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Commentary, Opinion

The social politics of municipal retrenchment

Montreal’s bustle is returning after months of rigid COVID-19 restrictions, yet the Société de transport de Montréal (STM) ridership remains remarkably low. As a result, in August, the regional transit board asked the STM to cut $276-million from its budget over the next three years. Recently, the STM proposed cutting $114-million of the funds currently allocated to operations, a decision that would affect the quality and accessibility of services offered to STM riders. Although cost-cutting will be necessary to rebuild the economy post-pandemic, underfunding the STM threatens to leave behind regular commuters. The City of Montreal must reconsider its 2021 budget allocation to respect the communities most reliant on the STM.

The STM is not without its problems, however: Notoriously inefficient, transit routes have gone largely unchanged over the past decade, resulting in accessibility issues for commuters—especially those from Montreal’s North and South Shores, areas primarily inhabited by low-income and racially diverse communities. Some logistical elements of STM services are outdated as well: To renew OPUS cards, for example, riders must go in-person to a metro station or to select pharmacies. This process is unnecessarily complicated when compared against Toronto’s PRESTO card system, which allows riders to manage their accounts entirely online. With adequate funding, the STM could capitalize on technological advances, make services more accessible, and help restore ridership levels—which would mitigate the transit sector’s current financial crisis. The municipality’s decision to target the STM, a service in evident need of revamping, inspires questions about the depth of Montreal’s commitment to equitable and efficient tax dollar spending. 

The proposed STM budget cuts also raise ethical questions regarding the city’s environmental goals. Montreal is one of Canada’s greenest cities, but cutting funds for a system so crucial to emission reduction contradicts Projet Montreal’s supposed commitment to sustainable development. Even if the STM decided to keep the $114-million in the budget, that alone would not be able to cover the cost of creating new metro lines or implementing long-term environmental projects. Still, allocating funds to green initiatives while reducing the efficiency and accessibility of transit services is counterintuitive—especially given the budget’s three-year timeline.  

As universities and businesses resume in-person activity, those living beyond Montreal’s downtown core will rely more heavily on STM busses and metros. The city’s lack of alternate transportation options means that riders will have to deal with the potential consequences of underfunding, including prolonged wait times or outdated service renewal options. Since high living costs continue to push some racialized communities away from the downtown core, the effects of slower STM operations will be felt disproportionately. The municipal budgetary plan highlights a troubling pattern of Montreal’s municipal public service policies neglecting to adequately serve marginalized communities. 

Attention to budget reform has dominated recent political debates. Despite outcry from Montreal locals to defund the police in 2020, the city’s 2021 budget boosts funds to the police. Montreal’s law enforcement and transit systems disproportionately impact marginalized communities, yet the city’s 2021 funding allocation fails to reflect that in their budget. If the city is truly committed to meeting community needs, fiscal policies should support, not hurt, those most impacted by the public service sector. 

If Montreal’s budgeting fails to reflect public demand in areas as uncontroversial as transit, the possibility of seeing meaningful structural reform in law enforcement is far-fetched. City officials must be receptive to the needs and voices of vulnerable community members, even in the face of economic pressure. Otherwise, those most affected by the service sector’s shortcomings will be left to suffer the consequences of retrenchment. 

Science & Technology

The social and environmental toll of concrete production

Names like McCall MacBain Arts, Redpath Museum, or Stewart Biology may bring to mind lecture halls and study spots, but all these McGill landmarks have at least one more thing in common: They all use concrete in their construction. Just about every infrastructure project in Montreal, and across the world, relies on the sand and gravel mining industry. These materials are used as aggregate—a mixture of sand, gravel, and crushed stone used to produce construction materials such as concrete and asphalt—and are then incorporated in infrastructure projects such as bridges, roads, and walkways.

At around 23 billion tonnes annually, concrete is the second most consumed material in the world, after water. The sand and gravel used in concrete production are the most mined materials globally, with 32 to 50 billion tons extracted each year. Despite the size and scale of this industry, the human and environmental impacts of sand and gravel mining, especially in low- and middle-income countries (LMICs), are not yet well understood.

