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Student Life

Nine hours on campus

by Gabriela McGuinty on

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McGill University boasted an impressive 40,036 student population as of Fall 2018. On any given day, at any given moment, there are 40,036 lives in the close proximity that only a university campus can provide; 40,036 schedules, routines, habits, strangers. Although the number can be daunting, I have found that my time at McGill was shaped by the fact that no two students’ lives are the same, a comforting idea that mitigates a socially isolating atmosphere. McGill students lives are diverse, but that does not mean that they do not share any relatable experiences.

9:00 a.m.

Not only does the excessive construction on campus contradict the aesthetic presented in of the school’s brochures, it also infringes on my usual path to class. I have to rely on my quick-thinking skills to navigate a sea of students and unfamiliar territory to travel to my next lecture.

10:35 a.m.

By mid-morning, McGill has already gifted me with two things. The first, a professor that is a genuine expert in their field. They are the type of person that appears as the reference point when searching keywords related to their research. And second, it builds up an overconfidence in my abilities that, more often than not, is destructive. I start every semester excessively confident taking a course that I should have most definitely taken pass-fail. In this next hour, this truth becomes clear.

11:28 a.m.  

I failed the midterm of said class. Never one to downplay its own generosity, McGoll has ingrained in me the expectation of ice cream as compensation for poor performance. As I trek to McConnell Engineering to wallow in pity and free ice cream as a result of my  ‘F’ grade, I can’t help but wonder if indulging in this post-failure ritual is only going to condition me to accept defeat. In the meantime, there’s ice cream.

12:00 p.m.

On my way to meet a professor during their office hours in Leacock, I am distracted by the overwhelming fragrance of a samosa sale. McGill has given me an appreciation for the little things—prismatic, pocket-sized, potato-filled, one-dollar morsel things.

1:30 p.m.  

During my second class of the day, McGill brings out my tendency to tell white lies. That one I time I asked for an extension for my paper was not necessarily because my grandmother was ill, nor because my mother broke her toe, and definitely not because the dog I have had since I was four years old died. Rather, I got a really good deal for a flight to New York and spent the weekend sans laptop. It happens.

3:00 p.m.

McGill, at around this hour every day has gifted me with the phenomenon that I have named the ‘studious step’: the walk that students take on their way to the library. I approach the library with a calm facade, while inside, my stomach coils, my heart rate increases, and beads of sweat slowly form on my forehead, before, I realize that I left my computer charger at home.

3:15 p.m.

I have learned a lot about bad financial decisions during my time at McGill. I usually do not last half an hour in McLennan before hurrying down to Première Moisson to order an overpriced coffee or an even more ridiculously-priced box consisting of two grapes, a four-by-four centimeter block of cheese, and three crackers. What I really learned from this experience is to make the most out of a bad situation. Exhibit A: I can neither confirm nor deny whether I have usually eaten my cookie in line before paying, but I would prefer if the cashiers didn’t check the security footage.

6:30 p.m.

Finally, an adequate hour to leave the library after some ‘productive’ studying. As I walk past the Arts Building and down through the Roddick Gates, the wind carries a whisper past my ear: ‘Study, samosa, studious step, ‘spend’, Suwu, sleep, repeat.’

Cartoons

Evolution of a McGill Student

by Sunny Kim on

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Students should reach out for help if they feel they are in a crisis situation. Campus services are available to offer students professional and medical treatment, including Counselling and Mental Health Services. If you feel that you, or someone you know, is in immediate danger, call 9-1-1, or if you are on campus, Campus Security at 514-398-3000.

Off the Board, Opinion

Fake football, real friends

by Stephen Gill on

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In my final semester of high school, I joined an online dynasty fantasy football league. We set up a group chat to facilitate league communications, and, after a million on and off-topic messages, a ditched podcast, and a half-dozen new offshoot leagues, the “Dream League” became my steadiest, longest-standing social circle.

