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Campus Spotlight, Student Life

From study mates to study dates

McGill is notorious for its work-hard mindset. If you walk into Redpath or McLennan on any given day, including the weekend, you’re bound to see students studying, catching up on work, or desperately completing assignments that are due at midnight.

Although many students flood the library to study in groups, there are many stragglers who make the trek to the library to cram all by themselves. For some, this might be by choice, but for others, the pandemic and COVID-19 restrictions have made it increasingly difficult to find study partners or connect with peers in Zoom classes.

Sanghoo Oh, U3 Arts & Science and creator of StudyDate, noticed the isolating effect the pandemic was having on students, whether that was struggling with coursework, job applications, or networking. Oh himself said he experienced difficulties networking in his field of interest, UX design. These factors inspired him to create StudyDate, a student networking website designed to help students find study dates or mates.

The platform has a dating app layout, where you can customize your profile to include what classes you’re taking, random facts about yourself, what skills you have and what skills you want to build upon. Depending on your wants, needs, and interests, the website will match you with someone compatible, and you can set up a study date from there.

Although students can connect on social media platforms such as Facebook and Instagram, or dating apps such as Tinder or Bumble, Oh feels that these platforms aren’t as conducive to fostering  healthy and productive relationships.

“I don’t think any of them really have a generally positive notion to them, nor do they really act to connect people, per se, physically,” Oh said in an interview with The McGill Tribune. “It’s more for entertainment browsing nowadays, and maybe very shallow digital connection.”

Oh also believes using studying as a channel to create friendships or even find romantic interests is a much more compelling idea for students and a more effective way of creating conversation. Many of his friends, for example, had awkward encounters when meeting people from dating apps, seeing as there’s not much common ground from which to spur conversation.

“Studying can solve that issue in a way,” Oh said. “If I’m meeting someone from my same class, for example, and I’m meeting them for a date, there’s already a great icebreaker of sorts.”

Many McGillians have already begun to enjoy StudyDate. Jennifer Shi, U1 Management, found out about the website on the Facebook page Spotted: McGill and immediately signed up, looking to find more people to build friendships given the uncertainty of the pandemic.

“I think [StudyDate] is fun cause it’s in the style of a dating app,” Shi said. “You get to see people’s profiles that you wouldn’t necessarily see just through their Facebook or Instagram profile or in a group chat because you can write things you want other people to know [about you].”

After the final testing period of the platform ends in May 2022, Oh is considering extending StudyDate to the public. But for Shi, its student-community focus has been extremely valuable. 

“When you sign up, you have to use your McGill email, and it makes sure it’s all university students, which I think is just safer and also something I’m more comfortable with,” Shi said.

As StudyDate’s popularity grows on campus, its creators hope that it will be able to bring together students on campus who would have never connected otherwise. 

“It’s something I never knew that I wanted or needed,” Shi said. “It’s literally the perfect platform where you can make friends during a pandemic and not be stressed out that it’s a dating app.”

Hockey, Sports

The course of true love never did run smooth

Many Montrealers will be able to tell you where they were on June 24, 2021, when the Canadiens scored an overtime goal in game six of the second-to-last round of the playoffs against the Las Vegas Golden Knights—a win that propelled the team to the Stanley Cup Final for the first time since 1993. 

I was away at a cottage with friends at the time, crowded around an old television watching the game. When Artturi Lehkonen scored that goal, the three of us watching went wild––much like many across the province and even the country. When we managed to settle down, the first thing I did was call my mom, the person from whom I inherited my love for the Habs. She, too, was over the moon and mentioned how she wished her dad was around to see it happen. 

As I was growing up, my mom would tell my grandfather, ahead of each season, that this year might be the one the Habs would surprise us and finally win their 25th Cup. Each time, regardless of how well the team was doing, my grandfather would reply, “No, not this time.” Evidently, he was always right. 

It should have been unsurprising, then, when the team succumbed to the Tampa Bay Lightning two weeks later. After all, the boys had put on a lacklustre regular season performance, somehow managing to scrape by only when it counted. With each round, first against their arch-nemeses the Toronto Maple Leafs, then against the Winnipeg Jets, and finally against the Golden Knights, commentators who had been positive that the end of the Habs’ run was imminent were forced to eat their words. Despite the unlikely odds, the city was sent into a period of mourning when the final series came to a close. 

