The 2026 Paralympic Winter Games took place in Milan and Cortina, Italy, from March 6 to March 15, marking the 50th anniversary of the Winter Paralympics. Taking place just one week after the 2026 Winter Olympics, the event showcased the talent of 611 athletes from 55 nations. The competition was held across the following sports: Para ice hockey, para cross-country skiing, para biathlon, para snowboard, para alpine skiing, and wheelchair curling.
Team China dominated the competition, finishing as the most successful team overall, with 44 total medals, including 15 gold. The United States placed second with 24 medals, including 13 gold. The host country, Italy, came in fifth, with 16 medals and seven gold, marking a new record for the country. Canada finished sixth overall, earning medals across all sports. Canadian athletes secured two gold and two silver in biathlon, one gold in wheelchair curling—their first gold medal since 2014—five medals in alpine skiing, three in cross-country skiing, a silver in para ice hockey, and a bronze in para alpine.
Canadian athletes shone on the international stage, with 30 leaving the Games with at least one medal. Para Nordic skier Natalie Wilkie led the Canadian team with four medals—two gold, one silver, and one bronze—solidifying her status as one of the country’s standout athletes. She also became the first athlete to carry the Canadian flag at both the opening and closing ceremonies of the Games.
Ina Forrest is now the most decorated wheelchair curler in the world, while also standing as Canada’s oldest medalist at the age of 63. Meanwhile, Mathieu Lelièvre became Canada’s youngest Paralympian to win a medal in Para ice hockey, showcasing Canada’s promising new generation of athletes. In total, nine athletes earned their first-ever Paralympic medals, eight of whom were competing at their first Games.
Despite these achievements, the Paralympics continue to receive significantly less media coverage than the Olympics; events were not aired during prime time, and many games were only available on streaming platforms or online.
The coverage of the 2026 Olympic Winter Games reached 30.5 million viewers in Canada across English and French television networks. In contrast, only 10 million viewers tuned in to the Paralympics across the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) and ICI TÉLÉ—a gap reflecting a broader trend. Similarly, in 2024, the Summer Paralympic Games counted 193.6 million viewers compared with the five billion who tuned in for the Olympic Games. These discrepancies in viewership reveal a persistent lack of equity in media coverage between Olympic and Paralympic athletes.
Even when Paralympic athletes receive media coverage, they are subject to stereotypes. Their achievements are viewed as extraordinary, and in recent years, they have been coined as ‘superhuman,’ recognized for continually breaking records in sports despite their disabilities, rather than simply for their achievements.
Additionally, media organizations tend to spotlight athletes who use advanced technology, such as blade prosthetics. This focus reinforces the portrayal of Paralympians as almost cyborg-like. It also places athletes who use technology for their sport at the centre of the media because it is seen as unique, while those without access to such equipment or whose impairments do not involve it remain overlooked.
In turn, the Paralympics become a show of technology rather than athleticism. This framing diminishes the athletes’ accomplishments and reduces them to stories of overcoming disability. Journalists and media networks alike must provide the same standard coverage to Paralympic athletes as they do for others, while avoiding harmful stereotypes. Simultaneously, viewers must challenge these narratives and support Paralympians, as they are athletes just like every other.
Hundreds gathered at Dorchester Square on March 21 at 1:30 p.m. to protest what organizers described as a war led by the U.S. and Israel across the Middle East. Demonstrators filled the downtown park with Palestinian flags, anti-war banners, and chants of “Ceasefire now” and “Ça suffit” to voice their opposition to military operations targeting Iran and Lebanon, and to condemn Canada’s role in the escalation.
According to the United Nations, more than 1,000 people have been killed and over 2,500 injured in Lebanon since early March, with more than 1.2 million displaced. Aid agencies warn that continued escalation could push up to 45 million people worldwide into acute hunger, as supply chains and fuel costs would be disrupted.
Strikes have also targeted Iranian infrastructure, including nuclear facilities. For many demonstrators, these developments were central to their decision to take to the streets. In an interview with The Tribune, Boutaïna Chafi, the media representative for the protest, explained that the loss of human life is what brought many onto the streets.
“We’re talking about the tens of thousands of people in Lebanon from the south being displaced, and people living in makeshift tents and on the beach, and being bombed every day in Beirut,” Chafi said. “In Iran, we are talking about critical infrastructure for daily life to be sustained that are being purposefully destroyed by Israel and the U.S.”
International agencies have echoed concerns about civilian harm. UN officials report that airstrikes have destroyed residential buildings in densely populated areas, often killing entire families. In Lebanon, dozens of healthcare workers have been killed, while hundreds of schools are now being used as shelters for displaced families.