To fill this research gap, Mette Bendixen, assistant professor in the Department of Geography at McGill, and her colleagues set out to review and assess the effects of sand and gravel mining in LMICs, especially as they pertain to the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs).

“Sand is definitely a complicated topic that interacts with fields including science and health,” Bendixen said in an interview with The McGill Tribune. “It is a global challenge that is often overlooked. So many people don’t know that it’s such a highly used commodity.”

In an article published in One Earth, Bendixen and other researchers from institutions around the world argue that aggregate mining can alter local topography and damage surrounding freshwater and marine ecosystems. Not only do these mining activities affect the health of the environment and its flora and fauna, but they also affect human health. Some of the potential health effects of sand and gravel extraction include respiratory diseases from the inhalation of small crystalline particles, as well as exposure to environmental contaminants such as arsenic, lead, and cyanide. 

The communities most impacted by sand and gravel mining are often the most marginalized in their local contexts. The article notes that the low-income and uneducated workforce is heavily dependent on aggregate extraction, and that these populations are particularly vulnerable to poor health outcomes such as lung cancer and silicosis. Artisanal and small-scale miners in LMICs, controlled by sand mafias, are often criminalized and subject to violence as well.

“[Miners] are not criminals. They are just trying to make a living,” Bendixen said. “Actually, sand and gravel mining can provide a relatively good income.”

Bendixen and co-authors explain that communities, especially in LMICs, need extractive industries to provide jobs and build infrastructure, which are key elements of the United Nations’ SDG. For instance, children from these families can afford to go to school, furthering SDG 4’s goal of quality education for all. For these reasons, Bendixen believes it is not productive to ban mining activities outright, but instead advocate for better solutions, including circular material usage—a concept supporting the necessity of reutilizing already-consumed resources. 

“We, in high-income countries, have the moral obligation to reuse the material we already have,” Bendixen said. “We should try and look for other alternatives.” 

This call to action begs the question: Do McGill’s buildings and roads use materials that are eco-friendly? Bendixen thinks not, although she says it is often hard to tell where building materials come from. 

“I would be surprised if the resources were sustainably sourced,” Bendixen said. “There are very few incentives to use recycled materials.”

Bendixen compared the situation to the looming threat of climate change, and believes that it is the responsibility of governments to implement solutions. 

“We need political leadership,” Bendixon said. “Just as we are committing to limiting global warming to 2°C, we must commit to the circular approach, to reusing materials.”

McGill, News

Safety concerns loom as WALKSAFE and DriveSafe halt operations

Content warning: Discussion of physical and sexual violence.

Two volunteer-based security services on campus are halting operations, with a firm date for resumption yet to be determined. Run by the Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU), WALKSAFE announced the suspension of their regular services on Facebook Sept. 13, following SSMU DriveSafe’s similar announcement on Sept. 3.

WALKSAFE president Leon Picha, U2 Management, attributed the shutdown to limited staffing and phone line complications during the SSMU University Centre’s multi-year closure.

“As the University Centre moved, we did not have access to our landline for some time and we actually do not have access to the WALKSAFE phone,” Picha said. “But also we do not have enough volunteers. A lot of our volunteers have graduated and, if we were to operate, we predicted that volunteers would have to do three times their original commitment.”

Tiffany Leung, vice president (VP) operations at DriveSafe, also blamed their services’ suspension solely on their inability to access the landline. The issue of DriveSafe’s hiatus is currently being handled by SSMU representatives.

While both services have been out of day-to-day operations since March 2020, they have still provided security services by special arrangement, like both services’ helping out during  Frosh Week and Drivesafe’s partnership with the Montreal Student Initiative for COVID-19 Response and Relief.

SSMU vice president (VP) student life, Karla Heisele Cubilla, explained that COVID-19 has also played a role in disrupting the operations of services like WALKSAFE.

“The pandemic has been really rough on our services and our clubs,” Cubilla said. “The government keeps giving us updates daily, and it takes time to plan how a service is going to be run.”