Given the team’s stellar run last year, fans had high expectations going into the 2021-2022 season. But the off-season brought with it the losses of key players like Phillip Danault and Corey Perry––and not to mention injuries that prevented captain Shea Weber and star goaltender Carey Price from returning to the ice in the fall. Now, the team is standing dead last, making it statistically impossible for them to make the playoffs. Between injuries and placements into the NHL’s COVID-19 protocol, several games in December and January saw the team made up almost entirely of players from the Laval Rocket.

While this fall from grace is rather extreme, it hearkens back to past episodes of Cup hopes that electrified the city. In 2009-2010, Jaroslav Halak’s success briefly called into question whether Price would remain the city’s starter or even remain in Montreal. That season, the team made it further into the playoffs than they had in years, but ultimately failed to make the final, losing their shot at clinching the Cup. 

The recurring pattern begs the question of why Canadiens fans remain so deeply devoted to a team that consistently disappoints. The Habs are said to have the “most intimidating home-ice advantage in the league,” with the Bell Centre known to draw in the loudest, most passionate fans. Beyond the atmosphere of their arena, furnished with energy that travelled across downtown Montreal from the historic Forum in 1996, the team also boasts the most Cups and the most retired numbers in the league. 

Perhaps it’s the way the franchise’s history is so intimately tied to the culture of the city and the province. Or, maybe it’s the lack of another highly popular professional sports team in Montreal, or even the overwhelming number of iconic players to have sported the bleu-blanc-rouge. Regardless, the Canadiens have become a staple in many––arguably, the majority of––Quebecers’ lives, making them a cultural giant rather than merely a sports team. 

With new leadership and the looming possibility of a rebuild, some Habs fans are cautiously optimistic about the possibility of a team that is consistently great, not just in random, haphazard bouts. But I’ll always take the lengthy droughts in exchange for even a once-in-a-decade chance to experience the thrill, camaraderie, and joy that comes with times like the playoff run of summer 2021. 

Editorial, Opinion

Closing the curtain on political theatre

On Jan. 20, Quebec Premier François Legault held a press conference in which he made two statements: First, that citizens should “stand in solidarity” with hospital workers, and second that they should “stay prudent.” Combined with the shifting recovery plans in light of the Omicron variant, these remarks show that the province’s response to the COVID-19 crisis remains chock full of political theatre. The government’s mismanagement and poor communication conceals important decisions being made on travel, schools, and health, among other issues. To individuals’ risk, political theatre obscures government responsibility, and Quebec is certainly matched in performative statements coming from the federal, municipal, and university levels. 

While these theatrical actions reveal the oft-improvised nature of government preparation, idle, action-less rhetoric continues to emerge. While seemingly innocuous, messages like “Canadians, please come home” and “the pandemic does not discriminate” use emotional calls for unity to distract from the ways that structural inequalities disproportionately affect groups in Canada and around the world. Closing borders, for example, after South African scientists discovered the Omicron variant, was discriminatory toward African countries that had similar rates of infection as European countries. What is more, when leaders position healthcare workers as “heroes,” their sincerity rings hollow, as they appear benevolent without taking concrete steps to improve material conditions for these “heroes.” Similarly, the McGill administration encourages students to focus on their mental health, all while their asinine decision-making and messaging leaves students confused and without flexible accommodations. It was these same aggressive displays of authority that forced social work students into the classroom and their fieldwork placements. Communication between the Canadian government and Canadians, the Quebec government and Quebecers, and McGill and McGillians is rife with disparities between what authorities say, and what they actually do.

This theatre from powerful leaders, of course, has its audience: With a federal minority Parliament and a provincial election on the horizon, the importance of popularity should not be prioritized over successful action or proper public health measures. Furthermore, contradicting information from the top-down breeds immense distrust within the public. We have come to a point where politicians have not only politicized masks, but also restrictions—encouraging skeptical and vaccine-hesitant citizens to embrace individual freedom over collective safety. When a curfew is implemented and lifted seemingly at random, politicians face the risk of undermining science. For example, some  Indigenous people rightfully hold mistrust in Western medical institutions and, by extension, COVID-19 vaccinations.  Quebec’s health-care system has a brutal history of systemic racism. The death of Joyce Echaquan, an Atikamekw woman who died at the hands of medical professionals in 2020, highlighted the degree to which  racism is embedded in multiple levels of health treatment. Over federal jurisdiction, Canada also conducted unethical vaccine experiments in residential schools. These reasons qualify mistrust and hesitancy in interacting with governmental health services—and all the while, the government’s political performance does nothing to address these issues head-on. 