A central theme of the protest was Canada’s perceived complicity in the conflict. Demonstrators accused the federal government of supporting U.S. and Israeli military efforts through arms exports and political alignments.
Two demonstrators, Lisa D. and Sam B., who were at the protest with the Revolutionary Communist Party, emphasized Canada’s complicity in the war.
“Canada has a responsibility to stop sending arms to Israel and the U.S., and to stop the world from helping and protecting Israel on building sites,” said Lisa D.
Sam B. added: “I think that what people want to show today is that the Canadian people don’t want this war. Nobody wants war. It gives us, as people, nothing.”
Recent polling suggests public opinion in Canada leans strongly against military escalation, with 67 per cent of Canadians opposing involvement and favouring a neutral stance. A representative of the Mouvement québécois pour la paix (MQP) spoke with The Tribune, criticizing Carney’s lack of decisiveness on the issue and appeasement to the U.S.
“[Carney] knows that around 70 per cent of the Canadian population is against the war in Iran and is against any policy or position that will accompany the United States,” the representative, who asked to remain anonymous, said. “At this stage right now, Canada does not do much for the war in Iran, but it’s the absence of condemnation which speaks volumes, especially when Carney claims to want a foreign policy independent from U.S. demands.”
Criticism of Canada’s role extended to its membership in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), which protestors described as a vehicle for U.S. foreign policy. The representative from MQP described it as an obsolete organization.
“We understand NATO to be primarily a U.S. tool of foreign policy, despite the propaganda depicting it as a defensive organization,” the representative said. “It had a role during the Cold War. Yet, since the fall of the USSR, we’ve seen that it has been involved in Libya, Yugoslavia, and in Afghanistan for example. Ultimately, it has been used as a tool for U.S. domination.”
Chafi situated the current conflict within a broader historical pattern of intervention.
“This is a playbook that they’ve always, always used in the region,” Chafi noted. “They see a country that is able to sustain itself despite sanctions, and they will just come in and destroy everything that is needed in order for people to survive. This is what’s happening in Cuba right now. This is what they’ve tried doing in Venezuela. They’re doing it right now in Iran. They’ve done it in Iraq. This is the same playbook that has not changed. And so this is why we’re able to see through the narrative that the U.S. is pushing through, that democracy is not something you bring by destroying and killing people.”
(Serena Elsammak / The Tribune)
The representative from MQP also criticized the role of Canadian institutions, including McGill, in global militarization.
“McGill has multiple ways in which it directly contributes to the military industrial complex,” the representative affirmed. “We know that McGill does a lot of research with regards to the production of military goods and high-tech missiles. McGill did research on thermobaric weapons, and most of those were sold over to American industrial complexes that are then utilized to bomb various countries across the world [….] We’ve also seen McGill being extremely hostile to the youth, expressing its demands for Canada taking a real position against genocide, against massacres. So McGill plays a very important role, I think, both in legitimizing wars, but also in producing wars.”
McGill’s Media Relations Office declined to comment on these claims.
The demonstration brought together a wide range of political perspectives, from anti-imperialist activists to Quebec sovereigntists. Andréa, who attended carrying a Québec Solidaire flag and withheld her last name, described this as a matter of self-determination: A principle in the United Nations Charter affirming the right of peoples to determine their political status and pursue their economic, social, and cultural development.
“As an independentist, personally, I cannot claim the right to self-determination for my own people without demanding it for others who need it,” Andréa said. “Supporting Palestine, supporting all oppressed peoples around the world, that’s the foundation when you are an independentist.”
Andréa also criticized what she described as a broader shift in political discourse when asked about media coverage of this conflict.
“Misunderstood or poorly conveyed, that’s the question. Unfortunately, there has been a shift in political discourse toward the right over several years since […] the early 1980s,” Andréa said. “The discourse has shifted to the right, and it continues to shift to the right on absolutely all issues. Fascism, misogyny, all of that is part of this rightward shift, orchestrated by the richest people in the world, who basically profit off the blood of the poor.”
Chafi also emphasized that domestic migrant justice is linked to international conflicts.
“There’s a significant part of the migrant diaspora here who has migrated to this country as a result of intervention, as a result of coups, as a result of government changes,” Chafi said. “The rights of migrants are fundamental to our struggle, because most of us in the streets, most of us in these movements, are either sons or daughters of immigrants or immigrants themselves.”
Other participants expressed more radical critiques. One protestor, who wished to remain anonymous, described Canadian political leaders as constrained, arguing that foreign policy decisions reflect a broader system of control.