I often find myself concerned with the current trajectory of technology—I get little value from my Instagram feed, and I have seen enough episodes of Black Mirror to know where things like Cambridge Analytica lead. But, thankfully, there is at least one positive: The new wave of technological advancement has allowed people the opportunity to access and develop deep, satisfying interactions and friendships entirely on their own terms. As jobs become more precarious and the workforce more competitive, students often prioritize their long-term goals over present-day social lives and require greater flexibility to work around their demanding schedules. While social media has obvious flaws, it also allows people to connect through shared niche interests, and and at their leisure.

It took me 30 minutes to explain to my mom how I grew so closely connected to a group of fifteen 23 to 40-year-old fantasy football degenerates. It took another half-hour to convince her that I probably wouldn’t be abducted. Nonetheless, this crew, as well as a more normal collection of online content channels, has provided me with fulfilling, convenient social outlets that my everyday life hasn’t always offered.

My transition from high school to university opened gaps in my social life that I failed to fill: In first year, I fell out of touch with my high-school friends and struggled to replace them at McGill beyond a single lasting group of three buddies.

An inability to establish a fulfilling social environment is anything but rare at McGill. With an intense, highly-segmented social scene, it can be extremely difficult for anyone to make and maintain friendships on campus. It is even more challenging to find people who share one’s unique, hyper-specific interests. But, the magic of the internet makes it possible for students to fill those voids, and a plethora of social media sites allow like-minded individuals to connect over distance. While most of these connections will probably go nowhere, with time, one can often find a meaningful social circle.

In the past two years, student journalism has ushered a band of new friends into my life. That development came with the stipulation of a hectic weekly schedule that wears me out and, even then, leaves me with little free time before midnight. In turn, I’ve stumbled further into the weird worlds of podcasts and Twitch streams. While most normal people can carve out free time into their afternoons or evenings, anyone can get burnt out. For introverts and extroverts alike, there’s value to the idea of simulating social ‘interaction,’ but without the effort.

Ninety years ago, people would make friends when they went over to see the neighbour’s new 10-gallon hat; today, people can make friends by reacting to Ice-T tweets. This dynamic is new, but it isn’t harmful. It’s hard for friendships to fade with distance when they were forged and exist entirely online. And, after a hectic week of classes, projects, and student journalism, my library of dumb comedy content has allowed me to turn off my brain, laugh, and, most importantly, feel a pseudo-connection to others. Thanks to the internet’s flexibility, that fulfillment can take many forms; for me, it’s talking trades with a web developer from Florida named ‘Sticky.’

Cartoons

Remembering the friend that is graduating

by Cordelia Cho, Winnie Lin, Sabrina Girard-Lamas, Sunny Kim, Daria Kiseleva, Erica Stefano, Arshaaq Jiffry, Kaitlin Wong on

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activism
Editorial, Opinion

Looking back on a year of student activism

by The McGill Tribune Editorial Board on

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The 2018–19 academic year has shown the power of student mobilization, through numerous grassroots campaigns, such as #ChangeTheName and the recent Global Climate Strike, among others. At McGill, activism serves an important role in the community, and student activists are behind most of the social progress that has occurred on campus over its history. While student activists have gathered momentum on a number of issues this year, it is crucial that as the summer approaches and student groups prepare for turnover, that this energy continues to grow.  

Tomas Jirousek, Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU) Indigenous Affairs Commissioner, started the #ChangeTheName  campaign last year, achieving national news coverage. It is common for activists to face burnout, due to the emotionally and physically exhausting nature of their work, which may lead to plateaus in progress. However, this is not the case for #ChangeTheName. Instead, Jirousek employed a variety of strategies from organized demonstrations and petitions to open letters and op-eds in campus publications, engaging a range of students with the cause. Although Principal and Vice-Chancellor Suzanne Fortier has delayed her decision on the name until the end of this month, the #ChangeTheName campaign has achieved one success already: After a campaign from Jirousek, who stated that the name limited Indigenous students’ ability to comfortably use McGill athletics facilities, students voted against renewing the Athletics Facility Improvement Fee in the Winter 2019 referendum period.