Efforts to scale back political theatre tend to put the onus on individual citizens, who face the impossible task of overcoming their own lacklustre, yet powerful, elected officials. For instance, it is unfair to ask students to compensate for McGill’s ever-changing decisions. Nevertheless, when governments separate science from their actions and McGill trades effective change for tired buzzwords like “student accomodations,” without actually providing them, citizens and students are burdened with mobilizing against their higher-ups’ overall ineptitude. At the municipal level, Montreal must hold newly elected Mayor Valerie Plante to her commitments to double the budget for services for the unhoused—and not let her get away with only making PR-fueled statements on shelters without addressing structural barriers to housing equality. Similarly, citizens should stress the importance of vaccination and vaccine equity, and support initiatives like Park Ex’s vaccine confidence measure WeCanVax. By matching meaningful measures to collective action, individuals can work to pull back the calculating and capricious curtain of political theatre.

Baseball, Behind the Bench, Sports

An axe to grind: It’s time for Atlanta’s ‘chop’ to go

The transition away from dehumanizing caricatures of Indigenous peoples within the sports world has been marked by many teams dropping their blatantly racist names. After years of activism, McGill changed the moniker of their men’s varsity teams to the “Redbirds” in 2019. The Washington Football Team eliminated their degrading nickname in 2020 and the Cleveland Guardians followed suit in 2021. 

Throughout their successful bid for a World Series ring in 2021, the Atlanta “Braves” and their notorious “Tomahawk chop” received rightful scrutiny while being placed in the spotlight. As the audio cue for the “chop” rang throughout Truist Park, the TBS channel panned out to show Atlanta fans in cartoonish regalia and headdresses chanting a “war-cry” while chopping their arms back and forth. The refusal of Atlanta to move away from the “chop,” combined with Major League Baseball (MLB) and TBS’s encouragement of the cheer, has left many fans perplexed as to why MLB would endorse such an objectionable act. 

Racism within the Atlanta “Braves” organization traces back to the team’s sale in 1912 to James Gaffney. Gaffney was an alderman for Tammany Hall—a New York City political organization named after Chief Tamanend of Lenape Nation. Tammany Hall referred to its members as the “Braves,” a term associated with Indigenous warriors. 

In 1991, when the “chop” was adopted from Florida State University, a number of Indigenous groups protested outside the Metrodome, criticizing the chant and hand motion for making reference to scalping, a violent practice stereotypically associated with Indigenous peoples that is, ​​in reality, practiced predominantly by white settlers who were institutionally encouraged and rewarded for this horrifying practice. 

When partnered with Atlanta’s legacy of racist caricatures and the “Braves” name, the “chop” becomes a harmful misrepresentation of Indigenous peoples that marginalizes the Indigenous experience. As an accepted part of baseball fandom, the “chop” and its associated “war-cry” instill settler-colonial stereotypes of the “savage Indian” into mainstream baseball culture. 

The National Congress of American Indians (NCAI) has also been unwavering in its calls for MLB, TBS, and FOX Broadcasting Company to refrain from showing the “chop.”

In a conversation with the Post Dispatch, Ryan Helsley, a pitcher for St. Louis Cardinals and a member of the Cherokee Nation, described his experiences playing at Truist Park as disappointing and disrespectful. 

“It depicts them in this kind of caveman-type people way who aren’t intellectual,” Helsley said. “I don’t see why professional teams are so far behind on that.”

In response to this comment, Atlanta decided to stop distributing red foam tomahawks to fans, and to refrain from playing the audio cue—but only when Helsley was in the park. 

In an interview with The McGill Tribune, Yann Allard-Tremblay, assistant professor in McGill’s Department of Political Science and a member of the Huron-Wendat First Nation, expressed his disappointment with Atlanta’s response. 

“You can acknowledge that it is wrong but [the MLB] is still in a position where it doesn’t have to change,” Allard-Tremblay said. “[They’re] consolidating [their] dominance. It says a lot about how much care is taken to the relationship with Indigenous peoples. As it is presented to me, Ryan Helsley seems to be saying that there is something wrong, that he is not comfortable, and the response is, ‘well local Indigenous people are fine with it.’”