“Tell me who pays the musicians, and I’ll tell you who calls the tune. Those who control the economy are the ones who command. If they control the economy, they own it. But politicians are only managers. They are not the ruling elite. They do not lead; they are commanded. So when we oppose them and when we rise up, the best outcome is to stop them from continuing their dirty work,” the protestor said in an interview with The Tribune.
Various activist groups at the protest are involved in ongoingcampaigns targeting economic ties to the conflict. La Coalition du Québec Urgence Palestine highlights investments by the Caisse de dépôt et placement du Québec (La Caisse), which activists say include billions of dollars in companies linked to Israeli occupation and military activity. The Coalition du Québec Urgence Palestine has since launched a campaign calling for divestment from such holdings, urging Quebecers to pressure public institutions to withdraw investments.
“We refuse to be complicit,” read one flyer distributed at the protest.
While the demonstration focused on public visibility, organizers stressed the importance of continued action beyond the streets.
“There are many things Canadians can do,” Chafi said. “Writing to [Members of Parliament], supporting campaigns like arms embargoes. These are simple actions that can have a real impact. This is about more than one conflict. It’s about the kind of world we want to live in.”
As the crowd began to disperse in the late afternoon, the message of the protest was clear: Opposition to war abroad is inseparable from demands of justice, accountability, and solidarity at home.
*Quotes from Andréa and the protestor who wished to remain anonymous were translated from French.
In the summer of 1969, a group of musicians walked on stage at the Montreux Jazz Festival in Switzerland with nothing short of a half-formed idea. In a last-minute effort, pianist Les McCann, bassist Leroy Vinnegar, and drummer Donald Dean recruited trumpeter Benny Bailey and saxophonist Eddie Harris to perform an impromptu hour-long set. The group had never played or rehearsed together for even so much as a minute; even the set list was not fully established. Yet, without hesitation, McCann counted in the band with the baseline for their first tune, Compared to What, and the group figured it out from there.
The performance was so spontaneous that, after the song and the roar of applause that followed, McCann made a brief clarification about their next number, Cold Duck Time.
“Alright, we’re gonna try a new song. This is a song written by Eddie Harris, and today is the first time we ever saw it. So, with your help, we just might do it.”
The performance—which, by happenstance, was recorded in its entirety—was released under the name Swiss Movement later that year and became a best-selling album.
The nature of this performance is not something unbeknownst to jazz musicians—after all, a fundamental aspect of the genre is improvisation. But improvisation and its accompanying excitement are not exclusive to jazz, or live music for that matter.
Improvisation is one of the fundamental roots of elation. In sports, the biggest plays are made in the heat of the moment, when a player must make a split-second decision to secure a goal, basket, or point. A stand-up comedian’s prowess is often measured by their ability to engage in crowd-work, offering witty comebacks to drunk audience members. To surprise spectators, even movies offer the illusion of characters making a last-ditch effort to save their universe through unforeseen tactics. Such an ability to improvise, when executed with confidence and precision, distinguishes people in their fields and awes observers who could only dream of doing something similar.
While these moments are most frequently felt in crowds, the act of stepping into realms of uncertainty should not be reserved for the highest-stakes environments.
When I explain the concept of life drawing to people, I am often asked why I enjoy it. Instinctively, the first thing I point to is that from the moment the model is fixed in place and the timer begins, I am utterly terrified. I find myself staring, trying to recall the various lessons on form and proportions I was taught years ago. In this moment of defeat, where I have convinced myself I know nothing, I turn to other solutions. I might meticulously fixate on the contours of their face, I might mentally retrace the composition 15 times, and I might even engage in an internal debate about whether to focus on the negative space. But, eventually, my pencil finds the paper, and, line by line, I piece it all together.
Whether lasting 45 or just 15 minutes, a pose requires a certain level of patience. It equally calls for a willingness to accept the decisions made in the moment, to trust in one’s ability, and to be present in an exercise that intrinsically connects the mind to one’s fingertips. It is a practice I love because it scares me, and however good or bad I might think my work is, it still represents a moment when I walked onto a stage, unsure of where it would lead me.
What makes improvisation so powerful is that it toes the line between control and uncertainty. Understanding a framework is only a preliminary step; what follows is learning to understand yourself. Engaging with the practice, redefining what it means to set limits for yourself, and finding a place for improvisation in your creative endeavours all allow for these limits to be tested, reshaped, and abandoned.
Should you feel doubt about the things you create, know that when McCann got off that Montreux stage, he feared his performance was less than satisfactory. It was not until he took a step back and listened to the tape that he began to understand how much joy he brought to the world that day.
