, told The Tribune.

Being the only university team from the province, the squad benefits from the support of Squash Québec and its community. Players regularly connect with junior players as well, and participate in initiatives such as Urban Squash, a non-profit that aims to demystify squash for the greater public. 

“The eventual goal would obviously be to have other teams in Quebec,” women’s team co-captain Isabel Smith explained. “It’d be really awesome to get to compete against Concordia and UdeM [Université de Montréal] and stuff, but we’re really grateful for all the support [the squash community] gives us—we’re really lucky to have that.” 

Despite their best efforts, the team still faces some challenges, especially in the area of finances. The team is self-funded and organizes frequent fundraiser initiatives. As part of the 2023 M24 Challenge, the team was able to raise $10,250 before the donor matched-up amplification.

“Because we don’t receive any direct funding from the school, these kinds of donations are hugely important to our ability to travel,” Smith co-captain furthered. “If we didn’t have very generous donors, we really wouldn’t be able to do it. So we’re very grateful for those people and we really hope they show up again.”

This budget is crucial for the team’s activities and logistics. The team must scrap together funding by being frugal and resourceful, especially regarding transportation. 

“[Our priority] was more going to all these tournaments, whilst simultaneously representing McGill by having a jumper,” Joseph White, current men’s team co-captain explained. “The most important thing was ensuring we had a car to go to that tournament, ensure we had the means to go and play, which is what we all want to do.”

Ultimately, the team hopes to one day gain varsity status. Building off of their existing relationship with McGill Athletics and their collaborations on events such as Active Living, where members of the team coach other players.

“We want to work together [with McGill Athletics] because at the end of the day, our common goal is to grow the sport,” Kamal explained. “It’s also showing our collaboration with them,  […] because it’s a mutual relationship where we need them and […] we’re offering our help.”

Looking at the future, the graduating members of the team remain confident in the prosperity of the teams for the years to come. 

“I’m confident that it’ll continue going because I can see that our members and players are dedicated, they want to keep the team going and keep it growing.” Jasmine Boucley, women’s team co-captain, said.

In the leadership’s eyes, the teams have clear goals in mind. 

“We want to just keep on going getting better results on the men’s team, the women’s team, keep maintaining the wins,” Kamal concluded. “Hopefully, even if we can get into the championships, so it’s always about expanding and staying motivated.”

The squash team will be participating in McGill’s 2024 M24 Challenge, taking place on Mar. 13. The team is also organizing another fundraising event Mar. 23–24, teaching beginners and organizing matches with the team

Sports

Yes, football has a misogyny problem.

by Sara Escallon Sotomayor on

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On Feb. 22, the former Brazil, Juventus, and Barcelona footballer Dani Alves was sentenced to four years and six months in prison for sexually assaulting a 23-year-old woman in a Barcelona nightclub. This is a welcome step forward for Spain in the aftermath of the “la manada” assault case that kickstarted sweeping changes to Spanish law. In 2022, this culminated in the passage of “only yes is yes” sexual assault legislation which eliminates the burden of proof of the use of force for sexual assault convictions and centres around whether express consent is given by victims. While Alves’s conviction is remarkable on its own given the history of sports institutions ignoring assaults perpetrated by famous athletes, the implications of this case goes beyond the Barcelona courtroom. 

Several high-profile cases have involved players going to trial, such as Benjamin Mendy, formerly of Manchester City, and Mason Greenwood, on loan at Getafe from Manchester United. Alves, one of the most decorated footballers of all time, is one of the rare cases where a footballer accused of sexual assault has actually been convicted. Indeed, there is an active Premier League player who has been accused of sexual assault by five women since April 2021 and has been arrested twice, but continues to play week in and week out for his club. Another Premier League player for Everton was also arrested in 2021 due to suspected child sex offences, only to have the charges dropped 21 months later. However, Everton did suspend the player indefinitely and did not renew his contract upon the revelation of the accusations. 

Sexual assault is a widespread issue in the professional football environment. Yet messages of support for victims from players, coaches, and other powerful figures around the game are completely absent. On the contrary, coaches will testify at the accused’s trial in efforts to protect their current or former players. But why? As Sara Shepard writing for the Athletic points out, for players, this is personal. In an age where their every action is televised and made available to an audience of millions, players fear the trial-by-social media, which they perceive as threatening their careers and prospects. Male footballers fear they will be “unjustly” punished for their behaviour with women, or worse, falsely accused, by overzealous individuals seeking to make money off their reputation. While Mendy was not convicted of sexual assault, his trial revealed that he holds deeply misogynistic attitudes toward women. But when Mendy was found not guilty, many high-profile players leapt to his defence, lamenting the loss of his reputation and the damage done to his career. In hyper-masculine competitive environments, brotherhood is key to success. This is not an excuse to remain silent when teammates commit sexual assault.

