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McGill’s evolving faithscape: Exploring religion on campus

At twelve years old, I became acutely aware of how my family’s approach to religion diverged from that of my peers at my Christian school and church. The defining moment was when a Catholic friend visited and remarked on a unique feature in our home: A photo of Jesus facing a photo of the Buddha. My friend found it odd. But, my upbringing was marked by a belief, instilled by my parents, that all religions and forms of spirituality hold valuable insight for humanity. Although it is now obvious to me that not everyone had been taught the same, at the time, my friend’s reaction to the photos came as a shock. 

Despite recognizing religion’’s imperfections as I grew older—its polarizing potential, and its historical role in inflicting suffering—my curiosity about religious differences has persisted. Recently, while reflecting on my lack of interaction with religion since startingbeginning university, I began to ponder whether my deep fascination with religion’s impact on the world stemmed from my upbringing. How did my perspective compare to that of fellow students at McGill? 

In pursuit of answers, //The Tribune// ran a survey from Nov. 7 to Nov. 20 to gauge and understand McGill students’ sentiments regarding religion and spirituality, collecting a total of 112 responses. The results were telling: More than half of the respondents believed their peers were not religious, a presumption that aligned with the actual data. Despite the relatively small cohort of responses compared to the university population, the majority of McGill students in the survey reported not identifying with any specific religion or spirituality. 

However, the survey revealed a more nuanced picture of campus life. Nearly 60 per cent of surveyed students think that McGill has created an inclusive environment on campus where all religions are welcome without discrimination. Additionally, most students who identified with a particular faith felt that their rights to religious freedom were well protected on campus. 

The survey revealed varied perspectives on what religion and spirituality mean to McGill students. Many viewed spirituality as a personal journey and a connection to a greater force, possibly with higher powers and the supernatural. In their responses, students focused on how the practice of spirituality differentiates itself from religion because it is more personal, while others said it was just as community-based. 

Students articulated religion as an institutionalized embodiment of spirituality, offering a narrative to contextualize one’s existence and a structured belief-system for understanding life. One anonymous respondee noted: “I am not a religious person, but I see the appeal of a support system and community that religion fosters. I also see it as a source of comfort for anxiety surrounding existentialism and life-cycles.” 

With these insights in mind, I had a discussion with Gerbern Oegema, a religious studies professor at McGill, where he highlighted that there has been a significant uptick in student enrollment in the Religious Studies department over the past decade. Our conversation unearthed a crucial realization—an evident gap in early religious education. The convergence of secularization and shifts in educational policies in Canada has resulted in a generation possessing limited knowledge of religion. While prioritizing the secularization of education is imperative, I wondered whether students aspire to bridge this knowledge gap, aiming for a deeper understanding of diverse ways of life and philosophies. Oegema emphasized the rapidly-growing contingent of nursing students in the program, eager to study religion as a means to better care for patients from diverse backgrounds.

“[The nursing students] said, now, we work in hospitals with religious people who are sick or dying, and we know nothing about religion, and we want to know more about it,” Oegema said. “So that’s one very important reason why students come to [religion] classes; namely, that they know nothing about it.” 

According to Oegama, the absence of religious education at home and in schools has presented an unfed curiosity about the basics of religion, propelling students into further study. Despite the prevailing notion that society has moved beyond the realm of religion, a point solidified by the fact that polls have shown that Quebecers are least likely to believe in a God, Oegama said he has observed a resurgence of interest among young individuals. He attributed this to young people having profound questions about existence, unencumbered by the biases against marginalized groups that often accompany religious traditions. These questions, often centered around what one’s purpose is here on earth, delve into existential inquiries about the meaning of life, echoing the queries posed by ancient religious texts presented and studied in courses centered on religion. McGill’s offers an ample amount of religious studies courses across various departments, offering a plurality of perspectives within the field of study— with courses centered on Abrahamic religions and, South and East Asian religions, for instanceand more.  

The McGill’s Office of Religious and Spiritual Life, a branch of McGill Student Services, aims to provide multi-faith resources and programming for students’ religious and spiritual well-being. There are currently 32 faith clubs and organizations on campus, indicating that the university is a space where religious and spiritual plurality can thrive. 

However, despite a majority from the survey feeling their religious self-expression is protected on campus, over 67 per cent said that they did not believe McGill students displayed their religiosity publicly. And of those who were religious, around 54 per cent, expressed difficulty in finding a community of those who shared their beliefs at the university. 

Tanner Patterson, U1 Arts, captured the essence of the at times contentious nature of the religious atmosphere on campus. “Religion is an incredibly polarizing topic because it’s pretty much every single person saying that they know what the actual meaning of living is. So, everyone’s going to disagree with each other.” 

Clearly, it is not only people of differing religious groups in dispute but also those within the same faith. In the survey, the overwhelming majority of McGill students said that their social circle is not of the same religious or spiritual backgrounds as theirs. 