On March 15, the 98th edition of the Academy Awards took place at the Dolby Theatre, bringing the usual spectacle and controversy that define Hollywood’s most anticipated night. This year, two films in particular—Ryan Coogler’s Sinners and Paul Thomas Anderson’s One Battle After Another (OBAA)—competed closely in the race for Best Picture.
This category is traditionally the final award of the night, cementing its status as the ultimate marker of cinematic prestige. Unlike other categories, this Oscar is unique as it is decided by a preferential ballot system, in which Academy members rank nominees instead of selecting a single choice. This process rewards consensus and broad appeal, but also raises important questions about which films are ultimately deemed worthy of recognition—and why.
It is precisely this tension that has fueled the critique surrounding OBAA’s win. OBAA has received significant attention for its apparent political ambitions, engaging with themes such as racism, immigration and authoritarianism; Yet, Director Paul Thomas Anderson has repeatedly dodged opportunities to relinquish his apolitical stance. Nonetheless, despite—or perhaps because of— this ambition, the film has been widely criticized for its aestheticization of politics. A critique of authoritarian state violence turned into a polished rendering of cinematic action, prioritizing form and effect over depth and meaning.
On the other hand, Sinners has been noted to humanize Black political identity in accordance with history, offering a portrayal that remains grounded and attentive to lived experience. The film has received acclaim for its ability to merge supernatural horror with a meaningful exploration of the dynamics of oppression and Black Southern culture, creating a narrative that feels both creative and relevant.
The contrast between these two films thus extends beyond questions of genre or style, pointing to a broader issue regarding the standards and criteria by which a film’s cinematic value is measured. What does the Academy reward when it recognizes a film as “Best Picture?” OBAA’s win reveals less about the relative quality of the films than the underlying values and preferences that shape the Academy itself. By favouring a stylized portrayal of political struggle over the more grounded and historically attentive approach of Sinners, the Oscars continue to privilege representations of politics that are aesthetically legible and institutionally familiar. In doing so, they reaffirm a particular vision of what “serious” political cinema looks like. Thus, the value of what constitutes a “Best Picture” no longer emerges as an objective measure of distinction, but as a reflection of the outdated and often problematic cultural frameworks through which the film industry operates.
This critique is further compounded by OBAA‘s choice of perspective. Despite the film’s engagement with themes of racism and systemic oppression, OBAA centres its narrative on two white male protagonists—a decision that has sparked additional criticism regarding the film’s representational scope. This results in the political stakes of the film feeling distanced, with racial issues appearing as thematic backdrops rather than lived realities.
The directors’ reputations also shape how audiences and institutions understand the dynamics of these films. Anderson has long established himself as an auteur in American cinema and benefits from a history of critical recognition and prestige. Ryan Coogler, however, while influential and successful, is a director tied to popular cinema. The outcome of the Best Picture award thus appears to reflect not only artistic judgments but also the hierarchies that reign in the film industry. Despite this year’s Oscars being shockingly predictable, the outcome somehow never fails to polarize the crowd. If anything united viewers, it was the widespread belief that Timothée Chalamet did not stand a chance of receiving his small statuette.
“The SGI was created mainly to address the interdisciplinary issues in solving the global sustainability challenges that the world faces,” Turcotte said. “[…] The objective of [SGI’s Annual Grand Challenge] is to present students across the country with a specific challenge related to sustainability and let them find a solution.”
This year’s challenge centred on exploring strategies that strengthen coastal communities’ resilience against climate change.
Two short documentaries were featured, followed by a Q&A session with their creators: Leila Beaudoin, a journalist who specializes in fisheries and climate stories, and Maxime Corneau, a Radio-Canada journalist who covers environmental issues.
Beaudoin’s film, All Eyes On the Water, explores the growing threats to coastal communities posed by rising sea levels and increasing storm intensity. When introducing her work, she reflected on sustainability and the challenge of maintaining communities and ecosystems in a rapidly changing world.
“Fishermen in my film can tell you the exact speed [by which] the wind has changed since they were children,” Beaudoin said. “When I started filming on my iPhone, I did not know what I was gathering […], just that I had to gather it and that it was important [.…] Last year, I purchased a [Sony camera] […], but one thing I realized when making this documentary is that climate stories do not wait. They do not care about theatrics or lighting or programs or funding, even.”
Filmed near her hometown in northern Newfoundland during the COVID-19 pandemic, the documentary highlights how storm activity is accelerating coastal erosion and damaging infrastructure, such as homes and fishing facilities.