When Greenwood, an incredibly talented academy prospect, had all charges dropped against him due to the withdrawal of key witnesses, many Manchester United fans wanted him to return to help bolster their faltering attack. Manchester United was going to bring him back until Adam Crafton of The Athletic broke the story early and the backlash was so severe that they pivoted and sent him to mid-table obscurity in La Liga with Getafe. Rumours that the initial delay in the decision was because United was waiting to consult the women’s team players who were at the Women’s World Cup last summer led to harassment of players online. Many members of the women’s squad privately expressed discomfort with Greenwood’s potential return. 

These cases illustrate the barriers in place for the true inclusion of women in football. Afterall, how can women’s football grow when their male counterparts are repeatedly excused for some of the most vile acts a person can commit against another person? 

Professional football must change. The misogyny endemic to football must be stamped out if we want the game to grow and be truly inclusive of all, especially women. For male footballers, we must begin capacity-building programs regarding consent and sexual assault when they are young, and create accountability structures which root out abusers at both the playing and coaching levels as fast as possible. Clubs must suspend players under investigation of sexual assault and domestic violence. Abusers do not deserve to sully the football pitches we so love. In the absence of judicial reforms, football must be transformed from within.

Art, Arts & Entertainment

In Montreal, public art is its own form of architecture

by Charlotte Hayes on

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Montreal’s rich history of public art is well-documented, with much attention given to the vibrant murals that adorn the city’s streets and alleys. But an often overlooked component is sculptures—an art form that may not be as trendy but has an equally large impact on the city’s residents. Whether commissioned by the city or installed by an artist as an act of resistance, these sculptures contribute to the way we interact with our surroundings in public parks, along roadsides, or lining bike paths. Exploring the current landscape and historical context of sculptures on public land in Montreal provides valuable insight into the city’s boundary-pushing art and its profound impact on its residents’ lived experiences.

When walking through the Plateau, you may encounter a number of sculptures situated in front of private residences—many of these were created by Glen LeMesurier, a Montreal-based sculptor with over 25 years of experience. Working primarily with steel, LeMesurier’s sculptures are located in many of Montreal’s boroughs, colouring desolate corners with vibrant and geometric expression.. 

In an interview with The Tribune, LeMesurier recounted starting his most recognizable work, a sculpture garden called Jardin du Crépuscule, or Twilight Garden, that sits at the corner of Van Horne and Saint Urbain. The garden, composed of over 200 unique steel sculptures, is built on a plot of land that LeMesurier claimed over 20 years ago. Since then, he has used the property as a repository for some of his most vibrant work, to the extent that it spills onto the side of a bike lane. 

LeMesurier told The Tribune that the work isn’t cohesive or particularly planned out; rather, each individual piece encapsulates its own story. 

“I pour the cement and I installed the piece. And if that arrondissement wants it removed, they can, they can probably ask me to remove it. But I put in so many pieces, that it’s a lot more difficult for them to ask me to move 25 pieces, than one.”

He takes meticulous care in detailing his most recent projects, placing his statues in front of private residences. These sculptures, much like those found in the Twilight Garden, create a visual symphony of diverse colours, shapes, and sizes—no two pieces look quite the same. However, in this case they are spread all across the city in front of homes, apartments, and co-ops. The network of sculptures has become so expansive that a former McGill graduate student in the Department of Geography, Corey Dickinson, MS ‘21, built LeMesurier a map to keep track of all of them. 

There is quite the unique system for dispersing his artworks. After gaining permission from a residence to place a sculpture, he offers the choice to buy the work or to let it sit there temporarily, at LeMesurier’s discretion. Many choose the former option, helping him fund the rest of his artistic endeavours. The catch? The residents never quite know what the artwork will look like—LeMesurier told The Tribune that he doesn’t like to relinquish creative control over any of his projects. 