Delving into the social dynamics at McGill, Lucas Fuhrman, U2 Arts, described his friends’ religions, noting a mix of Catholics, individuals from various other religious backgrounds, and those with no religious affiliations. However, Fuhrman acknowledged that interfaith exchanges are  often contingent on one’s social connections on campus. Academically, Fuhrman touched upon the atmosphere the university fosters, mentioning that while the administration may take certain stances on issues, students still navigate a contested space where diverse opinions coexist. Additionally, he expressed his belief that McGill’s current cohort is less religious. Attributing this shift to the multifaceted challenges of contemporary life, Fuhrman asserted these hardships could prompt individuals to distance themselves from traditional religious teachings.

Although 55 per cent of polled students were not religious before coming to McGill, almost 10 per cent of McGill students had previously identified with a religious affiliation but no longer do so.  A common explanation I observed was finding incompatibilities with personal views and lifestyle requirements within organized religion that cause alienation in those communities. 

When asked about McGill student’s relationship to religion, Hannah Marken, U2 Arts, offered her perspective on our generation’s trajectory away from traditional religious beliefs. 

“I think that maybe there’s a stronger disbelief of what religions stand for and a lot of the ideas that are associated with it. A lot of young people don’t resonate with them anymore.” 

This phenomenon traces back to how students in the survey reported that they are opting not to display their religiosity publicly. Many choose privacy, fearing discrimination—particularly if they follow minority religions— meaning religions outside of Christianity, due to over half of the Canadian population being part of the Christian faith. Particularly in the context of Quebec legislation, Bill 21 illustrates how the province does not foster a safe environment for those part of the Islamic faith. Concerns extend to negative perceptions of various religious groups and reluctance due to complex faith relationships or safety concerns amid rising antisemitism and Islamophobia. My conversation with a U2 student in Religious Studies student, Charlie Zacks, emphasized this. 

Growing up with a Catholic mother and Jewish father, Zacks had exposure to both faiths, attending an American Christian private school, Methodist Church, Hebrew school, and synagogue. However, he identified as an atheist during his teenage years due to the prescriptive nature of religious teachings he encountered. Zacks finds McGill’s Religious Studies department diverse, featuring a wide age range and international representation, but also observes a general apathy toward religion outside an academic context. While there are well-supported on-campus religious organizations, he feels that acceptance depends on fitting into specific pre-established groups. 

“So is McGill overall accepting of people’s religiosity? Yes, insofar as it’s part of the accepted religiosity. This, in my opinion, is not a McGill problem specifically; but, McGill could do things to better this issue. This is an issue of how people view and interact with religion at large.” Zacks said.

“It’s the fact that some groups and some specific elements of certain groups are able to qualify as acceptable and because of that, anything outside of the acceptable facet of religion, or that specific religious group is then immediately disqualifying for them.” 

Zacks pinpointed a notable gap in basic understanding of religion among Canadians—particularly those born between 1995 and 2004. He attributed this to the rise of atheism during that era, with popular crusaders of atheism such as Richard Dawkins gaining fame. This trend, he noted, has led to a skeptical and unsympathetic attitude toward religion, particularly when engaging with different religious beliefs on campus. Emphasizing the need for open-mindedness, Zacks suggests that understanding religion with empathy and understanding can mitigate campus tensions and foster inclusivity. He advocates for a sympathetic approach to rReligious sStudies, seeking to bridge gaps in understanding and promote a more inclusive community. 

The impact of religion in shaping human development is often overlooked and undervalued. From the names of the days of the week to Western legal systems, humanity’s earliest beliefs about the universe have influenced various aspects of our lives. Recognizing the profound impact of religion is crucial in our daily interactions and, on a broader scale, in understanding how it influences legislation and policy. It stresses the interconnectedness between personal convictions, societal values, and the legal framework. Time and time again, personal convictions surrounding religion have allowed for divisive policies to be implemented worldwide— from Bill 21’s disproportionate the exclusion of Muslim women in the public sector in Quebec’s public sector, to the criminalization of homosexuality in Ghana. 

In the midst of shifting sentiments away from traditional religious structures, it’s crucial to acknowledge the enduring importance of religion and spirituality. While organized religion may be losing its grip, my experience speaking to students underscores the unwavering youthful quest for answers to existential questions, proving that religion and its philosophies and texts are here to stay. 

While contemporary events have a more immediate impact, a comprehensive understanding of human progress requires delving into the beliefs that shaped societies. Acknowledging not just what was believed but how deeply those beliefs were held is essential for comprehending actions and events throughout history. To reconcile with this truth, the influence of religion should be transparent rather than concealed behind rhetoric about complete secularism. Although religion is a personal matter, understanding it and its history becomes crucial in comprehending the behaviour of those around us and the societal norms that persist. Embracing the historical-religious foundations openly, particularly within an academic context, can lead to a more profound understanding of our world and foster a more accepting and informed society, where freedom of expression in various forms prevails. 

Shared questions about mortality and virtuous actions will persist across generations, though traditional avenues—churches, mosques, and synagogues, for example—no longer hold the same influence. Rather than completely losing religion, our generation appears to be shedding many aspects of organized religion and the value of its institutions. McGill students can envision a future with thriving interfaith discussions and harmonious coexistence, as long as the value of studying how religion has influenced and continues to influence the world continues to hold importance. A more empathetic approach, grounded in a profound understanding of religion, is crucial as we navigate the complexities of individual and communal beliefs. 