According to Yossef Levin, Med 3 and former WALKSAFE volunteer, the service suffered internal difficulties such as understaffing even before the pandemic.

“When I was part of WALKSAFE during my bachelor degree, we operated on tight staffing, and often they would ask people to help fill out shifts,” Levin said. “Many of the executives would take on an excessive amount of shifts from what I remember [….] There were days when they had to cancel services because of understaffing. This happened every so often, especially in 2019.”

(Brian Schatteman / The McGill Tribune)

The shutdowns have left some newcomers to Montreal uncertain of how to stay safe on and around campus. Sarah*, U1 Arts and Science, was disappointed to hear that the security services on campus had been suspended.

“Coming from a small town, my family and I had concerns with a lot of what you hear about the city,” Sarah said. “But then looking at these services that McGill provides, and knowing that they existed, was quite comforting. Getting here, and realizing that they are not in operation, was a bit nerve-racking.”

Earlier this month, Sarah was walking downtown with her roommates when they witnessed an assault. She attempted to reach WALKSAFE the following evening. 

“We saw this girl in front of us get aggressively groped,” Sarah said. “The next day, I had an appointment late at night and thought, ‘I should use WALKSAFE,’ but was not able to.”

The shutdowns come on the heels of grave campus incidents elsewhere in Canada. In the early morning hours of Sept. 11, an 18-year-old student at Western University in London, Ontario, died of injuries sustained in an assault on a street adjacent to campus. In addition, four separate cases of sexual assault were reported to Western campus authorities during the week of Sept. 6.

Lapses in current security offerings are unacceptable, argued U3 Arts student Mikaela Fasold. Remarking on the dwindling security options available to students, Fasold called on volunteers to rise to the occasion.

“Students now have even fewer resources […] short of building their own buddy system or gambling that campus security can always be there to provide protection,” Fasold said. 

“The onus lies on all of us to step up.”

Emergency aid can be reached through a Security Services Safety Escort  (Downtown: 514-398-30000. MacDonald campus: 514-398-7777). The Sexual Assault Center of the McGill Student’s Society hotline is 514-398-8500. McGill Students’ Nightline can be reached at 514-398-6246. SSMU WALKSAFE and SSMU DriveSafe are actively recruiting, see their respective Facebook pages for more details. 

*Sarah’s name has been changed to preserve their anonymity.

Off the Board, Opinion

‘Where We Were’: From reality to memory

This summer, McGill’s Tuesday Night Cafe Theatre, a student-run, anglophone theatre company affiliated with McGill’s English department, screened the short film Where We Were. The film feels reminiscent of the COVID-19 outbreak as the story makes connections between how people process memories of large-scale catastrophes and our current reality. This film takes on special meaning during the pandemic, as it inspires the viewer to reflect on how to react and live following a world-altering event. 

While watching this film, memories flooded back to me of when I first heard about the COVID-19 outbreak in China. Although I was in Montreal, the shock and fear I felt for my friends and family remain deeply rooted in my memory. It began as a terrifying rumour spread on WeChat. Immersed in the joy of the Lunar New Year festivities, most people did not take the rumours seriously. But then, the government confirmed the “rumour.” Cities were placed under lock-down, shopping malls and small businesses closed, and my mom even lost her part-time job at the popcorn store. The parallels between the characters and the audience, such as their age and place in the world, immerse the audience in the narrative world of the film. 

The Lunar New Year should have been the most delightful and exciting time in China. But instead, the streets laid empty and quiet, deserted because everyone was isolated at home. However, I did not foresee how quickly things would get out of control and how differently people around the world would experience this pandemic. Although things are slowly getting better in many parts of the world, the shadow of COVID-19 still affects our lives in ways. The various racial, gender, and class backgrounds of Who We Were’s five characters impact the way they experience and remember the same event—also shaping how they react to and process it. The film then explores how reality transitions into collective memory, a phenomenon that we are all undergoing during the pandemic.