His newest residential project is a series of sculptures for a co-op on Hutchinson Street. LeMesurier had his eye on the beautiful brownstone building for some time, and when a friend residing there asked if he would create something for them, they agreed. Seeing as the co-op lacked the funds for the project, they opted to let LeMesurier maintain ownership of the piece, having it temporarily live at the co-op. He joked that they started making requests regarding the art’s colours and sizes, which he immediately shut down—as LeMesurier put it, he’s the architect.

The sculptures are both visually and principally opposite to many works of public art displayed elsewhere in the city. His work is about reclaiming pieces of Montreal as spaces for art, whether that be by the side of a road, along a canal, or in front of someone’s home. 

Jonathan Villeneuve is another Montreal-based sculpture artist using his work to change the city’s landscape. Villeneuve uses a mix of architectural methods to create sculptures in tune with the surroundings, both natural and constructed environments. With permanent installations all across Quebec, Villeneuve is changing the way the public interacts with art. 

When speaking to The Tribune, Villeneuve recounted the process by which he was commissioned to create his more permanent outdoor pieces. Because of a policy enacted in 1961, one per cent of the budget of all federal buildings constructed in Quebec must go towards funding a piece of public art created by a local artist for the building’s exterior. A small council comprising government officials and art specialists from across the province decides upon these grants. Villeneuve has been the recipient of many of these grants, allowing him to create pieces outside the Québec National Assembly and Parc Jean Drapeau. When drafting his proposals for these works of art, Villeneuve pays special attention both to how observers will interact with the work and how the work will interact with its surroundings. 

Villeneuve’s projects largely sit at the intersection of nature and technology—a marriage that is well suited for outdoor pieces. His work Utopie, found in Parc Jean Drapeau, nestles perfectly amongst the trees and gardens, while simultaneously mimicking the historically built environments, with the Biodome in the background. The yellow metallic sculpture showcases LED lighting that is intricately linked to its support beams. During the day, it forms captivating geometric shapes, and when night falls, it transforms into a dazzling display of radiant beams of light. Villeneuve cites natural elements, such as waves, as major influences on the way he incorporates the use of light and movement within his sculptures. This combination of nature and technology is also present in the design process, which is primarily achieved using design software. 

“My work doesn’t hold the traits of manual work so much, they’re all manufactured material from industrial processes. I don’t make bronze sculptures or moulding. But they’re all custom parts.”

Villeneuve describes his process as almost architectural; he completes design work on his computer, creates models, and then allows a manufacturing process to bring his creation to life. “I work with the professionals also, like programmers, designers, fabricators. And I’m not really attached to one specific technique.”

It is this convergence of artistic and technological innovation that allows his pieces to feel participatory for the observer. His work avoids alienating the audience by inviting observation, questioning, and interaction. 

Another artist who has been a recipient of the Quebec public art grant is Catherine Bolduc. Based between Montreal and Val-Morin, Bolduc’s works have been displayed internationally in both public spaces and art galleries. Her work in the public realm has focused primarily on reflecting the neighbourhood in which it is situated. In 2014, the City of Montreal commissioned Bolduc to erect a piece at Parc Lahaie. Les Anges Domestiques is a love letter to the wonderfully diverse architecture surrounding the park. 

“In front of the church, there’s one of the oldest [locations of] the Bank of Montreal, and on the corner, the [building] that is kind of Gothic—which is fire station now—used to be the City Hall of Saint-Louis-du-Mile-End before it was amalgamated into Montreal,” Bolduc said in an interview with The Tribune.

The piece is crafted entirely from bronze casts of items found at garage sales in and around the neighbourhood. Each arch on the piece represents a different population living within the neighbourhood, reflecting their unique architectural and artistic history. Bolduc spoke about wanting her public arts to feel comfortable and reflective of the neighbourhood in which it is situated. She recounted stories of building sculptures placed at elementary schools and wanting them to appeal to the students who went there. 

“I want to do something that people will like; it’s their neighbourhood. I did a few [sculptures] for primary schools so then you think about the kids because you [want them to] enjoy it, and like the teachers, they love it when it’s something that the kids will appreciate because they can learn something about [art]”

This same principle seems to be applied to her work in the Mile End—wanting all parts of Montreal’s diverse cultural communities to feel welcome and represented within public art.

Tactile public art, such as sculptures, has a profound impact on both the physical landscape and the residents who live there. Montreal is fortunate to have a thriving community of artists who go beyond beautifying the landscape and actively contribute to creating a welcoming environment for its residents. They have the opportunity to make a significant impact by reclaiming abandoned properties and infusing them with artistic spirit, breathing new life into these spaces. By creating art that is responsive to its viewers, artists can engage with the community on a deeper level, fostering a sense of connection and belonging. Their work has the power to fundamentally alter the way we feel represented and welcomed within our spaces, transforming them into vibrant and inclusive places for all.