“The message for me was really how [people] already know, they have solutions,” Beaudoin said.
By giving people space to express their thoughts, ideas, and concerns in her film, she demonstrates that communities are already adapting—proposing solutions such as relocating buildings inland or reinforcing shorelines with rock barriers—but are lacking the funding and political support needed to implement them.
During the Q&A, Beaudoin further explained how climate change impacts fisheries: While warming waters have benefited the lobster industry in Newfoundland, stocks are declining further south in the United States.
“We wanted to share the story of people who were thinking about leaving [….] But when we got there, we quickly realized that […] they wanted to stay there, and it realigned the story,” Corneau said.
The film blends voices from scientists, local residents, and former mayor Erwin Elias, portraying a community deeply attached to its land; cultural, cemetery and economic activities are all connected to this place.
“As a Southerner, I […] thought [climate change] must be terrible [for Indigenous communities in the north],” Corneau said. “And when you are there, you speak with people, and it is all about adaptation, and how they move with the environment.”
Following the screening, Corneau shared that the community has since secured $54 million CAD in federal funding to help protect the town from erosion. He highlighted Tuktoyaktuk’s geopolitical importance as a factor in securing funding and expressed hope that the film will inform broader adaptation strategies, including in southern regions like Montreal.
Overall, audience members responded positively to both films, praising their striking visuals that captured the beauty of Canadian coastal landscapes, the representativeness of people’s voices, and the human-centred storytelling.
As conversations continued beyond the screening room, the event marked yet another successful edition of the Annual Grand Challenge on Sustainability.
The World Baseball Classic (WBC) is one of the most captivating tournaments in international sport—a stage where national identity shines not just through competition but also through energy and celebration. Teams played with joy and spirit just as much as athleticism throughout the ups and downs of every game. Players from Team Italy sip espresso from Moka pots after home runs, while the Dominican Republic National Baseball Team turns every big hit into a moment of collective joy by dancing and embracing each other in celebration.
Against this backdrop, the United States National Baseball Team stood out, not due to its electric energy, but for its cold restraint. The contrast has sparked a broader conversation about the role of militarism in American sports culture and what it communicates globally.
This theme of militarism was only amplified when Team USA invited Robert O’Neill, a former SEAL Team 6 member, to deliver a motivational speech in the locker room. O’Neill is widely known for his role in the 2011 raid that killed Osama bin Laden. In recent years, however, he has gained attention for controversial social media commentary, making him an increasingly polarizing figure in the public sphere.
His presence in the locker room symbolized a longstanding pattern of military imagery being meshed into American sport. From camouflage uniforms to pregame flyovers and “Salute to Service” campaigns, U.S. sports have long incorporated military symbolism into their culture. Yet, in the context of an international tournament defined by cultural expression and joy, the tone Team USA has conveyed felt significantly different. Bringing an even colder energy, catcher Cal Raleigh was seen wearing a shirt reading “Front Toward Enemy,” a phrase associated with the Claymore mine. While it was likely intended as a symbol of toughness or focus, the message holds overt military connotations. In a tournament where other teams lean into identity through food, music, and communal celebration, this kind of imagery is quite jarring.
The WBC lets nations choose how to represent themselves. For many countries, baseball is a point of cultural pride, an opportunity to be joyful and proud of where they come from. The Dominican Republic’s exuberance reflects a relationship with the sport that is deeply connected to the nation’s identity. Italy’s espresso rituals speak to its people’s cultural traditions and humour. On the other hand, Team USA chooses to platform its government’s insistence on foreign interference. Their inability to forgo discipline and focus—ultimately reminiscent of ‘military mentality’—may reflect broader cultural values of efficiency and become a testament to how seamlessly the emphasis of military presence has embedded itself into common culture in the U.S. It brings important questions to light: What do we lose when we stop prioritizing and emphasizing joy? Is this lack of whimsy worth it to uphold the image of the U.S. as a nation not to be reckoned with? Couldn’t the real trophy be the friends we made along the way?
From Olympic boycotts to national anthems and flag ceremonies, international competition has always carried political undertones and has raised questions surrounding the relationship between sport and politics. In the case of American sports, the integration of military symbolism runs deep, and is shaped by decades of partnerships and cultural reinforcement. The integration of military symbolism has become a defining factor instead of just a facet of what it means to be American, and these symbols tend to speak not only to how nations see themselves, but also how they wish to be perceived. Having such a prevalent military attitude during a time when the U.S. military is waging war on the Middle East can convey a message of hate and malice to international audiences who are watching the WBC.