If MLB commissioner Rob Manfred is going to continue to make weak excuses for his ongoing support of the name and its associated chant, Atlanta needs to take a name change into their own hands. Circulating petitions have suggested the Atlanta Hammers as a tribute to former Atlanta baseball star, Hammerin’ Hank Aaron. 

“There is often an attachment to power,” Allard-Tremblay said. “Being questioned about the power you exercise is often something that will lead to no answer. You see that in so many social dynamics of people who have entitlement and do not want to lose their entitlement. I am sure that is present here [with the MLB and Atlanta].”

As a team that has held six different names in three different cities, it is clear that Atlanta is not resistant to a name change or rebrand of the team. What they are resisting is the transition away from the exploitative representation of Indigenous peoples that continues to be profitable for Major League Baseball.

McGill, News

Faculties rally to strike as McGill resumes in-person classes

Many McGill students entered the classroom for the first time this semester on Jan. 24. The majority of McGill courses—except Tier 1 activities—began online due to the spread of the highly contagious Omicron variant of COVID-19 and a subsequent provincial lockdown. The university’s decision to require students and staff return to campus has been met with controversy, particularly from students who worry it is premature.

From open letters and statements to strikes, many members of the McGill community and student organizations have opposed the timing and execution of the university’s reopening. Students have called attention to the highly contagious nature of Omicron, the weak accommodations for students and staff who are immunocompromised or live with at-risk people, the speed at which the university is reopening, and the lack of respirator-style masks available on campus.

In the weeks leading up to the re-opening, the administration sent a slew of university-wide emails, spoke to campus media and other student bodies, and made a 40-minute video interviewing students and faculty about their perspectives on the reopening in an attempt to ease safety concerns and address student confusion.

The Arts Undergraduate Society (AUS) followed suit, holding a town hall on Jan. 21. The first substantial point on the agenda was a question-and-answer period with Arts Faculty Associate Dean (Student Affairs) Manuel Balán, which ran well over the allocated 30-minute period. Most questions regarded McGill’s COVID-19-related accommodations and the possibility of making course materials accessible remotely. Balán explained that rules in place to protect instructors’ autonomy and intellectual property prevent the university from creating a blanket requirement to record classes.

“Given our rules, there is no possibility of mandating […] instructors [to record class content], and MAUT and instructor associations have been really protective of me, as an instructor, and my freedom to manage my content,” Balán said. “I’ve been working with a number of instructors who have those concerns, to try to get them to post recordings.”

Balán also recognized the gaps in the accommodations framework, but vowed that the university is working to address them, urging students facing difficult circumstances to reach out to him directly in the meantime. 

“There’s a framework for […] instructors who are in a position that may put dependents [at] risk [of contracting COVID-19], but for students, there’s no such framework in place,” Balán said. “In the absence of that framework, […] we don’t have easy answers right now, but […] I will ask to hear from students in those situations and we will do our best, within our abilities, to try to help you navigate that.” 

After the question period with Balán elapsed, Anya Narang, AUS speaker of the council and town hall facilitator, conducted a “temperature check,” polling the 40 or so attendees on their willingness to accept McGill’s plans for a Jan. 24 return to campus. The majority voted “no” in the informal poll. The town hall then entered an open period to discuss what position the AUS should adopt in regard to the return to in-person instruction, with talk of a potential strike front and centre.

George Ghabrial, U0 Arts and town hall attendee, suggested that a larger assembly with more AUS members present would be a good next step in deciding whether the society should call for strike—a decision that would translate to a refusal to attend in-person classes.

“I think one of the most important things, really, is to […] have some sort of general assembly that is open to the broad [arts] student body,” Ghabrial said. “We have seen time and time again […] that the McGill administration just does not […] seem to have the students’ best interest in mind.”

Codey Martin, U3 Social Work, town hall attendee, and active participant in the School of Social Work’s strike emphasized the need for compassion during these times given the many factors that affect the accessibility of both in-person and online instruction.

“Our mandates, and our efforts to strike this in-person is about compassion and an understanding [of] the realities of the respective homes that we come from,” Martin said. “We are all placed in unique, and difficult, situations. Some may, or may not, carry internet, or have limited access. [Some may have] learning disabilities, whatever it may be.”