McGill, Montreal, News

Students shut down Bronfman Building, call for McGill to cease Israeli investments and study abroad program

by Jasjot Grewal on

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Dozens of students, faculty, and Montrealers blocked the entrances to the Bronfman Building around 8:30 a.m. on Feb. 22 to compel McGill to divest from its Israeli investments, call for a ceasefire in Gaza, and discontinue its study abroad programs in Israel. At 10:16 a.m., McGill sent out an alert to all students and staff advising that all in-person classes in the building be switched to online for the day. Members of Solidarity for Palestinian Human Rights (SPHR) at McGill, Independent Jewish Voices (IJV) McGill, and the Kanien’kehá:ka Kahnistensera (Mohawk Mothers) gave speeches throughout the day. 

Members of SPHR, IJV, and students who are participating in a Hunger Strike for Palestine were present at the Bronfman building’s three entrances. The blockade allowed exit from the building throughout the day, and beginning at noon, allowed entrance into the building through one entry point. In an interview with The Tribune, a member of IJV McGill, explained the thought process behind blockading McGill buildings and disrupting classes. 

“McGill hasn’t listened to anything else we’ve tried. We’ve obviously been doing rallies for four months now, and they’ve not responded with anything. We tried to pass the referendum policy [the Policy Against Genocide in Palestine] and they didn’t listen—they vetoed it,” the member, who wished to be unnamed, said. “So, we felt we had no other choice. [This] is the only channel that we could go down that McGill admin would listen to.” 

They elaborated on the specificity of choosing Desautels Faculty of Management, explaining it offers two courses—ORGB 434: Special Topics in OB, Comparing Startup Ecosystems of Israel and Canada and FINE 434: Topics in Finance—which include a collaborative three-week study trip with the Hebrew University Business School. 

“[The courses] historically have promoted Israel as a startup nation, rather than a genocidal entity that it is. It’s promoted using […] quotes saying Israel’s military advancements [and] technological advancements are the best in the world when in reality, they used those technological advancements on Palestinian civilians,” they said. 

In a speech to the crowd, Carter Forman, a member of IJV, further contextualized the decision to blockade the Bronfman building, explaining that Samuel Bronfman was President of the Canadian Jewish Congress from 1939 to 1962. 

“This organization was, for nearly a century, the most influential advocate for Zionism and the State of Israel in Canada. Samuel Bronfman is also universally portrayed as a philanthropist and as a hero to the Jewish people. As a Jewish person myself, I am sick and tired of being taught to idolize people like Bronfman,” Forman said. 

“What’s important is that as we speak, Israel is ruthlessly bombing Rafah, which is now one of the most densely populated places on the planet [….] Our community is not represented by the forces that aim to annihilate the Palestinian people, [and] that continue to starve, displace, and murder innocent Palestinians as we speak. To stand against genocide is not antisemitism. In fact, true antisemitism is to conflate all Jewish people with the violent settler colonial state of Israel through antisemitism to represent our Jewish people.”

Shortly after noon, building access via the North entrance was restored. An SPHR representative who wished to remain anonymous told The Tribune that protesters allowed entry into the building in the afternoon after alleged threats from McGill administrators. 

“Despite consistent threats of police violence from McGill administration, the coalition of students succeeded in holding up the picket line all day. Only in the afternoon did we allow a limited amount of people to enter through the north entrance but all classes remained cancelled,” they wrote.

In a written statement to The Tribune, McGill Media Relations Officer Frédérique Mazerolle explained that McGill’s Security Services and police had arrived shortly after the protest began.

“To our knowledge, no one was prevented from exiting the building at any time. Due to the disruption, several classes were held online,” Mazerolle wrote. 

Members of Chabad McGill were stationed in front of the McLennan Library complex, facing blockaders throughout the day. Various individuals filmed the blockaders, played music, and danced with Israeli flags. A member of Chabad McGill told The Tribune that they were there “to call for peace.” 

The Mohawk Mothers gave a speech to the crowd at around 12:30 p.m., beginning with Mother Kahentinetha explaining that in 2015, she sent a letter to the then Principal and Vice-Chancellor Suzanne Fortier objecting to McGill’s invasion of Kanien’kehá:ka land. She also recalled that the same year, Palestinian students had approached the Mothers with the concern of McGill creating weapons that would be used by the Israeli Defense Forces. 

