Latest News

Features

Zooming in and out

by Cameron Flanagan on

More in Features:

My mother said I needed to get a hobby to fill the yearning abyss that was my free time. So one fall day in 2012, I grabbed her old Canon DSLR, popped in some earbuds, and went for a stroll. The first one or two thousand photos I ever took were quantitatively shambolic. But I was having a great time and eventually started to get better. These days, I might even bestow upon myself the honour of calling my photos just above passable.

           Like any photographer trying to improve their work, I looked to the genre’s titans for artistic and technical inspiration. William Eggleston and Cindy Sherman affected me most deeply. When I interact with their photography, the medium’s power becomes clear to me as it did in my first encounters. Sherman’s arresting portraits and Eggleston’s spine-tingling urban landscapes showed how photography has the power to change perspectives and rewrite histories. It could make someone a hero, while relegating their neighbour to abject villainy.

           It quickly became apparent to me that the photographic medium could bridge art and politics. Photography is an artistic tool that is inherently political, constantly dictating how individuals and communities perceive and understand the world around them. This ability to restructure, silence, empower, and prioritize certain narratives over others is how the medium discursively creates heroes, villains, and those who don’t quite fit in anywhere. But, what happens when you introduce the camera to atrocity, social movements, and protest? 

Photography documents, curates, and reproduces resistance on the ground. Julia Skelly, a course lecturer in art history at McGill, told me that photography played a crucial role in how Americans understood the Vietnam War and their state’s violence against Vietnamese civilians. 

“Certain photos taken during the Vietnam War, for instance, led increasing numbers of people to protest the war,” Skelly said. “Perhaps the most famous example is Nick Ut’s 1972 photograph of children fleeing a napalm attack, including nine-year-old Phan Thi Kim Phuc, who is naked and screaming in the photograph.” 

           Following the same dichotomous protagonist vs antagonist form, protest photography holds two intertwined, yet discrete methods: Coming close and zooming out. Portraiture, for instance, can represent a connection between photographer and subject in a moment of intimacy that, when done correctly, brings the viewer toward the subject, revealing a sliver of their soul. This is the coming close. Photos showing the protest at the level of the crowd is the zooming out. The photographer reveals the size, context, nuance, and community of the protest to the viewer. 

Protest photography’s precise execution of these two impulses can profoundly shape how viewers may characterize the individual actors within a social movement and how they relate to the movement as a whole. The camera’s shutter freezes a moment in time. Yet, that frame can transcend the fixed snapshot and activate new conceptions of social action and collective demands for justice.

           Protest photography that zooms out connects people to the issues and politics concerning their fellow citizens. Being critically informed on the issues outside of one’s own community takes time and energy. Not everybody might have enough free time to read a long-form article, but they perhaps will be more inclined to linger on the photograph that’s attached to it. 

“If I have 300 pages of readings to do a week for class, am I really stopping to read an entire newspaper article? Probably not,” said Méshama Eyob-Austin, project manager for the Black Students’ Network in an interview with The McGill Tribune. For McGill students who work part-time, have children, or struggle to balance school and mental health, the time to engage becomes severely limited. 

Protest photography that focuses on capturing a demonstration’s collective atmosphere informs individuals about community  issues at a glance. Seeing your peers assemble around an issue is a window into the complex, and often inaccessible, world of politics and power. This window can spark or reinforce allyship and solidarity, building an internal sense of how one wishes to relate to the injustices faced by others. Viewers might notice existing allies already present in the protest who came to support the movement from different intersections of oppression and diverse ethnic, political, and personal backgrounds, demonstrating to them the nuance of opinions and perspectives invested in the movement, and inter-community solidarity. 

As project manager for the BSN, Méshama played a pivotal role in organizing the protest on Feb. 10 in response to the murder of 21-year-old Nicous D’Andre Spring by Bordeaux Prison guards.  

“It is such a beautiful representation of community coming together in times of need, and working together to advocate and push for change,” Méshama said. 

We can’t understate photography’s ability to platform this moment of collective reckoning against the Service de police de la Ville de Montréal and other carceral forces. By capturing a community assembled in solidarity for a common cause, protest photography provokes and inspires further activism, especially amongst students. Whether the viewer absolutely agrees with a movement, seeing others gather reassures a student body that you have a voice to push back, to move McGill, Montreal, Quebec, Canada, or the world. 

           Yet, protest photography can’t only focus on the macro. In any protest, there are unique feelings, thoughts, and emotions between different individuals and at different moments. Protestors can experience self-fulfillment and purpose from the common expression of anger, sadness, or happiness that occurs in demonstration. It is a space and time for union and solidarity with peers and strangers alike, coalescing around a shared vision of and desire for a future that is radically different from the current reality. The photographer needs to get up close to bring the viewer into the varied emotional milieu that distanced shots may flatten.  

This affective agglomeration is deeply linked to McGill student life. For example, according to Celeste Trianon, a trans activist and organizer of January’s protest against a TERF guest speaker hosted by the Centre for Human Rights and Legal Pluralism (CHRLP), community members and participants shared a wide spectrum of emotions.

“Many folks are angry and disappointed that they have to protest in the first place,” Trianon said. “They are disappointed that their right to exist is even a question up for debate. Lots of folks are feeling unsafe, disappointed, and otherwise saddened by McGill and the CHRLP’s actions.”

Photography that zooms out and focuses on group shoots can never capture this emotional vortex. Instead, we must zoom in, walk towards, and get close to subjects. Masterful protest portraits can make you feel like you’re having a silent conversation with a protester—no words need to be exchanged for the viewer to have an affective understanding of what it meant and felt like to be in that moment. 