Editorial, Opinion

Montreal’s 2024 budget inflates a ballooning SPVM, while crucial accessibility issues go unaddressed

Announced on Nov. 15, Montreal’s 2024 budget raises serious concerns regarding the skewed allocation of funds accompanying the 3.5 per cent spending increase. The municipal government allocated the majority of the budget to investments in public transit––which is receiving a budget increase of $48.4 million, bringing it up to $715.6 million for the year––and the Service de police de la Ville de Montréal (SPVM)––whose budget will be increased by $35 million to $821 million. This tax hike however does not consider houselessness, alternatives to policing, and accessibility widely. Just shy of $7 billion, the budget will result in a 4.9 per cent hike in taxes for Montreal homeowners––an even higher rate than last year’s 4.1 per cent increase. Although raising taxes allows the government to provide vital public services, the budget’s allocation of funds grossly misuses Montrealers’ money. Despite some potential benefits for citizens, the budget not only fails to commit to accessible public services but also further empowers the abusive SPVM.  

Undoubtedly, the drastic increase in police funding is the most dangerous element of the new budget. Much of the police budget increase will go towards the hiring of 225 more police officers. The increase supports the misconception that more hiring will decrease overtime and stress, thereby improving policing practices. This overlooks the reality that the root problem resides within the policing institution itself, and that simply addressing officers’ working hours will not provide a solution. Hiring more officers contributes to over-policing wherein officers assert discretionary power under a systemically racist institution by disproportionately targeting Black and Indigenous peoples, and other racialized communities. In dialogue with mental health professionals and social workers, the city must invest in alternative methods of conflict de-escalation and care. 

Montreal does not need more police officers. This decision willfully misinterprets crime’s root causes, doubling down on the enforcement system rather than taking real action to address the underlying issues. By over-investing in policing, the Montreal government deprives other social services––such as safe injection sites, affordable housing, and shelters––of the necessary funding to provide for communities. 

The institution of policing as a whole fails to viably support many marginalized groups, including queer people, people suffering from mental illness, and sexual assault survivors—who often face violence from the police. For many officers, joining the police force represents power and control, contributing to the dangerous legacy and practices of the SPVM. When reckoning with the history of policing in Canada and North America, we must note its roots in slavery and settler colonialism. Police aim to control every aspect of individual people’s lives, producing regulated citizens. As such, police take autonomy away from individuals, imposing on communities and violently punishing those who do not conform.

One of the more positive aspects of the budget is the allocation of $34 million to provide free OPUS cards for senior citizens––an integral accessibility service for a well-planned city. However, this does not address transportation issues facing many other communities. Students, especially those who commute to school, face excessively high OPUS prices. Moreover, the recent talks about severely cutting certain transit services, including closing the Metro at 11 p.m., stopping intercity buses at 9 p.m., and withdrawing trains from the Orange, Green, and Yellow lines should concern Montrealers. These changes would drastically affect students and the general Montreal community, implementing devastating barriers to safe and accessible transportation. Although this funding matters, it cannot come at the expense of the metro’s accessibility to vulnerable populations. 

Montreal’s municipal government must re-allocate this budget to other services that work toward addressing the root issues causing crime and increasing the accessibility of public services for everyone. Premier Legault must immediately revoke his denials of systemic racism and prejudice in Quebec to take tangible steps toward redressing the inequalities that marginalized communities face every day. In this process, McGill students must lead the charge by getting involved in the communities around them, listening, learning, and taking action.

Commentary, Opinion

A snapshot of the perils of our phone-first recollection era 

Photographs serve as timeless reminders of our lives and permanent homes for our precious memories. Without them, recollections fade unnoticed; so we snap pictures through joy and sorrow, to create a visual record of our journey through life. As cameras embedded in our cellphones have become an omnipresent part of our daily routines, the excessive capture of countless photos has damaged our ability to retain that journey at all. When we take pictures, we are transferring the duty of remembering what really happened to an external device. This proliferation of photographic documentation threatens to reshape the foundation of our memories. If these patterns continue, we risk compromising the way we recall life experiences, particularly during pivotal stages of life such as university years.

Our generation is the first one to have the unique privilege of documenting its own youth digitally. No longer solely relying on oral stories from elders; now, intergenerational groups can effortlessly share thousands of pictures capturing real, lived experiences. As university students, the urge to capture every second through the various photo-focused apps on our phones can be overwhelming and almost irresistible in face of the desire for mementos that will be cherished for years to come. But equally pressing is the longing to have real, tangible memories of what being a student at McGill has felt like. 

While there’s no harm in snapping a photo of friends enjoying a sunny day outside Redpath, taking 20 more during the same hour might be excessive. Curating a small, meaningful collection of photos holds its own unique beauty. 

Take a cherished photo of your grandparents, for example. A faded, yellowing polaroid of a smiling face, such a gift because there is only one like it. We imbue these images with significance and value specifically because they are rare and precious. Now imagine what your children will see of your life: Thousands upon thousands of selfies and TikToks, every stage of your adolescence documented in gnarly detail, every piece of documentation made more derivative by the sheer quantity of the rest. 