Other campus issues, like McGill’s Policy against Sexual Violence, remain an uphill battle for many activists. On March 27,  The Sexual Assault Centre of the McGill Students’ Society (SACOMSS) posted a statement on their Facebook page explaining their dissatisfaction with McGill’s recently-revised policy, most notably the policy’s exclusion of a ban on staff-student relationships. Associate Provost (Equity and Academic Policies) Angela Campbell cited the findings of Concordia’s Sexual Assault Policy Review Working Group in their decision, explaining that banning relationships between consenting adults would be illegal under Quebec privacy law. Students should not get complacent with McGill’s existing policy and special investigator, and must keep pushing until the necessary changes are made.

Divest McGill and the McGill chapter for the Walkout for Climate Justice launched student’s fight against climate change, to much success: On March 15, over 150,000 protesters in Montreal joined forces for a march for climate justice led by the student movement La planète s’invite à l’Université. McGill Senate even voted to endorse divestment; with more pressure, it is possible for students to get the Committee Advising on Matters of Social Responsibility (CAMSR) to advise the Board of Governors to divest.

Unfortunately, activists on campus still faces challenges. For example, while the culture of slacktivism, which includes sharing social media posts, lower activism’s barrier to entry, they are far less meaningful than forms of activism that require more labour, like demonstrations. The Walkout for Climate Justice proved that students are still capable of mobilizing for important causes; however, this protest was an exception to the rule.

Other causes, like the anti-racism march following the Christchurch massacre, were attended by hundreds of people, but were thousands short of the rallying potential demonstrated by students during the Walkout for Climate Change. All issues of social justice are interconnected; it is important therefore that activists acknowledge intersectionality when campaigning. For example, climate change will disproportionately affect communities of colour, indicating the importance of not only attending the Global Climate Strike, but also the anti-racism demonstration. Students should not just engage when it is convenient or only when it affects them. Solidarity on campus is important, and coalitions like Solidarity Alliance McGill provide a model for future initiatives. Activists should stand up for everyone’s collective rights, especially marginalized communities.

For some students, activism may not be a choice or not even an option. The new provincial Coalition Avenir Quebec (CAQ) government’s bill 21, the infamous secularism bill, which would bar anyone working in the public sector in a ‘position of authority’ from wearing visible religious symbols such as the hijab and kippah. For Muslims, Jews, Sikhs, and other students belonging to a religious minority, fighting this bill is necessary: They do not have the privilege to ‘choose’ to fight this. For others, like low-income students who have to work to support themselves, activism is not available as an option because they may not have the time or resources to engage in it. These situations illustrate the importance of fighting for the rights of marginalized voices, especially when many of them may not be able to do so for themselves.

Passionate student leaders sacrifice time, labour, and energy to organize successful campaigns to the benefit of all students, and their work deserves to be celebrated. The past year has seen a lot of progress, and as the year comes to an end, the Tribune is optimistic to see how future leaders change our campus. 

Commentary, Opinion

One year sober

by Mo Rajji on

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Content warning: Mention of substance abuse 

I have an empty bottle of Captain Morgan spiced rum sitting on the windowsill next to my bed. The ‘rgan’ is crossed out, and the label is slightly faded after a year in the sunlight. I bought this bottle in early Feb. 2018. It is the last bottle of liquor I ever bought, and it’s a reminder of how far I’ve come.

On March 1, I celebrated the biggest milestone of my life so far: One year since I quit drinking. To be clear, I did not just spend a year sober—I don’t think that this year would have been possible without nicotine or weed—which fills me with shame, but that’s the truth.