Mother Kwetiio subsequently told the crowd that everyone must do their part to support Palestinians and ensure that the atrocities McGill invests in are stopped, or they will be complicit in the genocide. 

“If we don’t get stronger, if we don’t use our minds, and our intelligence, and our understanding, it could be one of you. That’s not fair. So, we all need to do the work, you need to involve your families, you need to do everything you can do because it’s very hard to change the minds of a whole community. That’s our job,” Kwetiio said. 

In an interview with The Tribune, Kwetiio expanded on Palestinian-Indigenous solidarity, explaining that the key factors that unite the two groups are land seizure and oppression. 

“Palestinians are going through the same thing we went through,” Kwetiio said. “I feel like our two groups, we see the major similarities where someone came onto your land and told you that you’re insignificant. They told you that you’re less than human.”

Assistant Professor in the Department of Integrated Studies in Education Nanre Nafziger was also present at the blockade to support students’ demands for the university to divest. She emphasized that students voted in majority to pass the Policy Against Genocide in Policy, which McGill “did not recognize.” She urged McGill to listen to its student’s demands. 

“As an educator, as someone who loves children, it’s devastating what’s going on in Palestine. It’s also hurtful here today to also see students, the divisions, and us not being able to agree on something as basic as not killing human beings,” Nafziger said. 

A student who had their class cancelled due to the blockade and who preferred not to be named told The Tribune that they have felt isolated throughout their degree due to the lack of diversity and people of colour on campus. They shared that the blockade marked one of the first days they had “felt seen” on campus. They hoped that people would recognize that missing one day of classes was incomparable to the day-to-day experiences of Palestinians. 

“Just going into the school today, the amount of Islamophobic, hateful, and racist comments I’ve heard […] just because we’re missing one day of classes. What is that? Maybe three, four classes, whereas almost 100,000 people have been killed [or] injured in this war,” they said. “I feel like the point just keeps flying over people’s heads, and I think it’s really just a result of privilege or a result of the university stance, and as a result of the voices that aren’t heard enough and that aren’t amplified enough.”

Classes resumed as normal on Friday, Feb. 23. 

On Monday, Feb. 26, President and Vice-Chancellor Deep Saini sent a university-wide communication to all staff and students regarding protest-related disruptions calling for McGill to cease ties with Israeli institutions.

“McGill will not unilaterally sever its research and academic ties with Israeli institutions. Moreover, McGill will not interfere with the academic freedom of individual members of the university community to engage or partner with an institution simply because of where it is located. To do so would be wholly opposed to our institutional principles,” Saini wrote. 

Saini also shared university protocols for peaceful protest on campus, reminding students that the Code of Student Conduct and Disciplinary Procedures is violated “when the exercise of freedom of expression and assembly knowingly obstructs University activities such as teaching, research, and studying,” as the Bronfman Building blockade did. 

“Accordingly, I must stress that in any future instance where obstruction to University activities, or any other breach of our policies occurs, the application of the protocol for addressing campus disruptions referred to above will be swift,” Saini added.

Arts & Entertainment, Film and TV

The poison drips through in ‘The Zone of Interest’

by Zackary O’Toole on

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Minor spoilers for The Zone of Interest

How would you depict an atrocity onscreen? What would you show, and perhaps more importantly, what wouldn’t you? In Jonathan Glazer’s new five-time Oscar-nominated film, The Zone of Interest, these choices are put at the forefront of the narrative. The result? Nothing short of cinematic greatness. 

The film follows Rudolf Höss (Christian Friedel) and his wife Hedwig (Sandra Hüller) as they move through their seemingly monotonous daily lives. They attend picnics, swim in the river, celebrate birthdays, and read bedtime stories to their children—the picture of a happy nuclear family. However, something sinister looms beyond the walls of their garden. Never out of sight (or more accurately, out of earshot) are the smokestacks, gunshots, and screams from Auschwitz. Indeed, Höss is no ordinary father: He is the commandant of a Nazi death camp.

Though the film takes place directly outside of Auschwitz—the now-infamous curved barbed wire fence delimits the family’s garden—its interior is never shown. This is a stark departure from previous Holocaust dramas, such as Schindler’s List and The Pianist, which heavily feature concentration camps and Jewish ghettos. Instead, the camp acts as an unseen shadow over their daily lives. It infuses every action that they perform with the darkness of their complicity, without directly interfering in their “normalcy.” Here, the banality of evil is on full display. 