With Pete Hegsethcalling the U.S. a Christian nation and intertwining the national identity with war—“Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war and my fingers for battle”—the notion is only deepened.
To meld together the United States’ identity with battle and war implies that those are actions to be proud of, despite the thousands of lives lost in the pursuit of those ‘values.’ A display of military dominance has no place on the global stage of WBC—which, at its core, is a celebratory tournament of baseball across the world.Baseball and the culture that surrounds it are as much about joy as they are about competition. The success of the WBC shows that fans are drawn to authenticity, energy, and connection, which are all qualities that transcend borders. There is no place for the continued normalization of the American military-industrial complex at international sports tournaments.
Student-organized events are a playground for creativity and innovation. Designers, unrestricted by large corporations or monetization, are instead fueled by true passion—or in this case, P[h]assion. P[h]assion is a non-profit organization at McGill that has fundraised over $150,000 CAD for various Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome (AIDS) and Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV) foundations, including their primary partner AIDS Community Care Montreal (ACCM), thanks to events centred on fashion. On March 14, P[h]assion held its annual spring fashion show to help raise awareness and funds for ACCM. This year’s theme was “RITUAL.”
Alina Lu, U4 Management, and co-director of P[h]assion, explained the show’s theme in a written statement to The Tribune.
“For us, RITUAL is a journey through the experiences, spaces, and practices that shape daily life around the world [….] Some rituals are collective, rooted in culture, community, and shared belief. Others are deeply personal, unfolding in moments of solitude and everyday routine [….] It shapes identity, creates connection, and brings meaning to the ordinary.”
Lu and her colleagues aim to paint awareness onto a visual landscape, such as fashion, to encourage people to make contact with realities they would otherwise turn away from. By contributing to these creative events, either behind the scenes or as audience members, students learn to see art as a medium for change.
“Fashion is an art form that has always been inherently political, standing alongside and amplifying social movements throughout history including the AIDS movement of the 1980s,” Lu continued. “[Fashion] is both deeply personal and profoundly collective [….] In the context of the cause we stand for, history is especially meaningful. We are always intentional about honouring it and using P[h]assion as a platform to carry forward the legacy of those who used it as a tool for change.”
The runway, set in Centre St Jax, a church located on rue St. Catherine, solidified the show’s theme. The quiet light streaming through the stained glass and the arched reverberant architecture served as a backdrop for a collective religious identity formed through ritual. The community P[h]assion has built went hand in hand with supporting other communities, both Montreal designers and communities struggling with AIDS and HIV.
Alongside the setting, clothing pieces themselves are integral to the coming-together of any fashion show. One dress, from the collection of designer Maya Ginzburg, particularly stood out to //The Tribune//. The garment was held together by strings attaching black squares to make a long silhouette. The back was open, consisting only of thin black strings stretching between the two sides of the dress. The dress was beautifully intricate and seemingly fragile, reflecting the delicate nature of rituals themselves.
Lu highlighted an additional piece from the Maya Ginzburg collection.
“[Another] dress [highlighted] forest fires in Canadian [forests] using charred wood and wood heels, it’s such a beautiful piece intersecting fashion and nature.”
The evening’s theme tied directly to the club’s main goal of spreading awareness and generating support for HIV/AIDS.
“Rituals can foster empathy and understanding. By showcasing diverse stories and lived experiences through fashion, we want to humanize and bring visibility to the communities affected by HIV/AIDS,” Lu wrote.
“RITUAL” not only displayed but convinced audiences of the importance of P[h]assion’s mission to engage the McGill community in both art and social justice. Each collection offered its own unique perspective on the importance of the club’s cause, coming together to create a meaningful show representative of P[h]assion’s mission.
The McGill Senate convened on March 18 for its third meeting of the Winter 2026 semester. The meeting began with a memorial for the late Professor David Harpp in the Department of Chemistry. McGill’s President and Vice-Chancellor Deep Saini shared his Feb. 25 speech for the Montreal Chamber of Commerce with the Senate, as well as his visit to India with Prime Minister Mark Carney to discuss the opening of a Centre for Excellence in AI.
Next, Vice-President (VP) of Administration and Finance Fabrice Labeau opened the discussion with a revised identification (ID) policy proposal following the policy’s initial proposal in the Senate’s Jan. 14 meeting. The proposal would allow authorized personnel to request student identification on campus property for “legitimate purposes” outlined in the policy.
Post-Graduate Students’ Society University Affairs Officer Amina Bourai raised questions regarding the initial proposal’s academic necessity and potential safeguards, referencing an open letter from the McGill community opposing the proposed policy.