Alessandra Sanguinetti’s portrait of Shaionna Ziegler, a member of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe, demonstrates this powerfully. Ziegler stands with their fist in the air, solemnly looking to the ground as they protest the Dakota Access Pipeline. The sadness and frustration strewn across their face, combined with the strength in their pose and poise communicates a palpable emotional gravitas. 

Good portraiture places you at the subject’s shoulder. Capturing the emotional experiences of a protest reveals how power structures map onto individuals. There’s a reason why many of the most famous and disseminated historical protest photographs depict an individual facing a barricade of police or state authorities. Their pain, anger, despair, and determination become embodied and reified. Without this quality, photography is no better than a fact sheet.

Protest photography that focuses on the micro can also prevent the sloganization of protest movements. Group pictures of protests frequently capture activists’ signs and the slogans written on them: “Eat the Rich,” “#MeToo,” and “Silence = Death.” In one sense, this is a benefit to this style of photo: The powerful words on posters that succinctly demand change can demonstrate the commitment of individuals to the cause. Viewers can glean insight into the protesters’ outrage immediately with each slogan and poster. 

Crowd shots that capture slogans rather than individuals, however, can backfire and harm the protest movement. By allowing slogans to become a core aspect of the protest’s aesthetic character, photography elevates the word over the complex power of the image, obscuring the movement’s intellectual and emotional nuance. 

The Defund the Police movement is the most recent example of this phenomenon. Due to the overemphasis on that slogan, Defund the Police’s campaign was depicted by media conglomerates and right-wing thinkers as advocating for a world where low-income communities are left to fend for themselves and the world is fundamentally a less safe place. The slogan has become the defining feature of the movement in public discourse. 

But the ideas transcend the limits of just defunding police institutions. The movement pushes for reinvestment of tax dollars into community-level solutions and a renewed understanding of the ways we relate to the state and its monopoly on violence. The nuanced ideas of community-centric support, reinvestment in alternative services, and new conceptions of human socialization and flourishing grounded in non-violence and care are hidden behind the sloganization of the movement. 

Up-close protest photography helps us avoid this reductionist approach to social justice movements. Intellectual nuance will always be easily ignored by those who wish to do so, regardless of the photo’s style, and especially in a digital age where algorithms favour attention-grabbing rather than accurate narratives. But protest portraiture confronts the viewer with human faces etched with pain, sadness, conviction, or anger. Facts and arguments can be ignored or twisted, but emotion is as close as humans get to a universal connection. Intimate, up-close and personal protest photography can move us from fact and argument to emotion and transformation.

Intimate protest portraiture is not without its flaws. Focusing on one individual can make for effective emotional transmission to the viewer, but it also risks depicting the broader movement inaccurately and magnifying the individual  to recognition by violent and repressive forces. The extremes of human emotion attract our portraiture: The saddest, angriest, or happiest people make for the most compelling portraits. However, this tendency of protest photography can produce harmful effects. Focusing on the angriest person in the crowd will communicate the sentiments of righteous ire to the viewer, but can also be used by uncritical or oppositional audiences as a tool to paint the entire movement in the same light. 

When we only engage portraiture briefly, viewers might fail to explicitly distinguish between the emotions of a protester and the core values of the protest. There is no single hegemonic emotion that governs the entire collective. A myopic focus on the most extreme emotion ignores the inherent complexity of any social movement and associated moment of protest. 

Depicting the protest as emotionally one-sided risks doing a disservice to the broader movement. For example, photography of student protesters for climate change will sometimes focus on the angriest-looking individuals in the crowd. Detractors of climate movements have used these photos as visual rhetoric to prove that student climate activists are angry radicals with no connection to realistic solutions. Instead of compassionate souls fighting for justice and a better world, student protesters become transformed into rage-fueled brutes seeking to scare the rational opposition into submission. 

This isn’t to say that climate protesters aren’t angry, but rather that anger is only one of many emotions that could be used to characterize these protesters. Showing the diversity of voices and perspectives within a protest is the power and importance of photography that captures the totality of a protest moment. 

However, protest photography will fail without an equal balance between intimacy and collectivity. Truly successful protest photography will both come close and zoom out. Focus too broadly on capturing the diversity of opinions and values within the movement, and the resulting images will fail to bring the viewer into the emotional space of the protester. But if the photographer prioritizes bringing the viewer into the individual’s affective atmosphere, they risk advancing illusory depictions of the movement.

Balancing portraiture and group-centric photos when documenting protests ensures that photographers do not do a disservice to the social movement being captured. It is up to the photographer to choose who to show and what to portray. The same movement or march can be shot in countless ways, harmful, horrifying, empowering, or liberating. Peter Magubane, a South African photographer who worked tirelessly to capture Apartheid,  said that “[A] struggle without documentation is no struggle.” How a photographer represents a protest will go a long way to determining how it is understood and its likelihood of success. 

Photographers are not simple onlookers. We are active participants in the success or failure of a movement. Anyone with their finger on the shutter button must remember this fact—indelible, ingrained, photographic.

Campus Spotlight, Student Life, The Viewpoint

McGill, it’s time to break up with Datamatch

by Suzanna Graham on

More in Campus Spotlight:

While there’s nothing wrong with being single on Valentine’s Day, the Harvard-created site Datamatch promised that anyone wanting a date on Feb. 14 could be paired with a compatible option. Since 2019, Datamatch has expanded its services to the McGill community, matching single students on Valentine’s Day through a “very accurate” algorithm. 

To find love, participants fill out Datamatch’s survey that features questions such as “What’s your major?” (the response options being the four horsemen of the apocalypse and sociology) and “Why do so many men hold up fish in their online dating profiles?” (To which my preferred answer is, “The fish is his best friend, and they have an unbreakable bond.”) Then, on Feb.14, the site calculates 10 perfect matches for each user. While this concept seems similar to common dating apps like Hinge, Datamatch requires users to sign up using their university email. This way, students can rest assured that they won’t be matched with a 30-year-old creep posing as a 21-year-old Plateau man—as one might risk with Tinder. 