The girls don’t go shopping; they get clothes delivered from “next door.” They don’t use compost to fertilize their garden; they use ash instead. The tension between the family’s actions and what they represent is visceral—nearly unbearable. It would be one thing if they didn’t know where their clothes and “garden fertilizer” came from; it’s another because they do. It is these innocuous moments that punctuate the film’s central drama, and Glazer makes sure that we are constantly reminded of just how terrible this ordinary family truly is.  

The Zone of Interest is shot simply, with wide, still takes and a pale colour palette. But it works; dramatic flair has no place in this grim story. The film’s matter-of-fact visual style subtly reflects how the Holocaust’s horrors became normalized, bureaucratized, and clinical. Furthermore, this makes the moments which deviate from this style that much more impactful. After an important scene, Glazer holds a close-up of a rose for a little too long and a little too close for comfort. The bright red that fills the screen is a simple but powerful metaphor: No longer are roses beautiful and idyllic, instead they are sown from blood and hatred. 

Glazer masterfully conveys utter horror and evil without ever explicitly showing it. One reason for his success is sound: Tarn Willers and Johnnie Burn engineer a quietly nightmarish soundtrack. Screams of agony and burning fires are a constant presence but somehow fade away after some time. You are lulled into complacency, only to be reminded of where the film takes place by a loud gunshot followed by a piercing shriek. 

Like the visuals and sound, the Höss family simplifies and decontextualizes their day-to-day lives to make them more bearable. The parents do not explicitly mention the genocide happening on the other side of the wall, nor do the kids seem to understand what their father’s job truly consists of. Yet Glazer argues with vigour that the family’s hearts and souls are affected nonetheless—the poisonous deeds of their complicity affect them in ways that they cannot yet see. 

In its final 15 minutes, The Zone Interest reaches new heights. Having set the scene in the previous hour and a half, Glazer then delivers the film’s most poignant and harrowing moment. His creative risks pay off in the end and elevate the story beyond a traditional Holocaust narrative. Given its disturbing subject matter, The Zone of Interest may not be a film you want to watch, but it is certainly one you need to watch. 

Editorial, Opinion

Floor fellows need a better foundation, not elimination

by The Tribune Editorial Board on

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Content Warning: Mentions of suicide, sexual assault, and racial discrimination.

On Feb. 15, McGill’s Student Housing and Hospitality Services (SHHS) informed their 65 Floor Fellows via Zoom that their positions would be eliminated, effective this fall. SHHS announced the meeting only two hours in advance and the call lasted a mere eight minutes, ending before the Floor Fellows––unionized members of the Association of McGill University Support Employees (AMUSE) Unit B––had the opportunity to ask any questions. Floor Fellows are essential members of the residence life community at McGill, and this decision risks the physical and mental safety of incoming first-years living in residence. Furthermore, SHHS’s actions expose the university’s dangerous disregard for unionized workers on campus.

Though the Floor Fellow position provides financially vulnerable students with rent-free housing and an annual meal plan, their job also comes with the invisible cost of exploitation and 24/7 emotional labour. Floor Fellows have long protested the difficult conditions and high demands that residential services place on them. During the Winter 2022 semester, AMUSE Unit B reached an agreement after a two-week strike for a 14.8 per cent wage increase, the first meal plan increase in five years, and other gains on union priorities—a much-needed adjustment to their contracts and a testament to the union’s organization. But in March 2023, the university announced that Floor Fellows would be moving to smaller rooms in residences and, in some cases, forced to share communal washrooms with residents. 

Addressing McGill’s residence issues by removing Floor Fellows without clear justification is unconscionable and irresponsible. Most students in residence are minors or young adults living on their own for the first time. Floor Fellows support students learning to navigate adult life and the university workload in Montreal. First-year students look to these older peers for help understanding the often-opaque bureaucracy of McGill services, like the Student Wellness Hub (SWH) or the Quebec healthcare system. Most importantly, as both peers and authority figures, Floor Fellows are often the first people that residents will go to for help when they suffer from incidences including racial discrimination, harassment, and sexual assault, which run rampant in residences. They are the first to respond to emergency instances of alcohol poisoning and overdose—the difference between life and death. 