There is one character named Nikki that I particularly empathize with. Nikki is an immigrant who might never get the chance to see her father again due to the undisclosed event in the film. Similar to the real world, when COVID-19 became a global health crisis, travelling between countries became extremely difficult. Many friends of mine still cannot return to their homes in China because of limited flights and increased prices. Besides, different countries’ policies regarding travelling abroad change so fast that even if one can manage to come home, there is no guarantee that they will be able to return to Canada in time to continue their studies. This is also why I have chosen to stay in Canada since the beginning of the pandemic. I have had to sacrifice the chance to see my family in China to avoid the risk of not completing my degree on time. 

Due to the ongoing pandemic, all productions of the McGill Tuesday Night Cafe Theatre were adapted to virtual formats. Where We Were was an experimental pandemic film production, with intriguing production techniques that combine Zoom recordings and in-person shots. As we move into the post-pandemic world, restrictions will ease, and with this comes changes to how this time will be remembered. Knowing that we have gotten to a point where media and film reflect and represent our lives during the pandemic only strengthens the theme of the film, revealing the plurality of ways different situations can be experienced by different people.

McGill, News

Activities Night ‘after hours’ party marks return to in-person SSMU events

The Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU) held its first in-person event of the Fall term, “Activities Night ‘after hours,” on Sept. 14 at Muzique—a nightclub on St-Laurent Blvd near campus. “After hours,” promoted as a celebration for the return to student life on campus, was the second part of SSMU’s two-day Activities Night series

In keeping with Quebec’s COVID-19 regulations for bars and restaurants, protocols included mandatory mask-wearing when moving around the venue, enforcement of the Quebec vaccine passport, and fixed seating arrangements at pre-reserved tables. Plexiglass separated the individual booths and tables. Attendees were allowed to visit Muzique’s three rooms: The Main Room, the Hip-Hop room, and the Terrasse.

Although attendees were required to wear masks, many of the Muzique staff, including the bouncers and the DJ, were seen without masks. Nevertheless, many students, like Joey Hershkop, U1 Engineering, said the event’s vaccine policy eased his concerns. 

“I feel completely safe, considering the vaccine passport,” Hershkop said in an interview with The McGill Tribune. “Having the peace of mind knowing that everybody here is vaccinated is crucial.” 

Abdel Madrid Rafai, U2 Engineering, agreed that the safety precautions at the event were sufficient. Madrid Rafai expressed his eagerness to participate in student life this year, after completing his first year at McGill entirely online.

“I really do not have many concerns,” Madrid Rafai said. “We did not have many cases [at] McGill these past few weeks and the regulations were followed [….] I am just excited to be with other students.” 

At around 10:45 p.m., Montreal Police (SPVM) inspected the venue to ensure that the venue was adequately enforcing COVID-19 safety regulations. The police found no violations, leaving Muzique after 10 minutes.

“I talked to the police,” Karla Heisele Cubilla, Activities Night organizer and SSMU vice-president student life said. “They told me that they received a phone call, saying that there was a party and [asking] if [the police] could go check that regulations were being followed [….] The police came in, they found nothing wrong.”

Heisele Cubilla said that while she primarily received enthusiastic responses from the McGill community after the event, she said she also received concerns from SSMU members about how the after party would adequately adhere toCOVID-19 protocols. 

“I brought it to [SSMU’s executive committee],” Heisele Cubilla explained. “The entire team approved this event. I explained […] all the regulations we are taking, and they said, ‘okay, this seems like it is per Quebec’s laws and regulations.’”

SSMU president Darshan Daryanani looked back on the event as a welcome return to student life at McGill. 

“From what I have heard, after more than 18 months of remote learning, students appreciated a venue where they can finally re-engage with each other and restore an experience that students have missed for so long,” Daryanani wrote in an email to the Tribune. “Some students are COVID-19 cautious and prefer online events, so in the near future, we will be planning for both.”