Claire Braaten, U3 Science, has used Datamatch for the past four years. She cited the survey as her favourite part of the process. 

“[The survey] was always very specific to McGill and so entertaining to fill out,” Braaten wrote to The McGill Tribune. “[It was] like a Hinge x Buzzfeed crossover specific to McGill, [such as,] ‘Which McGill Library would you be?’”

Although a seemingly promising model, Datamatch has tanked in popularity over the last couple of years. According to Datamatch McGill’s Instagram, the site matched nearly 2,000 McGill users in 2021 but fell to 1,100 participants in 2022. In 2023, however, Datamatch only accumulated a measly 74 McGillians. While these numbers could be a result of steady and blossoming relationships (or people deciding to meet potential romantic partners IRL), many students voiced issues with the platform itself.

Josh Hirschfeld, U1 Arts, aspired to be Datamatch’s 75th McGill user until he discovered how complicated it was to create an account.

“Unfortunately I haven’t actually used the service since I couldn’t get my email verified,” Hirschfield wrote to The McGill Tribune. “[I] tried manually [verifying my account] and [the site] errored when I sent it in.”

Instead of a quick email verification system, the Datamatch website is now incompatible with Microsoft Outlook accounts, the platform McGill uses for student emails. This year, all 74 McGillians had to work to verify their accounts by emailing a Datamatch administrator and manually register themselves. 

After the harrowing journey to register, the select few McGill users hit even more roadblocks in their quest to find love. Datamatch respectfully allows participants to choose if they want romantic, platonic, or a mix of both match types in their algorithm results. 

“In my second (maybe third) year [Datamatch] introduced a new feature, “Friendship,” which definitely lost users,” Braaten wrote. “How many people do you know use Bumble Friends? Let’s be real: People aren’t using [dating apps] to make friends.” 

While this feature allows those who are cuffed and those uninterested in the dating scene to join in on the Datamatch fun, with an already pitiful enough pool of participants, is the algorithm truly choosing perfect matches or simply whoever qualifies to be matched?

“Fast forward to Valentine’s Day morning—my matches didn’t even load. From what I could see, however, my first match was [graduating in] 2024, so maybe it’s for the best that I couldn’t see them,” Braaten said.

But this doesn’t mean that a McGill-only dating service wouldn’t be appreciated or used by students. The popular Instagram account SpottedMcGill (unaffiliated with McGill University) frequently teases students with the possibility of creating their own McGill dating app—which has generated much support in the comments section. 

“Limiting options makes it easier to make choices and find a match, so having a McGill-only service would be really beneficial,” Hirschfeld said.

Until that happens, McGillians don’t have to be stuck with Datamatch’s mediocrity. Relationships are about mutual growth and happiness, and it’s time to admit that Datamatch is holding McGill back. We need to break up, and for once I’ll admit that the problem is not us, Datamatch; it’s you.  

Ask Ainsley, Student Life

Ask Ainsley: Finding your perfect summer internship

by The elusive Ainsley on

More in Ask Ainsley:

Dear Ainsley,

I have been stressed out of my mind and completely flipping out trying to find an internship. It’s now the end of February, and I feel a low, dark hopelessness creeping in. My mind is a never-ending swirl of  “Have other people really applied to 50 internships already?” “Should I pick something directly related to my career plans?” “Is that even an option at this point?” “Am I lowering my chances if I’m looking for something outside of Montreal?” I wish everything was just in one place. Could you please help?    

Sincerely,

Freaking out over Internships (FOOI)   

Dear FOOI,

I’ve been in your shoes. You didn’t secure that stupidly-high-paying-CV-bedazzling bank internship the second the clock struck 12:00 on the new year, and now you’re stressing. I’m here to tell you not to count yourself out just yet—there are still so many options available. You don’t have to just take my word for it. I sat down with a couple of experts who assured us that it’s going to be okay. 

Connections

If you’ve heard it once, you’ve heard it a thousand times: Network, network, network! But how do you actually go about establishing connections, and how do you call on them when the time comes? 

Career Planning Services (CaPS) Director Darlene Hnatchuk offered some insight into the best practices in an interview with The McGill Tribune. 

“I would cold contact people on LinkedIn,” Hnatchuk said. “I would maybe cold contact some smaller organizations having found a name to whom to send the application and what I would [think, is] do I have any kind of connection?” 

Establishing contacts can be as simple as finding an organization that you’re interested in, looking at their LinkedIn page, and seeing if you have any sort of connection to someone who works there. Maybe they’re a McGill alum or share similar interests. Just go for it and reach out. Hnatchuk explained that when people are in a position to help students, they almost always will.  

Use McGill Resources

Resources like the CaPS, MyFuture, and the Arts Internship Office (AIO) websites are great ways to find your perfect summer internship. 

Catriona Arnott, U2 Arts, participated in the Faculty of Arts Internships Mentorship Initiative (AMI), where she signed up as a mentee and was assigned a mentor who guided her through the internship search. Through talking to that mentor, Arnott learned about the funding awards available within the Faculty of Arts.

 “It’s very accessible, and they have a lot of awards to give out,” Arnott remarked, stressing those searching for internships to take a deep dive into the internship offices of their faculty and CaPS.  

Each faculty has its own specific internship office with specialized opportunities, and CaPS works with students from all faculties. Using these resources can open you up to a world of new opportunities, while advisors and mentors can point you in the direction of positions you may never have even thought of. 

Experience > Everything

One of the biggest concerns for many students is wondering how a future career, or even graduate school applications, might be negatively affected without “the perfect internship.” But Hnatchuk reassures students that there is no such thing. 