Martin also shared a sentiment echoed by many throughout the event: That McGill is prioritizing profit over student safety. 

“A lot of us that are advocating and speaking up to this colonial power and oppression, that comes from the heart, that is compassion,” Martin said. “What McGill, and everything about this situation, is building off of is capitalism [and] loss of revenue on the campus downtown.”

Though it failed to establish concrete action items, the town hall concluded with high energy levels and a clear need for further discussion. 

On the same day as the AUS town hall, Jan. 21, the McGill administration held a student media roundtable on the return to campus with Associate Provost (Teaching and Academic Programs) Christopher Buddle and Deputy Provost (Student Life & Learning) Fabrice Labeau. Both Buddle and Labeau stressed that McGill believes conditions are safe enough to return to in-person instruction. 

When asked whether the procedural masks the university is distributing provide adequate protection against the Omicron variant—a point of contention raised in the Students’ Society of McGill University’s (SSMU) press release—Labeau referenced a recent Institut national de santé publique du Québec’s (INSPQ) comparison of the efficacy of procedural and respirator-style masks. 

“That report—which, by the way, is very much corroborated by our own medical experts—[finds] that there are not many settings in a university environment that could justify wearing an N95,” Labeau said. “Overall, given the conditions under which we interact and the level of risk, a procedural mask is really what we should go with.”

SSMU announced on Jan. 21 that it will be distributing respirator-style masks on a pay-what-you-can basis to at-risk students and those who come in contact with at-risk people frequently. Additionally, SSMU has created a spreadsheet with information about courses’ remote accessibility. 

During the roundtable, the provosts also explained that there has been a shift in Quebec’s, and thus McGill’s, attitude toward pandemic management, noting that the Omicron variant, while more contagious, looks to cause less severe disease in most. Labeau acknowledged that McGill’s COVID-19 dashboard will be less accurate and will provide less detail given the decreased availability of testing and the onus now being placed on individuals who test positive to conduct contact tracing themselves.

“What we will be watching is the trends: Are we getting more calls this week or is it going down?” Labeau said. “That will give us a sense of the trend at McGill, but we will never have access to the absolute number of cases.”

As of Jan. 24, undergraduates in the School of Social Work and graduates in the Education Faculty have decided to strike until Feb. 25 and Jan. 25 respectively. Each faculty will hold a vote over whether or not to extend the strike when each respective date approaches. Some students within both the Faculty of Law and the Faculty of Arts are mobilizing for potential strikes as well.

Commentary, Opinion

The mandatory meal plan should be taken off the table

Cramped dorm rooms, unknown roommates, and questionable cafeteria food are all pillars of the first-year university student experience. However, in enforcing a mandatory meal plan for all students in residence, except for those in Solin Hall and the MORE houses, McGill stifles student autonomy. Meal plans are not mandatory at many of Canada’s other top universities: Schools such as the University of Toronto and Waterloo use a tiered system where students are given the option to choose a plan that best suits their needs. In contrast, McGill’s singular, mandatory meal plan fails students in the transitional period of first year, and is not only coddling, but outdated. Students should be given the choice to select tiered meal plans of varying sizes, or opt out altogether, and the residence meal plan should, fundamentally, not be mandatory. 

Given that the first year of university can be overwhelming, being able to fall back on prepared meals can certainly take the pressure off having to prep and cook meals for the week. Although shopping for groceries and cooking is not a viable option for every first-year student due to lack of space and cooking amenities in residence, it remains a valuable skill set once they move into their own apartments. Adopting a tiered meal plan system, or an optional one where students can add money when desired, would allow students flexibility to do as they wish, whether that be cooking for themselves all the time, sometimes, or not at all. Additionally, the average cost of groceries is around $300 to $400 a month—multiply that by the eight months of the school year, and the top end is $3,200. McGill’s mandatory meal plan, on the other hand, is $5,975. Paying for convenience is one thing, but that nearly 90 per cent increase in fees is entirely another, ultimately making the system financially inaccessible to some. A tiered meal plan would give students the choice, and flexibility to spend money on food as they wish.  