For those who find this argument too sentimental, you can direct your attention to a more immediate and significant concern: The actual remoulding of our memories under the influence of photography. Have you ever attempted to recall an event from a few weeks or months back, and turned to your camera roll to recreate it in your mind? But what happens when, instead of recalling a beautiful experience as it happened, we can only grasp it through the pictures we took of it?

This might seem far-fetched, but our phones are one step ahead of us, employing vocabulary that ontologically relates photographs to our process of memory retention. Photos saved on Snapchat are called “memories,” and the platform notifies users of daily “flashbacks” from their camera roll, serving as reminders of past events. This vocabulary may seem harmless, but with so many lives lived through phone screens, what is there to separate a real memory from one crafted for you by an app? 

Research from Yale University indicates that documenting experiences via photography can enhance one’s connection to them by encouraging deeper immersion in the moment. Yet, the smartphone era’s photo abundance risks diluting authenticity as constant picture-taking prioritizes quantity over genuine immersion, potentially compromising the memories formed.

While using a camera as a visual diary is a helpful documentarian practice, it is inevitable that this culture of digital recording will pervade our psychology. Moving through the day with phone in hand, ready to mindlessly snap photos of anything, might seem beneficial to later recollection, but it will only cause harm to our memories in the long run. There is a saying about taking pictures of your food in restaurants: “The phone eats first.” When reflecting on a life documented through the lens of a camera, it may well be that the phone remembers first too. 

Commentary, Opinion

An Ode to Studio Art and why McGill’s curriculum needs it

At the beginning of this semester, I found myself eating lunch with a new dorm acquaintance, and making the usual small talk about classes. Add-drop deadlines were coming up, exacerbating the already-nagging sense of directionlessness that is so fundamental to collegiate studentdom, and the two of us felt just as lost as everyone else.

But it was with surprising resolution that my lunchmate told me she had dropped one of her classes, and in its place signed up for an art class held outside of McGill. McGill doesn’t have any studio art courses, she told me, so she thought it made more sense to put that tuition money toward a class she really wanted to take.

While I felt just as confused about my own path and future career as anyone else, I left the table feeling certain that McGill’s curriculum is in desperate need of studio art. 

Despite the central reason behind McGill’s lack of studio art being that UQÀM and Concordia University receive government funding to support their respective programs, many at McGill have felt similarly about the void in the university’s curriculum. In Art History and Communications Studies (AHCS), students and faculty have worked to combat this by transitioning the course ARTH 474––Studies in Later 18th and 19th Century Art 3––to include a “Drawing for Art Historians” component. 

Odd as it may seem, taking studio arts classes have gone hand-in-hand with my academic success. My notetaking, for instance, has become functional on both an informational and a visual level, where I give colour, format, and illustration as much validity as the denotations of words themselves. 

On a formulaic level, studio art is fundamental to so many of McGill’s strongest disciplines: civil engineering, mechanical engineering, and architecture, to name a few. Studio art classes would give McGill’s curriculum––and its students––an essential foundation of creativity, innovation, and three-dimensionalism (both literally and figuratively). Studio art practice would be useful in a range of fields, whether that be for architectural conceptualization, for mechanical trial and error, or simply for a break from content-heavy courses with a paintbrush and a canvas.

The importance of thinking with one’s hands––using tangible materials like clay, oil paint, steel, or wire––cannot be stressed enough. Navigating physical relationships of materials and their properties engages the body and the mind simultaneously in a way that any other kind of thesis-building, book-reading, project-proposing, or derivation-taking does not. Any student who takes a sculpture class will find their range of conceptualization suddenly much broader, more original, and both more aesthetically and mechanically impressive.

On a psychological level, studio art is healthy. Walking away from a computer is a good start unto itself, but the frustrations and victories that occur in a studio are of a different species than those encountered anywhere else. In my own case, though I never considered pursuing art, I always considered it important to be able to work long hours on something I was proud of, without feeling like my work was another inevitable hurdle in the longer path towards a career.

In a prestigious, academically-distilled environment such as McGill, coursework often feels stiflingly pervasive. Studio art gives the mind a chance to exercise different cognitive muscles. In the same way an athlete must let their muscles rest in between high-intensity workouts in order to get stronger, the brain, too, needs a rest from the whirlwinds of papers and lab work in order to maintain its highest quality. 

Many schools recognize the applicability of studio art, such as Northwestern University, where they offer a structural art course as part of their civil engineering program. This course emphasizes the connection between form and mechanics, which is essential to quality civil engineering. In tune with the initiatives taken by AHCS faculty at McGill, Northwestern provides an example of integrating studio art into an existing curriculum. For the sake of the quality and efficacy of McGill’s entire curriculum, as well as the general wellbeing and creativity of its students, the university would benefit from the addition of studio art. 