“There are different ways to be gaining experience. It doesn’t have to be, you know, exactly, directly aligned to what you want to be doing in the future,” Hnatchuk said. “We just need to be able to think about and reflect upon what are those skills, areas of knowledge [that my desired career requires] and figure out well if I didn’t get it here, maybe I can get it from someplace else.” 

If you work hard at whatever job you’re doing, you’ll be guaranteed to gain skills that’ll help you in your desired career down the road. Your “uncommon” experience might even make you a more attractive candidate.

So, there you have it, FOOI. This is by no means an exhaustive list of ways to find an internship or advice, but it is the truth: It’s not too late, there are still amazing opportunities out there, and you can do it. Good luck, and happy internship-shopping!

Basketball, Sports

Rising Stars: What does the future hold for Canadians in pro basketball?

by Zoé Mineret on

More in Basketball:

On Feb. 17, the National Basketball Association (NBA)’s youngest and most promising players gathered to compete in the 2023 Jordan Rising Stars game in Salt Lake City, Utah. The competition is a three-game mini-tournament where four teams composed of NBA rookies, sophomores, and G-League players compete for the Rising Stars title. The Rising Stars competition marks the start of the All-Star 2023 weekend and shines a spotlight on the league’s brightest young talents. 

Three Canadians were selected to play in this year’s Rising Stars game: Montreal’s very own Bennedict Mathurin, along with Aurora, Ontario’s Andrew Nembhard, and Scarborough, Ontario’s Leonard Miller. With a pool of only 28 players, an invitation to compete in the game is both a tremendous honour and a notable recognition of a player’s potential and talent.

The presence of Canadian players in the Rising Stars game is  significant yet unsurprising. The 2022-23 season kicked off with a record-high 23 Canadians rostered on the NBA’s opening night. These numbers reflect both the recognition of Canadian talent south of the border, as well as the growth of the game within Canada.

With Canada slated in the 15th slot of the International Basketball Federation (FIBA)’s rankings, the uptick in Canadians playing at the professional level raises hopes for an increasingly competitive Team Canada at the international level. 

“The United States have dominated the NBA for so long, so it’s really fun seeing so many stars from different countries who can lead exciting national teams and grow the game,” Will Kennedy, U1 Arts, told The McGill Tribune. “All of the best Canadian players in the league right now are all fairly young and can hopefully play together on Team Canada for many years to come.”

Canadians’ growing presence in the NBA also reflects the enormous pool of talent that exists in the North. However, with the current lack of investment in Canadian youth basketball, many Canadians continue to head south of the border to train. Third-year Haris Elezovic, a forward on the McGill Redbirds’ basketball team, believes that in order to capitalize on Canada’s increasing level of talent, institutional measures to promote the game and allow players to develop in Canada are vital.

“People are starting to realize that there is actual, real talent in Canada,” Elezovic told the Tribune. “Now, I think it’s time that governments and educational institutions start to invest more in basketball as many rising stars went to the United States for college since they offer so much more than Canada [….] If we were to keep all the talent in Canada, it would be amazing for the country and the development of the sport and youth.”

Things seem to be trending in the right direction, with top prospects such as Elijah Fisher remaining in Canada for his high school career and the federal government announcing financial support for Basketball Canada in November 2022.  

Initiatives that work to promote basketball on a national level are equally beneficial to the women’s game as they are to the men’s. As of 2023, there are only three Canadians in the Women’s National Basketball Association (WNBA), a dearth that stems from many of the same growing pains men’s basketball experienced over the years. 

“Since most WNBA players come from the American College Division, Canadian high schoolers often are ignorant of the array of success they can reach,” WNBA fan Charlotte Riddell, U2 Arts, told the Tribune. “I believe the best way to ensure more Canadians join the WNBA is to push for awareness of the feasibility of a women’s basketball career and build Canadian programs that help young women reach the collegiate level.”

The potential of Canadian players is highlighted by their increased presence at the top levels of the sport—a presence both inspirational for future players and welcomed by Canadian fans. However, better sports programs and stronger incentives for players to train in Canada would help stimulate their international and national presence. The North has already proven that it harbours enormous talent; it now must implement the necessary infrastructures to nurture it.

McGill, News, SSMU

SSMU severs ties with for-profit company offering Grammarly and other services to students 

by Jasjot Grewal on

More in McGill:

The Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU) decided to end its partnership with the for-profit company Student Support during a Legislative Council meeting on Feb. 9. The partnership, which provided students with access to Grammarly, Calm, and Udemy, was a trial run for the academic year, costing students $9.99 per semester. 

The governing body debated the matter and ultimately decided to strike down a referendum question that would have allowed students to vote for an opt-outable fee renewal. As a result, Student Support informed students via email that the services will be unavailable as of Aug. 13, 2023. 

Matthew O’Boyle and Angelica Voutsinas, Arts representatives to SSMU, both voted against the referendum question. They explained that Student Support’s motion was struck down during the Council session because it was written by Ajamu Attard, the CEO of Student Support, instead of a McGill student. 

In an interview with The McGill Tribune, Voutsinas argued that the motion did not meet the standards of SSMU’s Consultation Policy, which mandates movers to demonstrate a clear engagement with a representative body of stakeholders, under section 6.4.

“I asked if [Attard] could speak to their consultations with the VP [vice-president] Finance, as that was the only consultation listed on the motion,” Voutsinas said. “They didn’t answer the question. They talked around it. Then, I asked the VP Finance the same question and he told me that he wasn’t really a consultant. He was just asked to review the motion and read it over.” 

Student Support disputes this version of events, claiming that Voutsinas “never asked [Attard] about consultations about the [VP] Finance.”  