“[The open letter] has now been signed by over 500 members of the McGill community, including undergraduate and graduate students, staff, alumni, and faculty,” Bourai said. “This reflects a broad and urgent level of concern across the university about both the necessity of this policy and its potential impacts.”
Furthermore, among other concerns of the policy’s safeguards, Bourai questioned the need to change McGill’s current security apparatus.
“What remains unclear is why [the existing frameworks] are inadequate and why a broad identification policy that doesn’t require any suspected wrongdoing is a proportionate response [….] How exactly is security supposed to handle the exclusion of people? Physically carry them outside or are we calling the police?”
In response to Bourai’s initial questions, Labeau presented his revised proposal with consultations from other senators. Labeau cited increased theft on campus as a reason for the policy, while also taking into account concerns about discretion in asking for ID.
“We heard a lot of comments about the fact that too many people had too much power and that was never the intent. We’ve clarified in this version that the role of an individual that is qualified to ask for identification is really limited to a specific place and time,” Labeau said.
Labeau acknowledged that the consultations were useful, yet the policy’s passing would ultimately go through the Board of Governors (BoG), a point echoed by Saini. Labeau also clarified the definition of “authorized personnel” allowed to request ID, listing exam invigilators, campus security, and faculty or staff acting in an official capacity at on-campus events.
Faculty of Law Professor Victor Muñiz-Fraticelli then raised a question about the administration’s intention with the proposal and the practical application of this policy.
“We’re a bit like Athens under Pericles and not like Sparta,” Muñiz-Fraticelli said. “We are open to the world with Sparta, maybe Yale perhaps as a point of comparison, which closed itself from surrounding the community. And no one in Canada is asked to carry government-provided ID when they walk around the street.”
Additional concerns included adequate training for campus security under the policy and its potential effect on peaceful protests on campus. Particularly, the need for sufficient efforts to prevent profiling was brought up by Faculty of Dental Medicine and Oral Health Professor Alissa Levine.
“The only times in my life when I’ve been asked to produce ID have been when I was in the presence of a friend or colleague of colour,” Levine said. “I am concerned there will be no records kept. I think the intent was to reassure and it actually might have the opposite effect in terms of how it’s carried out.”
The BoG will vote to pass the proposal at its next meeting on April 23.
Soundbite:
“I’m wondering if McGill intends to post guards at the entrances and gates of the university, to ask any tourist who wants to see the arts building, or any cyclist who wants to commute, to produce their papers or be excluded from the publicly funded campus.”—Senator Victor Muñiz-Fraticelli.
Moment of the Meeting:
Senators voted to add a 12th day to the examination period for the Fall 2026 term to alleviate evening exams, in turn shortening Winter break.
Now that we have returned to daylight savings, our days should feel longer, brighter, warmer—in theory, that is. Somehow, both the ground and the sky remain the same colour of lifeless grey. And not only are our skies dark, but our homes are as well, after recent winds of 120 kilometres an hour left over 300,000 Quebec residents without power. To add insult to injury, exam season is right around the corner. These are trying times, fellow McGillians. So, what better way to ease your woes than to participate in science-based activities around campus?
Physical Society Colloquia
It may feel a little bit intimidating to attend a seminar on the mechanics of our planet and our universe, especially if your specialty lies outside of the Department of Physics. However, do not let that stop you from checking out the weekly Physical Society Colloquia. While these talks target Physics undergrad students, we can confirm, as SciTech editors who are not majoring in Physics, that they remain interesting and accessible to all. If you are in need of plans on Friday, March 27, then head to the Ernest Rutherford Physics Building at 3:30 p.m. for a talk on dark matter and dark energy—the mysterious substances that make up 95 per cent of our universe. The event takes place in room 112 of the Keys Auditorium, followed by wine and cheese.
HPV Walk-In Vaccine Event
On March 26 from 10:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m., the Student Wellness Hubinvites students to a walk-in vaccination event for Human Papillomavirus (HPV), completely free of charge, in Room 5001 of the Brown Student Services Building. HPV is an incredibly common sexually transmitted disease, with experts estimating that around 75 per cent of sexually active Canadians will contract it at some point in their lives. Some strains of HPV can cause cancer, making vaccination an excellent way to protect against this. In fact, if you are vaccinated before being exposed to the virus, the HPV vaccine is 97 percent effective in preventing cervical cancer and cell changes that could lead to cancer. Plus, it’s almost 100 percent effective in preventing external genital warts.