SHHS intends to hire more Residence Life Facilitators (RLFs) to compensate for the loss of Floor Fellows. However, the main roles of RLFs are event planning and advising residence councils, not crisis prevention and intervention. This is not an adequate replacement for Floor Fellows. 

SHHS argues that Floor Fellows’ training sessions do not adequately qualify them to address the needs of students who disclose sexual assault, express suicidality, indicate signs of self-harm, or struggle with mental health in numerous other ways. They also argue that Floor Fellows are primarily tasked with directing struggling students to the proper resources. This denies the on-the-job experience that Floor Fellows gain from regularly dealing with urgent student concerns and also distracts from the university’s failure to provide appropriate resources for students. The SWH is unequipped to handle urgent mental health crises and forces students to turn to the province’s failing healthcare system, which is struggling with widespread practitioner shortages. McGill’s limited support for the Office for Sexual Violence Response, Support and Education (OSVRSE) creates unnecessary obstacles for survivors of sexual assault to receive the help that they need and deserve. Floor Fellows step up for first-year students when McGill fails to provide the resources to survive university life.

McGill cannot boast its status as a “top employer” when its actions depict its employees as disposable. The abrupt nature of the announcement to terminate the Floor Fellow position disturbs organizing among a campus union. This restriction of support aligns with a dangerous trend among Canadian universities to develop student housing as an entrepreneurial endeavour rather than a service for students. McGill benefits from its status as an elite research institution while mistreating the people who contribute most to the university. Viewing future generations of students as potential profit will strip the university of its prestigious reputation. Floor Fellows are necessary for the safety and well-being of students in residence, and McGill must reverse its decision and commit to uplifting these essential members of the university community.

Arts & Entertainment, Film and TV

Massimadi Festival highlights Black queer stories

by Anya Brown on

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From Feb. 15 to 18, the Massimadi Foundation held its annual Afro LGBTQ+ Arts and Film Festival at the McCord Stewart Museum in Montreal. In honour of Black History Month, this special edition of the festival, themed “Transcendence,” highlighted Black queer stories that are not often seen or heard by the mainstream public. The Foundation’s president, Laurent Lafontant, decided that Black History Month was the ideal time to call attention to these stories. 

“We want to put forward the achievements of Black, queer people […] to promote Afroqueer culture and give them visibility,” Lafontant said in an interview with The Tribune.

The festival included a number of films, including All the Colours of the World are Between Black and White, the directorial debut of Nigerian filmmaker Babatunde Apolawo. The movie tells the story of two men, Bambino and Bawa, who cross paths at Bawa’s betting shop and grow closer to each other while developing Bawa’s ambitions to become a photographer. Bambino and Bawa are each painfully aware of the barriers facing gay men in Nigeria, but they find ways to grapple with their queerness and deal with their budding relationship in very different ways. Bawa has accepted his sexuality and wants to explore their connection further, whereas Bambino struggles with accepting Bawa’s advances. This highlights the struggle that gay men face both through persecution from governments but also in one’s own clear discomfort with the subject of queerness. They both make mistakes in the film, failing to communicate with each other and hurting each other, with Bawa even outing Bambino to a group of thugs on the street. It is difficult to see these moments, but it is still incredibly emotional to see them find a connection that they may never fully be able to commit to. 

While this incredibly tender story is playing out, the fact that members of the LGBTQIA+ community face enormous amounts of discrimination in Nigeria is always present in the character’s minds. The two men rarely touch, yet their connection is palpable. This film allows us to see that, even in the darkest of circumstances, people find love. They may not be able to openly be together in Nigeria, but they show us that anything is possible.

Lafontant said that his favourite part of organizing this festival was the process of watching and selecting the movies because it allowed him to bring queer stories to a new audience. It is evident why when watching this film. Living in a metropolitan city like Montreal, often interacting with a diversity of individuals, can make us feel like we know more about the world than many others do. However, the stories that the Massimadi Festival highlights make us realize that the world is much bigger than it seems. Through films such as All the Colours of the World Are Between Black and White, viewers learn about stories that otherwise would not be seen or circulated. Queerness has a long history in Nigeria, predating colonialism, making this film an important cultural statement. In a time where it seems to many that we are moving backward with our treatment of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community, queer stories in films from around the world are more important than ever. While the circumstances that Bambino and Bawa find themselves in may not be immediately relatable to people in Western countries, the emotions—love, loneliness, loss—at the heart of their story are widespread. These films make the world smaller and allow us to connect with people who live oceans away.

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