Amelia Whitcomb, Science representative to SSMU, was concerned about the limited information available about how Student Support was using student fees. Whitcomb mentioned that SSMU provides members with an itemized list of how their fees are used.

“What can we say about Student Support, aside from ‘it’s to provide you these services?’” Whitcomb said in an interview with the Tribune. “Obviously, the money is also going somewhere else.”

In a follow-up email, Student Support provided the Tribune with a financial breakdown of their income and expenses, along with a projection of operation costs and profits if an opt-outable fee was introduced through SSMU. The company’s calculations estimate a loss of $67,036.39.

Whitcomb pointed to another red flag: Attard ran another for-profit student company in the past, called FundQi, which partnered with student unions at both Toronto Metropolitan University and Carleton University to help students find scholarships. According to the Ontario Business Registry, the FundQi Corporation, registered on Nov. 19, 2020, changed its name to the Student Support Corporation, but remains the same business. 

Mark Colley, a former news editor at The Charlatan, an independent student newspaper at Carleton, covered the FundQi controversy when the service was still available. The program was discontinued at Carleton when over 90 per cent of students voted to remove FundQi because of trouble with unequal scholarship distribution, late opt-out fee reimbursement, and a majority disapproval of the service’s fee being increased to $105 from an original $10.

“I don’t think we ever got specific numbers from FundQi about how many students were using the service,” Colley said in an interview with the Tribune. “Given the end result of the vote, it really seemed like not a lot of students were using it or finding it was worthwhile.”

An annual report compiled by FundQi for the 2020-2021 academic year stated that 2,143 students used the service.

While Whitcomb alleged that she was never informed of the company’s past by its founders, Student Support claimed in an email to the Tribune that they had discussed the past company with SSMU members during consultations. 

But some students are disappointed with the loss of helpful services. Antonina Nikolaev, U1 Arts, hopes that SSMU can continue to provide services such as Grammarly for students. 

“It’s unfortunate that we’re discontinuing our professional relationship with Student Support,” Nikolaev told the Tribune. “I hope that the SSMU is working on finding an alternative solution to provide these services for McGill students. Grammarly is such an important tool, especially for those who don’t have English as their first language.” 

Legislative councillors are currently exploring solutions to continue providing students with access to Grammarly, Udemy, and Calm. Whitcomb is working on a motion that would mandate SSMU to find equal alternatives to Student Support for students.

Article updated at 10:00 p.m. on Feb. 21, 2023.

McGill, News, SSMU

SSMU Grocery Program combats food insecurity at McGill

by Lauren Huff on

More in McGill:

In December 2022, the Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU) ran a pilot version of its new Grocery Program, which aims to supply McGill students facing food insecurity with free, sustainably-sourced groceries once a semester. The pilot project was introduced as a trial run of the permanent Grocery Program, which SSMU hopes to fund through student fees.

“The pilot grocery program was implemented to determine and work through how a SSMU grocery program might operate, and to offer students some immediate relief while the long-term project is being developed,” SSMU President Risann Wright, who has championed the initiative, explained in an email to The McGill Tribune.

According to Wright, many students have asked for a program that would provide food for lower-income individuals on campus. 

“Other student unions in Quebec and across Canada have programs where they operate food banks, grocery voucher programs, or subsidized food pantries,” Wright wrote. “This is one contribution that the SSMU as an institution can make to the existing framework of support offered through the consistent work of student groups and services on campus.” 

Wright added that the pilot program ran smoothly and received positive feedback from both participants and volunteers. Additionally, the Dec. 12 and 13 registration event saw all 200 spots filled, indicating high demand for the program among McGill community members.

The Tribune was not given a definitive date for when the Grocery Program will recommence, as SSMU must acquire the funds to continue the program in the long term. Wright plans to introduce an opt-outable fee that students can vote on at the Winter 2023 referendum.

“Ultimately, if this question goes to students and it is passed, a long-term project can be funded,” Wright wrote. “The hope is that a long-term program would offer either staple groceries or grocery vouchers to students on a semesterly basis, with an eye to expansion as capacity allows.”  

At the Feb. 9 SSMU Legislative Council meeting, councillors formally adopted the SSMU Grocery Program Policy and approved a Winter 2023 referendum question that will ask students whether they are in favour of a $1 opt-outable fee that would fund the program through Winter 2028. The Grocery Program Policy outlines the semesterly initiative, reaffirms SSMU’s dedication to sustainability and equity, and clarifies that the program’s budget will be dependent on how many students choose to pay the fee if its creation is approved. 

Before the Grocery Program was introduced, Midnight Kitchen—a student-funded non-profit collective dedicated to combating food insecurity—was consulted to discuss operations such as the quantity of grocery vouchers and how to best distribute them. Midnight Kitchen runs a free lunch program that provides vegan, nut-free meals several Thursdays a month to students on campus. 

Food insecurity is a major problem at McGill, especially due to current inflation rates. According to an educational video on Midnight Kitchen’s Instagram, approximately 60 per cent of students experienced food insecurity in Fall 2021. 

“More and more students are forced to choose less nutritionally dense meals, which in turn affects their academic success,” wrote a representative from Midnight Kitchen in an email to the //Tribune//. “The options for free, healthy, and culturally appropriate food on campus are slim to none. Having this program give[s] students more money to buy their meals or groceries, [and] will help alleviate some of the effects of food insecurity on campus.”

One former McGill student, who wished to remain anonymous, told the Tribune that they believe initiatives towards fighting hunger on campus are vital resources. 

“Midnight Kitchen and their food pantries were lifesavers when I was a food insecure, single mom PhD student,” they said. “No McGill student should be food insecure.”