I first tried to quit drinking in Oct. 2017. I knew I had a problem when I collapsed on my neighbour’s kitchen floor, clutching an empty bottle of gin, most of its contents in my veins, slurring my words and pulling heaving sobs from my throat. I was coping with grief and guilt, and the only solution I felt that I had was to drink. I knew it was unhealthy; I knew I needed to stop, but I didn’t have it in me for another four months. In that time, I spent most nights drinking, alone or with friends, blacking out and being cleaned up, trying again and again to quit. I still resent myself for the trouble I caused.

It is easy to just keep drinking at McGill, where Frosh and other drinking events like Science Games and Carinval welcome students, filling the time in between at clubs and bars with weekday specials. It’s much harder to not drink at McGill, surrounded by people who ask if you’re sure when you tell them you quit drinking. Of course I am sure, I didn’t make the decision lightly, and, no, I don’t want to try just a sip. There are also the holier-than-thou straightedge students who were horrified at the idea that I ever got to the point where I had to stop drinking. Hearing their derogatory remarks just makes me want to drink more.

But, the hardest part of sobriety is not the external pressures, it’s the internal realization that the parts of yourself you despise don’t disappear when the alcohol leaves your system. I know people who have never been drunk or who never had more than a few sips of wine because they are terrified of losing control. Since quitting, I have said and done horrible things like when I consistently drank, only, now, I remember it, and I can’t blame it on the alcohol. In reality, the alcohol was never to blame in the first place; it just exacerbated all of my qualities. It has taken me a long time to admit that I am responsible for everything I did while drunk, the good and the bad, what I remember and what I don’t.

Remembering my actions provides a necessary clarity that I didn’t have before to feel better and be better. Knowing that I just got through a whole year without a drink gives me hope that I can do better, that I do have it in me, even when it’s hard. I might not be able to drink again, if it means that I can regain control over my life and relationships. But, I’ve come this far, and I intend to keep going.

Commentary, Opinion

Time to phase out daylight savings

by Leina Gabra on

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Picture this: It’s March 10, 2019. You wake up in the morning and wonder why you feel like you’ve barely gotten any rest. And, then you remember: Daylight savings time (DST) ended. Presumably, losing an hour of sleep on the last day of reading week was not the best way for students to dive back into school. It is with good reason that the debate over DST has recently been gaining increased traction, with several politicians and constituencies petitioning for the time changes to stop. While the pros and cons of DST are still hotly debated, many citizens and politicians agree that it is far past time to put an end to the annoyance of biannual DST time changes.

DST was instituted in Germany in 1915 to conserve energy and make better use of sunlight during summertime evenings. Previously, some daylight hours would be ‘wasted’ during hours when most people would be asleep. DST aimed to maximize sunlight hours, thus minimizing energy usage to power people’s homes. For example, during WWI, countries throughout Europe used DST to save coal for war machinery instead of using it to power lightbulbs. Throughout the 20th century, the U.S., Canada, and most of Europe slowly began to write DST into law. While DST had several opponents from its very conception, such as scientists who feared machinery malfunctions, politicians still considered it worthwhile enough to save energy in a world fuelled by coal.

Now, almost a century later, the very nation that started the DST craze, Germany, is working toward ending it by 2021. In one European Union (EU) poll, 84 per cent of Germans voted to end the biannual clock changes. The opposition to DST has spread across the Atlantic to the U.S. and Canada, where some legislators are proposing to do the same. California, Oregon, and Washington have passed bills calling for the permanent institution of DST time, which would extend daylight hours into the evening year-round. Arizona, however, is an example where most parts of the state ignore DST, in favour of remaining on standard time year-round. In Canada, several provinces and regions have already stopped adhering to this irritating custom: Saskatchewan stopped biannual time adjustments in 1966, and parts of northern British Columbia followed suit.

Proponents of DST have some compelling arguments in favour of the custom. During the winter months, the adjustment extends sunlight in the morning, which is especially important for regions in the far north where sunrises occur relatively late during the winter. However, the science behind the original claim that DST saves energy is inconclusive: One study by the U.S. Bureau of Economic Research found that, while DST did keep people from turning on their lights until later, it also resulted in an increased use of air conditioning, effectively cancelling out any energy savings.