Commentary, Opinion

Bill 96 is not the solution to the Anglo-Franco divide

Starting Sept. 21, Quebec’s National Assembly will debate Bill 96––a proposed amendment to the Canadian constitution that would declare Quebec a “nation” and make French its only official language. The bill has unsurprisingly sparked controversy in a province known for its biculturalism and history of intraregional tension. The English Montreal School Board (EMSB)’s retaliatory statement firmly denying Quebec’s nationhood––which the board withdrew a few days later due to backlash––only fanned the flames. Concerns about constricting teachers’ abilities in the classroom or limiting job opportunities for non-French speakers are just some of the bill’s many points of debate. The new law will only perpetuate existing linguistic divides, and politicians on both sides of the debate should promote individuals’ freedom to choose their language of education—rather than making that decision for them.

Hugh MacLennan’s 1945 novel, “Two Solitudes” is but one example demonstrating how the lack of communication between the anglophones and francophones has jeopardized Canadian political harmony. The novel illustrates the disjointed relations between French and English Canadians through characters who intentionally isolate themselves. This type of separatist rhetoric has circulated in the political sphere since the Lower Canada Rebellion of 1837. It gained traction again in the 1980s and 90s, dominating the two referenda concerning the question of Quebec’s national sovereignty. Today, it emerges once again in the form of Bill 96. Triggering passions on both sides, the bill makes no real effort to resolve ongoing polarization; instead, it further entrenches it.

In a last-ditch attempt to save face, EMSB chairperson Joe Ortana retracted his denial of Quebec’s nationhood, clarifying that the English-speaking community wants to be a part of it. Nevertheless, Ensemble Montreal dropped him as a candidate for the upcoming municipal elections in November.

Whether Ortana’s declaration was a semantic mishap or a politically motivated jab remains unclear––though in the current social climate, the latter seems most likely. What is clear is that relations between the EMSB and the native French speakers that attend its institutions will be all the more fractious. Speaking out against Bill 96’s proposed reforms and its potentially detrimental outcomes to anglophones and allophones is entirely reasonable; but attacking Quebec’s distinct nationship in so doing is irresponsible and frankly, unproductive. 

Dialogue about the bill’s deleterious implications is absolutely necessary, and the concerns of the anglophone minority are not unfounded. Many parents and teachers alike are concerned about the ramifications this amendment might have in the classroom, given that the bill would require employees, including teachers, to communicate entirely in French. This would restrict non-French speaking teachers’ abilities and severely limit job opportunities for anglophones.

One of the most disturbing propositions of an otherwise tame series of requests––such as rendering signs to be completely in French––is its implications for CEGEP applicants. The bill would allow the government to intervene in the affairs and choices of students in Quebec, requiring English CEGEPs to primarily accept anglophones and mandating that no more than 17.5 per cent of the provinces’ students attend English language CEGEPs. Many francophone students feel they have to make the switch to English CEGEPs to optimize their career prospects, and although French colleges’ declining enrollment is a cause for concern, it must remain the student’s decision to attend a French or English CEGEP—not the government’s. No student’s future should be decided based on the vote-pandering movements of sour politicians. 

Overall, this bill––and the heavily biased and partisan media frenzy surrounding it––will only further divide the anglophone and francophone populations. Rather than arguing over semantics, unnecessarily attacking the legitimacy of the Quebec nation, or barring French speakers from English CEGEPs, politicians should be trying to mitigate polarization in the province and bridge the gap between the “Two Solitudes.” MacLennan coined the term over 70 years ago and is most certainly rolling over in his grave at the news that, in 2021, we are still squabbling over the same petty argument. 

Campus Spotlight, Student Life

McGill Farmers’ Market creates community for sustainable eating

The McGill Farmers’ Market has been a staple of the summer and fall seasons at McGill since 2008. It returns again to McTavish Street this year, open on Thursdays from 11:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. Multiple vendors selling their signature products offer students a variety of food and flavour options, from De Sucre & de Miel’s avocado cakes and biscoff cookies, to the Cultured Foodie’s kimchi and pickled carrots.  

Jodie Anderson, U3 Arts, and her best friend Aneeka Anderson, U3 Arts, visit the market regularly. 

“We met up last week here and we are meeting up again this week to make this a little tradition,” Aneeka Anderson said. “We’re in our final year and, with COVID interrupting these traditions that we were forming [on-campus], we’re happy to be back and making the most of our last year.”