Off the Board, Opinion

Grounds for delight

As winter rolls in, my gait has begun to resemble the shuffle of a dejected penguin. Head permanently bowed for fear that one poorly planned step will result in death by slippage, my walks to campus now provoke a deep sense of mourning for warmer, and more posturally vertical, days gone by. These long consultations with the Milton sidewalk, however, have enlivened my affection for all things ground-related.

The establishment (romantics, well-being experts, my mother) is adamant about the importance of looking upward. Look at the sky, they say–quit slouching and ditch that grumpy aura. Sure, the sky has its perks—the sun, for instance—but can we stop with the looking-down slander? The ground is where life is!

The sky may be magnificent in its grandness, but the ground houses endless intricacy, from the cushiness of rich soil to the dotted coarseness of asphalt. Tiny creatures can, at any moment, crawl over a pebble and into one’s view. Even the scratchy gray of a sidewalk square is, in my view, far more texturally interesting than a spotless slice of clear blue. In the fall, I love to see leaves descend from their pompous treetop perch and gather playfully at my feet, and to hear their snicker as I sweep them aside.

The summer camp I went to as a kid laid claim to a large rocky ledge looking out on Georgian Bay. Slightly removed from the main grounds, it was a special space for reflection and commemoration. Laying flat on its sandy surface with my cabin-mates as we peered down at the lake, the momentousness of our girlhood and friendship would wash over me with all the drama of a coming-of-age movie. We staked our entire life’s trust in that big rock, our bodies glued to it as it held us above the drop in mighty stillness. 

In more recent times, some of my fondest memories have been formed sitting slumped on rocks after a night of outdoor dancing, suddenly so much more aware of their comfort. Leaning on one another in silent exhaustion, my friends and I would watch the new day materialize from the safety of this sturdy, ancient surface. So often depicted as unwelcoming and harsh, rocky terrain can offer the peace of constancy in a world of haste.

Winter grounds, covered in snow and ice, have their own ways of communicating life. Criss-crossing tire marks on snow-dusted roads, diverse in their density and opacity, tell us about the directions in which people have been travelling. Sled marks and scattered pilings of snow reveal a world of people making space for themselves and their kin. A mess of footprints on a busy street corner, a rare animal track on a doorstep. Every day, new paths and patterns can be seen stretching all around. The winter ground offers us an ephemeral tracing of life as it is lived and skirts away.

While I miss being able to plop down on an outdoor surface of my choosing without immediately turning into an icicle, I have found the floor of my apartment to be a respectable substitute during the colder months. Being at the bottom of a room summons a feeling of cocoonedness, of being held by the walls and furniture that tower on all sides. Sitting in a chair, legs hidden underneath a table, or sinking into a couch, I tend to grow irritated by the feeling that I am abandoning my corporeality. Cross-legged on the floor, I find myself whole and compact. Additionally, a migration to floor-level always generates a more satisfying feeling of closeness with whomever one is sitting, removing all possibility for stiffness or pretension. Knee-to-knee on our living room rug, silliness and vulnerability flourish together.

What was the point of all this mushy recounting? I want us to build a world of curiosity and affection from the ground up. Armed with an appreciation for what is too often cast as mundane, cold, and rigid, there is very little that can bring you down… except for the boundless allure of the ground, of course. The floor is yours!

Arts & Entertainment, Theatre

TNC Theatre brings ‘Importance of Being Earnest’ out of the closet

As I took my seat among a sea of Doc Martens and flamboyantly vintage clothing, I began to feel underdressed for this performance where everything from the audience to the antique couch was stylish, carefully chosen, and, above all, queer. 

Tuesday Night Café (TNC) Theatre’s contemporary, lesbian rendition of Oscar Wilde’s 1895 comedy The Importance of Being Earnest brought Wilde’s queer subtext into the spotlight. The colourful script centres on two upper-class dandies who both lead elaborate double-lives in order to split their time between the country and the city. The twist: Both leading male characters are delightfully recast as women for this production. Jack (Maite Kramarz, U3 Arts) resides at his country estate along with her ward, Cecily (Jaimie Coplan, U1 Arts), and uses the alter ego Earnest to sneak off to New York City and cover for her extravagant exploits. On the other hand, Algernon (Celeste Gunnell-Joyce, U1 Arts) relies on her imaginary long-suffering friend Bunbury, whose poor health always requires her to escape into the country. 

Kramarz, who plays Jack with a tireless sense of respectability and neuroticism, serves as the perfect foil to Gunnell-Joyce’s Algernon, who hits the flamboyant, Wildean gestures of a do-nothing dandy spot on. 

When, by chance, Algernon finds out about Jack’s double life, she realizes that they both engage in what she calls “Bunburying.” She’s determined to infiltrate Jack’s country estate, posing as Jack’s reckless sister Earnest. As both of their lies begin to unravel, their contradictory personalities shine with Wilde’s witty dialogue turning increasingly back-handed. 

Throughout the play, the actors handled Wilde’s circuitous language with ease, spitting pointed insults and not-so-subtle digs at society as though it was second nature. 