On an individual human basis, studies also show that the time change, especially in the spring, when we lose an hour of sleep, has a negative effect on our health and safety. The time change in the spring can affect people’s circadian rhythms and cause sleep deprivation, which can be deeply disruptive to students’ ability to focus. According to Cary Brown, a University of Alberta sleep specialist, this can also have a negative effect on those with chronic conditions such as depression, anxiety, and cardiovascular problems. Changing the clock can also be dangerous for pedestrians, a category that includes most students in downtown Montreal. U.S. researchers found that, on the day after the clock falls back an hour, there was a consistent 10 per cent increase in fatal car accidents due to the disruption in circadian rhythms.

Much like any university, a significant portion of students at McGill suffers from mental health issues and sleep deprivation, which can be exacerbated by DST. For the health, safety, and convenience of their residents, Quebec, and the rest of Canada, should follow in the footsteps of other countries, cities, and states and end disruptive and unnecessary biannual time changes.

Hockey, Sports

The Montreal Canadiens’ role in francophone culture

by Owen Gibbs on

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Montreal has been at the epicentre of hockey since the creation of the sport. While it is disputed exactly where the game was invented, the first organized match included a number of McGill students and took place in 1875 at the Victoria Skating Rink, mere blocks from the Roddick Gates. In the following decades, several small North American leagues came and went. Most drew small crowds and folded after a few years, but all had some Montreal ties. In December 1909, a group of businessmen formed a new team in Montreal as part of the brand-new National Hockey Association (NHA). In doing so, they created an icon: The Montreal Canadiens.

When the NHA folded in 1918 and the National Hockey League (NHL) came into existence, the Canadiens became the only team to predate the creation of the new league. Since then, the NHL has grown to what will soon be 32 teams, making it the second-largest professional sports league in North America by number of teams, and fourth-largest by popularity. As the NHL grows, the Canadiens, too, show no signs of slowing down: Hockey pundits recognize their fanbase as one of the most passionate in the entire NHL.

The Canadiens have built their brand on a long history of high-quality, entertaining hockey. Montreal has won 24 Stanley Cups, the most of any team, and their closest competition, the Toronto Maple Leafs, trail far behind with 13. Two-thirds of these victories occurred during the 1950s, 60s, and 70s, which are considered the golden age of Montreal hockey. Maurice Richard, Guy Lafleur, and Jean Béliveau led talented Canadiens rosters. These teams could handle almost any opponent without breaking a sweat or losing their signature grace, shattering many league records in the process.

Christopher Lyons, head librarian for McGill’s Department of Rare Books and Special Collections, was born in Montreal and grew up cheering for the Canadiens during the 1970s. He believes that the city’s love for the Canadiens stems from the success established in past dynasties.

“The Canadiens in the seventies were beautiful players,” Lyons said. “Their playmaking, their skating, and their passing was just stunning. As a kid growing up, we were spoiled. We just assumed that Montreal would win the [Stanley] Cup every year.”

The Canadiens could build such dominant teams in the past because of a league rule that gave them a specific advantage: They had exclusive rights to sign homegrown talent. For many years, Montreal could select players from thousands of amateur leagues in Quebec without having to compete with the other NHL teams. Many of the superstars who made up the Canadiens’ Cup-winning squads, such as Lafleur, Béliveau, and Richard, were recruited through this program. The competitive advantage gave rise to another narrative that defined the love for the Canadiens: They were Quebec’s team.

“If you grew up in Montreal, you had these deep, deep feelings for this team and for its history,” Lyons said. “There was a real sense of pride and believing in something.”

The 1950s-70s were a period of tension for the province. Quebec was strongly divided by language. Because of the conservative policies of Premier Maurice Duplessis, Quebec fell behind the rest of Canada in its technological and economic development, and, according to Suzanne Morton, professor in the Department of History and Classical Studies, anglophones sometimes treated francophones as second-class citizens.