Off the Board, Opinion

The sound of silence

by Drea Garcia Avila on

More in Off the Board:

Velvet and corduroy, tags on turtlenecks, a gaze sustained solely by counting. An unusually large fraction of my life is spent perceiving more sensory information than the average person or, perhaps, in the typical amount of time for a neurodivergent person.

I thought everyone experienced life uncomfortably—I froze when hugged by friends back in kindergarten, flinched as my hand was grabbed to cross the street, went limp-tongued in the presence of certain food textures. This was the way of the world, I was sure.

You’re forced to adjust and build up tolerance. Surely everyone’s attempting to act like ‘normal’ people. You learn what’s deemed an ‘appropriate’ reaction to hugs: Right arm comes up, the other around—hold for three and push off. Picture your free hand in a tightly wound fist. Change the way you eat lunch.

Suddenly, you’re older, and the fluorescent glare of lights makes you queasy; you bring sunglasses indoors. Another dismal discovery of a texture that makes your skin shrivel—you wear gloves. Ceaseless creaking of grocery store carts, you increase the volume in your insulated headphones, even if it means others can’t approach, something you even thought advantageous.

Through years of observation, you determine that isolation equates to safety, so you comply with society’s fine print.

Our modern society was machine-cut for neurotypicals. There’s a theory that neurodivergent people have higher perceptual capacity, ceaselessly processing the flooding multisensory information most neurotypicals can ignore—a difficult strength to bear.

A higher likelihood for perfect pitch, but the echoing of whispered conversations around you make the prof’s words elude you. You learn your friends’ mannerisms, eye movements, and clothing adjustments—but the topic of conversation evades you. 

Your loved ones have adjusted too.

I try to recall a single moment I haven’t felt this way, and the transient moment that I picture is when a friend and I went on a trip to British Columbia during the summer of ‘22. Two soon-to-be 19-year-olds on their first solo trip across the country, with only the other to read the map and switch between our intentionally curated playlists. Upon reflection, what comes to mind first is not the rhythmic, metronomic beating of the waves against the salty Pacific Northwest coast nor the rustling of leaves against wet forest wood.

Rather, upon an arduous ascent to Mount Whistler’s summit, distanced from commercialized gift shops and noisy ski lifts, the morning view we hiked for was marred by the clouding of the far-off mountains, our blue skies shrouded by deep grey. I sat on the highest rock and cried, and asked my friend if she could hear the silence. I’d never felt such serenity.

Neurodivergent people are more likely to have ‘increased auditory sensitivity.’ Whether it be the most faintly detectable buzz of electricity taunting you through the walls, droning cars grudging through the city, or an unintelligible mix of anxious midnight thoughts, I realized my life could be summarized by an endless sensory assault, such that I thought isolation would soothe the ache of the plight. Your skin can’t crawl if no one’s there to touch it; the lights and harsh noises can’t reach you this way.

But interactions were made softer, more bearable, through a different medium: Care, patience, and accommodation. My friend’s harmonic laughter and off-tune singing, summer heat fraternizing with the open window’s wind chill as we drove 100 kilometres to the next closest city to our campsite. And the prominent space between bodies on the couch, their presence warming you like a cherished childhood blanket, saying: “Are you comfortable? I’m here, tell me when. If I could never hold you, it would still be enough.”

At the summit of silence, separated from the neurotypical society of modern-this and fast-paced that, in the great outdoors we bled, sweat, and stood watch as the other wept. After soon-to-be-19 years, Peace found me and told me her real name was “Away,” and that I’d mistaken it for “Alone.”

Sports

To all the sports I’ve loved before

by Jenna Payette, Drea Garcia, Emma Hawko, Alex Pantis, Loi Doung on

More in Sports:

Jenna Payette: Field Hockey  

When I was little, my parents put my brothers and me in every single sport they could find. From ice rinks to soccer fields, I was able to find myself a home wherever I was comfortable, driven, and resilient.

Playing competitive ice hockey with boys, I quickly grew a thick skin and learned how to pave my own road to success. Playing soccer, I learned the importance of a group effort and how rewarding it is. From the techniques I sharpened in practice, to life-long lessons that can’t be taught in a classroom, I am eternally grateful for what sports have given me.

Then, when I least expected it, I found something new: Field hockey. A beautiful mélange of my two favourite sports with a weird stick and some unusual rules. But with the arsenal of skills I obtained from a childhood filled with sport, it came easily to me. And, now I can say I am a varsity athlete because of it. Field hockey, finding me only three years ago, is not only special, but rare. Sports never cease to amaze me. It reminds me that you never quite know how your future will unfold, but consistent patience, hard work, and self-determination will never lead you astray.

Drea Garcia: Climbing 

Dear Climbing, 

It’s hard to believe we’ve known each other for so little time. When we first met, my hands shook and my heart pounded. I honestly thought I might die—some might call these butterflies. You followed me like a ghost; a dream of my childhood that I never thought achievable. Ever-present, completely unattainable. I was terrified to hold you, so for years I watched, sat on the sidelines as others found you, guiding them to places I longed to discover.

Then we met through a mutual friend, and I know this sounds dramatic and unnecessary, but I never thought you’d change me so.

You taught me the significance of devotion, persevering through difficulty, and even more so when it felt impossible, showing up when I didn’t want to. This made its way into all other aspects of my life: School, relationships, my outlook on living. You lent me a community, an entourage of encouragement when I just wanted to let go and give up. Now, I can let go and accept things as they are.

You’ve shown me that progress is not only visible, but tangible; not day-by-day, but looking back and realizing you’re where you never dreamed you could be, or in this case, climbing grades once too intimidating to even glance at.

Now I try things for fun and I do things for me. Thank you for the rush after the fear; fulfillment after frustration; scraped shins and calloused wounds. You remind me of the value of being human. 

I always knew it was you. I can’t wait to grow old with you.