“I was surprised at myself—and I was talking to all my cast members about this—that we were able to remember everything we were supposed to say in all these weirdly twisty lines,” Kramarz said in an interview with The Tribune

As Jack and Algernon’s double lives crumble around them, Lady Bracknell (Megan Danbrook, MA ‘23) stole the show with her formidable portrayal of an overbearing aristocrat’s vain attempts to maintain an honourable, Victorian facade. The love interests—Gwendolyn (Ellie Mota, U1 Arts) for Jack and Cecily for Algernon—dazzled with their spot-on takedowns of upper-class feminine stereotypes. 

After immersing myself in two hours of Wilde’s biting satire—which holds up remarkably well today—I retired to TNC Theatre’s tiny, lime-green office to speak with director Carmen Mancuso (U3 Arts) about the inspiration behind the show. 

“When we were choosing a play, we were really looking to find something really iconic and really fun that we could stage in kind of a new way,” Mancuso explained. “One thing that I really loved about [TNC] is that their mandate—their idea—is always about taking [a] traditional part of the canon and flipping it around.”

The Importance of Being Earnest presented a perfect opportunity for this, with its gay subtext begging to burst out of the closet with a more explicitly queer staging. “When I was reading through it, I kept finding moments where it was like […] ‘Oh my God. They sound so gay. This sounds like lesbians I know,’” Mancuso noted. 

While Wilde, famously sentenced to hard labour and two years of jail for his homosexuality, had to keep his play anchored within Victorian heteronormativity, TNC Theatre took the opportunity to bring queerness to the forefront by recasting the play with primarily women leads. 

“Our dream for something like this is that it’s a way of celebrating what’s in the play,” Mancuso said. “Of bringing out that very obvious—if you can even call it—subtext, and really kind of celebrating that in the open as something that’s alive and there and living.”

Arts and Entertainment Editor Dana Prather is Executive Director of Tuesday Night Café Theatre and was not involved in the publication of this article.

Arts & Entertainment, Pop Rhetoric

Where’s the hair, Harry?

In Nov. 2023, the entertainment world was shocked to hear the news that one of their very best had been lost. Millennials still harbouring crushes from their teen years and diehard fans alike were devastated when they discovered what happened to Harry Styles. No, the man himself isn’t dead—but his hair, along with some desirability, sure is. 

Beauty isn’t everything, but Styles’ most recent move to get a buzz cut remains questionable, to say the least. From the boyish curls in 2011 to his lion’s mane in 2015, one of the singer’s most defining features has always been his hair. After all, his name is Harry Styles, so what is he without hair to style? Baldy Unstylish simply does not have the same ring to it. 

This move cannot be attributed to an impending midlife crisis. There’s speculation of reasonable rationalities, such as wanting to be more anonymous in public. The singer-songwriter is a mere 29 years old and has produced numerous chart-toppers in the past few years, including ‘As It Was’ and ‘Watermelon Sugar.’ The star won Album of the Year at the 2023 Grammy Awards for his work on Harry’s House, and he even debuted his role in the Marvel Cinematic Universe at the end of Eternals. There is no shortage of success in Styles’ life. Who knows—maybe the stress of making another album is getting to him, or perhaps this is his response to Taylor Swift’s recent re-release of 1989 (Taylor’s Version), whose romantic tracks about Styles do not paint him in the best light. Regardless of the reason, there is no true way to justify this tremendous loss. Maybe Taylor Swift was wrong; he may finally be going out of style. 

I am not the only fan to be outraged by this move. Members of the public have taken to X, formerly Twitter, to comment on how the new ‘do has affected them. To everyone posting the pic of Harry Styles with his shaved head please stop it’s hurting me emotionally, mentally and physically,” one X user stated. Meanwhile, another fan noted the gravity of the situation, asking, “you’re laughing? harry styles got a buzz cut and you’re laughing?” 

His hair was an inspiration to us all. He proved to the world that not only is there merit to the man bun, but that the slick-backed look is more than a cautionary tale against the excessive-hair-gel look that John Travolta popularized in Grease

Every generation has its turning point. Between the World Wars and Y2K, previous generations have had their fair share of drastic events. Who’s to say that this isn’t ours? The trauma of this hairdo is already affecting the McGill population.

“When I woke up to see that the rumours were true, I didn’t know how to go on with my day,” Sophia Longo, U2 Science, said in an interview with The Tribune

The extent of the damage this haircut has incurred is not yet known; we cannot imagine the havoc this could wreak on students’ performances on final exams.

In the end, it’s what’s on the inside that matters—haircuts cannot determine a person’s worth. That is, for everyone except Harry Styles. Even a casual observer could tell that half of the artist’s magic is hidden in his hair. Shaving his head is an act tantamount to removing a unicorn’s horn or stripping a tiger of its stripes. No matter how many of his songs top the charts, they will never be enough to sit atop his head. So Harry, if you’re reading this, then I beg of you—be hairy again. 

Arts & Entertainment, Books, Film and TV

The metamorphosis of Coriolanus Snow

Spoilers for The Hunger Games: A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes; mentions of violence.