Particularly in the last two years, the mandatory meal plan has become less and less useful. With students being online for at least a portion of their schooling, be it last year or this one, many decided to stay home. Despite the introduction of a rollover plan, where unused dining dollars could be used in the next year, it still seems like a waste of money. McGill does also offer a Saver Meal Plan, albeit not for students in residence, so those who wish to continue eating at the various dining halls can do so throughout their degree. It seems odd that students have the choice to extend their meal plan, but not opt out of it. Though the dining hall food is not infamously terrible like other universities, students are not even given the choice: McGill forces OneCard on first-year residence students, and the money has to be spent one way or another.  

Furthermore, for students who have dietary restrictions, the meal plan does not even provide convenience due to the lack of options—especially during the pandemic with restrictions and limits on occupancy and staff. Halal and kosher options are scarce, and there are accommodations for those who are vegan, vegetarian, and gluten/dairy free, but they are repetitive and lackluster. With limited options, many students with special dietary needs resort to grocery shopping on top of paying for the meal plan—which should not be necessary considering the plan’s base cost. 

With its compulsory meal plans, McGill forces its students to give up some of their autonomy in first year. On top of the steep fees, the meal plan’s options are limited, and often not as accommodating to dietary restrictions as one would expect. And from the last two years, students have accumulated hundreds of dollars in rollover, despite the fact that the dining halls accept other forms of payment. So though you might be craving RVC pasta, or a Quesada burrito, it is easy to forget that OneCard should not have to be your only option. 

Know Your Athlete, Sports

Know Your Athlete: Louis-Philip Guindon

Moving from McGill hockey to the American Hockey League (AHL), Louis-Philip Guindon is one of McGill’s greatest sports successes. After signing with the Laval Rocket on a player try-out, Guindon reflected on his history with hockey and how his time at McGill helped him in his journey toward the big leagues. Born in Montreal, Guindon fell in love with hockey from the moment he could hold a stick. 

“I started playing when I was very young,” Guindon said in an interview with The McGill Tribune. “Every kid in Quebec plays hockey, that’s just how it is. All my friends were playing, so I played too.”

Guindon developed a passion for the netminding position soon after he laced up his skates for the first time. 

“I observed goalies at a tournament when I started playing and realized that the position of goalie stands out the most on the ice,” Guindon said. “They are the stars, and that’s what I wanted to be.”

Although hockey first began as a rite of passage for Guindon, it quickly consumed his life. Like many high-level athletes, he did not pick up other hobbies or activities outside of hockey—that is, until he found himself at McGill. In university, reading and writing became creative outlets for Guindon, who learned to balance his athletic endeavours with his academic interests. 

“I had a good excuse to be able to read and write [in school], since being on a McGill sports team requires their players to keep up with their studies,” Guindon said. “For the first time, I had an easy time balancing hockey and something else I thoroughly enjoyed.” 

After his time spent with the McGill Redbirds, Guindon moved on to the Wheeling Nailers in the ECHL. After about a year with the Nailers, Guindon secured a tryout contract with the Laval Rocket in the AHL. Although this was a step up on a professional level, Guindon emphasized that this promotion meant more than just a career achievement. 

“I was blessed to receive the opportunity to play on the Rocket,” Guindon said. “It wasn’t always something I was striving for specifically. I just want to be able to work hard and do my absolute best when I play hockey [….] Playing at a higher level gives me a greater challenge above anything else.” 

As a goalie, Guindon had much to say about the position and his critical role in every game. 

“Goalies make an impact on every moment of the game. There is a lot of pressure and everyone is watching you,” Guindon said. “You are the only player that’s on the ice the whole game and you have to make sure to keep your composure 100 per cent of the time and focus on your primary objective: Making saves.”

Instead of focussing on the future, Guindon prefers to stay grounded in the present moment. 

“I take life day-to-day and I work hard for more opportunities to open up,” Guindon said. “If another chance comes along, I evaluate what to do and move forward from there. I am able to do my degree while playing hockey and I work hard in everything I do to have as many options for my future as possible.” 

And it is clear that Louis-Philip Guindon has a bright future ahead of him. He thanks McGill for a large portion of his success, citing his time at university as essential in preparing him for his future in both hockey and everyday life. For now, Guindon will continue to strive forward in his hockey career—and only time will tell where he ends up next.