Drea

Emma Hawko: Sailing 

Dear Sailing, 

No one and nothing makes me feel free the way you do. The spray of the water is fireworks on my skin; the wind in my hair is electric. You have held my hand from childhood to adulthood. You know me in a way no one ever has and nobody ever will. I am always able to trust that you will make the hard parts of life easier, and the easy parts exhilarating. 

You punish me in ways that excite my soul, mind, and body, with just enough tenderness to leave me wanting more. Your sweet caress of the boom swinging across the boat and into my head leaves me breathless and dizzy. The tug of the ropes wrapped in my hands on a windy day burns and thrills me. 

You are my sun, my moon, my everything. I live for you, I breathe for you, I love you. Sailing, you are my world, and nothing will ever break us apart. 

Yours for all eternity, 

A sailor

Alex Pantis: Rugby 

I often question why I continue to play rugby. I question why I subject myself to the broken noses, the weekly separated shoulders, the shin splints, and all the other bumps that come along with playing. At some point in nearly every game—or at least a few times during every fitness session—I want to quit. Sometimes, I think about hanging my boots up forever. But I always, always come back. 

Rugby is a different kind of sport. A sport that demands extreme amounts of toughness, grit, and truly requires a team to work as one. It necessitates gruelling practices, months of pain, and sleepless nights but, when all is said and done, it builds unique bonds with your teammates, coaches, staff, and opponents. 

I love rugby for that. I love rugby for the achy knees and the pops in my shoulder. I love rugby for introducing me to people I love, for allowing me to grow closer to people I already loved, and for providing me the opportunity to connect with people from all around the globe. I love rugby for privileging me to wear the crest of at least 10 different clubs across 17 different cities. Hell, I’m currently writing this in Mexico, at the kitchen table of a teammate of mine who has let me stay at his house for the past three weeks. I love rugby for showing me that a sport is played between lines and that outside of them, you can love your rivals. But most of all, I love rugby for giving me nearly everything I have. I’ve grown into the person I am because of rugby. It has always been there, through every up and down in my life. 

I have a special kind of love for McGill rugby. I love the coaches for the tireless support they give, I love the athletic therapists and medical staff for attempting the impossible task of keeping us all healthy, I love McGill Athletics for allowing us to be us, and most of all, I love all the people who have left the program in a better place. This program is special. One that I’ve been so honoured to have been a part of for the past seven years and one that I look forward to being a part of, in some capacity, forever. Words can’t describe how much love I have for this program and what it has become.

That’s why I will never leave rugby. I never want to stop feeling the pregame anxiety or the feeling of opening a can of beer after 80 minutes of work. I will always crave that feeling of being completely drained, the feeling that only rugby can make you feel. I will always give rugby everything I can, because it has given everything it can to me. Thank you rugby, thank you McGill rugby, I love you.

Loi Duong: Climbing

Climbing is a totally unique sport. It meets you where you are. In its infinite possibilities, anybody can find their own way up a boulder problem or sport route, using the physical and mental tools that they already have. This is one of the reasons why I fell in love with climbing. No matter where you stand vis-à-vis sports, climbing provides a deep and rewarding physical and mental challenge. 

Climbing grips my heart because, if you pay close enough attention, it has a sense of philosophical weight. The way I approach climbing reflects my current beliefs, allowing me to be more true to myself. Instead of trying to climb (or be) like anyone else, I lean into my personal superpowers, accepting that I am a unique athlete—a unique individual. 

Finally, climbing has allowed me to meet the greatest of friends. I cannot imagine my life without them. There seems to be a special bond that climbing cultivates and it is truly a magical thing.

Arts & Entertainment, Music, Theatre

‘La Flambeau’: The torchbearer of Montréal’s Black art scene

by Iman Brown on

More in Arts & Entertainment:

Content Warning: Mentions of sexual assault

Are you looking for a way to celebrate Black History Month? Do you enjoy opera? How about living something that feels like a fever dream? If you answered “yes” to any of these questions, look no further than Montreal’s very own production of La Flambeau by the Orchestre classique de Montreal (OCM).

La Flambeau, the magnum opus of composer David Bontemps and librettist Faubert Bolivar, celebrates traditional Afro-Haitian music, lore, and spirituality. The opera is rife with power imbalances, monologues dripping with raw emotion, and abuses most abominable in nature. Bontemps honours Black History Month with an all-Black cast and production team to bring Black artists and performers to the forefront. 

Through their conception of La Flambeau, Bontemps and Bolivar pay homage to their Afro-Creole heritage. The musical score expertly weaves classical Western opera with Haitian percussion, pentatonic and whole-tone scales, and blues notes. Reaching beyond the confines that characterize European opera, Bontemps’ decision to include Afro-Creole themes politically counters what opera can and should be. The composite of styles celebrates Haiti’s spiritual roots in West Africa while inadvertently reckoning with its devastating colonial history with France. 

The set only consists of a chaise longue, a podium, a small bookshelf, and a raised platform. Despite its modesty, the pieces complemented each other beautifully and never stole the audience’s attention away from the actors. Instead, the demure set highlighted the stars’ performances, allowing them to move naturally about the stage with a minimalist authenticity that many performances often lack.

The venue is part of Berri-UQAM’s campus, and does not lack  incredible staff. The refreshment service, venue staff, and organizational team were kind, communicative, and considerate beyond measure, taking great care to ensure that all spectators were well-treated and comfortable. 