A villain is made from an innocent soul shattered to the point their humanity is forgotten. An enraptured audience feels compelled to watch this slow descent into madness, the arc of a villain so brutally destroyed. The prequel film for The Hunger Games trilogy, A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, is the perfect example of this. Anticipating its release on Nov. 17, an influx of Coriolanus Snow (Tom Blyth) thirst edits flooded TikTok to a degree that nearly rivalled the inescapable circulation of the 2014 Josh Hutcherson edit

To anyone familiar with the original Hunger Games trilogy, this response may be perplexing. President Coriolanus Snow, the maniacal mastermind who perpetrates the notorious Hunger Games, forces the districts to shackle children in a death battle as punishment for the districts’ attempted rebellion. A manifestation of pure malevolence, he spearheads the government which orchestrates these games as entertainment for the rich and frivolous. Why, then, is an entire storyline dedicated to his journey?

Villains serve as foils to protagonists, compelling them into the journey through which they unearth their heroism. However, an audience will always desire the omitted narrative uncovering how a villain came to be. We crave, more than anything, complexity in characters. Thus, the attraction of A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes lies in its obsessive examination of Coriolanus Snow’s infamous origins. 

A character who renders an audience conflicted is rare; to do this in the face of pre-established hatred is even more extraordinary. Most viewers walked into the theatre expecting some maudlin backstory, poorly attempting to justify Snow’s horrific actions against innumerable innocents. They found, instead, an earnest young man with a desire to provide for his impoverished family. A golden-haired youth with his heart in his throat at the thought of twisting a jubilant performer into a murderer, merely to appease the Capitol. Looking at the child-like innocence of a boy, simple and caring, inspires empathy in the audience. Within the film’s first 20 minutes, Coriolanus joins the tributes as the Capitol displays them in a zoo cage to gain his tribute, Lucy Grey’s (Rachel Zegler) trust. From the moment she enters the arena, Coriolanus shackles himself to his monitor, raw anguish reflected in his eyes. This heart-wrenching moment reminds the audience that he too began as a child victimized by a perverse post-war system of “reform.” 

The film details Snow’s descent into depravity. Key moments progressively dismantle him until he splinters into the man we know as President Snow. The first flicker of his character comes when he bludgeons a tribute to death in self-defence, shocked by his loss of control. As the film progresses, each death makes the steps toward darkness easier. In a climactic fit of rage, discovering Lucy’s betrayal, he attempts to kill his love. So far, Lucy has served as a metaphorical representation of his heart and with this act he attempts to extinguish the final ounces of his morality. This marks the definitive shattering of his integrity, facilitating his metamorphosis from the innocence of Coriolanus to the malevolence of President Snow. 

The Head Gamemaker of the tenth games, Dr. Volumnia Gaul (Viola Davis) asks Snow what the purpose of the Hunger Games is. He replies, “The whole world is an arena, and we need the Hunger Games to remind us who we are.” Now enthralled in the confines of the games, Coriolanus sees himself as the Victor willing to do anything and everything to come out on top. With a corrupted soul, Snow falls into the footsteps of his father (who incited the idea of the games), no longer the bright-eyed boy with a golden heart and curls. We exit the theatre with the cold pang of loss. The last fringes of our hope for him flicker out with the cinema lights; we should have known better.

Arts & Entertainment, Comedy

Matt Rife’s Netflix special ‘Natural Selection’ is disconcerting and misogynistic

CW: Mentions of ableism and misogyny

 Matt Rife’s new Netflix special is supposedly a comedy; I didn’t find it very funny. 

The 28-year-old comedian and actor from Ohio has recently received a lot of backlash from his special, Natural Selection, which was released on Nov. 15. 

Rife is facing criticism that his special contains blatantly sexist and ableist jokes. In response to the backlash, he told The New York Times that he doesn’t think anybody should feel mad just because he was trying to make people laugh. He is either unaware of what is offensive or is overconfident in his assertion that people are wrong for being upset.

The problem isn’t that Rife wants to try for edgier humour; it’s important to take risks in comedy, and not everyone will like every joke—especially when it mentions oppressed people. The main reason why people are bothered is that Natural Selection is quite different from the comedy that made him famous. His comedy career first started to gain popularity when clips of his flirtatious crowd work—which greatly contrasts the juvenile comedy style of Natural Selection—began circulating on YouTube and Facebook. In an interview with Variety, Rife said his special is intended “way more for guys,” which, to him, translates to the jokes being at the expense of women and autistic people. His opening joke, used for “testing the water” with his audience, was that Baltimore is “ratchet” and that women with black eyes should hide in the kitchen. Although humour is extremely subjective, fans aren’t satisfied with the new Rife who thinks domestic violence is a joke. 

Rife has remarked in the past that his following consists mostly of women on the “very female dominant” TikTok, and this abrupt change in style marks an evident desire to appeal to a more male-dominated audience. It’s okay if he wants to write for men, but I question why he decided to do this at the cost of his primary audience. People don’t need to cancel him, because he’s cancelled himself by deliberately ridiculing the people who have supported him the most. 

The real cherry on top of all of this was his “apology,” which he posted to his Instagram Story on Nov. 20. Along with the caption, “If you’ve ever been offended by a joke I’ve told – here’s a link to my official apology,” he shared a link to a website selling special needs helmets for adults and children. Is it subjectively funny that he managed to make himself look even worse by leaning into the criticisms that his comedy is ableist? Yes, it is. 