“Generally, anglophones made a lot more money than francophones,” Morton said in an interview with The McGill Tribune. “Economic differences were tapped into by francophone nationalists.”

Quebec francophones may have been treated as inferior, but the Canadiens of the 1950s, led by league-leading scorer Richard, was a constant that French Canada felt they had over the anglophones. Francophones throughout the province saw homegrown stars like Richard as heroes who came from small towns or working-class neighbourhoods in Montreal, starting out the same way as hundreds of local children. They walked the same streets and skated on the same backyard rinks. The Canadiens provided many Montreal hockey fans with positive feelings that a francophone hockey player could reach the heights of the NHL when it had previously seemed impossible.

Roch Carrier of Ste. Justine, QC, was one such boy. His famous children’s book, The Hockey Sweater, tells a true story from Carrier’s childhood: A young Carrier and his friends idolize their hero Maurice Richard. They play hockey on a frozen pond, all wearing Canadiens jerseys with his number nine on their backs. One day, Carrier’s francophone mother writes a letter to the jersey manufacturer in Toronto to order her son a new Richard sweater, but, as a result of a failure of translation, the company sends a Maple Leafs jersey instead. Humiliated, Carrier wears the new jersey out only to be laughed away by the other children who see Toronto as vastly inferior to the great Canadiens. Once he receives the proper jersey, Carrier goes to play hockey with his friends once again.

While Carrier’s tale is one of love for the Canadiens rather than anger with English North America, anger once prevailed back in March 1955. Following an incident in which he accidentally hit a linesman in the face with his stick, Maurice Richard was suspended for the remainder of the 1954-55 season, including the playoffs. At the time, the Canadiens led the league and were favourites to win another Stanley Cup. Without Richard, however, they finished second, falling to Detroit in a seven-game Cup Final. Many francophone fans believed that the suspension would have been more lenient for an anglophone player, and, as a result, when League President Clarence Campbell visited for a match several days after the incident, a massive riot broke out. Hockey writer Sean McIndoe describes the 1955 Richard Riots in The Down Goes Brown History of the NHL.

“The situation was a powder keg, with protests breaking out outside the building and death threats called in to the president’s office,” McIndoe explains in his book. “When [anglophone] teammate Bernie Geoffrion passed Richard to secure the scoring title on the season’s final day, Montreal fans booed him.”

McIndoe believes that Canadiens fans felt that this drastic suspension was a slight toward the francophone Richard.

“There was a feeling among a segment of the Canadiens fanbase that they were not just unhappy because their best player had been suspended for the season,” McIndoe said in an interview with the Tribune. “There was a feeling that this would not have happened to an English player.”

The Richard Riots capture the focal point of why Quebec loves its team so much. In a country dominated by the English language, the Canadiens are a cultural icon for francophones. According to Lyons, the Québec Nordiques, the province’s other team until 1995, attempted to tap into franco-nationalist sentiment at an organizational level during their run throughout the 1970s and ‘80s.

“The Nordiques played themselves as the pure Québécois, quasi-nationalist team,” Lyons said. “As an anglophone Montrealer, their association with the politics of the time is what made the Nordiques more dislikeable.”

However, the team ultimately moved to Colorado, an area of the United States that was unconcerned with the plight of Québécois nationalists. Except for a group of fans that continues to push for the Nordiques to return to Quebec, the Nordique fanbase died then and there, and many returned to following the Canadiens.

The Montreal Canadiens inspired franco-national pride from the 1950s through the ‘70s, dominating the NHL when anglophone teams could not. While their dominance in the league has dwindled, pride in the local team is passed on through generations, which equips the Canadiens to proudly represent their city.

Creative

Please Laugh.

by Tony Wang on

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Staff Producer Tony Wang decides to take on a new challenge: stand up comedy! Tony explores the world of comedy at McGill, and takes the kind of risk that we too often avoid and should more often embrace!

By Tony Wang

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