“It’s hard to shop locally and get such fresh stuff,” Jodie Anderson added. “Otherwise, if this wasn’t here, I might just be going to a big chain grocery store.”

Emma Leaden, MA2 Information Science, who visited the market for the first time, found it conveniently located and easily accessible. 

“This was right on campus,” Leaden said. “I know there’s a couple other farmers markets in the city that I haven’t been to because it’s just not as convenient.”

Leora Schertzer, U4 Arts and the coordinator of the farmers’ market, said that the market’s mandate is to provide accessible and sustainable food options to students.

“The goal is to promote local agriculture and local food production,” Schertzer explained in an interview with The McGill Tribune. “I think people like to meet the people who are producing their food as well. It makes it feel more personal. It makes you feel like you have more of a connection to what you’re eating and what you’re putting in your body.”

In addition to connecting students to local vendors, the market team organizes the Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) program, an initiative that offers local and seasonal produce through a weekly basket subscription service. The baskets are sourced from Co-op au Bout du Rang, a farm based in Saint-Felix-de-Valois—approximately an hour away from McGill by car—that grows over 40 varieties of vegetables. 

With current agricultural production systems causing substantial harm to the environment, Schertzer said a shift in food industry practices is urgently needed to confront climate change. 

“I think, in order for that change to happen, people need to have some sort of personal investment [in their food],” Schertzer said. “It makes people really happy to see the farmers’ market. They recognize familiar faces of the vendors who are super into what they’re doing and care a lot about their projects.”

Among these vendors is Elba Vasquez, owner of Café Elba. Vasquez started her business in 2013 to help struggling farmers in El Salvador. 

“I grew up in a small coffee farm in El Salvador, and I know what it’s like to be working there all day long in the coffee plantation,” Vasquez explained. “When I was a teenager working as a coffee picker, I was making 50 cents for every 35 pounds of coffee that I picked […] Some people make only $10 a day working all day long.”

The proceeds from the coffee Vasquez sells at the market help communities in Central America. She has recently been sending money to students in El Salvador to help them buy school supplies.

Although she takes part in a number of other farmers’ markets, Vasquez appreciates the student demographic unique to the McGill Farmers’ Market.

“Young people are very interested in [my business],” Vasquez said. “They want to help us by buying [the coffee]. They are very curious.”

Student Life

Bringing Pride to Chinatown

There was once a time when the terms “Pride” and “Chinatown” would not be associated unless you were talking about a restaurateur’s delight in the quality of their har gow (Cantonese dumplings). However, these days in Montreal’s Chinatown district, pride has a new meaning.

On Sept. 12, queer folks and allies united at Place des Souhaits for “Fierté au Quartier Chinois,” an event organized by Sticky Rice magazine, to celebrate Chinatown’s first pride and to mark the magazine’s one-year anniversary.

In an interview with The McGill Tribune, Viet Tran, Sticky Rice’s editor-in-chief, explained the importance of the event for Montreal’s queer Asian community.

“It became necessary to break the silence around [being queer and Asian],” Tran said. “What has been expected from Asian folks was to be quiet and to make ourselves discreet.”

Sticky Rice magazine explores what it means to be an Asian Canadian by highlighting the experiences of the Asian diaspora communities across Canada. Through essays, interviews, films, and other mediums, the magazine promotes an ever-changing dialogue around Asian-Canadian culture and identity.

Sticky Rice was founded in 2020, when anti-Asian hate crimes were on the rise. Amid this difficult period, the team decided it was time for Asian-Canadians to express themselves creatively from a place of vulnerability and authenticity.

The challenge to explain and understand what queer folks experience in predominantly Asian spaces is a difficult one, as Asian cultures are not homogenous. All with their own traditions, values, foods, belief systems, and people, Sticky Rice and its contributors recognize that they cannot speak for the experiences of all queer Asians.