Sports

2022 X Games bring extreme spirit to the slopes

The weekend of Jan. 21 to 23 marked the historic 25th edition of the Winter X Games. Remembered for new tricks and creative moves, the X Games are every extreme sport enthusiast’s favourite event of the year, and this year was no exception. Held at the Buttermilk ski resort in Aspen, Colorado, the Games ran just weeks before the 2022 Winter Olympics. While Olympic events have scoring breakdowns and are judged according to specific skill sets, the X Games have no such limits, providing seasoned and rookie athletes alike the chance to let loose in events with less stringent rules and more room for unfiltered imagination. For instance, snowboarding, an activity well known for its adrenaline rushes, saw some of its best and brightest carve out their slice of winter sports history. 

Inaugurated in 2019, the Knuckle Huck event—where snowboarders “huck,” or launch, themselves over the “knuckle,” or side, of a hill—had fans watching Fridtjof Sæther Tischendorf, Tyler Nicholson, brothers Dusty and Dillon Henricksen, and others perform what seemed like gravity-defying jumps. With a 35-minute “jam session” format, where no points are scored and results are only revealed at the end, the Knuckle Huck marks athletes based on the swagger of their best jump.

Marcus Kleveland, after whom the event was inspired, took home the golden knuckle with a clean yet exhilarating front side cork, with Tischendorf coming second, and Dusty Henricksen taking home third. 

Jaea Kleinberg, U2 Arts and an avid snowboarder herself, emphasized the creative opportunities afforded by the freestyle nature of the Knuckle Huck.

“While I do enjoy events such as Slopestyle, Big Air, and SuperPipe, the Knuckle Huck is definitely my favourite,” Kleinberg said. “It’s still a newer event, so it’s great to see the riders having fun and getting creative to impress the judges.”

Though the Knuckle Huck is arguably the event with the least rules, riders got to show off their skills in a variety of other competitions too. Starting the X Games this year was the women’s slopestyle, another 35-minute jam session where each rider performed moves over a series of railings followed by three possible jumps. This event featured familiar faces like Jamie Anderson, Anna Gasser, and Quebec’s own Laurie Blouin

Kleinberg was happy to see Canadian female athletes represented at the Games this year. 

“It’s particularly nice to see at least one Canadian rider in all the female snowboarding events,” Kleinberg said. “Being a female snowboarder myself, it’s great to see such powerful women representing their country at the X Games.”

Despite an initially rocky start and early fall, Anderson, who began this year’s Games with 19 medals under her belt, earned second place, adding yet another one to her collection. Anderson’s now-20 awards make her the most decorated woman in Winter X Games history. First place went to Zoi Sadowski-Synnott for her first run, where she landed a backside 1080 double cork with ease. 

Blouin, who jumped, twisted, and landed her way to a third place podium finish in Women’s Slopestyle, was not the only Canadian snowboarder kicking up a snowstorm at the Games. 

Indeed, Mark McMorris made a notorious comeback in the Men’s Slopestyle event, winning gold—his 21st X Games medal—and maintaining the record for most Winter X Games awards won. Marcus Kleveland and Sven Thorgren won second and third respectively. Last year, notable athletes like McMorris and Max Parrot withdrew from the X Games after contracting COVID-19, and it was refreshing to see them return.

“It’s always great to see such awesome Canadian riders like Darcy Sharpe, Laurie Blouin, Mark McMorris, Elizabeth Hosking, Tyler Nicholson, and Max Parrot competing,” Kleinberg said. “The Canadian spirit will hopefully remain high for this year’s X Games!” 

Features

From hustling to health

One evening this past semester, my roommates and I were discussing the McGill mascot, Marty the Martlet. Although we knew what Marty looked like, none of us had any idea what an actual martlet was. After some research, we discovered that our beloved mascot is based on an ancient mythological bird––with no feet. From the second the martlet enters the world, it is in perpetual flight until the last flap of its wings. 

Suddenly, we had a revelation; Marty the Martlet wasn’t so far fetched after all. A bird that can never take a break from flying, which must continuously flap its wings to survive? I couldn’t think of a better creature to represent McGill students. 

It didn’t take me very long to sense the intense, competitive, hustle culture––I was exposed to it before I even arrived in Montreal. Soon after I accepted my offer at McGill, I joined the Facebook group for entering students to make some connections before arriving at university. Although the Facebook group’s purpose was to lessen the daunting stress of starting university just months ahead of me, it did the opposite. 