After the special’s release, Rife’s previous controversies have begun circulating on social media. Most notably, he touched the then 18-year-old Zendaya’s face without her permission on the show Wild ‘N Out in 2015 during a game called “Talking Spit,” where players try to make someone spit out their water, usually from laughing. Rife’s initial attempts to make the actress spit out her water weren’t successful, so he tried to get a reaction out of her by touching her face. In the clip, Zendaya is visibly uncomfortable, and her teammates rush to defend her. He also posted a since-deleted tweet that perpetuated anti-Asian sentiments, referencing what at the time was the novel Coronavirus, by targeting the cast of the Korean film Parasite in his caption: “Everyone at the #Oscars waiting to see if the cast of Parasite coughs.” 

This new style he’s going for is not funny, and is certainly not okay either. It took me a while to realize why he seems so familiar—he reminds me of middle-school boys trying to earn their peers’ approval. He has the bad habit of making jokes that are blatantly sexist, ableist, or racist in order to please others, specifically men. Although men do not inherently appreciate this type of humour, men are Rife’s intended audience. Rife needs to take note that discriminatory humour shouldn’t be considered a form of humour, but a form of bullying. 

News, SSMU

SSMU Policy Against Genocide in Palestine suspended due to B’nai Brith court case

On Tuesday, Nov. 21, the Quebec Superior Court ordered the Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU) to postpone the ratification of the Policy Against Genocide in Palestine until a final verdict is reached at a court hearing in March 2024. A McGill student filed the injunction with the backing of Jewish service organization B’nai Brith Canada, who believe the policy should not have been allowed to appear in the fall referendum.

The injunction comes after students voted in favour of the Policy Against Genocide in Palestine  question in the fall referendum, with 78.7 per cent of non-abstaining students voting Yes.” The policy would mandate that SSMU adopt an official position of solidarity with Palestinian students by publicly denouncing Israel’s siege on Gaza and putting pressure on McGill to divest from companies supporting Israel. Until the SSMU Board of Directors ratifies the policy, SSMU cannot act upon it. In a statement, SSMU wrote that it plans on contesting the injunction request in court, but will postpone the ratification until March.

In an email to The Tribune SSMU President Alexandre Ashkir emphasized the organization’s commitment to upholding student democracy and maintaining an “open dialogue” with students.

“By adding to the burden of ratification, the university threatens a democratic vote and as such the legitimacy of all student democracy,” Ashkir wrote. “[SSMU] must always operate by mandate; for the time being that mandate is fighting in court for the right of the democratic process to express itself fully and to its end.”

In a statement issued on Nov. 17, B’nai Brith reaffirmed their support for the McGill student who filed the injunction, who wishes to remain anonymous. In July 2022, the organization also backed a McGill student in a lawsuit against SSMU and Solidarity for Palestinian Human Rights (SPHR) McGill for attempting to pass the Palestine Solidarity Policy.

“[W]e believe [the policy] represents a serious threat to the rights of Jews at McGill University.” B’nai Brith wrote online. 

On Wednesday Nov. 8, prior to the end of the referendum voting period, the Office of the Deputy Provost notified the Society that the university believed that the Policy, if ratified, was a violation of SSMU’s constitution. In accordance with section 12.1.2 of the Memorandum of Agreement (MoA) with McGill University, this would also put SSMU in default of the MoA. SSMU notified students of the notice of default from McGill on Monday, Nov. 20, after the voting period had ended.

In an email to The Tribune, McGill Media Relations Officer Frédérique Mazerolle explained that McGill believes that SSMU has breached the constitution’s preamble, which states that “the Society shall endeavour to facilitate communications and interaction between all students from all McGill communities” and “to act in the best interests of [SSMU] members as a whole.”

“The view of McGill’s senior administration remains that the proposed policy, if adopted, will sharpen divisions in our community at a time when many students are already distressed,” Mazerolle wrote. “McGill’s leadership team has been working diligently over the last weeks to keep our campus discourse safe and responsible and to put in place measures to support students and colleagues who feel especially vulnerable and hurt at this time, notably those who are Muslim, Jewish, and Arab.”

In a Nov. 23 Instagram post, SPHR McGill denounced SSMU’s decision to delay the ratification of the policy and called for SSMU to act in accordance with students’ vote in favour of the policy.

“Instead of representing the vote of its constituents, the SSMU acted on this policy in a court of law without our notice or consultation, in spaces where student voices were conveniently absent,” SPHR wrote online. “The SSMU, representing the collective student voice on the legal front of this battle, must heed the demands of the students they represent.”

In an email to The Tribune, Law Students for Palestine at McGill maintained that the policy does not violate SSMU’s constitution and that SSMU acted in accordance with Internal Regulations of Elections and Referenda.

“While students have voted overwhelmingly in favour of the Policy Against Genocide in Palestine, an injunction to which SSMU has consented is alarming and contrary to the democratic process,” the group wrote. “We will continue to encourage the SSMU to abide by the will of its students as represented in the referendum vote.”

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