“It’s not a secret that older generations are known to be more conservative with regard to sexual diversity,” Tran said. “There’s also something to be said about the relative lack of jargon in many Asian languages to address LGBTQ+ issues. We’re hoping that by giving queer Asians the permission to celebrate themselves in a more traditional neighborhood will inspire them to continue taking up space.”

Tran felt it was important to invite people from all demographics to the event.

“I do think that in any culture in which the pillars of family life sometimes take priority over individual differences, there are more efforts put into calling in people from all generations,” Tran said. “It was really important that this event be multi-generational, because the goal was to build bridges between younger queer demographics, local business people, and their legacies.”

Last weekend’s event featured performances from Montreal-based artists Hua Li, Waterboi, Miranda Chan, Beau Gomez and Die Nasty, Molly Gum, Frantz Lin, and Kai.

Frantz Lin described the significance of the event for him and others involved. 

“As far as I know, this was the first Pride in Montreal’s Chinatown, period,” Lin said. “It’s historic. It’s pretty important for Asian and Chinese youth to take our energy and community to partake in and claim Chinatown.”

Attendees enjoyed Asian street food and drinks provided by the on-site Asian Night Market and also learned about the Chinatown area through community-led walking tours. 

Tran described the significance, and importance, of holding this event in Chinatown. 

“It’s a neighbourhood that harbours a lot of cherished memories for us and our families, so we wanted to really pay respect to its history and to the resilience of its culture through guided walking tours, and by re-appropriating the space through an Asian-led party,” Tran said.

Sticky Rice’s second volume focusses on opening up the conversation around what it means to be Asian and queer. Titled (BE)LONGING: The Queer Edition, the volume showcases queer Asians from all backgrounds who have not historically been centred in mainstream 2SLGBTQIA+ platforms.

“​​As a musician of Asian descent, it also meant a lot to have such a diverse audience full of allies alongside the intergenerational support I felt from other Asians in the audience,” Montreal-based performer Hua Li said. “Sticky Rice highlights the margins of the Asian experience and gives us the space to break free from the model minority myth.”

Martlets, Soccer, Sports

Martlets Soccer earn their first point of the year

A week after their home opener defeat to Laval, the Martlets took to the pitch in hopes of earning their first points of the 2021-2022 season. While they hoped for a win, the Martlets came home with a singular point following a 0-0 draw to UQAM. Similar to the game versus Laval, McGill played well in the first half but lost their shape and patience as the game wore on. UQAM was able to slow down McGill’s build-up and the game entered halftime at a stalemate that neither team seemed ready to break. In the second half, the Martlets came out energized, playing long balls and pressing high. Despite several high-quality chances in front of goal, the Martlets were unfortunately not able to capitalize. 

“We deserved a better fate,” head coach Jose-Luis Valdes said in an interview with McGill Athletics. “We didn’t necessarily have a lot of possession and turned the ball over too much, but we didn’t allow them too many scoring opportunities in the first half. After the intermission, we decided to press and that gave us a little more confidence, which resulted in our side getting the ball higher up-field and created more chances to score.”

According to spectator Shaz Kassimali, U4 Science, McGill’s press on offence added an energy in the second half that was noticeable from the stands.

“The girls’ effort was relentless, they pushed through till the end, and their resilience is inspiring and admirable,” Kassimali said.

In addition to the team earning their first point of the season, first-year goalkeeper Brenna Bordeniuk earned her first McGill clean sheet. Bordeniuk delivered a commanding display in nets, making a key save from close range on UQAM forward Eve Levesque at the end of the first half. Second-year team captain Olivia Mazzarello also spearheaded a talented backline, helping Bordeniuk with added protection.

“I think we were able to create some more goal-scoring chances,” Mazzarello wrote in a message to The McGill Tribune. “We’re going to continue looking to improve our creativity up top and working on our collective play all around.” 

The game was the first of a doubleheader with the men’s team, yet the stands only started to fill toward the end of the Martlets’ game. The men’s team went on to win behind two incredible penalty saves, which are proven to be influenced by crowd noise. 