I was bombarded with introductions from hundreds of students. The idea was simple––to share a few fun facts about oneself. Yet even that simple prompt quickly became an incitement for competition. If the first student that posted spoke two languages, then by the time the tenth student posted, they spoke 10 languages and were the son of an important diplomat.

“There definitely is a hustle culture at McGill,” wrote Alisa Nosova, U3 Arts, in an email to //The McGill Tribune.// “Everyone is hustling to get the best opportunities, get into the most interesting classes, build relationships with professors that teach classes of 200+ students, and take on executive positions in clubs. It’s competitive out there.”

Nosova is no stranger to the rat race. After arriving at McGill, she did everything in her power to try and compete: She took on multiple executive positions, became involved with the Arts Undergraduate Society, and acquired a part-time job. It wasn’t long before Nosova’s mental health took a hit. “I felt so hopeless […], I felt I needed to make a Plan B for myself,” she said. After she realized that she had spread herself too thin, she decided to take a step back and focus on herself in her final year. As she put it, “I lost myself in the process of pampering my resume and chasing all the experience.”

Off the Board, Opinion

When nature nurtures

I spent this break wandering through the Shenandoah National Park, irresponsibly lost at points. With root systems and fungi speaking deep under the earth and leafless canopies suspended overhead, the woods enveloped me on all sides. I felt more at peace than I had in months. In nature, I feel a kind of insignificance, like I am an infinitesimal part of a whole. Time somehow simultaneously speeds up and slows to a crawl. 

I am not someone who just loses track of time. On the rare occasion that I do, feelings of guilt and panic often ensue. What have I let slip through the cracks? Why did I let myself waste so much time? My mind seeks data, control. One of the only things that can cut through the noise is being in nature. A switch flips, and suddenly, I am able to let go of the control I usually crave.

I am not alone in this experience. The science behind what makes nature so good for our mental health varies, but research affirms its profound impact. Even short periods in nature, like a walk through a park in the middle of a city, and visual depictions of nature can have a positive impact on one’s mental health and cognition. Furthermore, research links increased time in nature to greater respect for the natural world and our fellow earthlings. 

One explanation for the impact that nature has on me, and others, is the biophilia hypothesis; based largely on qualitative data, it suggests that humans have an innate, genetic connection and draw to the natural world. I find this notion—a sort of vital link to nature which we often assume exists in other animals but not in ourselves—incredibly beautiful. It defies speciesism and unites us with the rest of the animal kingdom.

All of this begs the question: If nature helps and heals us, why do we tear it down? Humans have, by and large, let our relationship with nature become corrupt. We see the earth and our fellow inhabitants on it as tools at our disposal for expanding, uprooting, and containing. We take until there is nothing left to take, and refuse to stop a moment sooner. 

My mind immediately goes to TC Energy’s Coastal GasLink (CGL) Pipeline currently being built through unceded Wet’suwet’en territory with strong backing from the Canadian government. This project is egregious on numerous grounds: It threatens Indigenous sovereignty, harms the land and surrounding ecosystems, and exposes the hypocrisy of the supposedly climate-conscious, liberal Canadian government all in one fell swoop. 

There are plenty more examples of extractivism, a practice often intertwined with the brutal and ongoing legacies of colonialism. Indigenous communities have long stood against this practice, recognizing the importance of treating the land and animals with respect and dignity and staunchly advocating for environmental protection measures. Wet’suwet’en land defenders, for example, have set up checkpoints and are bravely fighting, despite a brutal, militarized response from the RCMP, to stave off the CGL pipeline. Others have taken to the courts and streets in protest.

Those who subscribe to the biophilia hypothesis, like renowned biologist Edward O. Wilson, have long argued for its role in conservation efforts. A renewed emphasis on the human-nature connection and the non-material, sustainable, well-being that we can derive from nature—even in an age rife with technological innovation—might help combat extractivist tendencies. 

Admittedly, my relationship with nature is also a greedy one. I use it as a crutch to cope with my anxiety and still fall into the all-too-easy trap of taking it for granted at times. But I like to think I’ve fostered a symbiotic relationship with my corner of the world: It will soothe me, and I’ll respect and defend it. 

I can’t imagine anyone standing amongst the trees as I did over break—feeling tiny, immensely content, and grateful—and not taking issue with the havoc we wreak on the natural world. So I argue for a relationship to the natural world that is founded in reciprocity and inspires respect, awe, and creativity, rather than neglect and abuse. 

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