Introduced first is Monsieur (Paul Williamson, tenor), a corrupt statesman and cruel husband. Monsieur laments the mental instability of his wife, Madame (Catherine Daniel, mezzo-soprano), who relays her restless night after being visited by a vision of her long-dead uncle. Finding his wife’s behaviour disconcerting, Monsieur returns to his political scheming. Mademoiselle (Suzanne Taffot, soprano), their maid, enters stage right and begins to pine for her lost ring, revealed to have belonged to the spirit Loa Papa Ogou, also known as L’Homme (Brandon Coleman, baritone bass). Monsieur consoles her and in a fit of vile lust, assaults her.

Few things could have prepared me for this scene. Despite the story being fictional, I felt a tug of nausea in my gut and a tightness in my throat. Mademoiselle staggers, crumpling to her knees, and collapses into her grief. Taffot’s voice, sharp and clear as glass, cuts straight through to the audience like a blast of cold wind. Mademoiselle’s grief hangs pregnant in the air and swells with each word.

Monsieur falls asleep and enters a dream realm where he encounters the Loa, Ogou, who condemns him for his many crimes. Madame holds Mademoiselle’s head in her lap and shares the horrific abuses she experienced living with Monsieur. The opera concludes with the two women, both victims of Monsieur, sharing a moment of compassion and tenderness in such a bleak story.  

Williamson’s depiction of the lecherous, lout Monsieur was so convincing that it proved difficult not to hate him. By contrast, Taffot’s sweet demeanour onstage was the picture of innocence. Daniel carried herself with a dignified grandeur, while Coleman’s voice can only be described as both decadent and profound.

La Flambeau is a story of love, compassion, justice, retribution, and resilience. By testing the possibility of Black feminist solidarity to overcome violence, the opera provides the audience with a much-needed dose of women supporting women through Madame’s warmth and generosity toward Mademoiselle. Even with its distance from reality and displays of human cruelty, one cannot help but feel a closeness and intimacy with the characters while bearing witness. 

‘La Flambeau’ premiered in Montreal on Feb. 7, 2023 at Salle Pierre-Mercure and will be touring Hamilton, Ontario next.

A previous version of this article incorrectly stated that this production was put on by the National Academy Orchestra Chamber Players. In fact, it was put on by the Orchestre classique de Montreal. The Tribune regrets this error.

Editorial, Opinion

Representation, not impersonation

by The McGill Tribune Editorial Board on

More in Editorial:

On Feb. 7, Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond returned her honorary degree from Royal Roads University. This is the second honorary degree she has returned—one of 11 she received, including from McGill—after an investigation late last year by the CBC called her claims of Indigenous identity into question. The Canadian lawyer and advocate was widely considered a preeminent scholar on Indigenous issues in Canada and secured many prominent positions, such as the University of British Columbia’s academic director of the Indian Residential School History and Dialogue Centre, under this guise. Her actions, however, illustrate only the most visible failure to create spaces for Indigenous people and knowledge in Canadian academia. 

Turpel-Lafond was appointed to roles created for Indigenous people, effectively stealing limited space available for Indigenous women in positions of power. Her actions unjustly call into question Indigenous identity for all white-passing Indigenous people, which is something Indigenous people must constantly fight to claim due to centuries of colonial erasure through legislation such as the Indian Act. Every day that McGill chooses not to revoke the degree, the institution condones her lies and the harm they have caused. McGill must get ahead of Turpel-Lafond and immediately revoke her degree before she can return it and present herself as a white saviour.

Although her actions are unconscionable, they open the floor to long-overdue commentary on  the exclusion and erasure of Indigenous peoples in prominent institutions such as McGill. Meaningful representation necessitates the inclusion of Indigenous voices beyond just hiring one or two Indigenous professors. It means creating a system where there are no barriers in place to prevent Indigenous peoples from thriving, practicing their cultures, and speaking their minds without fear of retribution. 

McGill claims to value Indigenous voices. However, there are merely a handful of Indigenous lecturers, along with only around 150 students, or approximately 0.4 per cent of the student body, who identify as First Nations, Inuit, or Métis at McGill. It is easy to fulfill equity, diversity, and inclusion (EDI) requirements when it seems that McGill is satisfied with having one or no Indigenous professors in a department. Yet, this is only the most visible failure in creating proper representation in academia. Indigenous professors are compelled to work within a Eurocentric framework which only prioritizes Western considerations of academia, such as publication count, and stifles Indigenous knowledge systems. Ignorant white professors continue to teach Indigenous topics at the university, often with a colonial gaze.. 

Part of the issue is the unreasonable barriers to entry for Indigenous people into academia. Along with the already brutal publish-or-perish requirements in place for academics, Indigenous people, and especially Indigenous women, must contend with systemic barriers to education, lower-than-average incomes, and systemic and institutionalized violence. The ongoing genocide of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, along with police who are either indifferent or participatory, is a striking example. Once inside academic institutions, Indigenous topics are seen as “unacademic” or not worth the department’s time. Racialized people at the university continue to contend with James McGill, a slaveholder of Black and Indigenous people, being glorified and memorialized as the namesake of the university. 

The structure of academia itself must change. The existing barriers to education at all levels for Indigenous students must be recognized by the university, which should adjust its admissions criteria accordingly. Instead of just hiring the professors who publish the most, real-world experience and traditional Indigenous ways of knowing must be seen as academic and valuable. McGill actively sustains an environment of systemic racism, showing that racialized professors are unwelcome and excluded by the administration. To combat this, the university must implement policies that empower and uplift Indigenous voices, such as instituting mandatory EDI training for all professors, having more than just a token number of Indigenous and Black professors, and ensuring that Indigenous subjects and knowledges receive the academic respect they deserve.    

The response to Turpel-Lafond’s disgraceful impersonation of Indigenous identity should not be to question all claims of Indigeneity; rather, it should be an opportunity for institutions across Canada to implement changes and create true representation across all levels—from staff to students.

1 … 214 215 216 217 218 … 1,363

Read the latest issue

Read the latest issue