“The energy in the stands was impeccable and really affected the outcome of the game,” said Safa Khalifa, U1 Arts, who attended the men’s game. “Everyone was standing and cheering for even the smallest things, saves, steals, good passes [….] I think it really encouraged the guys on the team to keep doing what they do. The crowd’s passion really motivated the team to score that game-winning goal.”

The Martlets began a series of away fixtures with a 3-0 win on Sunday, Sept. 19 versus Université du Québec à Trois-Rivières (UQTR). In a little under two weeks, on Oct. 1, the Martlets will return home to face rival Concordia under the Molson Stadium lights at 6 p.m. A packed crowd certainly would help spur our Martlets on to their first home win of the season.

Moment of the Game

In the 58th minute, first-year forward Annika Schmunk forced a top-drawer save from UQAM’s Andreanne Dubeau to keep the game at 0-0.

Stat Corner

The Martlets went into this fixture having lost their last three contests against UQAM, dating back to 2019.

Quotable

“It feels great and it’s motivating because we are expecting to get a lot more wins and [to] just keep getting better as a team,” said first-year defender Stephanie Hill regarding their first point of the season.

Student Life

Showcasing queer culture through cookbooks

Up until Dec. 20, students walking down the Leacock corridor will notice a new addition to the glass cases lining the wall: The “A Recipe for a Queer Cookbookexhibition. 

Curated by Alexandra Ketchum, a faculty lecturer at McGill’s Institute for Gender, Sexuality, and Feminist Studies, the exhibit showcases more than 20 cookbooks that, for one reason or another, can be described as queer. 

Ketchum’s interest in queer cookbooks stems from her research into feminist restaurants. Her love for the subject was born out of a formative experience from her undergraduate years, when she visited Bloodroot, a self-proclaimed feminist restaurant and bookstore located in Bridgeport, Connecticut. Ketchum ended up writing about the spot in her undergraduate honours thesis and eventually pursued her master’s and PhD at McGill, where she studied feminist restaurants, cafes, and coffee houses in North America. 

The exhibit itself is inspired by lesbian feminist restaurant owners, some of whom put together their own cookbooks. 

“Bloodroot [has produced several cookbooks],” Ketchum said. “The first one was in 1980, called The Political Palate. In many ways, it’s like a political manifesto and a cookbook.”

While she has many research interests, Ketchum explained that amidst the difficulty of the pandemic, putting together the project was an opportunity to have fun with her research. 

“I’m into these cookbooks as artifacts and what they tell us about history, what they tell us about different cultural movements,” Ketchum said. “It allows me to ask […] deep questions about identity, queerness, politics, access to publishing and so forth, but it was also just fun.”

When asked what exactly makes a cookbook queer, Ketchum pointed to the importance of the viewer’s own interpretation.

“Part of the exhibit was to […] invite viewers and readers […] to think about, ‘what do I think makes it queer?’” Ketchum said.

However, there are some characteristics Ketchum includes in her own personal definition of a queer cookbook. For example, the authors of the book must, in some way, identify as part of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community, and the cookbook should connect to queer communities—be it through fundraising efforts, raising awareness about queer issues, or gathering recipes from community members.

But overall, the cookbooks vary––some are plant-based,  some have religious affiliations, and some emphasize sexuality and include nudity. A few of Ketchum’s personal favourites include The Kitchen Fairy’s Be Gay! Eat Gay!: The Gay of Cooking and Lagusta Yearwood’s Sweet and Salty

While most of the cookbooks on display come from her own personal collection, Ketchum also collaborated with the Quebec Gay Archives and Quebec Lesbian Archives, who provided the zines. Beyond loaning material for the exhibit, Ketchum wanted to collaborate with the archives in order to inform viewers that they are available for research on queer history

“[Viewers or readers] can scan the QR codes [in the exhibit] and find out how to make an appointment where they can see what other collections are available, or what’s digitized,” Ketchum said. “And all of a sudden, archives don’t feel like these spaces that are behind locked doors that you can never go to.”

For those who are not able to visit the physical exhibit in Leacock, the digitized version is available online at The Historical Cooking Project, a blog Ketchum has been editing since 2013. 

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