Moreover, given the concerning rise in vaccine hesitancy seen in recent years, it is critical to remember that vaccines in Canada have been proven to be both safe and effective. They are a public health miracle and have saved more than 150 million lives around the globe over the past 50 years. The event does not require registration, so if you are looking to get an HPV vaccine, all you have to do is show up with either your government or student ID.
Undergraduate Science Showcase
Every year, McGill students dedicate entire semesters working on research projects in their departments, and many science classes afford students several opportunities to write for and contribute to the scientific fields they care about most. To celebrate this hard work, McGill’s Office of Science Education (OSE) hosts the annual Undergraduate Science Showcase, giving students the chance to present their work in a science-fair-style format. This year’s event—happening on March 25 from 5:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. in the University Centre—will feature work from hundreds of students, including posters and field studies projects, as well as hors d’oeuvres and DJ sets. Registration is free, and the link can be found on OSE’s website.
Aurora Gala ‘26
Finally, if learning more about science isn’t your thing, then at the very least, you can spend some quality time with fellow science students at the Aurora Gala. On the evening of March 26, join a number of different McGill student societies and associations from 8:00 p.m. to 12:00 a.m. at Pangea Restaurant & Bar in Old Port for an end-of-year celebration. Tickets range from $20-25 CAD and are available on the McGill Undergraduate Geography Society’s event page.
While researching for her book, The Knowing, Anishinaabe journalist, author, and filmmaker Tanya Talaga was asked by a friend what she knew about the 1974 occupation of Anicinabe Park. That prompted her to explore the story further. What followed was a captivating collaboration with Metis writer, director, and filmmaker Shane Belcourt, recounting the story of the young Louis Cameron.
On March 16, Cinema Politica Concordia hosted the Montreal premiere of Ni-Naadamaadiz: Red Power Rising as part of their Winter 2026 program, Carpe Machina. In the summer of 1974, led by Cameron of the Ojibway Warriors Society, a peaceful occupation of Anicinabe Park began, following a four-day youth conference. The documentary weaves interviews, archival footage, and a voice-over of Cameron’s son, Tyler, reading Cameron’s unpublished manuscript.
The film begins by setting the scene of life for a young Anishinaabe person living on the Grassy Narrows First Nation Reserve, or in nearby Kenora, Ontario. Racism and discrimination plague the lives of the local Anishinaabe youth, both during the film’s time period and today. For example, interviewees share experiences of being refused service in restaurants and denied public-facing jobs as Indigenous people. The film also explores how the Kenora region housed one of the largest numbers of residential schools in Ontario, where Cameron and other Anicinabe Park Warriors spent their youth facing sexual, physical, and emotional abuse.
The narrative then follows Cameron’s son, Tyler, as he explains the extent of the mercury poisoning in his community and the process of getting his daughter tested. This is especially significant given that Indigenous communities disproportionately suffer from the effects of environmental racism, in which practices and policies result in greater pollution or health risks for Indigenous or racialized communities. Belcourt also illuminates the high levels of violence in the town, including the “Kenora Indian Beaters”—a violent and racist gang of non-Indigenous young men that target Anishinaabeg.
Despite the widespread culture of hate in town, the police focused their attention on Cameron.
“My dad, Louis Cameron, was one of the most wanted men in Canada. An outlaw. They called him a terrorist. I call him a warrior,” says Tyler in the film.
The photos and videos of the occupation dispel this depiction by revealing a very young group, with ages ranging from 20 to as young as 17. The occupation, which lasted 40 days, involved Anishinaabe mothers, youth, and leaders camping out in the park through cold weather, threats from the Kenora locals, and constant police surveillance. Their demands included better housing, more employment opportunities, an overhaul of the Department of Indian Affairs, and—most significantly—the return of Anicinabe Park lands, which they claimed were illegally purchased by the federal government and sold to the City of Kenora in 1959.
During the post-screening Q&A, Talaga shared her intent behind the film.
“I wanted to show the youth our heroes. The heart of this film is human connection [.…] The youth in this film were standing up to resist what was happening, what is still happening,” Talaga said.
Cameron emerged as a political visionary who was both charismatic and well-spoken despite his youth. He left behind an unpublished manuscript, stored in a pink storage bin in Tyler’s home. The manuscript, narrated in both Anishinaabemowin and English, reveals the breadth of Cameron’s vision for his people. The film positions Tyler as the emotional thread of this movie, inviting audiences to share in his experience of revisiting his father’s legacy of activism from Anicinabe Park to Parliament Hill. Digging into the storage bin, the film gently unravels this forgotten juncture in Canadian history. Stunningly, Tyler looks and sounds exactly like his dad, reminding audiences that Indigenous resistance echoes through generations.
